"You could see that the Boy Scout council and the church were only concerned about their liability — they could have cared less about us," said Mike Keller, today a 50-year-old businessman in Mississippi.
Keller always figured that his scoutmaster, Richard C. Hokanson, got off lightly — he was sent to a state hospital for treatment after pleading guilty in 1983 to one of three felony sex abuse charges stemming from his tenure with a Rochester, Minn., troop.
His file referred to allegations involving 16 other boys that were documented by Scouting officials but never prosecuted. Keller said his case was among those not pursued.
"When I finished reading that whole file I ended up taking an hour-and-a-half-long shower. No matter how much I washed, I still felt filthy," he said. "The last week has been a living hell, reliving everything."
Hokanson molested him "every Monday night, year in and year out, over six years" ending in 1980, when he made Eagle Scout, Keller said. Hokanson threatened to kill his family if he told anyone about the abuse, which occurred in a storeroom at St. Pius Catholic Church, the troop's sponsor, he said.
After his hospital commitment in 1983, Minnesota corrections records show, Hokanson was imprisoned for 40 months on a 1994 child sex-abuse conviction. In 2008, he was sent back on a probation violation; he was let out last March on "intensive supervised release," which includes 24-hour-a-day electronic monitoring.
Contacted by The Times, Hokanson, 77, declined to discuss his file, saying, "My life has straightened around and I'm doing just fine."
At the very least, Keller said, he'd like "a sincere apology" from the Boy Scouts and an offer to pay for his counseling. He'd also like to see changes in statutes of limitations so he and others abused decades ago might have some legal recourse.
"I haven't gotten over it, and I never will," he said.
Deron Smith, a spokesman for the Scouts, said the organization is committed to helping those who were molested — by helping them to find counselors, for instance.
"We have heard from victims of abuse and are doing our very best to respond to each person with our utmost care and sensitivity, offering our support and assistance," he said.
Smith said abuse victims should contact their local Boy Scout councils or call the national office at (972) 580-2000.
Solomon, the former Scout from Berkeley, said he leaped at the chance to learn more about what the Boy Scouts knew of abuse in his troop in the 1980s.
At the time, Solomon said, he was a smart kid with a bad stutter who was going through a tough time after his parents' divorce. Kabeary was a charismatic leader in his 30s who claimed to be a Vietnam War hero. All the boys in Troop 22 looked up to him.
One night on a camp-out, Kabeary invited Solomon into his tent and molested him. For months afterward, they'd watch pornography together at Kabeary's house or go on outings in his Jeep.
Feeling embarrassed and assuming he was Kabeary's only victim, Solomon didn't tell anyone for years. Only a decade later did he reveal the abuse, first to a therapist and then to family members.
Then last week he was reading the news online and stumbled across a link to the Times database. Among the 5,000 cases listed were two involving Berkeley's Troop 22. The dates on both, Solomon noted with alarm, were several years after he had been molested by Kabeary.
Soon after reading Kabeary's file, Solomon, now 43, went to his bedroom closet and pulled out his old Scouting uniform with Troop 22 emblazoned in white letters on a scarlet background on the sleeve.
"It was a link between me and Steve," Solomon said. "Something that would show I was a member of this class of kids that was abused by this guy."
Like others, Solomon is struggling with what to do about this newfound information. He has inquired about filing a lawsuit against the Boy Scouts.
Kabeary died in 2005.
"I'm glad he can't hurt anyone else," Solomon said. "But I'm also kind of disappointed that now I can never look him in the eye and tell him that despite everything he did to me, I'm still a strong and loving person."
Times researcher Maloy Moore contributed to this report.