Stolen Innocence (59 page)

“This trial has not been about religion or a vendetta. It was simply about child abuse and preventing further abuse.

“I hope that all FLDS girls and women will understand that no matter what anyone may say, you are created equal. You do not have to surrender your rights or your spiritual sovereignty. I know how hard it is, but please stand up and fight for your voice and power of choice. I will continue to fight for you.

“To those who have been there to support and keep Lamont and myself encouraged, words cannot begin to express our gratitude. I hope the FLDS people will feel the same kindness as they make their difficult journey.

“I would like to thank Brock Belnap and the prosecuting legal team for all their kindness and hard work.”

I took a breath and closed my statement with the quote: “‘Opinion is a flitting thing. But truth outlasts the sun.’ Emily Dickinson.” I looked into the flash of clicking cameras and the microphones that danced up and down, each clamoring to get closest. I nodded once and turned away.

L
amont and I left the courthouse that day hand in hand, filled to the brim with a sense of hope and renewal. The late-September sun beamed down upon us as we faced the beginning of a new and beautiful chapter of our lives. That night, I snuggled with two-year-old Tyler and baby Emily, relishing their sweet smiles and soft sounds. My own childhood had been racked with pain and confusion, stunted too quickly by sexual abuse and a complete loss of innocence. But now I had the chance to start over.

Tyler and Emily are my precious blank slates. They have been my healing, my salvation, and a fresh opportunity to have—and feel safe within—the construct of a family. Each day that I look at them I see a future, a future that until recently I didn’t even think was possible. The thought that their tiny bodies will grow up never knowing the confines of the FLDS Church makes me realize now, perhaps more than ever, the true presence of God. In the end, he’s the only reason that I made it. Sometimes that’s the only thing we have. Whether you call it God, or hope, faith—whatever word you use—the fact is, I couldn’t have survived if I hadn’t believed in something. It was the one part of me that neither Warren nor Allen could touch, and no matter what happens, as long as I have that, I’ve won.

EPILOGUE

O
n November 20, 2007, almost two months after Warren’s guilty verdict, Lamont and I walked into the courthouse for the sentencing of Warren Jeffs, unsure of what was going to happen. Outside, the sun shone brightly as one last time we were ushered through the back door of the courthouse. Oddly, this arena had become a part of my reality and I’d grown strangely comfortable within its walls surrounded by the people who had caringly walked beside me throughout this grueling process.

I was concerned that Warren might receive a sentence as light as eighteen months and return to the community to start all over again with his “work.” I had been offered the opportunity to address the court one last time before Judge Shumate rendered Warren’s sentence. I agonized over whether saying more would complicate things for the judge. We had all heard the evidence, and the closing arguments. Warren had already been found guilty; now it was just about deciding the consequence. I’d already spelled out my final thoughts in a Victim Impact Statement for the court. As I took my seat in the second row of the gallery that morning, I was still undecided, but as I listened to Wally Bugden talk of “religious persecution” and try to remove the blame from his client, I decided I had to speak up. This wasn’t just about me; I owed it to all young girls, especially those of the FLDS still holding onto their innocence.

When both sides had presented their arguments with regard to Warren’s sentence, the judge turned to the prosecution to learn if I would exercise my right to make a statement. I walked slowly toward the front of the courtroom, placing one wobbly foot in front of the other. I could feel my emotions taking hold as I stood at a podium directly before the judge. In that instant, the events of the past years flashed before me. Here was the man who had inflicted such pain and sorrow on so many people. Here was the moment when God would answer prayers. While I wanted to see justice served, I also felt the grief and sadness of Warren’s thousands of supporters, praying that God would show his hand. I knew they were in mourning and that they didn’t understand; they couldn’t risk having such thoughts. But I felt like God was showing us mercy and he was answering prayers. I thought of Lamont and my children and all those who’d worked hard to get to this moment, and I knew without a doubt it had all been worth it. As I cleared my throat to speak, I was still unsure what words could be said to show the judge what was in my heart.

