In September 2019, I entered Williamsville Wellness, a private behavioral health facility in Hanover, VA, seeking urgent help for PTSD, depression, anxiety, and an eating disorder. I was assessed as high-risk for relapse and came in hopeful, willing, and deeply committed to my recovery. What I experienced instead was a gross violation of trust, a breach of safety, and a disturbing lack of accountability by a facility that claims to prioritize mental health.

This petition is not just about me—it’s about holding facilities accountable when they exploit or endanger vulnerable patients and then try to sweep it under the rug. Something I have experienced multiple times in my life since embarking on this journey as a young adult and learned to internalize until I entered my 30s.  A decade or more of silence. 

 
📌 What Happened
Midway through my stay, I began to notice increasingly inappropriate behavior from one of the staff members—Rupert, who, unbeknownst to me at the time, had recently been released from prison. He was given unchecked access to female patients, including being tasked with escorting us to the gym, overseeing room checks, and participating in our daily routines. Despite the high-risk nature of our conditions, there appeared to be no safeguards in place to prevent predatory or inappropriate staff behavior.

The employee entered my room uninvited, made sexually suggestive comments, and after I was discharged, sent me unsolicited text messages, one of which included the statement:

“That p**sy is special.”
These actions were completely uninvited, unreciprocated, and predatory. And they were made while I was under the care and control of a licensed facility.

 

Despite medical documentation showing that I was attentive and respectful during sessions, I was discharged abruptly after just 10 days under the excuse of “tardiness to group.” by the "head therapist" who was not fit for such a role due to apparent coldness, lack of empathy and a bullying attitude that was very punitive and soul crushing.   Why was this person a therapist, aren't they supposed to be empathetic not part of the gaslighting?  It is a reminder that not everyone enters the mental health field for any other reason than to exercise control and authority on others, often against their own personal health or wellbeing.

 

 This felt like a pretext to remove me rather than support me—especially when considering the emotional toll the staff misconduct was having on my mental health. I have since obtained health records and session notes that confirm my participation and respectful behavior.

 
⚠️ Lack of Response and Oversight
Since leaving, I have made multiple attempts to contact Williamsville Wellness, including letters and emails, most recently on May 5, 2025 and again on June 14, 2025.   Previous to that, I reached out a few times in 2023.   I received only a brief and dismissive follow-up call immediately after the incident in which the former director Lyndon Aguilar stated the employee was fired.   With no written response, no documentation, and no meaningful investigation that formally acknowledged what happened to me besides a phone call.   Despite also reaching out to the Virginia Department of Health (VDH) and the Better Business Bureau (BBB), I was told they couldn’t intervene.

In the years since, the trauma from this experience has lingered. I was already fighting for my life—and this betrayal of trust only pushed me further into isolation, fear, and self-doubt. I didn't pursue this sooner because I was simply trying to survive in the aftermath of both personal trauma and the global COVID-19 pandemic. But now, I can’t stay silent anymore.

 
🧾 This is What I’m Asking For
I am demanding a full refund (approx. $25,000, some covered by insurance) for the harmful, incomplete care I received—care that exposed me to sexual misconduct, negligent supervision, and wrongful termination of treatment. I am demanding accountability and transparency, and asking for the support of anyone who believes that mental health facilities should be safe and ethical spaces for healing—not places where abuse gets buried.  It is the least these facilities could do to people who have been violated by their contradictory policies that screams inauthenticity. 

 
🧯 Williamsville Wellness Violated Their Own Standards and Legal Obligations

Williamsville Wellness is CARF-accredited and licensed by the Virginia Department of Behavioral Health and Developmental Services (License #994).

Under these certifications, they are required to:

➤Protect patients from sexual harassment and boundary violations
➤Conduct proper staff background checks and supervision
➤Maintain safe and therapeutic environments
➤Investigate and document all patient complaints thoroughly
➤Uphold HIPAA protections, state law, and professional ethics

 

Their failure to investigate or respond properly is a violation of:

➤Virginia Human Rights Act
➤HIPAA Privacy Rule (45 CFR § 164.530)
➤CARF Accreditation Standards
➤12VAC35-105-160(A)(4): Mandating a formal complaint response
➤Respondeat Superior doctrine: Holding employers liable for employee misconduct during the scope of employment
 
🧍‍♀️ Why This Matters
This isn't just my story. Many patients—especially women—go into treatment believing they are entering a protected space, only to be retraumatized by the very people entrusted with their care. If I, as a survivor, had made a mistake or caused harm, I would likely have been arrested and prosecuted immediately. Yet, when staff commit serious breaches like sexual harassment, emotional manipulation, and misconduct, they are protected by silence and legal loopholes.

We must demand better.

