Unger’s lawyer showed the jury a piece of paper that was covered in what Unger said was Downing’s handwriting and doodles. Unger said “80 to 90 percent” of his sessions with Downing involved discussing why Unger was drawn to specific male body parts—rear ends, in particular. On the paper, Downing had allegedly drawn a stick figure with an enlarged bottom that said, “I am cute, play with me, fluffy butt.”

Opinions vary on the ethics of gay-conversion therapy for adults, but Downing’s therapeutic tactics would be considered strange no matter what his client’s problem was.

Some conversion therapy practitioners are bona-fide psychologists or counselors. But many operate on the fringes, pitching themselves either as religious mentors or, in Downing’s case, as mere “coaches.” In some ways, the rise of therapeutic-sounding titles like “life coach”—with its patina of personal growth and near absence of accountability—has allowed conversion therapy to flourish.

“To my knowledge there is no regulation of the [life coach] title, nor are they licensed by any state,” said Jack Drescher, a psychiatrist and psychoanalyst who helped write the American Psychological Association’s reports on conversion therapies. “As far as I know, life coaches can say and do pretty much whatever they want.” In most states, he added, even the title of "therapist" is not regulated: Anyone who wants to hang a shingle, can.

The actual legal question in the JONAH case is not whether Downing is a bad coach; it’s whether gay-conversion therapy is consumer fraud. The Southern Poverty Law Center, the civil-rights group bringing the case, argues that charging money while promising to “change” gay people to straight is a scam because such a transformation is impossible. Unger and the other plaintiffs are still gay. (More background on this in my previous story.) A New Jersey jury will decide whether the SPLC is right when the trial ends in about three weeks. If the SPLC prevails, Unger and several other former JONAH clients will get their money back.

In the meantime, the ordeal suffered by Unger and the other plaintiffs highlights how few rules govern certain types of counseling and coaching. Downing, who did not return my earlier requests for comment, says in his bio that he is a “Professional Life Coach”—a title that means little—and is “currently pursuing his Master's degree in counseling.”

If a licensed psychologist or counselor had done what Downing allegedly did to Unger, a patient could bring a complaint to the state licensing board or professional ethics committee, and as Drescher says, the psychologist in question “might have some ‘splainin to do.” (It’s worth noting that a licensed therapist could not have done what Downing did in New Jersey. The state banned licensed professionals from participating in conversion therapy in 2013.)

Because life coaching is self-regulated, there are few legal requirements for becoming one. There is no way to lose a life-coaching license because there is no license to have. As one coaching trainer told CBS, “there are ‘schools’ that will offer a credential after three hours of training, and people read a book or watch a TV program and decide ‘I’m a coach!’”