Part 23 (2/2)

Merril scolded her over the phone. ”Ruth, I have already given you instructions as to what I want you to do. Now, are you going to listen to your husband or insist on having it your own way? You know what will happen to you if you start demanding to do what you want instead of what your husband says is right.”

Ruth was practically in tears. ”I'm sorry for asking again, but I have been so worried about Luke. The hospital told me today he is in critical condition and if I didn't sign for the surgery he might die.”

I could hear Merril shouting through the phone. ”Ruth, I have everything under control. Are you going to listen to others rather than a man who has inspiration? I have had numerous people checking on Luke and he's fine. There is no reason for you to run to St. George. I will be coming through there and will take care of things. You need to settle down. There is no reason for you to get crossways with your husband. You're going to get into a condition with me that you will regret.”

Ruth hung up the phone and fled to her room crying.

Merril and Barbara got to the hospital the next afternoon and took Luke out for his second steak dinner. Luke apparently told his father that he might need to have surgery, but Merril didn't care. Luke felt his father had more authority than the surgeon because he was inspired by G.o.d.

When the hospital staff saw he was gone again, they placed another call to our house, where none of the Mrs. Jessops had any idea where Luke was. That meant another trip back to the hospital for one very angry surgeon.

She confronted Luke again. He told her he'd promised not to leave the hospital with anyone who wasn't his parent, but his father had come. ”My father told me it would be all right to eat,” Luke said.

The surgeon could not believe Merril had not tried to speak to anyone involved with Luke's care. She had been trying for two days to speak with one of his parents, to no avail.

Merril and Barbara were pleased that they'd been able to take Luke out to dinner. They thought he might be lonely at the hospital, so they decided to ask Leroy to take their twelve-year-old son Tommy to the hospital to spend the night.

When Luke's nurse found him watching TV with his twelve-year-old half brother, she was confused because visiting hours were over. Luke told her Tommy was spending the night because his father didn't want him to be alone.

When she explained that was against hospital policy, Luke said that Leroy had left an hour ago and there was no way for Tommy to go home.

The hospital called Merril, who agreed to have Tommy picked up. But Merril did nothing about it and went to bed. The next morning, Leroy was sent to pick him up.

The surgeon told Luke the next day that he could go home in another twenty-four hours if he remained stable. The hospital notified Merril, who then sent for Ruth.

”Well, Ruth, the hospital just called and said Luke will be coming home tomorrow. He's doing just fine. All you need to do is listen to your husband and things will work out. I hope this will be a lesson to you. There was no need for you to have kept calling me. G.o.d has protected your son despite your disobedience and your constant questioning. You should be thankful that you have a husband G.o.d loves who would protect your son despite your rebellion.”

Ruth quivered with emotion. ”Father, I am sorry for asking to do differently than you requested. I am grateful to be married to you. I am grateful that G.o.d protected Luke in spite of my rebellion. Please forgive me and have patience with me for what I have done.”

Merril laughed smugly. ”Of course, Ruthie. I will forgive you if you learn from this and see that it doesn't happen again.”

Ruth spoke softly. ”Yes, Father, I have learned to never question you again. Thank you for your forgiveness.”

I heard this in Merril's office because he had sent for me. Merril was giving me a ”correction.” If I would be as obedient to his will as Ruth, G.o.d's love would allow Harrison to get better. What Merril was able to manipulate-as if he needed an excuse-was that there was no apparent medical reason doctors could offer to explain why Harrison wasn't coming out of his spasms. The doctors had said that there was a possibility that Harrison could emerge from the spasms and be completely normal again. This was the kindling that Merril used to stoke the fires of his accusations toward me about the consequences of my rebellion.

Luke was discharged the next day. His brothers picked him up and he walked out of the hospital without signing any papers. This created yet another uproar. The hospital called and insisted that Ruth come back, sign the discharge papers, and talk to his doctor about Luke's follow-up care.

Ruth explained the situation to Merril. He attacked her for her impudence and warned her that he might not be so forgiving of her behavior if she couldn't learn to leave well enough alone.

