Chapter 31
Deception
Dad escorted me to the bathroom while standing against the door, watching me do my business, and making sure I cleaned myself up afterwards. Before he walked me back to my room and locked the door once more. I begged Jeff to find Ma and Pa so they could free me from this nightmare. But life is cruel and cold. I would beg him over and over, but he wouldn't leave my side. Saying if they found me they would be just sent away and I would be punished for it. I knew he was right, but it hurt knowing they couldn't help me. I also knew that if I left now that another child would take my place, even worse my brother Aaron.
I also knew I could never forgive myself if that ever happened. My only hope was their bishop. Somebody had to listen; somebody had to know what was really going on here. To my disbelief, I found myself alone in the fight against child abuse. In order to prevent nightmares from happening to other kids who didn't deserve them, I had to find new friends here. It was necessary for me to be strong. I needed proof. I needed hard proof, and right now I had none except for a few bruises, which could easily explain away.
Jeff made a commitment to assist me in exposing their dark secrets to the best of his abilities. With excitement and anticipation, we put our plan into motion. Unbeknownst to me, he had a completely different and innovative plan up his sleeve, which, as it turned out, was far superior to the one we had originally come up with together. I wish he had disclosed it to me earlier, but I only found out about it much later in my life. Then again, free will could have been a painful reality to face. Reflecting on my encounters with the Rothwells, I wondered if I would have been able to comprehend the extraordinary events that would shape my life.
The first thing I had to learn was to appear broken by getting them to trust me and when their guard was down, then strike hard and fast. I knew it was going to be hard, but I would start with their Bishop, then somehow provide enough proof by the time my social worker came to check on me. While I was resting in bed, I couldn't help but notice the clock on the dresser, its hands moving slowly and marking the passing minutes. The faint ticking noises acted as a lullaby, lulling me into a state of relaxation and anticipation for the upcoming dinner, should the pattern persist. And if the routine held, they would bring me back until family prayer at nine o'clock.
Two hours later, they would allow me to take a bathroom break, which would be my last one for the night. It didn't take long to learn the daily routine and, like clockwork the door opened.
They told me that since I had worked hard for my dinner, they would give me a bigger portion, but they could easily take it away just as easily. It didn't seem any bigger except for Arthurs. They gave me something nasty to drink and some pills in a little measuring cup that tasted even worse than the drink itself. Arthur didn't hesitate and quickly swallowed them. I tried to swallow them but ended out spitting them out. Earning me a slap from Dad as he stood up from the table by grabbing my hair, placing his fingers into my mouth and forced them down my throat.
Nobody said a word as they watched him drag me to the floor from my seat and dump the food on my plate onto the floor. Forcing me to eat it like an animal as he held my head down close to the floor and my hands behind my back. When I finished, he forcefully took hold of my arm and dragged me back to my room. The sight of the long leather whip in his hand, with its meticulously tied braided strands, sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn't believe it when I saw the same whip that Shane had used on me and Arthur in the garden, now hanging next to my door.
With a sudden motion, Mr. Rothwell hurled me with substantial force, causing me to collide forcefully with the bed. He slammed the door closed; the sound reverberating through the room and ordered me to stand. With a display of raw strength, he ripped open the back of my shirt, leaving it in tattered shreds. With a forceful throw, he propelled me against the wall, and then, without hesitation, began whipping me.
With each stroke, I let out a scream of unbearable pain. As I felt my skin blistering, the warm blood trickled down my back. While he had stopped and left the room, I lost track of time, kneeling, screaming, and begging him to stop. I sat there crying with each rasp of my breath pleading no more, falling on my stomach as I laid there on the floor; it was hours before Mrs. Rothwell came in with cool towels and lotion. Telling me I should learn to obey without being told.
She even used my name, but it wasn't sweet like Jody's and neither was her touch as she cleaned the wounds as I shudder from each touch. They left me lying on the floor all night long until almost two in the morning. When Jody helped me undress for bed, it was too painful to wear a shirt as I laid there crying from the pain until I fell into a fit full sleep. Dreaming of my father as his face turned into Mr. Rothwell. That's when the night terrors increased and gained momentum, and from that point on the boiler-room and the Rothwells became my worst nightmare. The monster became real.
