The Truth Is More Interesting, Part 2: Freedom of Religion, Not a Witch Trial
Updated: 3 days ago
This is Part 2 of a three-part series. In Part 1, I wrote about how a single news article about my defamation trial against David McKay, leader of Jesus Christians, changed the way people ask me about my experience. Here, I set out what the trial was actually about.
In the whole scheme of things, the “witchy” material was a minor sideline. McKay’s attempt to depict me as a witch, and therefore too evil to interact with my adult child, should have invited mockery of him, not of me or my daughter. Here is what I would want any reporter to know.
What the trial was really about
The real issue was freedom of religion, specifically mine. McKay denied it, along with several other basic rights, including my freedom to communicate with my daughter without interference. For most of my time on the stand, he tried to portray me as someone persecuting him for his beliefs. That defence failed, because I have always respected other people’s beliefs, including his and my daughter’s.
The court found that the claim at the heart of McKay’s video was false. The video, Strange Bedfellows, described me as “a Luciferian – a Satanist, if you like.” The judge found that it conveyed that I was a worshipper of the Devil, that this was defamatory, and that it was untrue: “Nothing in the evidence establishes that Ms Spencer is a worshipper of the Devil.” She also found that it was not an honest opinion held by McKay, and she awarded me $85,000 in damages. You can read the full judgement, Spencer v McKay [2023] VCC 2238, here.
Note: McKay has not paid the money he owes and is not currently residing in Australia. He admitted during the trial that he as at least $100,000 in overseas bank accounts.
The court also found that McKay acted with malice. The judge wrote: “I am satisfied that the defendant was motivated by malice, that is, by a foreign or ulterior purpose in making the publication.” That purpose was to attract viewers and promote his message. In the judge’s words: “The accuracy of the allegations made in the video was less important to the defendant than drawing a parallel between the treatment of Jesus Christians and the treatment of Jesus, to promote his message.” He was, the judge found, “at best, reckless as to the accuracy of the allegations.”
The evidence at trial also showed how he demonised me behind my back. He took my daughter away from me with his lies, and I will never forgive him for the grief he has caused me and so many other parents.
A set-up, not evidence
In my view, the “witchy” evidence was orchestrated by McKay. His questions to my daughter drew out those responses. He did not ask her about how I was always researching new things and had a new hobby every other week, or about my fascination with church history, which was obvious in all the cathedrals we visited on our travels. My barrister asked a couple of follow-up questions, and my daughter admitted she had been a great fan of Harry Potter as a child. That admission didn’t make the final judgement. What the judgement does contain is the judge’s rejection of the whole line of argument: “I do not accept that an interest in Egyptology, the occult, Rudolph Steiner, or other spiritual matters amounts to a veneration of Lucifer. I do not accept that taking her daughter to a ‘witchy’ shop during her childhood, or using spells, or wearing a cape, demonstrate a veneration for Lucifer.” It was clear to me, and I believe to others in the courtroom, that the “witchy” commentary was a poor set-up by McKay. The journalist was drawn into the sensationalist language and printed it as though it were important, at my expense.
I felt like a witch on trial with no freedom of religion
I shouldn’t have to defend myself, and I’m not going to explain every item McKay held up as proof that I was a “Luciferian.” That is what the trial was for, and McKay failed to win the argument. But briefly: I have an inquisitive mind that loves to dive deep down rabbit holes. I love history and philosophy, and as an art teacher I’m expected to understand the very topics McKay characterised as satanic or evil. How else could I teach what symbols mean in artworks from different eras and places? Exploring the "occult" symbols in Durer's Melancholia is a common activity in any Renaissance coursework.
Humans have a very long and documented love affair with theorising that certain symbols have hidden or powerful meanings. I have researched many of these theories before, ultimately, deciding neuroscience explanations of creativity are best. In a nutshell, this means recognising people often see things within art that simply aren't there. The classic example I often return to was when some elderly women insisted there were turtles in a abstract splashing of blue paint. Seeing imaginary turtles can happen anywhere, which is fine so long as we know that’s what we’re doing. What is not fine is when cult leaders abuse our natural pattern recognition skills to hijack meaning-making to suit their own agenda.
No greater hate than Christian love
The “Tarot cards” my daughter mentioned were, I believe, a reference to Doreen Virtue angel cards. Whatever one thinks of these cards, I was raised Catholic, and so praying to archangels and saints is simply part of being Christian. One denomination of Christianity demonising another is medieval behaviour, and it has no place in Australian culture or history.
I have also always wondered why gender inequality runs through so much of our history. When men explored alchemy, astrology or herbology, they were considered great thinkers, polymaths, and wise men. When women did the same, they were called witches, and some were burned at the stake. I love learning about all of it, alongside a bit of Greek philosophy, which frequently sits just below the surface of a lot of Christian doctrines and other Western traditions. Eventually my curiousity led me to study mental health and psychology. I am a truth seeker, and many ideas that once lived in the spiritual realm are now better understood through a scientific lens.
