Tuesday, May 10, 2011

IFB HELL HOLE TESTIMONIES HEPHZIBAH HOUSE FOR GIRLS..

Kim Long: Survivor!

I left Hephzibah house without a blessing a few weeks after my 18th birthday, I had no high school diploma, no driver's license, 7 dollars in my pocket and nowhere to go.

As you know, they sent me to Toledo OH. At the bus stop I was practically lost! I was so confused and upset I could hardly say what my name was. The phone numbers Pastor Williams gave me were a joke! One place had been closed down for years and the other was the Salvation Army's refuge and it was for men only!

There was a security guard who helped me out a little. He referred me to a women's refuge that was for abused wives etc. They were really good to me there although getting there was quite and experience.

Walking across the city of Toledo in the middle of the night is a little less than appealing or safe. I spent the night there and the next day went to a travel agency there. I only had the seven dollars and that would not get me back to my hometown Norwalk so they sent me to the welfare department.

Red tape could have kept me there quite a while, but fortunately we found a short cut. They called my mother to get a Social Security number for some type of aid, but she was not home. I went to the library to try to look up phone numbers of anyone I remembered that might be able to help me. When I got back to the welfare office they called my mother again to no avail. We then tried the first number on my list of friends, the woman who had called the welfare on my mother in the first place leading to my being placed at Hephzibah House. This kind woman said she would be right up to pick me up within two hours I was on my way home!

I lived with this woman until I got married, it was the best time of my life! D was in her 40's but she spent hours talking to me and letting me talk and talk. She was really my strength during those months.

After I was married a couple months I got my GED, and then a few months after that my driver's license. I then went to college where my major was medical records. My new husband made good money so it was not necessary for me to work. I really didn't have the confidence it
took anyway.

Statement of Kim Long 1980- 1982
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 8:47 PM 0 comments
Labels: Survivor's Stories
SATURDAY, JANUARY 16, 2010
Bonnie: Survivor!



I am a former HH student.

I only went there for about 4-5 weeks back when I was 16 years old for being a "rebellious child," when in fact, I was just trying to be a normal teenage girl. I was humiliated and thankfully, never beaten.

I remember being ushered into a bathroom, made to strip, and searched all over my body for any "contraband". I was then told to take a shower, which I was told I had 3 minutes to wash my body and my hair completely. Then, as soon as the shower was over, I had to get dressed into clothes that they had set out for me.

I did not have a period at all the entire time that I was there. I did have to take some sort of shake to make myself have a bowel movement. What kind of place would do this to ANY teenager?!?

Ron Williams is a SICK, SICK man.

I know there is more that I could bring up, but I am not sure that I need to rehash it all for those who endured this for the full 18 months they were there. I was lucky that my real father and grandparents got a lawyer and had a Private Investigator to look in on this "school" and as soon as HH found out that there was someone snooping about, I was then told that I had to leave because they couldn't afford to have anyone snooping about and show all the horrible things that happened there.

Thank you for allowing me to post my not so happy thoughts...

Bonnie
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 9:30 AM 5 comments
Labels: Survivor's Stories
Becky Cramer: Survivor!

I was in there for only a couple of months. I got sent home when Amy K. ran away. Thank God for her! I think I went in in early April and I know I got sent home in June- my parents were on their honeymoon- they got married June 5th.

The year was 1982.

I don't ever remember being strip searched. I know they searched my stuff when I got there. As for the food, I remember the options were Extras (for the skinny people), regulars ( for those who were just right), and diet (for those who were "plump") I was on diet portions. In the 6 weeks that I was there, I lost 35 pounds. Yes, losing the weight was a good thing. and, what was the deal with "not dissecting your food"? Anybody remember that? Couldn't eat the crust and then the bread, couldn't eat the white and then the yolk...........and other fun stuff like that.

I am just glad that Amy K. ran away when she did or I would have been stuck there for the whole time.
I have questioned my parents about my being sent home. Their take on things was interesting to sat the least.

I Was only there for 6 weeks and got spanked 4 times. They held me down every time and I was not trying to put up a fight. Miss Emory and Miss Saylor, I think those were the names of the ladies who were in there. One at the head and one on my legs. And the reasons for it were ridiculous. Once it was because I took those stupid pink rollers out of my (naturally curly) hair and was ripping the brush through it. Yeah I was frustrated. Who wouldn't be. the hair was already curly and the roller made it worse. Apparently, it was a bad attitude. Well, my hair started it! It was uncooperative!
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 8:12 AM 0 comments
Labels: Survivor's Stories
Stephanie Boyd: Survivor!


Hi! My name is Stephanie Boyd and I recently left HH just this past January.

I only had to stay there for about 9 months because they took me when I was 17. I was so glad when I turned 18... I still couldn't leave for another month though because I had no where to go. My parents took me there because I was "rebellious" or as I would say I had a mind of my own, and I wasn't going to let my parents live my life for me.

