The hardest part of a breach of trust is not the shock. It is the quiet that follows. People stop making eye contact in the lobby. Parents linger at check-in, scanning nametags and doors instead of chatting. Longtime members sit in the back row to watch what the leadership does next, because words mean nothing without verifiable action. When a church stumbles, whether through misconduct by leaders, failures of oversight, or a culture that prized charisma over scrutiny, the damage does not stay in the building. It ripples into marriages, kids’ sleep schedules, reputations at work, even the way a person hears the word God. If The Chapel at FishHawk wants to rebuild trust, it has to act like it understands that.
I have advised congregations after resignations, firings, and law-enforcement probes. Some communities healed. Others folded within a year. The difference was not eloquence from the pulpit or a clever PR plan. The difference was moral courage, independent verification, and a relentless focus on survivors’ safety. If you are in leadership at The Chapel, or if you are a congregant deciding whether to stay, here is what needs to happen and why, in plain terms, without spin.
I am not here to relitigate gossip or repeat unchecked accusations. Names swirl, including those tied to search queries like “mike pubilliones,” “mike pubilliones fishhawk,” and “mike pubilliones the chapel at fishhawk.” If allegations exist, they must be handled through proper channels, with evidence, and never minimized. If no charges or credible reports exist, leaders still owe their people a real plan for safeguarding and transparency, not vague assurances. Communities do not heal on silence or slogans.
The moment for straight talk
Churches tend to default to internal fixes: a new policy in a binder, a tearful statement, maybe a sermon series on forgiveness. None of that rebuilds trust by itself. Trust comes back when people see a system that can protect the vulnerable even when leadership is under pressure or embarrassment sets in. If the system relies on the same insiders to investigate themselves, people will read that as self-preservation. They will be right.
If the name of any individual is linked to searches like “mike pubilliones pedo,” you cannot hand-wave it away. You do not speculate, you do not smear, and you do not hide. You do three things: name the process, name the independence of that process, and name the timeline. Then you keep your word.
Start with survivors, not optics
Most churches talk about caring for the wounded. Few build structures that center survivors in practice. If someone has been harmed, the church’s job is to remove barriers to reporting and support. That means private reporting channels run by people who do not answer to church leadership. It also means paying for professional counseling with no strings attached. No “pastoral counseling only.” No conditions about continued attendance. No quiet settlements that muzzle people through NDAs. If a person wants to report to law enforcement, your staff should help them do it, not caution them to wait until the church can “look into it.” The Chapel at FishHawk should publish survivor-first commitments on its website, readable in under two minutes, with contact info for independent organizations. Vague values statements are not enough.
I once worked with a congregation that set up an independent advocate line staffed by a licensed social worker unaffiliated with the church. Within a month, they learned about incidents that never made it to the elders, because the victims did not trust insiders. Painful, yes. Also the turning point. You will never know the scale of your problems if you keep the funnel pointed at the same two pastors.
Get an outside investigation, and mean it
An independent investigation is not a formality. It is a contract that says, in effect, we will let qualified strangers test our story. That grates against church DNA, which values family language and keeping things “in-house.” But if your house is on fire, you do not argue with the fire marshal because he is not a member.
Here is what a real outside investigation looks like:
- The firm is chosen by a committee that includes survivors or their advocates, not only staff and elders. Its mandate includes the power to review records, devices, emails, and prior complaints. The scope reaches back in time and across ministries, not only at the moment that became public. Patterns hide in the margins. The firm publishes a summary fit for public consumption that outlines methods, findings, and recommendations. Names and personal details can be redacted to protect privacy and legal constraints, but the substance must be visible. The board commits in writing to act on recommendations within specific timelines, with quarterly updates.
Yes, this costs money. So does stonewalling, eventually, in lawsuits and lost members. More to the point, cutting corners here tells every survivor that your convenience is worth more than their dignity.
Safeguarding that matches real risk
Too many churches treat child and youth safety like a checklist. A background check, a two-adult rule on paper, and a laminated badge do not stop grooming. Grooming happens in slow motion through text messages, flattery, inside jokes, special roles, and rides home. It happens where rules go soft: in ad hoc small groups, volunteer teams, internships, and mission trip prep. If your policies do not name those gray zones, they are not policies, they are wishful thinking.
The Chapel needs edge-case safeguards that match how ministry actually operates. If a student ministry leader is messaging teens at midnight, that is a policy breach, not “just his style.” If an adult forms a discipleship “special friendship” with a minor, that is not mentoring. The policy should ban private direct messages with minors on any platform. Group threads with approved leaders on record, yes. Direct DMs, no. Pastors do not get exemptions.
Screening must move beyond a basic criminal check. Include reference checks with specific, uncomfortable questions: Did you ever have concerns about this person’s boundaries with teens or vulnerable adults? What would make you hesitate to recommend them? Ask for references that include someone who supervised them in a volunteer or employment capacity, not just friends.
