What Happens When Theatre Leaders Are at the Center of Scandal
by Chris Peterson
When a theatre company makes headlines, you hope it’s for a bold new production or a community milestone. Not for this. Earlier this year, Square Foot Theatre in Wallingford, Connecticut, became the subject of a lawsuit that alleges some of the darkest betrayals imaginable. According to the complaint, the company’s founders—Jared Brown and Patrick Laffin—groomed and abused a young performer, beginning when he was a minor. The allegations are harrowing: alcohol at sleepovers, coerced sex acts, years of manipulation.
The theatre itself is named in the lawsuit, accused of negligence and failing to protect the very people who trusted it most. Whether or not the courts ultimately find the theatre or its founders liable, one truth is undeniable: for the communities that gather around these spaces, for the parents who entrusted their children, for the donors who believed they were funding art and opportunity—trust has already been shattered. And when founders are the ones at the center of scandal, rebuilding that trust is a uniquely complicated, painful process.
Theatre is personal. More than many other nonprofits, small and mid-sized theatres are often built around the vision—and personality—of their founders. They are the artistic directors, the teachers, the fundraisers, the administrators. Their charisma and credibility attract students, donors, and volunteers. Their names are on the posters, the programs, and sometimes even the deeds to the building. That centrality is powerful when things are going well. But when founders are accused of misconduct, it leaves a vacuum. Who is left to steady the ship if the very people who built it are the ones in question? Boards may be underdeveloped. Policies may be nonexistent. Communities may feel torn between loyalty and outrage. And for survivors, it can feel like the entire structure of the theatre is aligned against them.
The first step is simple, but often mishandled: acknowledge the situation. Silence breeds suspicion. Denial erodes credibility. A board must act quickly to issue a statement that recognizes the seriousness of the allegations, expresses concern for those harmed, and commits to action—even before all the facts are known. This isn’t about presuming guilt; it’s about centering care for survivors and responsibility to the community. Leadership must change. Founders cannot continue to direct, teach, or interact with students while under investigation.
Boards should suspend or remove them from their positions, and if necessary, bring in interim leadership with no prior ties to the accused. Anything less compromises the integrity of the response. The organization must open its doors to independent review. That means outside investigators, external HR professionals, legal counsel who can advise on mandatory reporting obligations. Internal loyalty and insularity cannot be allowed to override safety. The theatre must create pathways for survivors and community members to be heard and supported. Counseling services, listening sessions, and clear, safe reporting channels are non-negotiable. A lawsuit may proceed in court, but healing has to begin in the community.
Too often, arts organizations respond to scandal by drafting a few new policies and calling it a day. Real prevention requires culture change. That means boards that are empowered and engaged, not rubber stamps for founders. It means training for staff and volunteers on grooming behavior, boundaries, and abuse prevention. It means normalizing conversations about safety—not treating them as uncomfortable distractions from “the art.” And perhaps most importantly, it requires decentering founders as the sole source of identity for an organization. When a theatre’s survival is tied to the reputation of one or two individuals, the entire enterprise is fragile. Building resilient structures—diverse leadership, robust governance, clear succession planning—makes a company stronger in good times and safer in crisis.
The allegations against Square Foot Theatre are still moving through the courts. The founders have not had their day in trial, and the organization has the right to defend itself. But the case is already a cautionary tale. It shows how quickly a theatre’s story can shift—from a place of joy and opportunity to a place of suspicion and fear. It shows how devastating it is when trust in leaders becomes the very weapon used against the vulnerable.
For the broader field, the lesson is clear: no theatre is too small, too local, or too beloved to take these risks seriously. Abuse thrives where oversight is weak. Grooming flourishes when boundaries blur. And trust, once broken, is far harder to rebuild than it is to protect in the first place.
Theatre has always prided itself on being a space for truth-telling. But truth requires courage. Boards, funders, parents, and audiences must demand accountability—not just when scandals break, but before they do. We owe it to young people entering rehearsal rooms and classrooms to make those spaces safe. We owe it to our communities to ensure that art uplifts rather than exploits. And we owe it to ourselves, as people who love this craft, to confront hard truths when they surface. Founders may build a company. But a company’s survival, and its soul, depends on the community that holds it accountable.