“I have thought of this day and how it would go for a very long time,” I began, my voice quivering but filled with resolve. “Warren Jeffs and his influence over me as a fourteen-year-old girl affected me and my family in so many ways. I am so grateful for the justice system that you would see the truth and believe in me.” I could already feel myself healing from the inside out. It was a powerful moment for me, even though the end had not yet arrived.

“I know from fact that whatever I do today will not make it better,” Judge Shumate told me, his voice laced with sympathy and concern. “You live under a life sentence. Your courage in carrying on is laudable, but you don’t have to do it alone.”

I nodded, comforted that he cared and seemed to understand how much pain I had endured. I had spent a lot of time delving into my past but I’d never focused on the fact that these scars would be with me forever. It felt good to be validated like that; Judge Shumate made me feel fathered in a way. Granting me this new perspective lifted a weight off my shoulders and I will always be grateful to him for that.

I was trying to keep my emotions in check as Judge Shumate explained to me that I was entitled to monetary compensation from Warren for therapy and other services. I thought for a moment, and then shook my head and replied, “I do not seek restitution, nor would I accept it from him. There is nothing he can give me that could change the past. My restitution is knowing that I spoke the truth and you and the justice system have done your job.”

After a brief recess, the judge returned to the bench to render his decision. The courtroom fell completely silent. Behind me in the last row of the gallery sat a handful of Warren’s most devoted supporters. We were completely different now, even though I had been raised as one of them. I cared for them all, and hoped that having sat through the court proceeding maybe they could begin to look deeper and examine what they had built their lives around.

In the end, Judge Shumate delivered the sentence he felt necessary and appropriate—two consecutive terms of five years to life in prison. This meant under Utah law that Warren would serve at least ten years and would be fined by the court. As the judge addressed Warren, I felt grateful to see him being held accountable for his actions. Judge Shumate called it “poetic justice” that Warren had been captured by authorities in the same state in which he had conducted my wedding ceremony with Allen.

“First cousins of any age cannot marry lawfully in the state of Utah,” the judge said, confirming that Warren undoubtedly knew this, intentionally breaking the law.

But true to character, Warren stood before the court that day seemingly unaffected. I don’t know what I expected, but it surprised me that such a loaded moment could unfold with so little reaction from him. The courtroom was eerily silent as Wally Bugden rose to request that his client be allowed to remain at the Purgatory Correctional Facility in Hurricane for a week while he prepared an appeal. I was secretly glad when the judge refused and ordered that Warren be immediately transferred to the Utah State Prison in Draper, where he would undergo a five-week observation to determine his eventual placement.

It seemed that this would be the final moment in the struggle that had begun two years earlier, but this culminating event would not mark the end of the road for either Warren Jeffs or me. The prophet now faces similar criminal charges in Arizona. Jeffs has also been indicted by a federal grand jury in Salt Lake City on a single count of unlawful flight to avoid prosecution, stemming from his time on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted list. As for Allen, prosecutors in Washington County filed rape charges against him and his case is pending.

As of this writing, there is a hearing pending on April 24, 2008, to determine whether the juror substitution in
The State of Utah
vs.
Warren Jeffs
was appropriate. The defense is claiming that their insistence on adding an alternate juror to the original jury was such a bad mistake that Warren should be given a new trial. The prosecution will argue that by pressing for the alternate juror, the defense waved the possibility of a new trial. Of course, the thought of reopening these wounds on the witness stand is harrowing, but I know that I will be ready for the challenge should it present itself.