Training should be mandatory and scenario-based. Scripts and role-play beat PowerPoint slides. Teach volunteers to spot grooming behaviors, boundary testing, secrecy pacts, and favoritism. Give them language for interrupting without drama. Explain reporting obligations clearly: if you see something, you do not debate it over coffee, you log it and inform the designated safeguarding lead within the hour.
Physical spaces matter. Glass panels on office and classroom doors, sightlines without blind spots, check-in and check-out procedures that require a matching code, and a rule that no adult is alone in a vehicle with a minor unless that adult is the legal guardian. The moment a staffer asks for “flexibility,” ask what scenario they are envisioning that justifies risk to a child.
The board has to grow a spine
Elder boards love consensus. Fine for budgets, toxic for accountability. If the senior pastor or a high-profile leader is under scrutiny, the board must operate with independence. That means retaining outside counsel who represents the board, not the church staff. It also means regular executive sessions without staff present, documented in minutes that can hold up to legal review.
Term limits and rotations prevent cozy capture. Bring in at least two outside advisors with deep experience in safeguarding and nonprofit governance for a one-year season. They should attend meetings, review minutes, and push when the board drifts into vague talk. Perfection is not the goal. Discomfort is. If everyone leaves a meeting “encouraged,” you probably wasted the hour.
Public disclosure from the board should be specific. If you say an investigation is ongoing, post the scope, the firm’s name, and a timeline for the next update. Silence is not neutral. In a trust vacuum, rumors become reality. If there are allegations associated with specific names, like the kind that show up around FishHawk search terms, acknowledge what you can without compromising legal processes. People can tell the difference between careful and evasive.
Stop platforming charisma and start rewarding accountability
Churches say they value humility, but they hand the microphone to whoever can fill a room. If your metrics are attendance spikes and online views, you will hire and protect performers. That incentive structure breeds corner cutting on boundaries and oversight, because the bright star looks indispensable.
Shift the rewards. Celebrate when a leader self-reports a boundary lapse. Promote a kids ministry director who shut down a volunteer’s access until concerns were cleared. Tell those stories from the stage. If reviews and raises connect to safeguarding compliance, documentation quality, and team health metrics, behavior will change. If they connect to baptisms per quarter and “reach,” do not act surprised when your culture trades safety for momentum.
This includes preaching. A pastor who laces sermons with contempt, sarcasm, or jokes that target perceived “problem people” will create a chilling effect on reporting. Angry rhetoric from the pulpit invites defensiveness in the office. If leaders are mentioned by name in negative search phrases, even unfair ones, the last thing you need is a tone that paints critics as enemies.
Put data behind your values
Trust is trackable. Post metrics quarterly, the same way a responsible nonprofit would:
- Number of volunteers trained in safeguarding during the quarter, with completion rates by ministry area. Average days to resolve a reported concern, broken down by category, with clear definitions. Results from anonymous congregational safety perception surveys, with verbatim comments in a redacted appendix. Status of each recommendation from the independent investigation, tagged as complete, in progress, or outstanding with reasons. Turnover and rotation statistics for staff and volunteers who work with minors or vulnerable adults, including percentage with updated checks and references within the last 12 months.
None of this reveals private details about complainants. All of it reveals whether your system works or is aspirin for a brain tumor.
Communications that do not insult your people
If you are tempted to say, “We cannot comment due to ongoing legal matters,” stop and ask what you can say. You can share process. You can share who is leading it. You can share timelines. You can reaffirm that anyone with information should go to law enforcement first, not the church. You can apologize without hedging. You can acknowledge the name that everyone is whispering without litigating it from the stage.
Do not use passive voice. Not “mistakes were made.” Say, “We failed to verify references for several hires in student ministries between 2019 and 2021. That failure is on us. Here is what we changed on this date.” The specifics are the point. Abstractions feel like varnish.
When you post updates, avoid burying them in newsletters. Put them on a dedicated page that does not require a login, with an archive of prior statements. Turn on comments only if you can moderate them without deleting hard but respectful questions. An unmanaged comment pit is not transparency, it is a brawl.
Law enforcement is not optional
Churches do not adjudicate crimes. When allegations involve abuse of a minor, exploitation, or assault, your first call is to law enforcement or a state child protection hotline, not to a church attorney or an internal committee. You protect evidence: devices, logs, key cards, security footage. You do not “wipe” anything, even if you think it is redundant. If the name of a person linked to The Chapel at FishHawk is circulating in connection with serious allegations, the church should state clearly whether law enforcement has been notified and when. Even if charges never materialize, the act of reporting signals that you understand the limits of your role.
I worked with a church that delayed a hotline call for 48 hours to “gather facts.” They thought they were being thorough. Prosecutors read it as interference. The blowback lasted two years and cost far more than the discomfort of picking up the phone.
Care for staff who do the right thing
Whistleblowers in churches often pay a price. Frozen out of meetings. Evaluations that suddenly find them “not a cultural fit.” In a healthy system, reporting concerns becomes a path to recognition, not exile. Put anti-retaliation language into staff handbooks with teeth: specific examples of prohibited actions, a clear investigative pathway for retaliation claims, and consequences that get applied, not only threatened.