My dad became a pastor in Florida. It was a small church. Within the first year there I got a boyfriend that my parents didn't like. All my dad ever said was that my boyfriends parents were divorced and so we would end up divorced too. So that's why he wouldn't let us date. I dated him anyways. I would go to his house or hang out with him at school. MY parents decided that I was a little reprobate and they didn't want me "influencing my brothers for evil" or whatever. And so one day they showed up at my friends house and dragged me off to HH.

They don't do beatings anymore, but we did write sentences. I was counseled all the time and told that I was a little reprobate heathen that was worthless and all that garbage. I was told that if I didn't live the way they wanted me to then I wasn't right with God, and they continually asked me if I was even saved.

I know I didn't have it as bad there as some of the former students. I just wanted to share my HH experience.
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 8:08 AM 0 comments
Labels: Survivor's Stories
Nikki Poindexter: Survivor!

I was there at HH from Oct-02 thru March-04.

When I turned 18 on Sept 4 of 2003, I asked to speak with someone about leaving. It took me a total of 6 months to actually leave that forsaken hell hole! I went through hours of Don, Ron, and the Halamyns (sp?) talking to me about why I needed to stay and reasons that if I had left now that I would be breaking a promise I made to God, and I would lead a life of "worthlessness.”

I was told that if I left that I wouldn’t have their "blessing"(what a joke right?). I remember being told that school work was the #1 priority there at the school when we first came there. I was devastated that I would be going through these PACE packets and learning very little, because cleaning other staff members houses were more important!! (These people were just LAZY!!)

I unfortunately did not finish my schooling while I was there. I came home and received a GED. The sad part is is that before I had been going to public school I was doing very well and on my way to graduating. I can still hear the cries of many of the girls I spent so much time with. There were nights in the dorm room where I would just beg and plead for these girls to receive peace. I laid in bed so nervous of what the next day might bring.

Were we going to have a scream fest from Patti (damn nutcase)? Were our chores not going to pass the white glove inspection? Were we going to eat rancid food? Was I going to have to down bottle after of bottle of magnesium citrate and then not be able to have permission to go to the bathroom? I could go on and on like so many other of us women.

I lay in bed still to this day and pray and beg God to bring this awful place to the ground, because as I'm writing this... There is a girl missing her mother, a girl wondering what she did so bad to deserve this, a girl who cries herself to sleep night after night, a girl who is mentally abused, a girl who is physically abused,a girl who is mentally abused!

I do have one positive thing that came from my stay at HH, and that is a bond that will forever be strong and unbreakable with some of the best women you could ever meet. Those girls that shared those bunk beds,those girls that share my stories,those girls that are there for me whenever I need to talk, I am thankful for every last one of them!!

Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 7:08 AM 0 comments
Labels: Survivor's Stories
Jessica McKenna: Survivor!

I went there in 1993 when I was 13. Please add my name to the students list.

I remember Jennifer Gooch. She was so sweet and quiet. Didn't her family end up moving there and going to the church for a little while? I remembering feeling so sorry for her when she was finally able to leave cause every Sunday she would be sitting on the other side of the church with her family. I can remember thinking it was like she never really got to leave that horrible place.

I got to leave after 13 months and 21 days (funny how 16 years later I still remember EXACTLY how long I was there for). Never got to say goodbye to anyone. Things were so strange there. I would never send my child to any type of place like that.

The funny thing is I wasn't bad, I was just trying to grow up, but being the oldest my parents just did not know what was normal I guess. And never tried to talk to me about things.
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 5:57 AM 0 comments
Labels: Survivor's Stories
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 12, 2009
Jennifer L. Millar: Survivor!

At 15 years old, my Mother tricked me into believing we were going on vacation to Ft Wayne, Indiana. Instead, she dropped me off at Hepzibah House on May 6, 1991. She disposed of me, bought her freedom, and married her boyfriend two weeks later. I cannot begin to express my pain and sorrow as my Mother effortlessly walked away.

I was left to the care of strangers who brutally beat me and violated me. I was “shadowed” for three months in which I wasn’t allowed to wear shoes (only socks) and was forbidden to speak with the other girls. Everything was closely monitored/controlled and if any of us stepped out of line, we’d would pay the consequences.

I can still hear the keys that jingled knowing I was being taken upstairs to be beaten. I was forced to lie on my stomach with my arms stretched out. Chairs were placed over my head, arms, and legs so I would not move. The physical beatings left dark purple bruises and welts all over my bottom. My rear end was in such pain that I had to sit on my pubic area to avoid contact with the seat.

One morning I was taken out of class and told to get a shower and put on my robe. I didn’t understand what was happening, but we weren’t allowed to question them. When fear overcame me, I quietly asked what was going on. A man, and two staff ladies came into the bedroom and made me lie down on the bed. I was forced to have a breast and vaginal exam despite my pleading to not do this. I was a virgin and noon had seen me naked, yet these three individuals violated and humiliated me. At 33 years old, I still cry when I think of this. How could anyone do this to someone and what hurts the most is that my Mother consented.