For once, I was grateful for still being alive after such a beating. It reminded me of the beating I had gotten from my parents before I jumped out the window. Yet, I also felt a sense of sadness as I thought about the Downings taking me into their home, but there was no one to save me. Oh, how I missed them. I miss being in Ma's arms as she comforted me and nursed me back to health. I prayed to God that they would find me and take me away from here. But like now, God had always been silent. Even Jeff had left me. As I looked around the room and trying to feel his presence; but all I could feel was the dark coldness of the room.
Mrs. Rothwell came and got me when it was nearly five thirty in the morning. She was late according to the daily routine, as she quietly led me to the bathroom, giving me time to do my business as the water ran for my bath. She asked me if I was finished before opening the door. Leaving the door open just a crack only opening it to turn off the water and returned to her post outside the bathroom door. She checked on me from time to time, yet she still didn't allow me to bathe on my own. Today she was gentle, well mostly avoiding scrubbing my back with the coarse brush. Using a soft washcloth as she dabbed my wounds clean, being careful not to remove the soft scabs; saying sorry every time I jerked back because of the pain.
When she was done, she allowed me to dress in clean clothes, throwing the ruined shirt in the wastebasket shaking her with a slight growl about what a waste of good money it was. Mom soon led me back to my room, finding Arthur scrubbing the blood out of the carpet and watched him strip and make my bed with clean sheets and blankets. His eyes seemed to say he was sorry having experienced it himself as he quickly returned to his task. As I waited to stand for her to give the next order, she told me to sit using my name as she rubbed disinfectant and lotion on my back. And had me kneel on the floor for my morning prayers, giving me cue's what I should say if I was a small child that had never prayed before, as I repeated back the same words.
She didn't want me dirtying another shirt, saying it's easier on the laundry if I didn't wear one, considering it was Sunday a day of rest. She told me no tasks would be done except for meal preparation, and both Arthur and I will help with it. Saying that was her understanding that I have some training, I said: "yes, ma'am."
She smiled when I said it. As she looked into my eyes, it was a brief moment as if she was sizing me up. She told me breakfast would be in an hour before handing me my scriptures. After she finished giving Arthur his bath, she said she would be back. I nodded and watched her close the door, hearing the door lock. I didn't dare skim the pages even though I had read them many times before. It had been a long time since I had picked them up, and I definitely didn't have them memorized.
Even though I was raised LDS most of my entire life, the Downings never applied pressure on me to pray and never imposed a requirement for me to read them. It was my choice and no one else's. They had asked if I would like to go to church; and I had declined, being that Santaquin at the time had one LDS church. And it was the very church my father worked at. They offered to drive me or have someone from another ward take me, but by no means did they force me to go. Not saying I it didn't go every so often with my grandmother or even Aunty M when the occasion arose, but it was my grandmother's ward or an LDS church in Goshen UT; ten miles out of Santaquin and sometimes they went with me.
During family home evening, ward members would assign the Downings to give a lesson. The Downings would then sit, listen, take part, and provide refreshments afterwards. And that was fine by me. Not once did they impose their doctrines on them or force them to become members in the church? I knew that if I wanted them to, they would have joined the church for me. But early on, I had been taught that a true conversion had to be chosen for oneself, not for others. Jeff had taught me that, and I figured he was a lot closer to God than most people would be while they were alive. Jeff seldom preached to me, but when he did, I listened. Mostly I did and other times I didn't, and those were the times I regretted the most.
Jody was sent to fetch me, and she led me to the breakfast table and took my seat. I wasn't the only one without a shirt except for Arthur wearing his humility vest, his hair was still damp as he eyes lingered on me for a brief moment, Shawn and Shane smiled seeing me wince as I sat down scooting just enough forward so my back didn't touch the back of the chair. I noticed the hard lines of perfect flesh untouched. As they leaned forward enough to see parts of their bare shoulders and backs as they turned as their mother placed a clean iron shirt behind each of their chairs.