Life after the trial has not been perfect for any of us, especially my sister Teressa who is currently facing an incredibly distressing ordeal. In response to Teressa’s testimony against Warren, her ex-husband, who is still a member of the FLDS and lives in Bountiful, filed for sole custody of their three children. The most distressing element of Teressa’s battle for custody arose in January 2008, when we learned that my mother, my sister Sabrina and others still in the church had signed affidavits on Teressa’s ex-husband’s behalf. Their statements were hurtful and alleged and Teressa was a neglectful mother, who snuck out to drink and left the children in the care of others. While an affidavit from our mother was unexpected, and we still doubt that the words are even hers, Craig’s, stung the most. As fellow transplants in Canada for years, Teressa and Craig shared a very deep mutual understanding, and Teressa felt understandably betrayed.

The FLDS Church has been pitting family members against one another for a long time, but in recent years it has gotten worse than ever. Teressa is a prime example, and so are Lamont and myself. In December 2007, Lamont’s aunt passed away. Since losing his mother, Lamont had forged a strong bond with her sister and she had become like a mother to him. Her loss impacted him deeply and we wanted to attend her funeral in Short Creek. To our dismay, Lamont and I were promptly informed that if we were present, the service would be canceled and she would just be buried with no memorial service. Two of her children who had removed themselves from the FLDS were even hindered greatly from attending their own mother’s funeral. It’s sad to see how church leaders are willing to use people’s emotions and sincere love against them as a way to punish them for holding a different point of view.

A part of me had secretly hoped that Warren being in prison might open the eyes of some of the devoted people of the FLDS. Maybe without Warren’s presence and influence, some doors would open and ties to loved ones shoved out along the way might be permitted again. I had even allowed myself to dream of the day when my mother and I would be reunited and allowed a chance at a relationship, despite our differing views.

To my disappointment, little has changed in the community, and life continues on much as it did under Warren. Ultimately, these systems are much bigger than just one man. They were in place long before he took power and they will carry on until more people stand up again these injustices. I still haven’t heard a word from Sherrie or Ally in years, and I have not seen my mother since we parted following Uncle Fred’s funeral. In late March of 2008, I received word that they might surface long enough to clear the missing persons report that Kassandra filed after their initial disappearance. The news came after lengthy communications between David Doran, the sheriff of Schleicher County, Texas, and the leaders of the Yearn for Zion Ranch (YFZ) that Warren Jeffs and others had constructed in Sheriff Doran’s jurisdiction in Eldorado.

Remarkably, Sheriff Doran is the only member of law enforcement who has ever been able to open a friendship and line of communication with the people of the FLDS, and because of this relationship church elders agreed to entertain the possibility of a meeting with my mother. Sadly, we learned that the men in charge of Mom, Sherrie, and Ally would not allow one to take place if any of my mother’s apostate children were in attendance. Eventually my father, my mother, Sherrie and Ally, and members of law enforcement met in Washington County, Utah, but the meeting did not produce any new information about where they were living.

While I am sure my mother may feel disrespected and hurt by my actions, I hope she understands that coming forward was something I had to do. Her staunch support of the religion and inability to extract herself from that mindset put me in a position where she couldn’t protect me. It is for this reason that I have resolved to make it my mission to help my little sisters and others like them in any way possible.

In early April 2008, I got that opportunity when a young girl reached out from the inside the FLDS to a crisis hotline in Texas. The caller claimed that she was sixteen years old, eight months pregnant, and wanted help to get out of the FLDS community. In response, members of Texas law enforcement entered the compound on Thursday, April 3, in hopes of locating her. During their initial search, and over the next few days, they were unable to find a girl fitting that description but observed many underage girls who were visibly pregnant. This prompted officials to embark on a more thorough investigation that led to the removal of hundreds of women and children from the ranch.

Suddenly faced with this newly daunting task, officials in Texas needed an understanding of this culture and its people, and so they invited my sister Kassandra and me to Texas to assist them in their communication with the FLDS people. My desire was to ensure that the men, women, and children were treated with kindness, understanding, and respect. I knew the fear and anxiety that they were experiencing all too well. I was also hoping that I would see Sherrie and Ally there, but they were not among the women and children bused from the ranch.