I still have a file of pictures, menus, sermons, Hephzibah House newsletters, and of course that ugly yellow receipt that forever reminds me of being brutally violated. To me, that was a form of rape. How could my Mother have agreed to this when she had been a victim of sexual abuse at the hands of her step-father? A Mother should protect her children, but she never did. I wasn’t a bad child, I was simply lonely and sought to be loved.

At 14 years old, my married 36 year old history teacher, Albert Dejoseph, gave me the attention that I was so desperately seeking. He toyed with my emotions and even kissed me on school property. He discussed having a life with me, moving to England, and having children. He made plans to have me stay with him and his wife, but my Mother caught on to his act, and stopped him in his tracks. Yet, I was removed from high school and none rescued me. Eventually, I heard that he lost his job, but what about me, the girl who was hurt by him and by so many?

I was thrown away and punished as though I was at fault. It was a convenient excuse for my Mother to send me to Hephzibah when really she just didn’t want to be bothered. I lost 30 lbs in just a few months from the small portions of food and at times lack of food. I was allowed a monthly telephone call from my Mother in which a staff lady wore a head set to listen to our conversations. I was not allowed to discuss the beatings or anything of that nature or the call would be disconnected and I’d then pay the consequences.

We were required to write weekly letters home, but could not seal them. The staff ladies read all incoming and outgoing mail. There was no privacy. As I’ve read and reread those letters today, my Mother missed so many of those phone calls. Where was she? She couldn’t be bothered to make sure that she was home for those calls?

Showers were limited to three minutes and we had to shut them off as soon as the timer rang. I remember trying to lather up without water prior to the staff ladies saying “begin” just to give me a head start. Everything was about control.

My Mother was allowed to visit every three months, but again, a staff lady remained with us to document our conversation and to make sure I kept quiet. I truly believe that even if I was able to tell my Mom what was happening, she still would not have rescued me.

Along with the other girls, I was given three chores to be completed after school. I remember scrubbing the floors on my hands and knees. It was difficult to squeeze under the triple bunk beds and clean between the large wardrobes. Staff ladies hovered over us to ensure that we would not communicate and also to inspect our work. When my work didn’t meet with their satisfaction, I was not allowed to eat dinner. Instead, I was given a clumpy flavorless protein drink while everyone else ate in front of me.

I must say that at times I preferred the protein drink opposed to what was being served. We were forced to consume everything on our plates. We then showed an empty plate to the be inspected before turning them into be cleaned. I remember taking my napkins to cover the food then balling it up into my hand. When my bowl or plate was inspected, my hand was hidden under them. I prayed so many times that I didn’t get caught. Food was old and served over and over again. We drank powdered milk and ate from the supplies that the Williams family discarded. I remember the smell of their family cooking above us. How cruel to rub it in our noses knowing they could eat anything they wanted. They were heavy set individuals while the girls below deteriorated.

We were not allowed to sleep with a doll or teddy bear. Stuffed animals, etc were strictly used as bed decorations for pictures. Sometimes, I’d hide my little bear and bring him to bed with me hoping they wouldn’t find out. I’d hold him close to my chest and cried so many nights. A couple years ago, I finally decided to let go of “Bear” and gave him away. I didn’t want to carry that pain with me anymore and unfortunately that little stuffed animal was just a reminder of those memories. I suppose it’s silly, but I was only able to give him away when I realized that my bear could bring joy to a child in need.

After 6 months at Hepzibah, something out of the ordinary took place. All the girls were hurried into different vans and were taken to various locations. My group went to Ohio where one by one, girls disappeared. I was so naive and didn’t know what was happening until it was my turn to leave. I found out later that Hephzibah House was being investigated for abuse and therefore fled from Indiana.

Fortunately for me, 6 months was all I had to endure. My heart goes out to the many girls who were forced to live there for years . There is one girl that I think of so often. Her name was Anna Berkey who I believe was from Pennsylvania. Anna was just 12 years old and hearing impaired. They treated her worse than the rest of us. I’d really like to find her. Even though we were not allowed to communicate, I knew a little sign language. Mostly we just signed “ I love you” in passing. It was a sparkle of joy in the midst of sorrow.

To this day, I have nothing to do with religion. I believe in karma and in being kind to all people. My wife and I have a home in Canada where one day we hope to have a shelter for those in need. After a life of pain and heartache, at last I am free. May all my sisters of survival have peace, joy, and healing.

In Warmest Friendship and Love Always,

Jennifer Millar (formerly Davidson)
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 6:14 AM 1 comments
Labels: Survivor's Stories
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 2009
Anonymous: Survivor!

I was at HH for a very short time many,many years ago.

Reading these blogs sure does remind of how many memories I repressed! It was nothing but a very MISERABLE experience all the way around for me. I was very meek and submissive while I was locked up there, but I did not think anything about it was right.