I knew if my parents saw this they would scream immodest and immoral behavior. Yet it seemed that they were the only ones that consider that it was. Hearing them cuss every time they saw a boy or a man without a shirt or girl in a bathing suit was indecent in their eyes. Telling us they should be ashamed of the sins they are committing against God. To me and everyone else, I found this thinking ridiculous and overbearing, and somehow, I didn't think God if he existed, didn't think it was a sin. Nor did I think it embarrassed him in the least.
Jared and Jason wore loosely fitted button-down shirts, slacks, and colorful socks. And all the women wore their best Sunday dresses. No one said a word out loud about last night, but there were enough whispers between Shane and Shawn. I caught words like betting on how long it would take to break me; and how they looked forward to doing it.
Once again, they handed me the pills along with a drink that looked like a dark green beverage, as I waited for my meal, knowing the routine. I noticed everyone had received the same pungent drink and pills. Without hesitation, each one quickly swallowed them as I watched. I soon learned that these were homegrown vitamin pills and herbs and vegetable proteins; like fish oil, garlic, and wheat germ and other herbs I never heard of.
I didn't waste time and quick as possible, swallowed them down like everyone else with a glass of orange juice. Finding it cut the taste as I alternated between the two drinks. It was always wheat toast or wheat of some variety. Mrs. Rothwell rarely used white flour instead would grind her own with a special machine made for the home. She firmly believed in having a seven-year supply like the LDS church has preached several times and still does.
I followed Arthur's example of staying quiet unless someone asked me a question. I answered as politely as I could muster. Only once did Mr. Rothwell give me a warning, lifting my chin when someone asked me a question. I repeated my answer, looking them in their eyes. Other than that, I kept my head bowed, staying out of the limelight as possible. Jeff still hadn't returned, and I was concerned, considering he seldom left my side these days while I was in danger. I feared he was being punished for something I did or some rule he had broken in my defense.
Even though he promised to never abandon me, the fear of him leaving me forever still haunted my thoughts. While I sat there, waiting for Mr. Rothwell to give me my next task seeing I had finished my small breakfast. The ticking of the clock echoed through the room, magnifying the feeling of being imprisoned and intensifying the solitude I was experiencing. I felt a surge of fear course through me, causing my hands to shake in fear beneath the table, afraid of being noticed. The overwhelming fear gnawed at my insides, but I forced myself to stand firm.
They quickly took me back to my room once more. These cold white walls were the object of my disdain. This was the place I detested above all else. Mrs. Rothwell came in soon after to help me get ready for church; but so did Mr. Rothwell. I stood the moment the door opened and waited for permission to sit. My back was killing me every time I moved I'd wince. Mr. Rothwell roughly turned me so he could see my back and smiled, seeing the pain on my face. Then laid down the law telling me how he expected me to obey, or I would get another beating like one previously. I had no doubts as waited for me to answer. I said. "Yes sir, I understood." He nodded and told me things would go better when I learned to obey with no fuss and that he could trust me to do so. Again I said. "Yes sir, I will do better in the future."
He nodded said. "All will be well when you do." They instructed me on how they expected me to behave in public and emphasized that, for the time being, I couldn't be left unsupervised until I gained their trust. They won't leave me alone except in my room here at home. I will only speak if given permission to do so, otherwise I will remain quiet unless spoken to. Again I said yes sir and waited for him to continue on. I clenched my hands tightly, trying to stop them from trembling. I was relieved that I had visited the bathroom because the fear of him being so close made me feel like I might have had an accident. The feeling of unease grew as the minutes turned into hours, and Jeff was nowhere to be found.
I was told that I would see the Bishop, and I was to tell him everything so I could repent fully of my sins. He discussed my sins with me and made me repeat them back to him until he was satisfied. I didn't give him any reason to strike me. I just repeated them even though they were lies; well, most of them were lies.
I figured that was between me and God to judge me. Jeff and I had decided for now to go along with it to avoid further punishment. Saying they will atone for what they have done, either in this life or the next or both, but I needed to keep myself alive. That was before Jeff left me, and the longer he was gone it scared me to face these things alone. I was scared, and Mr. Rothwell knew it, even more scared than I should have been. I became less scared of my father in caparison.
