Inside Tim Busfield's sex abuse case through records, audio and doubt

Illustrations by Veronica Bravo, Ariana Torrey/USA TODAY; Videos by Ramon Padilla/USA TODAY

ALBUQUERQUE, NM – Drive west to the edge of this city, over the Rio Grande, past subdivisions like Rinconada Trails and Montecito Estates, just one mile north and 3,000 years from where petroglyphs were first carved, to a tan, stucco house with a stone facade and brown tile roof.

Children with names like Aidan and Isabella, Josiah and Abigail play on club soccer teams around here. Basketball hoops dot driveways. Families move for walk-in closets and courtyards, sidewalks and views of the San Mateo Mountains.

A BMW X7 and a new golf cart sit in the driveway. Spiky Mexican feathergrass pushes through the gravel in the high desert that smells of creosote after a light rain.

The parents and their young twins moved here in 2022, a year after the boys landed a role on the TV series “The Cleaning Lady,” shooting in a studio 12 miles away.

The father told friends that his boys’ acting salaries helped them buy the $597,500 house, where I now stood.

Photos on a real estate site show an office with two little desks with two director’s chairs with “The Cleaning Lady” across the back, a ghost of past glory.

The family vacationed with the show’s lead actress in Hawaii and attended cast parties at the home of the show's director and producer, Timothy Busfield, and his wife, the actress Melissa Gilbert. The boys played the drums and guitar, took karate and Muay Thai classes.

The rise of the twin actors and their parents came crashing down when the boys accused Busfield of sexually abusing them.

A New Mexico grand jury indicted Busfield on four counts of criminal sexual contact of a child on Feb. 6. A trial date has been set for May 2027.

Busfield, 68, has denied the charges. His lawyers say the boys’ parents were so dependent on their salaries – about $2 million over three seasons – that they manufactured the abuse and manipulated their children to tell the lie. 

To protect the privacy of the boys, USA TODAY is not naming them or their parents. USA TODAY does not name survivors of sexual assault.

Busfield can still draw a crowd at fan conventions for his role as Arnold Poindexter in “Revenge of the Nerds,” but his best work is behind him (“The West Wing” and “Thirtysomething”) rather than in front.

I interviewed him two years ago when I spent a weekend shadowing his wife at the 50th anniversary reunion for the cast of “Little House on the Prairie” in Southern California. I spent time with Busfield and Gilbert for my ode to the woman who shaped a generation of “Lauras.” (Yes, I’m a Laura too, named after the author Laura Ingalls Wilder, on whom the TV series was based.)

They seemed like the kind grandparents you wished lived next door, her baking apple pies and dropping off bread, him telling stories about Kevin Costner and Allison Janney. Middle-aged women had often said they were #couplesgoals, each on their third marriage, blending their children and nine grandchildren.

In January, headlines shattered the wholesome image Busfield and Gilbert showcased from their upstate New York cottage. “Timothy Busfield’s location being tracked by U.S. Marshals Service.” “Timothy Busfield officially charged with child sex abuse.”

I headed to Albuquerque, a town I once worked in. Once known as the place “Breaking Bad” was set, New Mexico is one of the fastest growing states for film production.

Over a few days in February, I met with prosecutors and toured a playroom with a fluffy therapy dog where child victims are interviewed. I talked with crew members and defense lawyers, friends and neighbors of the boys’ family. I had breakfast with a police spokesman whom I sat next to 30 years ago when we shared a desk as crime reporters.

Many people I contacted didn’t want to talk or didn’t want their names to be public. So, over the course of two months, I combed hundreds of pages of court records and reviewed police videos with crew members and accusers.

This case unfolded like a Netflix crime series. At its center are two child actors, former models for Nike and the Gap.

$25,000 per episode

Drive north on the Pan American Freeway that cuts through Albuquerque, to a place where the city gives way to the grassy desert and, just after summer sunrises, dozens of brightly colored hot-air balloons launch.

The Cinelease studio transforms into Las Vegas, where the TV series “The Cleaning Lady” is set. The crime thriller first aired on Fox from 2022 to 2025, following a surgeon who comes to the United States for her son’s lifesaving medical treatment. Her visa expires, and she works as a cleaner for the mob.

The boys shared the role, like the Olsen twins played Michelle Tanner on “Full House,” ensuring that neither child was on set for too many hours. When the show began filming in late summer 2021, the boys were 6 and they were allowed to work four hours a day.

The boys each earned between $25,000 and $30,000 per episode, according to court documents. Parents of child actors in New Mexico are only required to put 15% of their salary in a trust for them available when they turn 18. 

Toward the end of shooting the third season, in spring 2024, the boys’ mother heard a rumor they might be dropped from the show, according to court documents filed by Busfield’s attorneys.