The only thing I can say is that because I had to read my Bible so much, and memorize Scriptures, I actually drew closer to God while I was there. Other than that, it certainly was NOT because of any of the staff, or the "ministry" they say they have there.

I really do hope they get shut down. They should have been shut down 30 years ago! My heart goes out to all of the girls that have passed through their doors. I am a Christian, and I love the Lord, but I don't think there is anything Christian about them. I think they are a cult. It makes me angry to see them pretend to be doing good in the name of Christianity. It gives all people who are not born again a bad taste in their mouth.
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 6:14 AM 1 comments
Labels: Survivor's Stories
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2009
Amy Krueger: Survivor!

My name was Amy Krueger. I was there in 1981...for about 10 months. Starting in the summer,we were out of school,I can't remember exact dates. I turned 16 while I was there. I weighed about 135 lbs. When I went in and the last time I was weighed there I was 117 lbs. I was regularly menstruating before going there. I did not at all after I was there.

I can remember working in their garden,from which we rarely got anything, helping to finish their house,cleaning their trucks,and any other chore they didn't want to do. Things had to be perfectly done too or we had to redo it plus we got into trouble!

(Trouble for me usually ended up with me on the floor getting beat!) If we wanted to see our families then that depended on us. How much we got in trouble, did we memorize our bible verses and catechisms(can't spell it) did we recite them back right,were our nails always good,hair always curled,notes from the sermons good?

I can still see the fenced in yard. The fence was so high you could only see the sky above it....I knew there was a world out there but I couldn't see it. We were totally cut off from civilization,we were their prisoners to do with what they wanted.

I was beaten every day until I played their game. It was about 4-5 months. It was so bad that my underwear stuck to my skin. I had two large open sores from the beatings. I was hesitant to say anything to the staff about them. I was afraid of their reaction. I was never taken to the doctor. They just took it upon themselves to 'treat' them. I was laid on the floor and had them wiped off, the door was almost always cracked open, anyone that walked by could see in,they were re-bandaged. I was beaten again at night. Even though they knew the shape my bottom was in. They said it was my fault...that I shouldn't have done whatever it was ...gotten into trouble.

During one of the rare visits I had with my father and little brother, I was told I would stay until I was ready for college. I was 16. I made the decision then that as soon as I could....I was gone! I was told to help another girl clean the room between the back door and the garage. I went to the garage to look for boxes and noticed All of the blinds on that side of the house were closed, no one was on the street, there was my chance! I had to try....I ran like my shirttails were on fire!They would not catch me!

I don't know how long or how far I ran but I ran until I thought my chest would explode. I hid in an open basement until dark. I walked, not even knowing if it was the right direction,down a highway until I saw a light on in a garage. I asked if I could use their phone to call my father. He had already been called by hh. The people ended up giving me a ride to the police dept. after stopping to get something to eat...which I inhaled..after all not only did I miss the snack they called meals I was starving to begin with!I walked in and saw some of the staff from the house and I was ready to run again. They would not ever touch me again! I let the police know about the abuse that went on there, I showed the woman the scars. They did nothing.

HH was taking a girl to Indiana that next day so they were going to take me there to meet my father. I was promised nothing would happen if I spent the night at the main house. Nothing did. I went home. I filed child abuse charges against hh. I was told they were closed and the girls were sent home. They lied!

This was a man that did this to us. Not JESUS CHRIST! I BELIEVE in HIM! I am alive today because of HIM.

Many things have happened in life but I've always known that no matter what goes on JESUS CHRIST is there.

Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 10:15 AM 0 comments
Labels: Survivor's Stories
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 2009
Stephanie Stansbarger: Survivor!


I was at HH for a short time. I was there from 11-90/12-90.

My grandmother got wind that this place was horrible and finally convinced my mother to come and get me. In a blizzard the night of my 17th birthday I got to go home.

I was treated like "Cinderella", scrubbing floors with toothbrushes and peeling vegetables for hours.
I went many times with nothing to eat due to not memorizing bible verses.

I was shadowed because they thought I would either try to escape or kill myself.

It is an experience that to this day still gives me nightmares.
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 5:49 PM 0 comments
Labels: Survivor's Stories

Tami Jo Klimasara: Survivor!


There is no way that I can put in to words what is on my heart and in my mind today, as a 45 yr old mother of 1, and grandmother of 2 now.

I have it buried so deep in my heart and soul, you see this is how i have learned my survival skills. I am what I am today because of the road I’ve traveled and because I have chosen to STUFF my feelings for all these years....

My story does not begin at H.H... Nor did it end there... It has been just a part of this puzzle... Which one day, I will be able to ask our Father God.... WHY? I cannot "SAVE FACE," so to speak, or my story will not make sense. It will not be TRUTH, and how can we expect to get the truth... If we do not give it..?? SO... After a long thought process and prayer, here is my story...

