It sounded like a reward: free pizza, arcade games, and “a day off campus” for more than 2,000 teens from five Louisiana high schools. What the permission slips didn’t mention was the destination—The Refuge, an evangelical church known for fiery sermons against LGBTQ rights. Buses rolled in, doors locked behind the students, and a three-hour program unfolded: graphic testimonies about “curing same-sex attraction,” a skit equating queer identity with drug abuse, and altar calls urging kids to “repent.” Phones were confiscated at the door; teachers, also caught off-guard, stood helpless at the back of the sanctuary.

By nightfall TikTok clips leaked from hidden cameras: sobbing students, volunteers waving rainbow-colored flyers that read Sin No More, and school administrators ushering traumatized teens onto buses under police lights. Parents flooded Facebook with rage—many are now coordinating a civil-rights lawsuit alleging emotional distress, false imprisonment, and violation of the state’s Students’ Rights Act, which prohibits compelled religious activity.

Eighteen-year-old senior Maya Roberts describes the moment she realized the event’s true intent: “They dimmed the lights, showed a slideshow of overdose victims, then switched to photos of Pride parades. We weren’t allowed to leave.” Class president Jaden Collins, who came out as gay last year, called it “the longest three hours of my life,” adding that classmates still text him apologies for not speaking up.

The school district issued a terse statement blaming a “third-party vendor” for misrepresenting the field trip. But emails obtained by the students’ attorney suggest administrators knew the church’s stance and approved the outing anyway. The ACLU has stepped in, demanding policy overhauls and mandatory staff training on LGBTQ safety.

Meanwhile, students are staging their own response. A coalition named Free2Be plans a counter-event at the local civic center—this time with actual games, mental-health counselors, and an open mic for queer stories. As sophomore Leah Nguyen put it, “They tried to scare us silent. We’re answering with joy—and a lawyer.”