House of Secrets (24 page)

“It was even becoming difficult for my husband and I to maintain our Bible study time,” she later recalled. “Our prayer time. Our personal time together. You could feel a heaviness. You walked through the door and you could feel it. And we even had other people tell us this, they felt something in the house.” It seemed as if the more they prayed, the more things happened. They’d find Lana screaming in the middle of the night, claiming there was the silhouette of a man in the hall. They’d comfort her and she’d go right back to sleep. But on subsequent nights the screams continued, and the image moved closer, from the hall into the bedroom, then from the bedroom to her bed.

Another night. More screams. Now the image was over her bed, Lana said. “It’s going to kill me,” she said. “Who is this man?” Tabatha asked. “My dad,” she said. A few nights later, Tabatha got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. She saw Lana standing by the window in her room, looking out over the neighbor’s garden.

Tabatha watched for a few moments, quietly. Lana appeared completely mesmerized. Then she started whimpering, then crying. When she began to weep, Tabatha took her into her arms. Between sobs, Lana said she’d seen her grandmother.

“Where?” Tabatha asked. Standing outside her window in a bloody white dress, she said. “She was saying, Come with me.”

” The voices continued. It was her dad talking, Lana said. During the day, the Fishers were running out of ways to maintain control of the girl. Tabatha tried rewarding her for good behavior with Barbie outfits. She remained mouthy and defiant. Tabatha was starting to feel like a failure with her very first foster child. One day, Tabatha tried a timeout, having her sit down in a chair. Within moments, Lana was sprawling on the floor. “Lana, the longer you’re out of that chair, the longer your timeout is going to be,” Tabatha said. Lana suddenly thrust her head between her legs, covered her hair with her hands, and started screaming at the top of her lungs. “He’s killing me! He’s killing me!”

It was if she were being pummeled by an unseen fist. The communities had informal names, Moon Lake and Shady Hills. There were no local units of government, no town centers. These areas of Pasco County had swamp-choked lots, rusting mobile homes, and satellite dishes. Shady Hills had a couple of adopt-a-road signs sponsored by the Knights of the Ku Klux Klan. Not even Pasco County sheriff’s deputies felt comfortable venturing into some neighborhoods after dark. This was not the Florida northerners saw on travel and real estate brochures. For years, Pasco County natives had considered the 20mile-wide stretch of lowland between Gulf of Mexico beach towns and the ranches near Dade City to be mosquito-infested and unfit for development. Then the boiler rooms went to work. By the 1990s, the result was a continuous, car-choked 25-mile stretch of strip development along US-19 out of Clearwater to New Hudson, and inland, the haphazard development of places like Moon Lake and Shady Hills. Dave Sexton and his wife Jean lived about 10 miles from New Hudson, on a chain-link fenced lot on a stone road in Moon Lake. Sexton had three mobile homes in his compound, one for him and his wife Jean, the other for his son’s family, the third used by Sherri Sexton and her boy Christopher for a spell. The couple had moved to Florida in the 1980s from Canton, Ohio. Dave and Jean Sexton would later detail their encounters with Eddie Lee Sexton’s family in sworn depositions, court testimony, and an interview. Jean Sexton said she was a longtime evangelist and an active volunteer in a local Pentecostal church. Dave Sexton, 56, said he’d served 23 years with the Air Force and retired on a military disability. In fact, all the living Sexton brothers were on government relief. Eddie Sexton had his back problems. Otis received Social Security for rheumatic fever.

Back in Canton, Orville Sexton was disabled in a coal mining accident after a mine caved in on him in West Virginia. Dave Sexton was asked the nature of his physical problems in a 1994… deposition. He answered, “I have MS. I have epilepsy. I have heart trouble. I have high blood pressure. I’m, I’m neurotic.” He also said he was legally blind. The Challenger and the black Pontiac Grand Prix rolled up to Dave Sexton’s compound on a stifling Sunday night in June. Though Sherri Sexton had been with his family nearly six months, Dave maintained he had no idea what kind of problems his brother faced back in Stark County with the DHS. He said his brother called him back in April of 1992 and asked if Sherri could move there “so she could start a new life for herself.” That new life included a place on the Florida welfare roll for Sherri and the boy who’d been nicknamed “Little Bear.”

Shapely and attractive as a young teenager, at 21 her eyes had become dark and brooding, her figure heading for 200 pounds. Dave and Jean Sexton said they were a close “religious family.” Their son David Jr.

and his small family rented one of the mobile homes. They’d adopted a 1 2-year-old boy named Tommy from their daughter in Canton. The boy suffered from emotional and developmental problems. Drinking and swearing and carousing were prohibited in the compound. As far as Dave was concerned, his brother Eddie was no threat to their way of life.