MY name is Tami JO Klimasara, and for as far back as I remember, I was just ordinary, had to stir up attention, and this I mean from my parents. My parents love me of course and provided my needs and I feel did the best they could with me. BUT - Were by far perfect parents.

My mother had her own "issues", and one seemed to be with me for a long long time. She would rage and jump on me and hurt me, mostly killing my spirit as a young girl, but also physically, just plain go off on me leaving bruises and using things to hit me with such as hair brushes and brooms and shoes...of course her own fists. She would rage on me and then tell me to wash my face and go to school.

The school teachers knew something was wrong because I flinched whenever they would approach a certain way. My mother allowed me to see a school social worker and it was just not enough... So, that system also failed me.

I had a best friend growing up, her name was Lori. Her mother saw some bruising on my back once and was in AWE. She didn’t believe this was being done to me by my mother. I was then failed again... My mom of course would see me later and ask for forgiveness... After I’ve been in school all day hurt and upset and wondering why..........If you know my mom you will not believe this story... But, It did happen, and my siblings will tell you it did.

I learned to take abuse very young, so my stay at H.H. was HARD, but, I felt so deserving of all the terrible things that we had to go thru there, they are all true stories....

Yes, we were paddled as young woman,we were restrained to do so... We were hungry... We did lots of physical labor.... We were treated horribly and our parents were lied to. I did not get my diploma after 17 months and 9 of which, I was SHUNNED to speak or even look at the other girls...... I could go on and on about the abuse there...

Bottom line is We need to save others from this cult called H.H. We needed to be loved and understood... Not abused and belittled.

I chose to take the hard road in life and I own up to all my sins... I was by far an angel... But, my parents would have been far better putting me in a foster home for a while to teach me a lesson or two, than to put me somewhere they knew absolutely nothing about. Now as an adult I have major issues regarding trust and anxiety. I have addiction problems and I still STUFF my feelings....Most of all I have no self worth...

GONE, GONE, just like the little girl sent to H.H. to get help. She is forever Gone........
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 5:35 AM 1 comments
Labels: Survivor's Stories
FRIDAY, JULY 3, 2009
Beth Williams: Survivor!

I was a student at HH in August of 1981.

I was the girl that ran away during the transportation process from the new house he was building to the School Street house.

I do feel lucky after I read some of these stories and see the duration that some people were at HH.

It was about 10PM on a Saturday night, we were holding hands getting out of a van in the driveway of the School Street house, I broke away and ran. I remember staff member keys clanking and dangling as they ran after me yelling, get her, get her, etc. I ran through back yards, jumped fences, etc. The next day I could not walk.

I ran into a couple who had been in bed, but decided to get up and go out to get a soda from the pop machine that was near a park at the bottom of a hill. I ran to them, screaming help me, help me, and they took me into their home, cared for me, and let me use their phone, etc. so I could make contact with family and friends who did not know where I had disappeared to.

I think it was a miracle that they happened to come along, after going to bed but for some reason, they decided to go outside. They were my angels and helped me. I am forever thankful because I was only 17, desperate and full of panic, in a dark city two or three states away from my home, and who knows where I would have ended up if it would not have been for them.
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 7:48 PM 0 comments
Labels: Survivor's Stories
THURSDAY, JULY 2, 2009
Tracy Cormack: Survivor!


I was a student at HH from 1989-1990.

I was sent there by my adoptive mom who had abused me since I was 4. She broke my arm 3-4 times and disfigured my arm so that now it is 3 inches shorter. That isn’t even the worst of it all.

Anyway, I was sent there when I was 13 and I might as well have been home with my mother. I was spanked regularly. Remember me stating about my arm well the chair was shoved on me and pushed up so that my arm was above my head and my arm does not have that kind of range of motion. So before the beatings start I was already in pain.

I remember my head being shoved onto the floor because I didn’t see the piece of dust that the staff member saw because I questioned her on why I failed. Food was withheld if chores were not and we forced to drink so broth looking junk. We had millions of pills to take.

My period did not come for 6 months at least. BM charts were filled out. We also had to fill out period charts of when we started and stopped. No privacy at all.

I was held back in school because I was not up to the grade level that I should have been. Then to beat all, one of the former staff members moved back home to my hometown and became a member of my church. Every time I saw her I was lectured on what I was taught at HH and was drilled on why I was not following Ron Williams teachings. Then was told I was a sinner still and going to hell because God didn’t approve of me wandering away from what I taught. I guess if the Williams knew that I am divorced and gay then I would be on the fast track to hell.

I know what God says and is about. He is about love and forgiveness not pain and retribution. He doesn’t think women are second class citizens and I really doubt he thinks you should beat an infant into submission. Maybe Ron’s problem is that he didn’t get beat enough when he was a kid.

What’s up with the money thing? Is that how they supported their brewed of children? I often wandered how they got to eat meat every night while we ate salads, Swiss chard, and mystery soup. Now I know. I do remember some of the Williams' children being nice like Daniel and Aaron, but the rest were something else.
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 3:08 PM 0 comments
Labels: Survivor's Stories
SATURDAY, APRIL 4, 2009
Renee Showers (Bowles): Survivor!