She was at lunch with Elodie Yung, the show’s lead actress, when Yung’s security guard, Chris Ford, overheard a conversation, he later told defense attorneys. 

He said the boys’ mother told Yung that if her boys weren’t brought back, she would “get” Busfield and “have his ass."

But that decision didn’t belong to Busfield. In the somewhat confusing hierarchy of TV show production, the showrunner has creative oversight of the series.

And the showrunner, Daniel Cerone, wanted to replace the boys, he told Albuquerque Police Detective Marvin Brown in an interview recorded Jan. 2. The twins were 10 playing a 6-year-old.

Cerone told Busfield that he didn’t need to audition the twins. “I've seen their work and look, they can't pull it off,” Cerone said, according to a video of the police interview.

Busfield told him that they needed to audition the boys “out of respect and courtesy.”

One of the twins auditioned with Yung and Busfield in Albuquerque in September 2024. Cerone interviewed child actors in Los Angeles.

“Tim even coached [the boys] before the [audition]. He tried. I never saw anything but sort of support and just really positive vibes and professionalism from Tim and the situation,” Cerone told Brown. 

Cerone hired a new actor, and the boys were let go.

Note: The audio quotes in this story may contain multiple excerpts from longer police interviews and are edited for brevity and clarity. 

“Tim doesn't have the level as a producer or the authority to hire or fire or cast,” Cerone told Brown. 

The boys’ mother later told Yung that she did "not like what this [her sons being terminated] brought out of her," according to court documents.

Yung, also known for her role as Elektra in “Daredevil,” backed out of an interview with police, leaving a voicemail that she “would not have any information that would assist this case.”

She hasn’t returned emails from USA TODAY to her publicist and manager.

'You mean like Uncle Tim'

The first allegations began in October 2024, after the boys were dropped.

The boys’ parents told police they heard there had been complaints that Busfield had been “handsy” on set. They asked their children if they felt uncomfortable with anyone.

“You mean like Uncle Tim,” the mother recalled one of the boys saying, according to a police report.

The mother took the boys to a pediatrician. The doctor found no signs of sexual abuse but called police because the parents suspected the children were groomed for sex abuse, according to a police report.

By early evening on Nov. 1, 2024, an Albuquerque police officer arrived at the family’s home.

“You know what’s right and wrong, right? You know where people can’t touch. Does Tim ever do that?” Albuquerque Police Officer Jacob Osborne asked the boys in a video recording of the interview.

“No, he’s never touched me,” one boy said.

“He’s never touched you?”

“No,” the boy responded.

“You know in your private areas, he never did that?” Osborne asked.

“Never,” the boy said.

The officer interviewed the brother separately, who also said he was not abused.

The father showed Osborne a photo.

Busfield is kneeling, his arms wrapped around the boys’ chests. One boy has his hand on Busfield’s. All three – as well as another crew member – are wearing shirts that say “Hi! Tim Busfield Big Fan.”

While the Screen Actors Guild handbook does not address physical contact off set, it requires parents to supervise their children. The boys’ mother had snapped the photo.

Osborne noted the photo was in “live” mode and captured Busfield “possibly” tickling the boys.

Police filed a report but declined to further investigate.

In the year after the twins left “The Cleaning Lady,” there were several anonymous complaints to the actors’ union hotline about Busfield. A law firm hired by Warner Bros. Television Studios found no abuse. Nothing was serious enough to report to police.

And then last September, one of the boys confided in his therapist that Busfield had touched his “penis and buttocks,” according to the arrest warrant.

The disclosure triggered a report to the New Mexico Children, Youth and Families Department and a new police investigation.

'He was mad at his dad because he thought he knew it was going on'

The only people who know the truth are Busfield and the boys.

The boys’ parents declined to talk to USA TODAY.

The boys’ parents, through their attorney, said they were dropped from the show because they refused Busfield’s advances, the attorney told investigators for Warner Bros., according to court documents filed by Busfield’s attorneys. Andrew Friedman, who represented the family, did not return phone calls and emails from USA TODAY.

So, I comb through more documents to find their words.

Police reviewed notes from the boys’ therapist and pediatrician. On Sept. 2, 2025, the therapist “documented [the boy] disclosing having nightmares about the director touching him and waking up scared. [The boy] also disclosed that the director had touched and rubbed his penis 3 to 4 times and appeared to be ashamed.”

Notes from the pediatrician that same month did not document abuse or allegations of abuse, but bedwetting, PTSD and anxiety.

The boy said he “was mad at his dad because he thought he knew it was going on,” the therapist wrote, according to Bernalillo County Deputy District Attorney Savannah Brandenburg-Koch, who reviewed the notes. 