 
✊ What You Can Do
Please sign this petition to call on Williamsville Wellness to:

➤Publicly acknowledge and formally respond to my case.
➤Issue a full refund for the cost of a stay marked by trauma and neglect.
➤Launch an external investigation into hiring, supervision, and complaint-handling practices.  Trauma informed care means listening to former patients and clients when they come forward about something not pretending they don't exist.  They teach this in their groups but don't reflect it in their business policies. 
➤Implement new safeguards to prevent similar incidents in the future.
➤Support trauma-informed care that truly protects patients, especially women.  Years later, this event still bothers me, one of many I've had to internalize and that has built up to create a state of immense frustration, isolation and a feeling of being perpetually gaslit/misunderstood. 

 
📣 Let’s Hold Facilities Accountable
If mental health treatment centers are not held to the same legal and ethical standards as any other licensed entity, then vulnerable people will continue to suffer in silence. Silence only protects the abusers—not the survivors.

Please stand with me. Sign and share this petition. Let Williamsville Wellness know that misconduct, silence, and cover-ups will no longer be tolerated.

– Clelia Jane Sheppard
Cape Charles, Virginia

 

╰┈➤Here is the Complaint I sent a month ago to their facility:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/198Te04V8y3Su1-otpA-2RBRRFJ76XxaX/view?usp=sharing

 

╰┈➤Here is the Civl Rights DOJ report I filed in 2023:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1yjFs0I2J9Uatuo7PnS8byfAYpmeexQQf/view?usp=sharing

 

╰┈➤Here are screenshots of some email communications/patient chart screen grabs to prove I was there as well as "good behavior":

 

 

 

 

Tried filing a complaint in 2024 to VDOH, was redirected. 

 

 

 

 

 

The clinical director was the only person at Williamsville Wellness who made me feel seen, heard, and treated like a human being. Unsurprisingly, he no longer works there.

In stark contrast, the rest of the staff—based on the notes I later reviewed—were overwhelmingly judgmental and lacked basic compassion. Reading those notes now, it’s almost absurd: they would cite something as minor as being five minutes late to a group session and then immediately label me as “ruminating,” “dissociative,” and “high risk for relapse.”

Let’s apply basic logic here: I had just spent the entire summer living in my car. I came to treatment deeply vulnerable, exhausted, and traumatized. What exactly did they expect? That I arrive perfectly composed and functioning? If I had been in great shape, I wouldn’t have needed treatment in the first place.

 

 

 

 

Many of the therapy notes I reviewed—particularly those from Mecca Williams—read as cold, dismissive, and completely detached from the reality of what I was going through. Frankly, the therapists came across as more emotionally robotic than an actual robot—at least robots are programmed to show empathy.

One note even stated that I “presented myself as a victim.” That comment alone made it painfully clear: this therapist either didn’t listen at all or simply chose to minimize what I had survived. Instead of engaging with my story with empathy, most of her focus seemed to be on how I looked, how I “presented my symptoms,” and how I was perceived—not on what I had actually endured.

This kind of treatment highlights a deeper issue in mental health care: some clinicians may be academically trained but lack any meaningful connection to lived experience, trauma-informed care, or basic human compassion. It's condescending, invalidating, and outright harmful to survivors.

 

 

 

 

So the response to me trying to build trust—after surviving months of trauma—was to kick me out? To punish me for showing the very signs of distress that led me to seek help in the first place?

Instead of receiving care and understanding, I was met with judgment and condescension—from therapists and staff who often seemed more concerned with control and appearance than actual healing. I was retraumatized in a space that was supposed to be safe. Worse, I was surrounded by people who had no business monitoring vulnerable patients in the first place—some of whom created an environment that was not just unprofessional, but harmful.

 

 

 

 

Not only did you fail to deliver the follow-through and support you promise to clients—and actively promote on your website—but you directly placed me in harm’s way. At no point did I feel truly understood, heard, or protected. What I experienced was not just a lapse in care, but a clear and blatant failure to uphold even the most basic standards of safety, empathy, and therapeutic responsibility.

 

 

 

 

While the group sessions were genuinely helpful and offered valuable insights, the individual therapy and overarching policies at the facility completely contradicted the principles we were taught in those very groups. The core themes of recovery—compassion, accountability, safety, and trauma-informed care—were not reflected in how I was actually treated on an individual level. It was disheartening to see such a disconnect between the content of the programming and the actions of the staff and administration.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ah yes—“trauma-informed care”—the big theme they love to preach in brochures and group sessions. Meanwhile, in reality? I experienced direct sexual harassment by an employee on campus, and when I reported it, I was gaslit, dismissed, and ignored. Apparently, “trauma-informed” means pretending nothing happened and hoping the patient stays quiet. Inspiring.

 

 

 

 

Ah yes—more flowery concepts that look great on paper and sound impressive in theory, but completely fall apart when actually put to the test. The moment those ideals were challenged by real situations—real trauma—they were ignored, dismissed, or outright denied.

 

 

 

 

What was described as merely "acceptable" behavior actually coincides exactly with when the troubling conduct from this employee began—during our so-called "off-campus" guided tour and throughout the entire outing.