When I was 12 my mother filed for divorce. My father was an alcoholic and my mother was a faithful church attender. My sister and I were pretty tired and bored with church so we decided we wanted to live with our Dad, he would let us listen to music and he was the "fun" parent. So my Dad was either working or drinking leaving us with a lot of freedom.

I started drinking and smoking and one week decided to skip school, stay at a friends and listen to a new album. My Mom found out I was missing and called in child services to find me and bring me home. Then my parents dropped the bomb on me-they couldn’t control me so they had found a school for me where they would "control" me. So in 1981 my parents dropped me off at Hephzibah House.

I was only there for a day or so when I rolled my eyes during exercise time from exhaustion and earned myself a trip to the “Blue Room.” Bad attitude was my crime and they forced me to lay face down on the blue carpet and they sat on me and held my arms and paddled me with a wooden paddle. Every week for months, I would do something wrong and would get paddled. I had deep purple bruises from the paddle. Walking, sitting, and especially running at exercise time was excruciating. Once the beating was so severe that I soiled myself. I believe in spanking and I have spanked my children but never so violently.

Due to hard work and exercise program I kept losing weight even though I ate what they fed us. The cow tongue that was like chewing shoe leather. The pickled herring, the free eggs that were donated- it was food but it was terrible. When I finally got to see my parents they were shocked at how thin I was and how plump the Williams were. So three of us girls were put on extra portions. Once while weeding the garden I pulled up a tiny potato, I dusted it off and looked around and hung my head down while I chewed that tiny little vegetable, I was always so hungry.

The staff were often moody and short tempered with us. I tried to please them but was never really able to do that.

During my 9 month stay I never had my period, I don’t know if it was the stress or if they fed us something to stop it. As an adult I eat when and what I want. My weight goes up and down.

I do not attend church, to many hypocrites. I believe in a forgiving God and I believe God is everywhere and I don’t need to go to church to be near God. I am an honest and responsible citizen. Hephzibah House did not fix me. It made me leary of religion that was so strict and so cruel.

My Mother cried when I told her the things that happened to me. She apologized and I accepted. Now I pray that other parents can read what really happened there and make a better choice for their child.

Renee Showers (Bowles)

Former student of Hephzibah House 1981-1982
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 7:04 AM
Labels: Survivor's Stories
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 1, 2009
Susan Grotte: Survivor!

This post is a duplicate and also appears HERE.


My name is Susan Grotte and I am writing to officially state that I was abused at Hephzibah House from February, 1981, to July, 1983.

I realize that this is far in the past, and nothing can be done. However it has come to my attention that girls are suffering under the same cruel conditions right now.

The state of Indiana investigated while I was a student at Hephzibah House, but we were hidden in a dark church while they came through. A few girls who were coached and intimidated were allowed to stay and speak to the investigators.

I was beaten with a paddle until I was black and blue. My skirt was pulled up, and I was laid out on the floor. One adult sat on my back and tightly held my arms, while another sat on my legs. A third beat me. I was beaten nearly every day for the first three to four months I was there. After that, I was sufficiently broken and docile, only receiving two to three per month. These beatings were so severe that they left blisters, hurt my back and twice I fainted. I still smell that carpet and feel it against my face.

I was so hungry all the time. The Williams ate very well, while we were denied sufficient, healthy food especially considering the energy we expended. I lost nearly 40 lbs in four months-- dropping from a normal 128 pounds to a mere 88. This in spite of the fact that we were not allowed to turn down any food offered.

I was menstruating normally before arriving at Hephzibah House, but ceased until I left in 1983.

I did heavy, back breaking labor. There was emotional abuse in the form of humiliation and isolation. Hephzibah House denied any form of contact with the outside world including any media and even notice of my grandmother’s death, as well as censoring letters from my parents. The rare phone calls from home were tightly monitored. Communication with other students was supervised and very limited.

The saddest part is that the Hephzibah House staff managed to convince me that they loved me. They taught us that we would go to hell if we ever would betray them, or "rise up against God's man."

Williams recently contacted me. I was shaking when I heard his voice. He asked me to write a letter to his lawyer stating that I was never abused, nor had witnessed any abuse while I was a resident. He was asking me to lie for him. I step forward now to defend these poor girls who cannot defend themselves.

Hundreds of girls have suffered because I did not have the courage to speak up then. This clear violation of normal human rights should not still be happening, 25 years later, in America.

It is important to point out that I had never shown any aggressive or violent behavior, had never experimented with drugs or alcohol, never been with a boy. My crime was never disclosed to me. I never had a trial, I never had a voice. I was 15.

In Christ alone,

Susan Grotte
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 1:17 PM
Labels: Survivor's Stories
Suzanne Risner: Survivor!


I stayed at HH for my entire 15 months. I was miserable.