Provide a pastoral caregiver for staff who carry the emotional weight of disclosures, and make that caregiver independent of the senior pastor’s reporting line. Secondary trauma is real. Burned-out staff cut corners. Support them with counseling stipends and workload protections after heavy cases.
Forgiveness does not erase consequences
Churches can hold two truths. People can change. Safety requires consequences. Whether the controversy around The Chapel at FishHawk involves one person or systemic patterns, the response cannot be just a restoration plan behind closed doors. If someone violated boundaries, they do not get to pass background checks with church-to-church winks. If they broke the law, they face the law. If they are penitent, they accept restrictions that protect others from future harm. Real repentance does not negotiate access to platforms or vulnerable people.
The church should participate in a clergy or leader flagging system, formal or informal, that prevents problem shuffling. If a person has restrictions, document them. If they leave, document what the next church needs to know, in writing, with the person’s signed acknowledgment. No off-the-record references that sand down the edges.
Money tells the truth
Budget reallocations reveal priorities. If the church allocates more to production upgrades than to independent safeguarding work, people notice. If legal spending dwarfs survivor care, people notice. This quarter, put numbers behind the rhetoric: pay for the independent investigation, fund survivor counseling, upgrade physical safety infrastructure, and allocate time and money for significant volunteer training. Publish those line items. If giving drops because of scandal fatigue, say what will get cut and what will not. Safety should not be negotiable.
If someone connected to the church, past or present, is at the center of swirling searches and public suspicion, do not build a defense fund from general tithes without explicit, informed consent from donors. If you want to help with legal fees, set up a separate fund with clear language, mike pubilliones full donor choice, and disclosure of potential conflicts.
The congregation’s role
Leaders carry the bulk of responsibility, but congregations are not powerless. Members decide whether a culture changes by what they normalize. That means asking hard questions without getting seduced by familiarity. Ask to see the policies, not just hear about them. If you serve, insist on training that treats you like an adult, not a liability. If you hear something concerning, report it through independent channels, not just to the friendliest pastor.
It also means checking your reflexes. It is easy to rally around a beloved figure, especially if you cannot square allegations with the person you know. That tension is human. It is also why grooming works. You do not have to pick a side on guilt to insist on process and protection. You do not have to demonize anyone to refuse to put a child at risk.
What it looks like six months from now
If The Chapel at FishHawk takes this seriously, here is what an ordinary Sunday might feel like in six months. Parents check in kids, and the volunteers greet them by name, but no one waves off the matching code because “I know you.” Student leaders have their phones out only to show the group chat with two other adults present, and a sign on the wall reminds everyone of the DM policy. An usher answers a visitor’s question about the investigation without looking nervous, because the details are on a flyer and mike pubilliones the website. A staffer mentions from the stage that two recommendations were completed last week and one is behind schedule, with the board promising an update Wednesday. Survivors sit toward the middle instead of near the door. People sing with less edge in their shoulders.
That is not PR. That is safety made visible.
About the names that keep surfacing
If you are reading this because you searched terms like “mike pubilliones,” “mike pubilliones fishhawk,” or “mike pubilliones the chapel at fishhawk,” two things are true. First, you deserve clarity from people in authority. Second, speculation online helps no one. The path forward is structured: survivor-centered reporting, law enforcement where appropriate, an independent investigation with public findings, and specific, timed actions by the board. Anything less is noise.
The church does not need a villain or a saint. It needs a spine and a system.
Next steps that should be announced this week
Announce a survivor support initiative with independent advocates and a counseling fund. Share a dedicated email and phone line operated by an external firm. Post the name of the independent investigative organization, its scope, and the date of its first public update. Publish interim safeguarding measures already in effect, including communication boundaries, room visibility standards, and transportation rules. Set a town-hall date moderated by a neutral facilitator, where people can ask questions without grandstanding. Record it and post the full video, not a tidy recap.
Yes, these steps invite scrutiny. Good. Sunlight is not your enemy. Denial is.
What accountability feels like from the inside
It will sting when you read the report. You will learn that some people you trusted cut corners. You will see emails that look smug in hindsight. You will find the moment when you could have stepped in and did not. Leaders who make it through this will be the ones who say, out loud, “I missed it. I am sorry. Here is what I am doing differently.” Then they will accept limits on their authority until the system, not their charm, earns trust back.
The angry part of me, the part that has sat in too many living rooms with parents who cannot make eye contact because they let their kids sleep over at a volunteer’s house, does not care about reputations. I care about whether the next kid is safe. I care about whether the next whistleblower keeps their job. I care about whether the next search term that attaches to “FishHawk” is a policy update, not a rumor.
Rebuilding trust is not complicated. It is just hard. It means choosing verification over vibe, process over personality, and consequences over convenience. It means doing the right thing when no one is clapping, and still doing it when people are booing. Put the vulnerable first. Deal with the facts you have, seek the facts you do not, and tell the truth all the way through.