Ruth was practically shaking when she left Merril's office. I witnessed endless episodes of this kind of behavior. Merril would berate her over almost anything, as he did the rest of us. What was different about Ruth was that she was less capable of outsmarting him and defending herself.

The hospital called several days later, this time about the bill. Ruth told them to speak to Merril. He informed her that Luke's bill was her responsibility. ”The way I see it,” Merril said, ”is that you are a single mother with sixteen children and I don't give you any money. So I think the hospital will work with you and help you out.”

Child Protective Services informed Merril several weeks later that he was being investigated because of Luke's hospitalization. Merril was warned that he could lose his children if he was found to be abusing them. Merril screamed at the investigator over the phone, ”Who do you think you are, calling and questioning me about my parenting? The way I parent my children is n.o.body's business.” He told the man from CPS to go to h.e.l.l.

But the next day, the investigator showed up at our house. This was a rare occurrence. Child Protective Services rarely came into the community and hardly ever took children away from their abusive parents. Victims were so routinely sent back to perpetrators that people stopped making reports. My experience was that for the most part, Child Protective Services looked the other way at the endemic abuse that was happening in our community because it was easier than investigating large polygamous families.

The minute Merril saw the man from CPS show up, he started screaming at him and told him to leave at once. The man insisted on talking to Luke. Merril refused. Luke heard all the shouting and went outside. He convinced Merril to allow him to talk to the man, and the three of them met in Merril's office. Then the investigator talked to Luke alone.

Luke said that his parents didn't understand the rules at the hospital and that there had never been any ill intent on their part. The investigator promised to write a full report. No one ever heard from him again. I was not surprised.

What did surprise me was that Luke's surgeon, who also took care of Harrison, had a completely different att.i.tude toward Harrison and me when she saw us the next time. The pediatrician felt strongly that Harrison's port should come out because the infection hadn't cleared. But the surgeon disagreed and refused. Her concern was that if this port came out there wouldn't be a way to put another one in. That's because there are only several veins large enough to hold a port. Once those accesses are exhausted, there are no other options. She finally agreed to take it out but made it very clear to me that she would never do another surgery on Harrison and that she was the only surgeon in the area capable of doing a procedure like this. If we ever needed to attempt something like this again, we would have to take Harrison back to Phoenix.

Her att.i.tude toward me seemed harsh. I suspected that she'd put two and two together and realized Harrison and Luke had the same father. She had always been friendly toward me. Now she acted as though she didn't want to have anything to do with us.

I was so upset that Merril put his children at risk through medical neglect. I hated that the surgeon thought I was as neglectful of my children as Ruth and Merril were. Neither she nor my pediatrician knew anything about the polygamous lifestyle that I was living.

We never never talked about polygamy to outsiders. We lived in fear of outsiders. Even when I had a long relations.h.i.+p with physicians, as I did with Harrison's doctors, I had no way of really knowing if I could trust them. I could not take any risks because if Merril ever found out that I had told the truth about my life to anyone outside the community I would have been sentenced to h.e.l.l in the afterlife and shunned by my community in this life. talked about polygamy to outsiders. We lived in fear of outsiders. Even when I had a long relations.h.i.+p with physicians, as I did with Harrison's doctors, I had no way of really knowing if I could trust them. I could not take any risks because if Merril ever found out that I had told the truth about my life to anyone outside the community I would have been sentenced to h.e.l.l in the afterlife and shunned by my community in this life.

Warren Becomes the Prophet

By springtime in 2002, it felt like I'd been given a reprieve. Harrison's staph infections stopped once his port was removed, and Bryson emerged from his first fragile months into a st.u.r.dy and healthy baby. He was nursing so steadily that I had extra milk. This gave me an idea.

I decided to give my surplus breast milk to Harrison. I had read that breast milk was the best nutrition for balancing the immune system. I'd also read that the fat in breast milk could help in repairing the myelin sheath, which is the protective covering around nerves. Harrison's immune system had chewed away at his nerves' myelin sheath, which contributed to his severe nerve pain. I thought my breast milk might help compensate for some of the damage.