My impression of HH before I arrived was that girls whom were very rebellious, partied, drank, did drugs, and had sex were sent there. I did none of those things. My other 2 sisters were sent before me and they wish not speak of their ordeal.

Upon arriving you showered and immediately put on one of their uniforms. You were escorted downstairs and joined the rest of the girls, while staff went through your clothes and then you put them away. I hated marking the BM chart, and I always marked that I went because I didn't want to see what happened if you didn’t.

The pad basket was an embarrassment for me because I was such an heavy flow and always needed to change 6 x a day. I was told I was being wasteful. Excuse me! How would they feel walking around with a drenched pad on.

I was, after a few weeks, able to clean Kagins house, work outside, and clean the school building. I always looked forward to working with Aaron. He treated us like human beings. I remember when the rule came down we couldn't talk to any of the men at HH. I just thought it was ridiculous. I am sorry Aaron passed away. I am going to miss him.

One night after we went to bed, I was called upstairs. Basically Wenda chewed me out while Donald sat and looked stupid. I was "rebuked" for my desire to join the military. After a 30 minute "talk" I was spanked for my rebellion. Then Wenda was made because I didn't cry, and she thought that she should spank me again.

I also remember cleaning the "big bath" and Sharon came in and started talking to me, and while she was talking she was checking. I knew I didn't ask her to check it. So when supper arrived I was told I wasn't eating because I had failed my chores. I questioned her on it. Well, I had to drink my supper, and later I was spanked for arguing and lying.

I am now a mom of 6 kids, and I would never send my girls there.
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 1:02 PM
Labels: Survivor's Stories
Natasha Jovic: Survivor!


I honestly believe that the Williams are serving the Lord through ministry. I do recall them sending parts of the bible to Croatia (I believe it was.) However, I don’t feel that they should be working with teenage girls.

The girls need so much more they aren’t getting there. I’m not sure they are even aware of what they are doing wrong. I do believe they had good intentions but got carried away. I think they are "power tripping" because they can.

I never felt like anyone there cared about us girls. They were cold and distant. I was lied to by Patty. I was in need of discipline when I went to HH. I was acting out because I had issues with my family.

I WOULD HAVE RATHER GONE TO BOOT CAMP THAN HH! At least at boot camp they tear you down and then build you back up the right way. At HH all I received was constant tearing down. They made us see ourselves as ugly people deserving of nothing better than to burn in hell for eternity. What they did was wrong on so many levels.

Marlene struck a nerve in me. How can someone who hasn’t experienced something tell all these girls they are wrong and she is right?! Marlene, things are not always what they seem. Pat if you re standing up for God…then why get on here and call names such as devils, idiots and stupid? And who are you to judge whether or not we have a REAL life? You’re no better than HH judging us as if you know our life story. Just because we rebelled a little as a child doesn’t give anyone the right to abuse us the way HH did.

HH was sure to drill into us the error of our ways. Well, now it’s time for them to see theirs and the damage they inflicted on girls who could have been helped!
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 1:00 PM
Labels: Survivor's Stories
Monica Atkinson: Survivor!


My name is Monica Atkinson and I was a student at Hephzibah House from June 1981 to September 1982.

I was raised in a Christian "dysfunctional" home if that makes sense at all. My mother raised me primarily as a "single mother." I was the oldest of 5 children and the only girl in the bunch. My mother had become a member of a "non-denominational" church that consisted of a very small congregation. The pastor was very strange and when I look back, had all the attributes of a "cult" leader.

I was 15 when we began attending this church. Needless to say, I had begun my typical "teenage" rebellion. Actually I don't believe I was really that bad, but my mother sought advice from our "so-called preacher." Little did I know, this advice would be making plans to send me to a "girl's home" in Winona Lake, Indiana.

I wasn't aware of the plans being made for my going to Hephzibah House. The night before I left, I remembered getting up in the middle of the night and noticed my mother doing something with my clothes. I had no reason to suspect anything at that point, so while it was strange, I didn't question her and went back to bed. She came in early in the morning, woke me up and told me to get dressed. They didn't tell me where I was going, but when I went into the living room, my pastor and another deacon were at our house. I knew something was up! I started to throw a fit, but found out quickly they were prepared for that. There was no way out. They took me to the airport and my mother and I got on the plane at which time she told me where I was going. I had in my mind that I would get there and run away. (Little did I know... there would be no way out!)

When we arrived at Hephzibah House, I recall Ms. Kagin and Heather being there as well as Ron Williams. They took my things, sat us down in the "blue room," prayed with my mother and I, and my mother was escorted out. Thus began my Hephzibah House journey. I will never forget the "lock" of the door that signified there was no way out. The prayer that Ron Williams prayed with my mother and I included something about my mother's disobedience by being "divorced." I couldn't believe my mother was going for this!