I quickly got dressed in a clean white shirt and tie and a good pair of slacks. It had been a while since I wore a tie and I quickly learned as I repeated the process. Mrs. Rothwell had carefully covered my wounds with cotton bandages to keep my blood from staining or leaking through my shirt. However, some blood drops remained visible, so she advised me to wear a sweater vest to cover it up. Tisking on how hard blood is to get out. My shoes were a little tight because they were new and the polish was to a bright sheen.
It amazed me how someone like Mr. Rothwell and his family could be cruel and foul-mouthed and degrading, but able to pray if they were innocent in God's presence. Sometimes Mrs. Rothwell cried, saying how strong the spirit was when we prayed together as a family and how blessed we were to have the priesthood in our home. Personally, I felt nothing as my mind focused on the advents that had taken place in the last four days.
Jody informed me that Dad had taken time off only for me during my "training period." I remember her sad face when she told me that. I asked if it was always this bad, but she refused to answer me and would change the subject. Like her, I got a sense that she too was afraid of her parents more so of her father than her mother. But she said she could be just as cruel, if not worse from time to time. I shared with her the intricacies of my family dynamics and their treatment towards me and my brother Aaron. Jody emphasizing the need for discretion in revealing such details, especially in this house or near her father.
I reminded myself of the need to exercise extreme caution and be vigilant about who I allowed into my inner circle. I asked what happened, but she didn't answer me. Saying it was best I didn't know.
They gave me a new notepad and pen to write with my scriptures. I was told they expected me to write what I had learned from each of my meetings and later be called on to give an oral report that night. During the family devotional, something I was familiar with had done with the Frys. Asking if I knew how to write as well as I can read; I was also told in not so many words, if I didn't I would suffer the consequences for not being prepared. Again I said. "Yes sir, I can, and I will." I waited for him to strike me, but he nodded. That was the correct response.
He checked the time and sat me next to Mrs. Rothwell in the front seat so they could keep an eye on me while everyone else got into the car. It took two cars for us all to fit in as Shane drove the second car with Shawn, Jared, and Jason. We drove up to the church house; which wasn't far maybe a half a mile. It wasn't as big as the one in Santaquin. Everything was on one level, except for two of the rooms. The basement had one room they used for scouting and other meetings that required the use of the classroom. Apparently, it used to be the boiler-room, but they had updated it, unlike the one in Santaquin. It still gave me the willies just being underground like it was. Even after a while, the thought of going down into a basement would still evoke intense panic within me.
The Bishop office was down the hall from the chapel. Mr. and Mrs. Rothwell motioned me to sit in the middle as we waited for my appointment. It surprised me they had not once used the term "Mule Boy" for me but called me Earick. I don't know why he couldn't say it correctly and less he was trying to insult me by doing so. When I sat, I flinched when he put his arm around me; thinking I had done something wrong was about to be punished for it.
He leaned down to whisper in my ear to remind me of the rules we had discussed and as I repeated them softly back to him, praying he wouldn't hit me if I missed a single one. He nodded. I had done what he had asked and removed his arm from my shoulders. Mrs. Rothwell calmly took my hand and placed it in my lap, squeezing it softly and smiled and whispered I was doing fine. To everyone else that passed us we looked like an ordinary family. They even introduced me as their new foster son. Not some sinful boy or Mule boy, but a person.
I was unsure how to act, as I remained silent and very timid. As they explained, I was shy around strangers. Saying, hoping that it would wear off once I have settled in. When they had moved on, Mr. Rothwell reached up and patted my cheek. His unpredictability scared me, causing me to flinch. He quickly leaned over and whispered in my ear as he took me by the arm, squeezing it tightly as I winced from the pain. He said. "Stop being such a scared little rabbit." Telling me he would give me something to be scared about if I didn't stop flinching every time he touched me. Then let me go, turning my head so he could see my eyes, and nodded. Affirming that he meant what he said.
It was soon after the door opened and he brought me to my feet and quickly shook the Bishop's hand and introduced me as he had done with the others. I had hoped that I would be left alone, but to my dismay and discomfort, Mr. and Mrs. Rothwell went inside with me. The Bishop said it would be best that they waited outside. But Mr. Rothwell said I was shy, saying I would feel better if they were present. In actuality, that was not the case at all. They dreaded the thought of me exposing their hidden sins and secrets to him.
