I just read this book, The Witness Wore Red, written by Recebba Musser, who was the 19th wife of a polygamous cult leader of the Fundamentalist Latter Day Saints (FLDS) I was horrified by some of the stories that she shared and I highly recommend reading this book. It is eye opening and insane that this is still going on in the world we live in.

Here are some of the passages that really stuck out to me:

Someone passing by our simple two-level redbrick home would likely never guess how many children lived in the basement alone. He would likely be shocked to learn that another large family lived upstairs; the only common denominator between the two families was one man who spent half his nights upstairs with his first wife and children, the other half downstairs with our mother- wife number two- and her children. This man was my father.

I was a “Wilson” and not a “Wall” at my school, and why I could only rarely play with the sweet little girl across the street. If she learned about me- about my brothers and sisters and our family living secretly in the walkout basement- we would risk being discovered.

We wore love-sleeved shirts, girls’ long prairie dresses and skirts, and exceptionally long braids. Mom said we were special, but it wasn’t until I went to kindergarten that I understood we represented a tiny fraction of the population around us.

We worshipped diligently at church, but our people did not have a temple of our own. Someday in the future, it was foretold, we would build one. But for now, we simply had to endure life. We had to suffer pain and sacrifice, because eternity was what mattered.

  Soon Warren restricted everything from forbidding dances, operettas, plays, and even parades. From the pulpit, Warren demanded stricter rules among the people, like completely forbidding anyone to wear the color red, and reiterating that passion and pleasure in the bedroom were for men only. As holders of the Priesthood their passion was meant to fulfill God’s will.  Warren was taking every last thing from the community that gave a sense of purpose or joy.

On September 8, 2002, Rulon Timpson Jeffs passed away (he was the old man on the cover of the book and the leader of the FLDS church). He had prophesied that he would never die, and we had believed him. We all relied on the Prophet for our eternal salvation. And Rulon had promised he would be renewed! Even as we prepared for our Prophet’s funeral services and the people mourned, we kept expecting Rulon to bang on the lid of the coffin and demand to be let out! But there was no sound.

“The minute you revolt from anything that comes from God, you will be under the power of Satan and not be able to resist. One night, Father is going to have you do some things that you may first reject. I’m telling you, be silent and pray for a testimony that you will not reject and that your heart will be open. If you are pure in heart, you will know that this is a truth.”   I sat there, unable to believe how this man was so adept at twisting words and using our beliefs against us for his own purposes. When we obeyed him to the letter, he called us “Father’s Heavenly Angels”. If we voiced a single fear, however, he would say that Satan was finding a place in our hearts.

Up until that point, I wholeheartedly believed in my religion. I did not like Warren and I didn’t agree with his maneuverings, but I believed that I was in the truest church the world had ever known. Had we been told the next step was to drink purple punch filled with cyanide, I would have done so without question.

 I had based my whole life on God’s directive, only to discover it was actually man’s opinion being labeled as God’s will.

(Upon her questioning Warren if this is what God really wants for her) Warren’s eyes turned to steel, filled with cold malice. “I. Will. Break. You.” he said, with deliberate pronunciation on each word. “And I will train you to be a good wife. You have had too much freedom for too long, Becky. No matter who you marry, I will always have jurisdiction over you”.

Right before dawn, avoiding security camera and the prying eyes of any early risers, I slipped over the Jeffses’ six foot high, wrought iron gate. The spikes at the top were tricky to manage in my long skirt, yet nothing compared to the half mile walk I had to trek to meet Ben, fighting my urge to bolt back to my sister-wives, whom I was having great difficulty leaving.

I had tasted freedom, and to go back and witness the strict manipulation of my people broke my heart. I did not judge them, having once “been” them.

On August 29, 2006 I was taking a lunch break with colleagues from a real estate class when I received a call from Sheriff Doran. Quickly I excused myself outside. “Becky, did you see the news?” Warren Jeffs was caught last night outside of Las Vegas!”  I sat down in shock. Warren had been on the run for so long, I hadn’t been sure this day would ever come. Doran told me that the Nevada Highway Patrol had pulled over a brand-new Cadillac Escalade with paper license plates during a routine traffic stop. The trooper did not recognize Warren, but sensed something was wrong when Warren nervously shoveled his salad in his mouth and wouldn’t make eye contact. After calling for back up, they realized that the brand new Cadillac Escalade had been paid in cash and they also found $54,000 in bills in the vehicle, plus tons of letters and cash from his followers. There was also a police scanner, 15 cell phones, walkie-talkies, laptops, credit cards, and keys to many other luxury vehicles. They had wigs and sunglasses and all sorts of accessories.

While on trial this statement came out from Warren’s own record. “There is a girl  the Lord wants me to take. She is thirteen. Oh, I just want the Lord’s will.  If the world knew what I was doing they would hang me from the highest tree.”

The jury went out for deliberation on August 9, 2011 and it only took them 30 minutes for them to return with Warren’s sentence: life plus twenty years.