“For all the years I known them,” Dave said, “I’ve never in my life seen Eddie take a drink of alcohol. I’ve never seen May.” Sherri Sexton actually had left the compound sometime in the late summer.

She’d stayed with another couple, then spent some time in a battered woman’s shelter. After that, she moved in with a mixed couple. Dave Sexton said he knew what his brother thought of black people. “I knew Eddie would be very upset,” he explained. “I said, this is not what you should be doing, Sherri. It’s best you come back.” When the Sexton family arrived, Sherri was talking about moving back to Ohio to live with her sister Machelle. Jean Sexton was planning to leave on June 7 to visit her daughter in Canton. She’d take Sherri and Little Bear. His second birthday was the day they were supposed to leave.

Until the Sexton caravan arrived. There was Eddie, May, Willie, Christopher, Matt, Charles, Kimberly, Pixie, Dawn, Shasta, Pixie’s husband Joel, and their new baby Skipper Lee, or “Ewok.” Jean said she was struck by Joel Good’s appearance. His head was almost shaved clean. “He looked like a monk,” Jean said. “And he was so tiny and frail.” Now, two more would join the clan. Monday morning, Jean Sexton headed north without Sherri and her child. “Eddie came down and told me he was going to settle down in Florida,” Dave said. “And he’s been telling me this for quite a few years. And he asked if he could park his motor home on our property until they found them a house. And I told them they could.”

They stayed two weeks, some of the family moving into the middle trailer, others staying in the Challenger. Then, Eddie Sexton found the house he was looking for. It was in the area everyone called Shady Hills. Two hundred dollars down, 12 months to pay. New Hudson pawnshop owner Ray Santee had bought the property in 1971 on Treaty Road like a lot of other buyers. Developers were promising well-kept roads and municipal services. But not long after Santee built the four-bedroom cut-stone house with a screened-in pool, it became evident that live oaks and the Florida undergrowth were destined to rule Shady Hills. Now Santee rented out the property, 8750 plus security. Five miles out of New Hudson, the road damaged the property value more than anything. What little asphalt was left on Treaty held 10foot long, 3-foot deep potholes that could swallow a compact car. It was early June when the man named Ed Sexton showed up at Santee’s Hudson Pawn &

Music on US-19, answering a classified ad. Sexton said he’d already driven out and seen the property. “The money’s no problem,” Sexton said. “We like it.

We’re kind of a private family.” Treaty Road certainly was private.

There were few homes in the area. A couple of black families moved into the neighborhood for a few years, but soon left. Gunfire often cracked through the woods and swamps. People were free to take target practice on their own property. A KKK adopt-a-road sign was planted on nearby Ranch Road. Santee had some bad news for Sexton. He’d just rented the stone house earlier that day. Sexton persisted. He said he and his sons were very handy. He was on disability himself, but between them they could do repairs, fix up the property. Santee said the lease was signed. But he also had a mobile home about a hundred yards from the house for rent. That was $275 a month. “Well, then, we’ll take that,” Sexton said. “And if that home frees up, then you let us know.” Santee thought it was odd. It was as if the man had been ready to buy a Cadillac, then suddenly wanted a 67 Dodge. But the new tenant never complained once. He’d drop by the shop after buying home-improvement supplies for the mobile home and grounds. He invited Santee out to visit to check on his progress, but Santee never found the time. He always asked when the neighbor in the stone home might be moving out. Maybe soon, Santee said. He was having trouble collecting rent. Santee was surprised Sexton was getting along so well, considering the size of his family. “Oh, we like the privacy,” Sexton said. On July 5, four days after Lana Sexton disclosed her mother’s sexual abuse to her foster mother, DHS representatives met with a standing, child sexual assault task force made up of Steve Ready, an assistant Stark County prosecutor, and other officials. The task force’s role was to decide whether there was probable cause to go to a grand jury for indictments, sparing children testimony and cross-examination in a municipal court, where most Ohio felonies are first brought. The DHS had Lana’s disclosures and medical exams consistent with vaginal penetration. The task force ruled the case had probable cause to seek warrants with a grand jury. But that also meant Lana Sexton would have to take the stand. DHS workers were getting reports of Lana’s behavior from the Bair Foundation. In May, North Canton psychologist Robin Tener also had submitted a report, describing the girl’s fragile condition. Tener wrote, “No amount of treatment is likely to be helpful to Lana, unless she can be assured that she is safe from her family.” It had taken seven months for Lana Sexton to disclose. They couldn’t reasonably expect her to march into a room full of strangers and disclose her secrets, at least not without some time to heal. As the Satanic details surfaced with both Lana and James, legal chief Judee Genetin also believed another factor might have come into play. Detective Glenn Goe and worker Tracey Harlin had brought sexual assault charges against Charles “Skipper” Sexton to the task force back in February and received a similar referral. But the prosecutor’s juvenile division had done little with the case. Some of Genetin’s own associates were beginning to question her passion for the case. “Nobody was excited about this case from the beginning,” she’d later recall. “Nobody took it seriously. People cannot believe things like this happen. We have judges on the bench who still do not believe that adults can molest children. They just can’t accept it. And with the ritual factor, that comes into play even more. Part of the reason for ritual abuse is that the perpetrator knows if a child does disclose, the ritualistic disclosures will make it even more unbelievable.” Genetin knew she must have looked obsessed with the case. Later, an attorney would comment that she’d seen her arguing the Sexton matter, pacing in Family Court, her voice bellowing. “We all thought you were crazy,” she said. “I sounded like a lunatic,” Genetin said. “And if you stand back and look at it, it does sound like some really bizarre stuff.” Hysterical or not, Genetin and staff attorney Edith Hough went back to the Family Court on August 4, arguing the motion for permanent custody, filed nearly three months before. The court knew four children were still missing. Judge Edwards asked Genetin if she wanted to amend her complaint to include only Lana and James, the only children under physical custody with the DHS.

