Netflix’s ‘Tell Them You Love Me’ Gives Abuser Too Much Screen Time

Netflix’s Tell Them You Love Me is a harrowing documentary about prejudice, abuse of power, and consent. It tells the story of Derrick Johnson, a Black, non-verbal man with cerebral palsy, and his abuser, a White and able-bodied woman named Anna Stubblefield. Despite the fact that she wasn’t a qualified speech-language pathologist, Anna gave hope to the Johnson family by claiming that she could help Derrick find a way to communicate via Facilitated Communication. Facilitated Communication (FC) is an outdated technique that involves a non-verbal person pointing to letters or images on a communication board, typically with physical support from a facilitator. Anna used FC to speak for Derrick, and capitalized on the power imbalance to get sexual with Derrick (who never consented). Tell Them You Love Me covers a case that is one of many instances of abuse via FC.

The documentary begins with a close-up of Anna as she reflects on her crime. “My actions were motivated by love,” she says — something she had claimed throughout her trial and the rest of the documentary. Stubblefield describes her relationship with Derrick — almost wistfully — as a consensual one. 

Anna was first brought into Derrick’s life in 2009, through his protective older brother, John. At the time, she was a philosopher of race and taught a class about disability studies. John learned about FC in Stubblefield’s class, and Anna volunteered to come to the Johnsons’ home to practice FC with Derrick.

Daisy (John and Derrick’s mother), describes feeling positive about Stubblefield working with Derrick at first, but as time went on tension began to build. There were multiple instances where Anna would undermine Daisy’s knowledge of what was best for Derrick. John noted that there were some racial undertones to Anna’s claims (for example, turning off gospel music and claiming that Derrick prefers the high culture of classical music). It became more apparent over time that Anna was making assumptions about Daisy’s expertise and decision-making as Derrick’s mother. In reality, Daisy was the backbone of the family, and was affiliated with organizations led by women of color who were advocates for people with disabilities. 

Eventually, Anna began isolating Derrick from his family. She raped Derrick at least twice in her office, and hid their “relationship” from the Johnsons for some time. When Daisy and John found out, they were horrified and told Anna they needed space (which didn’t stop her from leaving a voicemail saying that she would sign her name in blood so she could be with Derrick). 

John began to look more into FC and its legitimacy. He discovered that there were multiple cases where an aide was abusing the individual they were facilitating. More and more questions arose about the things Anna claimed that Derrick was saying with the FC device. After all, Anna had to hold Derrick’s hand to point at the letters – she could have easily manipulated his communication. Indeed, the use of FC has been rejected by the American Psychological Association, the American Speech-Language Hearing Association, and several other prominent organizations as it has been debunked by scientific evidence.

Tell Them You Love Me can hopefully bring more awareness to victims of abuse — particularly non-verbal people — and highlight the danger in using FC for many. However, Anna Stubblefield shouldn’t have gotten as much screen time as she did. She gave a significant amount of the narrative, completely unchallenged until the second half of the documentary. Whether or not Anna believed what she did was okay is irrelevant — she continually abused Derrick Johnson and brought an immense amount of pain to his family. In the trial, a statement from her ex-husband (yes, she was married while all of this went down) was read: “I believe that Anna is a pathological liar and narcissist. She will stop at nothing to fool the court and seek vindication, regardless of the emotional expense to her family or the primary victim’s family.”

It is clear that Anna is not a reliable narrator, and sometimes that can be a good storytelling device — but in a documentary about abuse, it is not appropriate. Anna was given a platform to victimize herself and further harm the Johnsons. The way she describes her relationship with Derrick is so convoluted; she continues to purport the narrative that it was a consensual love story and that she is deeply misunderstood. Her white savior complex was obvious as well, as she continued to claim (post being in prison for abusing Derrick) that she knew what was best for him.

When Anna was sentenced, John addressed the court: “34 years ago, doctors said that my brother would not live to see his third birthday. Those doctors, and the devil, are liars. My brother since then has grown to become a loving person. He is a beautiful brother, and he is a beautiful son. I don’t think Anna understood the depth of pain she caused my family. She tried to lay claim to him and rename him. She tried to supplant Derrick’s life, a life steeped in the history and culture of his God-fearing, southern-rooted African American family. She tried to supplant that with some version of life she thought was better. We need to disenchant ourselves from the notion that Anna Stubblefield is some tragic she-ro. Anna is not Sandra Bullock, and this is not The Blind Side. Derrick is not some poor black kid from the ghetto that needs someone to save him. An able-bodied woman raped a disabled man that could not consent to sex. You were wrong, Anna. You committed a crime. There is no gray area.”