House of Secrets (22 page)

“My father started getting on our nerves. See, Willie could go in the camper all the time. And Pixie and Joel and the kids came. I’m thinking, damn, it’s crowded as a motherfucker in here. It’s a two bedroom trailer. Two little kids crying and then my mom and dad are getting into arguments. A week after Pixie came they got into an argument. My old man is calling my mom a whore. But my sister was the one who was a whore, you know, fucking around with her old man. And liking it. And my old man liking it.” Still, on April 12, May sent her husband an anniversary note, writing, “This is a time for loving.

A time for caring. A time to let our feelings flow and to let our love for each other glow … yours forever.” As far as Skipper was concerned, he could take or leave Joel and Pixie. However, he was enamored with his namesake, their new son, little Skipper Lee. He called the baby his “godson.” He held and fed the infant, tried to teach it baby talk. Joel Good, most family members would recall, did most of the child care for his family. He played with the girls and took them for walks. He fed and diapered and bathe the new infant. He seemed to worship the new child. The Goods had come up with a nickname for the baby, “Ewok,” after the strange speaking midget characters in Star Wars. Ed Sexton wasn’t particularly fond of the addition to the family, though by most accounts, Skipper Lee was a quiet, lovable child. Ed said he was “below average.” He refused to hold him. He also began distancing himself from Dawn and Shasta. He didn’t like it when they referred to Joel as “Dad.” Every two weeks the patriarch would leave Indiana with Willie and Pixie. They’d drive back to Massilon to a post office box to pick up Sexton’s disability, Willie’s SSI checks, and the last of Joel Good’s unemployment payments. During one trip, Pixie and her father had sex in the backseat as Willie piloted the Pontiac up the interstate. The boys found trouble on their own. One night Skipper crawled through a window of a house at Bushman’s Lake and stole a computer, an answering machine, and a couple of rifles. His father found out. He said they didn’t need that kind of heat. He made him break back in and take the items back. The FBI was probably on their trail already, he said. Another night, Skipper and one of his brothers broke into the small resort liquor store and bar that was closed for the season. They took cigarettes and booze.

Their father found out about that, too, Skipper recalled, but helped them stash the goods in the woods. Sometimes their father was drinking, something his family had only seen him do before on New Year’s Eve.

Joel Good was the odd man out in the male group. He wasn’t allowed to take part in the drills or guard duty. Sometimes the Sexton brothers teased him. One night in the trailer, Christopher kept waking Joel up from his sleep. Joel made a stand. He grabbed Christopher’s shirt and said, “I’m going to beat your ass next time you do that.” They wrestled briefly, and it was over. The next morning, Christopher told his dad. Sexton stormed into the little bedroom, threw Joel against the wall, and cracked him across the face with his hand. “You want to beat somebody’s ass, beat mine,” he said. Recalled Skipper, who watched the attack, “Joel was never the same after that. He became just like a little kid.” Joel spent most of his time catering to Pixie and the children. But he also ignored camp rules. Their father wanted the boys out of sight in the daylight hours. He didn’t want the landlord to see how many people they had living at the property. Joel kept wandering out of the mobile home. Willie came up with the idea first, Skipper later recalled. “Willie came to me and my dad and said, We should take out Joel, because you know he has a lot of problems.” My dad told Willie he was crazy.” Later, Skipper heard his father and Pixie discuss the idea further at the dining room table. Joel was outside. Pixie complained her husband was “getting on her nerves.”

Pixie suggested they get life insurance on Joel, Skipper recalled.

“Now that’s a good idea,” the patriarch said. Skipper recalled, “It was him and Pixie talking, with their little love affair going. They were gonna have Joel have a freak accident, have the brakes go out on the car. They was going to use my car for it. Gonna pop the brake line.