Detective Brown watched videos of the boys interviewed by a caseworker on Oct. 31, 2025.

One of the boys said that Busfield touched him.

He drew a picture to show where he was alone with Busfield. There is a bed with a stick figure, and a larger stick figure. They are inside a box. Outside the box are several other stick figures.

The other boy drew a long shape with a small stick figure and a larger stick figure.

One of the boys told caseworkers that when his scenes ended, he was scared and walked quickly to hide behind his dad.

The boy “said he was afraid to tell anyone because Tim was the director and he feared Tim would get mad at him,” according to police notes. He also said his “dad is worried about him because Mr. Tim was touching his brother and him.”

The boy’s brother told a caseworker that Busfield “touched him” but didn’t say where, according to the arrest warrant. He said he “did not like being touched but didn’t say anything because he didn’t want to get into trouble.”

Busfield’s lawyers say the boys’ parents coached them. Defense attorney Amber Fayerberg said that the boys’ stories changed when their parents were present. She read from the therapist’s notes at a hearing on Jan. 20.

“When his father is not in the room with him. [The boy] tells the therapist that he’s waking up at night due to being too hot or too cold. His father tells the client he’s having a nightmare when he wakes up. But client doesn’t remember it,” Fayerberg says. “When the therapist asks the boy why he doesn’t tell his father that he’s hot, she writes: ‘Client feels the need to please his father and at times is scared to tell what’s going on due to fears of disappointing him.’”  

Busfield’s lawyer says the director was never alone with the boys.

Most crew members interviewed by police, defense attorneys or USA TODAY said the boys were always supervised on set.

One set teacher told police she noticed one of the boys became uncomfortable after Busfield joined the show.

The teacher “did not understand why [the boy] did not want to go to the set, but he was pretty clear he didn’t want to do it,” the officer wrote in the arrest affidavit.

The teacher did not return phone calls from USA TODAY.

Other crew members told defense attorneys that the boys didn’t want to be on set. They wanted to play soccer.

And yet all may be imperfect witnesses. Friends write character reference letters but that doesn’t speak to innocence. The movie business is an oversized industry growing in a smaller city where connections land your next job. People change their stories.

One crew member said a detective misrepresented her words in saying she was afraid to talk.

We listen to a recording of her interview with police.

“The economy doesn't know like, ‘Oh yeah, you did the right thing, everything is going to be fine.’ No, the economy is like, ‘You still have bills to pay at the end of the day,’” she said on Jan. 13.

“I did the right thing … I have to now worry about my job. My coworker totally just lied to you and said, ‘Oh, I don't know anything about it.’ And that's probably what I should have done as well.”

'It was a playful environment'

Detective Brown called Busfield in New York in November 2025, where he and Gilbert split time between a Manhattan apartment and their 14-acre Catskills cottage, according to the arrest warrant.

Busfield seemed eager to talk.

“It's ridiculous that I would ever be inappropriate with the little boys,” Busfield told Brown in the video obtained by USA TODAY and first reported on April 7.

His wife joined the call.

He described a studio hospital room that matches the boys’ drawings and where one of the boys told his therapist he was abused.

Busfield told police he and Gilbert invited the boys and their parents to their home for a cast party. Gilbert said she bought Christmas gifts for all the children who attended.

"It's cruel and it's vindictive and it's disgusting,” Gilbert said. “And in my opinion, that does nothing to help these children. It only hurts them.”

“It’s tragic, actually,” Busfield said. “That's the thing. These are good kids.”

Busfield told police he wasn’t alone with the boys, but said it’s likely he picked up the boys and tickled them in front of their parents or teacher. “It was a playful environment,” he said.

He pauses.

“I don't remember [tickling] those boys,” Busfield said. “No, I don't, I don't actually. I don't remember it. If it happened, I don't remember overtly tickling the boys ever, but it wouldn't be uncommon for me."

A photo in police files shows the back of a gray-haired man carrying a child.

A history of allegations of abusing women, girls

Midway through my reporting, we learned that five women reported incidents with Busfield between 1993 and 2019.

In March, USA TODAY reported these allegations, which were in videos obtained through records requests from Albuquerque police. The women came forward after Busfield was arrested.

While none of the women’s claims resulted in charges, they reveal a history of alleged inappropriate sexual conduct.

One of the women told USA TODAY that she ran out of a theater after Busfield touched her breasts and genitals. She was 17 at the time.

The woman told USA TODAY she fears that not reporting the abuse to police potentially led to more victims.

"Would it have stopped him from hurting other girls? Other kids? If you're a predator, you don't have rules," she said. "What really is the difference between a 16-year-old girl and a 10-year-old boy? Not that much. They are kids."

