In 2022, after memories came flooding back that she had been sexually abused decades earlier as a child at a northwest suburban Mormon congregation by church leader Wade Christofferson, Michele Boehmke decided to confront him in person.
Christofferson had long ago left the Chicago area and was living near Columbus, Ohio, where he was part of another Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints community.
Boehmke had also moved to Ohio and happened to be living 20 minutes away, so one day she said she decided to show up at his doorstep and demand accountability.
“I don’t know why you get to continue living a comfortable life with the things you’ve done,” she told him, according to an audio recording she made of the conversation that was shared with the Chicago Sun-Times. “I think the world should know who you are, who your true self is.”
“What if that’s not my true self?” Christofferson responded, according to the recording.
“How do I know?” Boehmke said. “I don’t know how many other people you’ve continued to hurt or injure or harm through all the years. Doesn’t the world deserve a warning for someone against pedophiles?”
Christofferson, a brother of an LDS apostle helping oversee the Utah-based worldwide faith system, would not directly acknowledge abuse but offered: “I fully admit I made mistakes earlier in my life, I did things that were wrong earlier in my life.”
“I’ve repented of them, haven’t repeated those, I’ve changed.”
An upcoming court hearing is expected to serve as another indication that Christofferson’s words that day were lies.
Christofferson was arrested last November on child exploitation charges related to the sexual abuse of two children in Ohio and Utah over the last few years up until late 2025, according to court records that indicate the victims were young relatives.
He pleaded guilty in June to coercion and enticement of a minor, which carries a sentence of at least 10 years in prison up to a life term. He’s expected to be sentenced in coming months — and Boehmke said she plans to attend and hopes to testify to help ensure Christofferson is never a free man.
While the victims in that case were apparently not preyed upon in the context of the church, Boehmke wonders nonetheless whether they could’ve been spared their horror if Mormon leaders had earlier publicized what they knew of Christofferson — that he had abused other kids in the Crystal Lake area in the 1990s and possibly the 1980s.
A church watchdog group called Floodlit says Christofferson is accused “of sexually abusing up to 12 children in Illinois,” though he hasn’t been charged with crimes in connection with those accusations, at least in part because the statute of limitations has long expired.
In the 1990s, church officials learned of at least some of the child sexual abuse in the Chicago area and as a result, “excommunicated” Christofferson, which meant stripping him of his regular status but not booting him from the church altogether, according to interviews.
He was soon “rebaptized,” restored to regular status, before moving to the Columbus area, where he took a leadership role in another Mormon congregation — which was apparently never told of his history.
But that history began coming to light earlier this year when former Woodstock resident Edward Nachel told the Mormon Stories podcast, and later the Sun-Times, he had been part of a 1990s church tribunal that dealt with accusations against Christofferson in Crystal Lake.
Nachel said he came forward after hearing about Christofferson’s arrest, and he expressed guilt that he hadn’t spoken up sooner, for decades abiding by the secrecy the church insisted on.
Boehmke noted that other church officials in Illinois, and likely beyond, knew about the troubles with Christofferson and likewise kept it secret.
“Nobody told anybody,” she said. “How did nobody think, maybe the police should know about this?”
Had the church “been forthcoming,” the abuse against the more recent victims perhaps “would have never” happened, Boehmke said.
“And that is a great devastation, to know that something could have been prevented.”
Christofferson’s brother, D. Todd Christofferson, is part of the church’s powerful first presidency and has acknowledged knowing “around 2020” that Wade Christofferson had abuse accusations against him. A church spokesman said earlier this year: “While he and other family members were told of Wade’s … excommunication, he was not informed of the specific reasons and had no reason to suspect it was for abuse.”
“It was not until around 2020 that President Christofferson first learned of — through family disclosure — some of his brother’s history of abuse from thirty years earlier; he respected the adult victims’ wishes not to involve law enforcement at that time.”
“However, upon learning of a recent allegation involving a minor, President Christofferson immediately reported it to legal authorities.”
D. Todd Christofferson wouldn’t comment for this story, but Boehmke’s attorney Timothy Kosnoff said that should they decide to file a lawsuit against the church, the church leader is “not going to be able to duck” questions about what he knew about his brother “and when did he know it.”
He was “in a position where he could have stopped his brother,” Kosnoff said.
The Mormon church has been mired in a child sex abuse scandal for years and has been repeatedly accused of hiding allegations and seeming to favor the abusers over the victims.
Now 47, Boehmke said after starting to come to terms several years ago with what had happened to her when she was under 10 in Crystal Lake, she told several church leaders about Wade Christofferson, to no avail.
She told them “this man is a predator,” she said. “And they ignored me.”
After Boehmke’s 26-minute encounter at Christofferson’s home in 2022, she contacted police and filed a report against him, but McHenry County authorities determined too much time had passed to prosecute any offenses in Crystal Lake, according to police records that allude to Boehmke’s recording.
She described the abuse as “assault, molestation, coercion.”
She said she’s experienced various problems as an adult she now clearly traces back to the abuse.
“My teen years were so difficult … I continue to live with a hatred of my body …” Boehmke said. “I was in” a relationship “for many years, and it was abusive and horrific.”
“He changed the entire trajectory of my life,” Boehmke said about Christofferson.
She made that clear when speaking to him at his front door.
“I apologize for the harm and hurt I’ve caused you over the years,” Christofferson told her, according to the audio file. “I didn’t know that this has had long-lasting lingering effects.”
To which Boehmke responded: “You didn’t know that sexually molesting a minor child would have long-lasting effects?”
Christofferson said: “I didn’t know you were — no, I didn’t know you felt that way, I apologize for that.”
He confirmed to Boehmke that he was still active in his church, though he insisted he had no access to children there.
He said his wife is “aware of everything I’ve done,” to which Boehmke said, “That makes her just as equally awful.”
Christofferson replied, “That’s one way to say it, or she’s equally forgiving.”
Boehmke said, “I don’t forgive you, and I’m the victim.”
She called him “a monster” and said part of her motivation for coming forward was a concern for other children, whether in his family or his congregation.
“You may think you have to answer for these things in the next life,” Boehmke told him. “I think you need to answer right now.”
Christofferson’s wife couldn’t be reached for comment. Christofferson’s attorney did not return calls and emails. A Latter-day Saints spokesman had no immediate comment. The U.S. attorney’s office, which is prosecuting Christofferson in Columbus, declined comment.
Before Boehmke left Christofferson’s stoop, neighborhood children can be heard on the audio recording laughing and playing nearby as birds chirped in the backdrop.
Boehmke approached a woman with those children, saying: “Hi, do you live here? Don’t let your children near him.”