I’m going, c’mon that’s my first car. Why the fuck do you want to take him out? Why don’t you just take him back to Ohio … just drop his ass off somewhere? They was just going to kill his ass.” Soon, the patriarch came up with a new mission. He wanted Skipper and Willie to drive north with him. He was heading north again to Ohio, but this time it wasn’t just to pick up some checks. Stark County detective Steve Ready heard about the February 18 auction on Caroline Street through the department grapevine. There had been an advertisement in the paper by auctioneer Ed Fernandez. Ready picked up the phone and called the auctioneer. Yes, Ed and May Sexton were selling the house and belongings. He’d gotten a call or two from Sexton himself, but mostlyhis daughter Pixie was handling the details. “We’re looking for Sexton,” Ready told him. “He shows up or contacts you, I’d appreciate a call.” Already, Ready was limited by logistics and law as to what he could do to find Ed and May Sexton. Because there was no armed robbery or breakin involved, Eddie Jr.“s loss of the bond money was a civil matter. Eddie Jr. would have to file a lawsuit to get his money back.

The Sextons no longer had representation in Family Court. On January 5, their attorney Pat Menicos had withdrawn from the case. The DHS put out what it called a “protective services alert.” It went to police departments in nearby states, stating that Stark County was looking for the minor children. But from experience, social workers knew the notices weren’t taken very seriously by many departments around the United States. Ready checked Sexton’s status on his misdemeanor conviction in Massilon. He discovered that the father really wasn’t on probation, but good behavior. He didn’t have to report to a PO. To stay clean he simply had to avoid appearing again on another crime.

They had no proof May Sexton and the children had been kidnapped. In fact, she’d disappeared before her husband. They had only a no-contact order from Family Court. “If I spotted him in Stark County I had the authority to take the kids from him,” he later explained. “I couldn’t even arrest him unless he interfered.” Legal chief Judee Genetin later explained constitutional law prevented them from seeking a bench warrant from Family Court. May Sexton disappeared before they could legally serve her with notice of the last custody hearing. Because she hadn’t been legally notified, she technically wasn’t breaking the law when she didn’t show up. Even if Steve Ready had a warrant, he’d also be limited on two fronts. The sheriff’s department wasn’t about to let him go chasing the Sextons cross-country. Everyone in county criminal justice was short-staffed and penny-wise. For years, county law enforcement and prosecution had faced slashed and uncertain budgets.

For 10 years, the county had been trying to get a small sales tax enacted to increase crime-fighting revenues, but the effort had been derailed by public referendums and successful recalls of county commissioners who supported the tax. Even if the sheriff sent him on an out-of-state manhunt, he’d have to arrange for local out-of-state authorities to make the arrest and wait out an extradition hearing. It was too bad Sexton hadn’t jumped bail, Ready thought. A bail bondsman could hunt Sexton down, toss him in his trunk, and bring him back from any state with legal immunity. And they often did. Ready called Ed Sexton’s brother, Dave, in New Port Richey, Florida. He’d been told by the DHS that Sherri Sexton was staying with the family. When he called, David Sexton told him she was staying there, but wasn’t at home. He got the same answer for the next eight months. Sherri never returned his calls. Somebody in DHS came up with the idea of chasing the Sextons down through Ed Sexton’s disability payments. Judee Genetin called the Bureau of Workman’s Compensation in January, requesting information. The bureau reported that Ed Sexton was no longer receiving checks. One solution, Ready told Genetin, would be the federal Unlawful Flight to Avoid Prosecution warrant, worked through the FBI. If they could indict Eddie and May for felony crimes they could get the UFAP warrant. But with Machelle Sexton recanting, they had no felony. “The FBI isn’t going to get involved over some Family Court bullshit,” Ready said. If some of the other children would only disclose rape or other forms of sexual abuse by the father, they might be able to go before a Stark County grand jury and get indictments. Some of the children were in therapy. But certainly nobody wanted to push the children with repeated interview sessions.

Genetin had taken a 30-hour seminar sponsored by the American Prosecutor’s Research Institute. She’d learned about the kind of questionable methods used in other flawed cases. For the sake of both the case and the mental health of the children, disclosure had to come naturally. If sex abuse happened at the hands of the father, one of the children would eventually disclose, Genetin predicted, if the children felt they were safe in the foster homes. “And I’m not exaggerating. If she could, she would sit and play with those Barbie dolls for twenty-four hours a day.” Her attitude seemed to get worse after visits arranged by the DHS with her older brother james.

Normally, the agency tried to encourage siblings in separate foster homes to have contact. Soon, counselors decided to have the visits with James stopped. In time, it became clear that Lana Sexton had a strange mix of personality traits. She was very immature, but also was capable of a maturity well beyond her age. She could be very blunt.