I began expressing milk every night and putting it into Harrison's feeding tube. Watching the milk slide into the tube, then into him, I hoped for even the tiniest miracle. Harrison and I had been through so much together and had a wordless, profound intimacy. I loved him beyond measure.

My breast milk was also a potential lifeline for the rest of us: once I got both boys physically strong enough, I could take all my children and escape. Bryson was thriving. The real challenge was Harrison. I had to get him stronger. We were going to the doctor at least once a week and I was constantly on the phone with her. If only my breast milk could make Harrison grow and balance his immune system. If only.

But I also had to teach Harrison to swallow. He'd done it for the first year of his life, but once he got sick and had a feeding tube, he stopped. My goal was to get him to swallow something every day. The initial weeks were h.e.l.l. I'd put food in his mouth; he'd scream and spit it out. He was a fighter. He fought me with food.

Pizza was my salvation. It had once been Harrison's favorite food. After three weeks, he swallowed a tiny bit of pizza. I was elated. What hope! If he ate and grew stronger, he could save us all.

It took four months, but Harrison finally began to eat different foods, and he became voracious. I was so relieved; he'd been so starved by his cancer, infections, and spasms. Harrison began to seem happier and more stable. There were days when I felt overjoyed, but I hid it. No one could know what I was thinking.

One night when Bryson was six months old I woke up from a deep and dead sleep. Something was wrong. I knew it. I had trained myself to fly out of bed when an alarm sounded on one of Harrison's machines. I raced to his room to turn it off before he awoke. But this time when I got there, everything was silent. The machines were all working, but it was too quiet. Harrison must have stopped breathing! But I looked at the oximeter by his crib and saw that his oxygen levels were normal. The feeding pump was working and Harrison's little chest was heaving up and down in a natural rhythm.

Suddenly I realized what was different. Harrison's loud, spasmodic breathing had stabilized. He was breathing normally. Once he was sedated at night his body would not spasm. He was unconscious. But the spasms went to his lungs and made his breathing sound like hiccups.

The hiccups were gone. I sat on the floor next to Harrison's crib. I was shaking all over. He had been on breast milk now for six months and something was happening. For the first time in two years I knew in my bones that Harrison was improving. It was a miracle. My secret miracle.

Harrison began to sleep for longer periods of times. Even with a maximum dose of sedatives, he had never slept for more than six hours. I knew I would need medicine when we fled, so I gradually began to reduce the doses of his drugs-in tiny and incremental ways-and built up a small stockpile. Even when I cut back on his sedation at night Harrison began sleeping for eight hours.

Harrison became so healthy that I took him to the doctor only once a month. He still needed Versed, but much less than before. His anxiety attacks diminished dramatically three months after his breathing improved. Maybe, just maybe, he could come out of those awful and debilitating spasms. Oh, how I wanted my little boy back. His doctor didn't seem that impressed by his small improvements; she was looking for a big change, like the cessation of his spasms. But each small change filled my wellspring of hope. Escape was on the horizon.

One afternoon in early spring I asked Cathleen to help me take Harrison for a walk when she came home from work. It had been another day of constant screaming because of his spasms.

Cathleen told me what people had been talking about all day at work-Warren Jeffs had kicked more than a hundred teenage boys out of the community within the past month.

”It's such a shame that so many mothers are producing so many unworthy sons,” she said. ”These children are choosing rebellion over doing the work of G.o.d and supporting our prophet.”

I was speechless. I had been so consumed with Harrison's care that I didn't realize teenage boys were being kicked out of the FLDS in significant numbers. Audrey had told me once about a fourteen-year-old boy and his brother who were told to leave because they were accused of being gay. h.o.m.os.e.xuality was seen as an abomination and never tolerated. I'd asked Audrey how the mother of these boys felt when her sons were dumped on a highway and told never to return. Audrey had said the woman was ashamed and heartbroken that she had raised a couple of creeps. She was embarra.s.sed and tried not to think about what her sons had become. But I'd thought that was an isolated incident. I had no idea that boys were being kicked out in significant numbers.

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