 

 

 

 

The person in the gray bubble texting me is Rupert. At that point in my life, I was still healing from trauma and hadn’t yet learned to set firm boundaries. I didn’t just tell him to “f**k off” like I would now. He still held a position of authority over me, and, as a woman raised in Virginia—the sunny South—I was conditioned to be polite, even when I felt deeply uncomfortable inside.

Simply the fact that he was texting me was inappropriate, regardless of how I responded. It’s clear that, at that time—and likely for the rest of my life—I will be considered “disabled” in some capacity. This made me especially vulnerable and in need of protection, not harassment.

 

 

 

It’s clear he was trying to insert himself into my life under the guise of being a trusted figure, behaving with an unsettling level of familiarity and intimacy toward someone he barely knew—someone he met in a mental health facility, where I was seeking help, not attention. He exploited a vulnerable situation, presenting himself as a “helper” when, in reality, his intentions were far from professional. It quickly became clear that he was fishing for flirtation—if not something more—under the false pretense of support.

 

 

 

 

When I didn’t respond to his texts, he persisted—continually messaging me despite my silence. I should have blocked him, but at the time, I was going through an incredibly difficult period. I wasn’t thinking clearly—I was still recovering from a head injury, and emotionally vulnerable.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I forwarded this evidence of persistent communication to the Clinical Director. While I do give him credit for at least responding—something most others didn’t bother to do—I’m still deeply disappointed in the overall response, which was minimal at best and failed to address the seriousness of the situation.

 

 

In summary, years later—and in what might seem like a small or even futile attempt to reclaim some form of justice—I’ve come to fully realize just how deeply disturbed I am by a decade of cycling in and out of treatment, always at the mercy of so-called “professionals” who, in hindsight, appeared far more focused on profit than patient care.

What’s most shocking is how serious violations—even criminal behavior—are routinely swept under the rug at facilities like this. Meanwhile, if someone like me—an ordinary person struggling with compounded health issues after being misled, dismissed, and outright harmed while seeking help—were to make a mistake or harm someone, I’d be arrested and prosecuted without hesitation.

I plan to attach screenshots from my health records that show how engaged and committed I was during treatment, despite my circumstances. I’ll also include screenshots of messages from Rupert, the staff member whose behavior blurred professional lines and violated patient trust—someone who, I later found out, had recently been released from prison.

And while I hate to contribute to the stigma of incarceration, someone with a recent criminal record should never have been placed in a position of such authority or proximity to female patients—not as a chaperone, not in their living quarters, not involved in “room checks” or private matters. That kind of access, under the guise of supervision, was reckless and dangerous.

 

And I’ll always return to this point—because it matters: If the roles were reversed, and I had done to someone else what was done to me, there is no doubt in my mind that a police officer would have shown up at my door, arresting me on the spot and taking me before a magistrate for an Emergency Protective Order—if not straight to jail.

 

Meanwhile, the company as a whole exploited my vulnerable situation, took no real accountability, and ultimately swept a criminal act under the rug. That betrayal has left me deeply mistrusting of treatment centers—not just this one, but the entire system. Over time, that mistrust has only grown as more truth has come to light and more survivors have come forward about being silenced by a culture of secrecy and shame when they were supposed to be receiving help.

Now, in 2025, post-pandemic, the world is in many ways resetting—and part of that reset must include no longer letting this kind of blatant misconduct and institutional gaslighting slide.

 

Why You Should Sign
This petition isn’t just about what happened to me—it’s about what continues to happen to countless women and vulnerable people who enter treatment centers seeking safety, support, and healing… and instead are met with neglect, judgment, or even abuse.

➤Over 65% of women in substance abuse treatment report a history of sexual trauma (SAMHSA).
➤1 in 3 women globally experience physical or sexual violence in their lifetime, often before ever seeking mental health care (WHO).
➤Victims of harassment and abuse in clinical settings are less likely to continue treatment and more likely to relapse, self-isolate, or suffer worsened mental health (National Center on Domestic Violence, Trauma & Mental Health).

➤A 2021 study found that nearly 50% of patients who experienced boundary violations by clinicians never reported the abuse, fearing they wouldn’t be believed—or worse, would be punished.
➤When facilities ignore, gaslight, or dismiss reports of abuse, it deepens trauma, erodes trust in care, and risks further harm not only to the survivor, but to other patients as well.

 

Signing this petition is an act of solidarity with all survivors who were mistreated, silenced, or retraumatized while seeking help. It sends a clear message: accountability matters. Trauma-informed care must be more than a buzzword. And no one—no matter how vulnerable—deserves to be exploited in the name of "treatment."

Let’s hold facilities like Williamsville Wellness accountable. Let’s demand real standards for hiring, transparency, and complaint response. And let’s ensure that future patients—especially women—can walk into a center for healing without walking out with more wounds.

 

“The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” 

 

 

Stand with me. Stand with survivors. Sign this petition.