The irony is hard to miss. In 2020, while McKay was demonising, I was lining my hallway walls with a timeline of major artistic, religious and scientific developments so I could see how they influenced one another. It began as a visual aid for my psychology studies, and walking the length of the hallway, marvelling at human history, became a novel way to exercise during the Covid-19 lockdowns. My motto: “always go to the original source,” sent me in many interesting paths and rabbit holes of discovery. Had I been a man, I suspect I would have been called an eccentric researcher. To McKay, my love of learning was something else entirely. I can’t imagine anyone accusing Leonardo da Vinci of being Luciferian because of his learning pursuits. I’m no da Vinci, but I can relate to his relentless questioning of the world around him.
McKay never asked me about those “witchy” items. I was cross-examined by him for five days, and not once did he raise them. Watching my daughter reinterpret her childhood memories through someone else’s belief system was painful on many levels, and media amplification only makes it worse. As for my education, McKay reduced it to “Googling” and insinuated that he knew better. This attack mirrored the antics of all misogynists.
My daughter and coercive control
This isn’t about blaming my daughter. I love her, and my door is always open. But I believe she has experiencing intense coercive control. After five days of being cross-examined by McKay myself, I have a small taste of the pressure she must have endured if she or any other community member dared to express a Bible interpretation that differed to his. It is also my understanding that before and during the trial process she was under constant monitoring and surveillance, and didn’t have access to alternative points of view, including private conversations with her mother. As I said on the stand, all of the misunderstandings could have been avoided if I had been allowed to speak to her on the phone. In my experience, McKay insists on controlling the narrative, and the language (I’ve written about the battle for words here). He is skilled at it, and it’s easy for even well-meaning outsiders, including journalists, to be drawn into the story he wants told.
Steiner and the “Luciferian” label
What McKay did question me about was Steiner. I first learnt about Steiner education (also known as Waldorf education) while studying to be a teacher at university, and it intrigued me. While I do not subscribe to all of his philosophies, I appreciate his nuanced depiction of evil as having two forms, which he called Lucifer and Ahriman, with the Christ impulse calling us to walk the path between them. I discussed this in a private email to my daughter, and McKay used a quote from it to label me a “Luciferian.” However, he did not adhere to Steiner’s definition of Luciferian evil. Instead, he referred to two books, Children of Lucifer and Satanic Feminism, which sat on the bar table throughout the trial, and insisted their definition applied to me. He put forward one of the authors, Ruben van Luijk, as an expert, but the judge refused that submission and consistently said such opinions were irrelevant to the trial.
At no point over the years did McKay, or my daughter, ask me how I interpreted Steiner’s depiction of Luciferian evil. McKay preaches that to be a true Christian one must literally hate their parents, and that this trumps loving thy neighbour. How and why our laws permit one man’s religious views to dominate another's is not a design flaw of the system, it is a feature that has existed for too long. Further, that I inadvertently had to defend myself against allegations of being an evil witch in 2023 does not say much for the progression of women’s rights.
Suspicion of strong women
Feminism and equal rights were framed as “satanic.” This is the part that I believe deserved far more attention. In an email tendered at the trial, McKay wrote the following to my daughter:
“in the light of Renee’s influence, and possibly a pattern that you had grown up with, it becomes clearer that this was probably a kind of ‘strong’ ‘feminist’ trait that Renee had instilled in you”
To me, this reflects a worldview in which strong, feminist women are viewed with suspicion.
When an article centres testimony shaped by that worldview without exploring it, there’s a risk of amplifying it, and I would have liked to see that framing questioned.
Surveillance and secrecy
Surveillance of private communication was central. In 2020, an email chain landed in my inbox that first alerted me to the fact that I was being described as a devil worshipper. I’ve found it hard to believe it was an accident. At trial it emerged that what I’d received was not the complete thread. Some of McKay’s replies were missing, and the full chain was only produced because the trial required it. The practice of members sharing their private emails with McKay is a level of monitoring that would be treated as serious misconduct in stalking, harassment and domestic violence contexts. In my view, freedom of religion was being used as a shield for controlling behaviour, rather than as a principle he extended to others.
Five days on the stand
Being cross-examined was one of the gruelling experiences of my life. After four days of holding it together, I left the stand on the fifth day in tears, saying, “I don’t know what I believe anymore.” Contemplating my own spirituality, and finding peace in quiet contemplation of all that is unseen, was once a personal safe space I could retreat to whenever I wanted. Now it is not. McKay sabotaged my freedom of religion. I will never believe like he does, and having my own beliefs lost me my daughter. I cannot believe in anything anymore without feeling the grief of all that I have lost. Some would call this spiritual abuse. I experienced it as intimidation, verbal, and emotional abuse, and it has affected my psychological wellbeing.
That is what the public needs to hear. If this is what a court of law allowed in front of a judge, it takes little imagination to picture the intimidation and coercive control that happens behind closed doors in high-control groups.
McKay would not take the same stand. He cross-examined me for five days. When it was his turn to give evidence, he would not affirm that he would tell “the whole truth,” so he gave none, and the judge noted that I was denied the opportunity to cross-examine him.
So how should stories like mine be told? In Part 3, I look at what ethical reporting on cult survivors looks like, and how a survivor-informed media guide could have changed the way my story was told.
Comments