Facing thousands of cases of clergy sex abuse, U.S. Catholic leaders addressed their greatest crisis in the modern era with a promised reform — mandatory review boards.

These independent panels with lay people in each diocese would review allegations fairly and kindly. And they would help bishops ensure that no abusive priests stayed in ministry.

But almost two decades later, an Associated Press investigation of review boards across the country shows they have broadly failed to uphold these commitments. Instead, review boards appointed by bishops and operating in secrecy have routinely undermined sex abuse claims from victims, shielded accused priests and helped the church avoid payouts.

The Associated Press also found dozens of cases in which review boards rejected complaints from survivors, only to have them later validated by secular authorities. In a few instances, board members were themselves clergy accused of sexual misconduct. And many abuse survivors told the AP they faced hostility and humiliation from boards.

When a victim in Florida went before a board, a church defense attorney there grilled him about his abuse until he wept. When another man in Ohio braced to tell a panel of strangers how a priest had raped him, one of them, to his disbelief, was knitting a pink sweater. And when a terrified woman in Iowa told her story of abuse, one member was asleep; the board’s finding against her was later thrown into doubt by a court ruling in her favor.

The AP checked all the roughly 180 dioceses in the U.S. for information, reviewed thousands of pages of church and court records and interviewed more than 75 abuse survivors, board members and others to uncover a tainted process where the church hierarchy holds the reins of power at every stage.

Bishops have appointed church defense attorneys and top aides to boards. Bishops choose which cases go to the board, what evidence members see and what criteria is used to decide if an allegation is “substantiated” or “credible.” And sometimes, the AP found, even where boards did find cases credible, bishops still sided with the priest and ignored the findings.

“It’s a fraud. It’s a sham. It’s a cover-up,” said David Lasher, 56, the owner of a furniture design company who told the review board in St. Petersburg, Florida, in April about his sexual abuse by a priest. “There’s no one on the board that cares for the victim … it’s all about protecting the church.”

The board ruled against Lasher, and the diocese stopped paying for his counseling. AP does not typically name sex abuse victims, but Lasher and others opted to be identified.

Several bishops contacted by the AP, including St. Petersburg’s Gregory Parkes, did not respond to requests for comment. Some referred the AP to the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, which also did not respond to interview requests. Others, such as Archbishop William Lori of Baltimore, said that while improvements are possible, review boards are living up to the promises of the reforms mandated in 2002.

“They are critical to regaining the trust and confidence of our people, who rightly believe in increased lay involvement in such matters,” said Lori, who served on the conference’s sex abuse committee when the reforms were passed.

The Baltimore archdiocese names its board members, which, Lori said, “inspires confidence in the process,” and it does not include high-level church officials. An annual report that the board produced this year at Lori’s direction didn’t say how members ruled, but noted that in 11 cases, one priest was removed and 10 others were already disciplined or deceased. The victims were offered counseling.

“Diocesan Review Boards have come a long way,” added Lafayette, Indiana, Bishop Timothy Doherty, who has been serving as head of the conference’s child protection committee. “Our level of professionalism is up tremendously.”

However, at least a dozen reports by government investigators and outside consultants with access to church documents have questioned the independence of boards, their treatment of victims or their thoroughness. These include at least seven grand jury and state attorney general reports.

In Illinois, for example, where the attorney general’s probe remains under way, investigators have turned up evidence that dioceses scoured victims’ personal lives to discredit them. In Colorado, an investigator jointly appointed by the state and church said Denver’s board showed too much bias in support of the archdiocese and little understanding of sexual assault and trauma. And in Pennsylvania, a 2016 grand jury investigating the Altoona-Johnstown diocese called the board’s work a cover-up cloaked “in the guise of advocacy,” with members focused on “fact-finding for litigation” in case the victim sued.

The review board was an attempt to convince the public “that the days of a mysterious bishop deciding how to handle a scandalous and heinous report of child molestation and sodomy were over,” the jury wrote. “In reality,” it added, a board is “only as real as any bishop may want it to be.”

Even reports by the bishops’ conference have dinged dioceses for ignoring boards — sometimes leaving them dormant for more than a year — and have repeatedly warned of “complacency.” Review board members past and present told AP about dioceses gaming the process, from failing to keep them informed to using aides to steer deliberations.

“It’s all internal. That’s the problem,” said the Rev. James Connell, who served nearly a decade on a review board in Milwaukee. “It’s the church thinking the church is gonna fix the church. It’s not that the review board didn’t do what the review board was asked to do. It’s that it’s the whole wrong approach.”