CT’s Square Foot Theatre Faces Abuse Allegations: How Did This Happen?
by Chris Peterson
Square Foot Theatre is facing a lawsuit that should shake every parent, performer, and community member who ever trusted its stage. Filed in Connecticut Superior Court, the complaint accuses co-founders Jared Brown and Patrick Laffin of grooming and sexually abusing a young performer who joined the theatre as a child in 2007. The suit claims they invited minors to their home for overnight gatherings, provided alcohol, and carried out repeated acts of sexual assault. Even worse, the theatre itself is named, accused of ignoring reports, refusing to investigate credible complaints, and giving Brown and Laffin unsupervised access to children despite knowing the risks.
For a company that has built its reputation on creativity and community with young performers, the allegations strike at its core. And while lawyers may argue in court, the rest of us are left asking the questions that matter: how did this happen, who looked away, and why was nothing done?
Community theatre is supposed to be safe. Parents should not have to second-guess leaving their children at rehearsal. Young actors should not feel that pleasing a director is the only way to be seen. But when all the power is concentrated in the hands of a few, and no one is watching, that is when grooming thrives. It rarely looks sinister at first. It often looks like favoritism. The extra role. The private coaching session. The special attention that makes a young actor feel chosen. From there, the lines blur until the behavior no longer looks like mentorship, it looks like control. The lawsuit describes that process in heartbreaking detail, a slow drip of trust built and then betrayed.
It is easy to ask how parents could ever allow their teenagers to sleep over at the home of grown men. The truth is more complicated, and blaming parents lets the real culprits off the hook. Parents were likely told Brown and Laffin were trusted mentors. The theatre wrapped them in credibility, presenting them as leaders who created opportunity and nurtured talent. When someone is given that kind of authority by an institution, it lowers every guard. Parents did not drop their children off at strangers’ houses. They dropped them off at the homes of the very men the theatre said could be trusted with their kids’ futures. That difference matters, and it is precisely why oversight must exist.
If even part of this is true, Square Foot failed in the most unforgivable way. The complaint says reports were made and leadership deliberately disregarded them. That is not a blind spot, it is a choice. And silence in the face of abuse is not neutral, it is protection for predators. The question is not just what Brown and Laffin allegedly did, but what the theatre allowed to keep happening.
And this is not just a Square Foot problem. Connecticut has already seen other community theatres settle lawsuits over abuse of teen performers. Patterns are emerging, and they should terrify us. These organizations are often volunteer-driven, built on goodwill, and run without the oversight of larger institutions. That leaves room for unchecked power. Families are eager to believe the mission. Young performers want to belong. Predators take advantage of both.
We know the warning signs. Sudden favoritism. Secretive one-on-one meetings. Invitations to personal homes. The presence of alcohol. Any situation where an adult leader isolates a child under the guise of special treatment. These are not quirks, they are red flags. Parents, staff, and even students must be trained to see them for what they are. Because silence is not protection, silence is complicity.
Reform has to be the new standard. Background checks for anyone working with minors. Mandatory training on grooming and boundaries. Strict rules that ban overnight or unsupervised access. Codes of conduct that everyone must sign. Anonymous reporting systems with teeth. Boards that actually hold leaders accountable. And yes, outside oversight when necessary, because self-policing has proven worthless.
And right now, Square Foot owes the community answers. What policies did they have? What warnings did they ignore? What are they doing today to protect kids who walk through their doors? Every day they say nothing, the mistrust deepens. Silence is the worst option, and yet it is the one too many theatres choose.
Other organizations have shown what accountability can look like. Profiles Theatre in Chicago shut down the moment abuse came to light, its board resigning in acknowledgment of failure. The Guthrie in Minneapolis brought in outside consultants, rewrote policies, and forced a culture shift. Even USA Gymnastics and the Boy Scouts, though far too late, eventually introduced independent monitoring and survivor hotlines. None of it erases harm, but it shows that accountability is possible if leadership is willing to act.
Square Foot Theatre is now at that same crossroads. It can cling to silence, denial, and collapse, or it can confront its failures openly and rebuild trust with full transparency. Families trusted this theatre. That trust has been broken. It will not return without answers.
Theatre should be the place where young people discover their voice, not the place where it is taken from them. If these allegations are true, then the most dangerous act at Square Foot Theatre was not on stage. It was what happened when power went unchecked behind the curtain.