Families Claim Religious Group Keeps Members From Them

Cardinal: 'We Don't Really Know What Is Going On'

WMAQ TV, Chicago/November 9, 2005

Chicago -- When you join a church, it usually does not require you to cut yourself off from those who don't belong -- but that's what former members of a Chicago group tied to the Catholic Church say happens.

NBC5's Mary Ann Ahern investigated this group, the Love Holy Trinity Blessed Mission, which is based in Chicago and has been around for more than a dozen years.

Originally, it started with Catholics looking to commit themselves more to the church. But recently, some have said the mission is tearing their family apart.

Theirs was a promise of finding the path to heaven -- a chance to get closer to God, even if it meant detaching from family.

Ashley Fahey, 19, of McGregor, Iowa, is a religious athlete who had a college scholarship. However, her mother said she never expected her daughter to throw away her education and cut off all communication with her former life.

"How would you be if you haven't seen your daughter for nine weeks?" said Lora Knott, Fahey's mother.

Even though she was packed, ready to leave for Loras College the next day, Fahey unexpectedly told her parents she had a new plan. She wanted to become a sister with the Love Holy Trinity Blessed Mission.

"I had thought they were sisters like all other sisters, like Sister Mary at our Catholic church," Knott said.

And even though Fahey had been introduced to the mission by her father, who is a member, her mother and stepfather felt becoming a sister was a too-quick decision that came out of left field.

"I said, 'Why do you think you have to make it now?' And she said, 'Well, if I don't, if I get killed in a car accident or something, I won't go to heaven,'" Fahey's stepfather said.

Nevertheless, Fahey joined the next day. At first, her mother believed it was a legitimate part of her faith.

"Everything said, 'Within the Catholic church,' and the Bible study classes they were going to were held in the basements of churches," Knott said.

For nearly two years, Donna Backstrom has been trying to uncover what the Love Holy Trinity Blessed Mission is all about.

"It's all this secrecy, all the hiding," she said. "My family is pretty much destroyed."

Three of Backstrom's family members have joined the mission, including her niece, who gave up her career as a registered nurse to move to Chicago.

"They say I'm evil and I'm persecuting the group," Backstrom said.

Backstrom says she is searching for answers about why outsiders -- including family members -- aren't allowed to see or even speak with those inside, and why members give large sums of money and property to the mission.

"They won't meet with you. They won't talk with you," she said.

The secrecy is evident by the security cameras and closed blinds at the mission's headquarters and the residences where members live on Chicago's Northwest Side.

No one answered any of Ahern's repeated attempts to talk with the mission's founders -- the Rev. Len Kruzel, a Catholic priest, and Agnes Kyo McDonald, the group's spiritual director.

Mission members say McDonald has a unique relationship with God.

"God sat upon her lap, is how she got her calling," Knott said.

"If you would ask her, who does she report to, and she'd say she reports to God," said Roger Knott, Fahey's stepfather. "That's a pretty big jump in the chain of command."

The jump is so big that the Chicago Archdiocese has conducted its own investigation, despite assigning Kruzel to the mission and allowing them to hold meetings in their churches, Ahern reported.

"That mission is not an official part of the church; it's not recognized by the church," said Francis Cardinal George, the head of the archdiocese.

Now, the archdiocese has banned the group from meeting in its facilities and recalled Kruzel from the mission.

Ahern asked why the Catholic name is still used outside the mission's headquarters and why Kruzel has not yet returned.

"We don't really know what is going on, so it's a matter of prudence to say, 'Let's distance ourselves from it,'" the cardinal said.

However, in Fahey's hometown, where ribbons line the streets, loved ones hope church leaders will do more to spread the word that the mission is no longer an official part of the Catholic church.

"I said, 'I want you to know how it feels to stand outside that building and have that camera on you with locked gates and to know that this is supposed to be within the Catholic church, and you can't even get in," Lora Knott said.

Ahern has talked to current members and to those who have left the Love Holy Trinity Blessed Mission. That part of the story will be reported Sunday at 10 p.m on NBC5.