She’d rib waitresses, crack inappropriate jokes, and treat the Fisher’s adult friends and family as if they were contemporaries. And she had a favorite word, “Penis.”

“He’s such a penis,” she would say. “Why are you using that word, Lana?” Tabatha would ask. “You know I don’t like it.” She used it for everything, “He’s such a penis.”

“That movie was a real penis.”

“Don’t be such a penis.” Alone with Tabatha, the acting out diminished. Lana loved to cuddle with her in the easy chair. An hour before bed, Tabatha came up with a quiet, sharing time. They read together or talked in Lana’s bedroom. Tabatha had learned the practice from her own mother, a special time she remembered as a child. At night, Lana talked about her sisters. She missed her younger sister Kim. She said they had a little white Bible they used to read in secret. Their father didn’t allow them to worship or go to church, she said. Tabatha never pushed church or Christianity on the girl, but she seemed to clamor for it. She wanted to attend church and Bible studies with them. She liked contemporary gospel music and read the Bible before bed. One night in April, Lana began talking about her brother, Charles, the boy she also called Skipper. She disclosed Skipper had raped her. “I’m afraid of him,” she said. Tabatha held her close.

Lana liked to be hugged when they had their talks. A few nights later she revealed her dad had sexually molested her. “Dad hurt me,” she said. “I don’t ever want to be with my dad.” Tabatha held her closer.

“You don’t have to worry,”

Tabatha said. “You’re with us now.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Lana said, shaking her head. “You can’t say anything he won’t know.” Tabatha reported the disclosure to the Bair Foundation, which passed it on to Stark County DHS workers handling the Sexton case. One week later, as Tabatha picked Lana up from the school, Lana’s eyes were wide with fear. She hurried into the car, saying, “I saw Skipper on the playground today.” Lana believed he’d come from a blue truck with Massilon Tigers bumper stickers on it.

She’d seen it around the school that day. Skipper, she said, gave her a phone number and said the family was in Salem, West Virginia, 60

miles away. “I’ll be back with Dad, and you better be here,” Skipper supposedly said. Tabatha Fisher remembered seeing a truck like that.

It was hard to miss anything new in their small town. The Fishers called the Bair Foundation again, reporting the contact. A foundation worker said he’d request a mug shot of the father from Stark County so the Fishers could identify him.

A few days later, Tabatha saw the blue truck at a stoplight, but it turned before she could see the plate. One week later they were driving away from the school when Lana suddenly ducked, laying down on the backseat. “He’s back there,” she screamed. Tabatha saw only a motorcyclist behind them. “Who’s back there?” she asked. “That’s my father on that motorcycle,” Lana said. The cyclist turned. Tabatha wondered if Lana’s fears were kindling her imagination. She wished she had that mug shot. Still, the bedtime talks continued. Lana was convinced now that her father knew she’d told family secrets. “He can talk with us anywhere we are,” she said. “You can’t hide.”

“He’s Satan,” she said. He had special powers. On April 29, seven days after Skipper had approached her on the school yard, the Fishers and Lana Sexton arrived home on a Friday evening to find their door wide open, a chilly breeze blowing into the house. The door handle was busted oœ Lattice work on the porch was shattered. The neighbor said her dog had been barking earlier. Inside, they found nothing missing or disturbed, not even Lana’s school pictures on their mantel. “It’s my dad,” Lana kept saying. “It’s my dad.” They spent the night at their pastor’s house. Tabatha called the Bair Foundation to report the breakin. By the next morning, both Tabatha and Lana were crying when the foundation car came to pick her up. Ed Sexton seemed to be having little trouble discovering the DHS’s secrets. On January 7, 1993, a worker in the Stark County office received a call from Andover, Ohio.

Sexton and his son Skipper had shown up the day before in town, trying to talk Matthe into getting in the car with them. Later, at midnight, Ed Sexton was spotted outside the foster home. Detective Glenn Goe sent a mug shot of Eddie Lee Sexton to Andover police. He also sent one to Salem, West Virginia, asking both departments to be on the watch for the patriarch.

Three months later, on April 22, the DHS motioned to terminate its custody of Charles “Skipper” Sexton. He’d turned 18 and now was a legal adult. That same day, DHS received a call from the Bair Foundation about his contact with Lana at the school in East Liverpool.