“No, your honor,” she said. Said Genetin later, “It was the strangest custody case we’d ever argued. I’ve never filed for permanent custody of kids that I didn’t have under physical control.” Despite the public notices in local newspapers, neither the Sextons nor an attorney representing them showed up. The motion was unopposed. Still, it would be nearly six weeks before the DHS would get a judgement from the court. s In Florida, Eddie Lee Sexton was preparing to take his case to a higher authority. He wanted the federal government involved. Back in the trailer at Bushman’s Lake, he’d shot a video with the family camcorder. Now, after the Sextons arrived in Florida, he wanted copies of the 3-hour-9-minute production sent to President William Jefferson Clinton and Attorney General Janet Reno. Sexton hosted the homespun program. Well-groomed and wearing a black sweater, he sat at a table, the mobile home’s wood paneling and a family portrait as a backdrop.

He sat with his hands folded, a coffee mug at his right, a wedding band sparkling on his left hand. A blue tattoo poked out from his rolled-up right sleeve, a swooping American eagle, its talons bared. “Citizens of the United States, I am coming to you in hopes that in some way that some official of the United States government can step in and find out why a family such as mine has been treated in such a manner,” he began.

“I feel that our constitutional rights have been violated. Our civil rights have been violated.” Sexton looked as relaxed as the host of a cable fishing show. The picture was as centered and still as a professional studio shot. For 15 minutes, he covered the details, blaming most of the family’s troubles on his daughter Machelle, his brother Otis, and the Stark County DHS, particularly Wayne Welsh and Bonita Hilson, the black social worker assigned to the family. Sexton said Machelle had run away from home once before, in the summer before her senior year. She’d dumped urine from an upstairs window on her brothers Matt and Willie in the yard. He claimed she’d accused others of rape, a high school boyfriend, the father of a friend, her uncle Otis, and the park worker she’d dated after she left home. Sexton accused Wayne Welsh of fabricating pregnancy test results for Jackson police. Sexton said his brother Otis was motivated by money and vengeance. He said their relationship had gone sour when Otis had falsely accused Willie of stealing his ring. Otis filed false insurance claims and a bogus disability case. He was trying to get custody of his children so he could collect their relief payments. “He is mentally ill to a great extent due to the fact that he tries to cause everybody problems,” Sexton said. Sexton claimed his own health had been deteriorating for years. He had muscular dystrophy, he claimed, and more. “I have a mass,” he said. “My left eye is out and it’s taken over my nervous system and I’ve had nine back surgeries and I have cancer in between my shoulder blades and evidently it’s spreading.” He called for the Indian nations to “rise up” and support him. “My mother was Indian. My father was Indian. [My wife’s] father was Indian. Her mother was Indian.” He said their families didn’t have tribal registration numbers because they’d left their reservations at the turn of the century, when record-keeping stopped. On he went, in numbing minutia, covering Wayne Welsh, “a habitual liar,” and Bonita Hilson, “a very arrogant person,” and their contacts with his family.