Bishop Henry Lanwall. Seemed like a kind man as he stood under six feet tall. Brown hair which was graying on the side of his head shaped like a round melon. He had brown eyes that reminded me of chocolate almonds not quite round with dark centers under his bushy eyebrows and long straight button nose. When he smiled, it seemed to light the room. He reminded me of young Alfred Hitchcock with hair with broad shoulders and pudgy, but no means fat. His daytime occupation was a local bank president at First Security Bank in American Fork, Utah, before they all became Wells Fargo.
Bishop Lanwall didn't give it much thought, or he would have noticed the fear in my eyes, but agreed that it if made me more comfortable, then it would be fine. I didn't dare say anything, remembering what Jody had said the night before. I succumbed and tried not to show it. Taking a seat as they once more sat me in the middle as if they were both comforting a frightened boy.
Jeff still hadn't made an appearance, and I needed him with me more than ever, but somehow, I mustered up the courage. While I silently reflected on my supposed sins, they introduced me, taking care to provide an exhaustive background, emphasizing the aspects of my life they deemed significant. Stating that I felt, and they felt I needed to confess the things I had done wrong in the sight of God. Waiting for me to answer as his eyes narrowed in on me, as if he could kill me where I stood.
So, I sighed, and told him verbatim the list of sins they had thought I committed. Then waited to be struck down either by God or Mr. Rothwell, but neither happened, as I sat and waited for someone in the room to say something. Ten minutes went by as Bishop sat back in his chair looking at the ceiling then nodded his head and looked each of us in his eyes. Lingering on mine the longest and then studied Mr. Rothwell. Bishop gave a heavy sigh and asked me. "When was the last time you took the sacrament? Did someone ordain you as a deacon or teacher? I mentioned I had been ordained as a teacher, but it had been a while since I last took the sacrament.
Mr. Rothwell stated in a very displeased voice that my last foster home was not of the LDS faith. In a very displeased voice, Mr. Rothwell said that I should have no right to hold the priesthood period because of my sins. What he was asking was for me to be excommunicated. It appalled me because I believed they only did it for more serious crimes against the church. Like prostitution or drugs or other criminal behavior, child abuse should have been among those listed, but it wasn't. But in any case, I didn't deserve such an offense.
It took almost an hour before the bishop decided. For once, it was in my favor when he said. "There had never been a case that a fourteen-year boy or girl has done something so bad to warrant such an action. But tell me, son, how did you murder this Jeff Fry? Did you hold the gun and pulled the trigger?
"No, you stated you opened the door as the gun went off. You may think you killed him and blame yourself for his death, thinking you were too late to stop him, but it was his decision. If you were there or not, it made little difference. Most likely he would have done it, anyway. You're not a harden criminal or would be in prison this very moment. So you sinned. What fourteen-year boy or girl hasn't?" He looked at the clock and looked back at me and Mr. Rothwell.
"The church states that they can only re-ordain someone to a lesser calling if they deem it absolutely necessary, but I personally do not believe it is necessary at all, contrary to your belief. So, this is what I will do. I will meet with him once a week for a month "alone" and I stress this alone. Then I will determine if he is worthy of upholding his calling and see how he progresses in class and in scouting; seeing that he has almost achieved his Eagle according to the records that I have in front of me. And will go on from there."
I was shocked to learn that the church here already had them. As I watched him stand and reached over to shake my hand. I could see the disbelief in his eyes, as if he couldn't understand that I was capable of committing all the sins I was accused of. For a fleeting moment, I thought I saw a radiant light pulsating in his eyes and experienced an unfamiliar sense of tranquility as I shook his hand. He stood out from the other bishops I had met in some way that I couldn't quite put my finger on.
As we were leaving, he told me he had met with my friend Jeff last night and that he hadn't abandoned me. Mr. Rothwell was surprised, but quickly regained his composure. I hoped it worried him that Jeff had witnessed everything they had done. Hoping that Jeff somehow told him the danger I was in. But what I knew for sure was I was going to be punished when I got home.