There were no reports from parents of boys.

An attorney for Busfield characterized the allegations as unproven and irrelevant to the charges Busfield faces.

A hearing for freedom

Busfield, legs and hands shackled, sat between his lawyers at a detention hearing.

The warrant for his arrest had been issued Jan. 9. He turned himself in four days later.

Gilbert, her mother and friends sat in a row behind Busfield in the courtroom.

Gilbert wore her “nana” necklace, the role she says is her favorite.

While prosecutors say the boys referred to Busfield as “Uncle Tim,” no one on set heard the children call him that unless the boys’ father urged them, according to police and witness reports.

Fayerberg, Busfield’s attorney, told the court that the boys' parents are “con artists.”

The father lost his law license in California and spent three years in prison for taking money from homeowners facing foreclosure and failing to help them, according to U.S. District Court records and the U.S. Attorney’s Office for the Central District of California. He was ordered to pay $3.5 million restitution. The mother has multiple civil judgments against her for writing bad checks and gambling debts at Las Vegas casinos, according to Nevada court records.

The judge released Busfield.

Busfield lifted his hand to his heart and walked out with his lawyers.

Ten days after her husband’s indictment, Gilbert sat in her familiar and bright kitchen where she often shares recipes and quilting tips.

“Family is everything to me and during this incredibly difficult time. … You wrapped me in love even when I was quiet,” she said in the Feb.16 Instagram video.

The weekend I interviewed Gilbert in 2024, the documentary “Quiet on the Set: The Dark Side of Kids’ TV” aired, featuring former child actors alleging sexual assault on the sets of Nickelodeon children's TV shows.

We talked about the potential for danger.

Gilbert was 15 when she had to kiss a 23-year-old who played her husband on “Little House.”

Gilbert said director Michael Landon and crew looked after her. “Nothing ever could have happened to me,” she said that day.

Gilbert now declines to talk to USA TODAY, but she sat down with ABC News on April 6.

Gilbert said she was aware of several women’s allegations before she married Busfield.

“I trust him with my children's lives, with my grandchildren's lives. He is an honorable, caring, generous human being,” she said.

Her husband, she said, is “the last person in the world who would hurt a child. And believe me, if I thought for a second that Tim Busfield hurt a child, he'd have a lot more to worry about than prison.”

'However bad it is for us, we know it's worse for victims'

I read through police interviews one more time, looking for truth among the words of so many. Then I met with prosecutors.

Brandenburg-Koch walked us into a room on the second floor of the Bernalillo County District Attorney’s office, past the four-story wooden dollhouse, the Beauty and the Beast Lego set, the giant Connect Four game on this sunlit February day.

It is here where she and prosecutor Rebekah Reyes sit on gray carpet squares to talk with children who say they've been abused.

Brandenburg-Koch leads the county’s special victims unit, which has gotten convictions in about 75% of cases the last three years.

It is a job that takes its toll.

Jake, the 2-year-old Golden Retriever therapy dog, falls asleep quickly after a day with child victims.

“You can tell it’s hard, even on the dog,” says Reyes, who is Jake’s owner.

“We see and hear bad things every day,” Brandenburg-Koch says. “However bad it is for us, we know it’s worse for victims.”

Some days prosecutors simply sit with kids, playing Jenga or Hungry, Hungry Hippos, watching “Barbie’s Mermaid Tale,” gaining their trust.

The cases are some of the most difficult to prosecute.

Sex abuse cases don’t often come with the evidence you see with murders.

Juries want emails and eyewitnesses, documented injuries.

Instead, usually they get a child’s voice. An adult’s denial.

Brandenburg-Koch tries to help juries understand these complexities.

“Abusers can be really great people. And they can still abuse children,” she says. “Two things can be true.”

She explains that most children, about 80%, delay telling anyone about abuse until they feel safe, mentally or physically. Most often the abuser is someone they know.

In their combined almost 20 years as prosecutors, Brandenburg-Koch and Reyes say they can’t recall a child making up abuse.

Brandenburg-Koch declines to talk specifically about the Busfield case. Jake is wagging his tail and headed toward the door. She is working this trial along with four other sex abuse and child abuse cases this month.

A quilt covering one of the walls of the playroom, handmade by volunteers, bears the names of more than 100 children, all victims of abuse. The names, embroidered in bright primary colors, are a reminder of why she does this work.

She flips off the light as we exit the room.

Laura Trujillo is a national columnist focusing on health and wellness on USA TODAY's investigations and storytelling team. She is the author of "Stepping Back from the Ledge: A Daughter's Search for Truth and Renewal" and can be reached at [email protected].