I have always been a very strong willed child, even from birth! But something in me knew that rebellion was not going to bring about the results I was wanting. I really had never seen anything like it. They went through everything I had and took almost all of it. Heather watched me change my clothes and gave me uniforms to put on. They were the ugliest things I had ever seen... ( I was quite the fashion diva even at 15!) There was absolutely no individuality allowed!

They told me I could make a list and send it to my mom for things I needed. On this list I put tampons or pads that I recall... I was told that I would not be needing them.. ??? I did not understand. I had one period about a week after I got to Hephzibah House so why wouldn't I need pads or tampons? I had regular periods from the age of 13... Ms. Saylor just smirked and told me that none of the girls had periods while they were there... and that was it. She was right! I didn't have another period the entire time I was there.

The initial adjustments were excruciating! I was a healthy girl when I went to Hephzibah House. I wasn't "fat" by any means, but healthy. Probably a size 8 or 9. However, they immediately put me on 1/2 portions and I thought I was literally going to starve to death! Not to mention we were on this exercise regimine that was very difficult. We had to jog 2 miles plus a day and exercise for an hour doing various jumping jacks, leg exercises, situps etc. I lost about 40 pounds while at Hephzibah House and was a size 0 when I went home.

Aside form the exercise and diets, we had to adjust to perfection or else! We were assigned work duties for everything from wrinkles in our bedmaking, to leaving things out, to looking in the wrong direction. It was a major adjustment for me and one I did not do well with. If we accumulated more work duties than we could work off in a day (2), we would be paddled if at the end of the day we had more than 30 work duties.

This paddling was like nothing I had ever experienced. I would lie away in my bed "awaiting my turn" while I could hear the screams of the girls going before me. When my name was called, I would go down to the "blue room," I would have to lie down on the floor face down. They would lift my night gown up...One of the staff would straddle my back and hold my arms down, another would get at the end of my feet and hold them down while another would take the board (about 2 inches thick and 4 inches wide and I don't remember exactly how long, but long) and I don't know how many times they would hit me, but I can remember I had never experienced anything so painful.

This went on night after night, despite my trying so hard not to have more than 30 work duties. After the first couple of paddlings, I had blood blisters on my rear and bruises beyond what I can describe. The humiliation, the pain, the utter hopelessness of this practice was very depressing. But I didn't dare show that emotion...

This place tried to take every bit of dignity that we had. Our self esteem was attacked from any angle in the name of "humility." WE couldn't go to the bathroom in peace, we were timed even in bathing. I watched other girls suffering also. Some from medical neglect, others just like me...sheer emotional torture. We were not allowed to console each other. It was extreme brain washing and mind control. Since I left and have gotten older have I come to understand how cults operate and this is their number one tactic! I remember just feeling like there was no hope.

We were required to curl our hair for Sunday morning services. We had foam rollers and roller our hair on Saturday night. Fortunately my hair curled easily, but there were several girls who had very fine hair and were in constant fear of being paddled for "rebellion" if their hair did not curl for services.

Our mail was censored both coming and going, our phone calls were monitored (6 minutes every 2 weeks), there was no way to let anyone know what was going on. My mother came to visit during a Thanksgiving celebration where all the parents came and I was warned before she came that I was not allowed to speak to here where noone could hear me. I couldn't go to the bathroom with her no nothing... still a hopeless situation.

Girls would come and go... but when they went, we couldn't say their name anymore. I remember there was no way to please some of the staff. I lived in fear and I believe some of them thrived on that... not just from me but from all of us. We were subjected to some of the most evil tactics. We had to behead chickens, pluck them and eat them almost the same night. The same with ducks and rabbits. I just wasn't used to that. We were forced to eat liver, hearts, etc. when I could barely choke it down! It was horrible, but I knew if I didn't finish it, I would be eating it for the next meal.

Work duties were graded on a "more than perfection" scale. If there was one piece of grit on the floor, we failed and didn't get credit for what we had done...

I could go on and on about the cruel and unusual punishments, the torture both physically and mentally but I think enough is said in that respect. The bottom line is that I believe that in the end, there is justice and God does reserve justice for those bringing harm to "God's children."

The night before I left Hephzibah House, I was desperate.. I went into the cedar closet and cried out to God... I had no idea at that moment, my mother and Ron Williams were having a "heated" conversation regarding my staying until I was 18. My mother refused to commit to my staying any longer than the 15 months, and as a result, Ron Williams told her that they were going to send me home. Praise God! I was sent home the next morning. I didn't get to say goodbye, didn't get to see anyone before I left, just called to the office and that was it. I was sent home. I knew I had been delivered. It felt like a dream!
Needless to say it was a "huge" adjustment after coming home. I started my period again about 2 months after coming home. Things eventually settled down for me, I went back to school and life went on.

Hephzibah House could have destroyed every bit of faith I had in God. Instead, what my time at Hephzibah House taught me was a very good lesson in what true Christianity is about. It's all about God and the Word of God! People will always disappoint me, but God never will. It's because of Hephzibah House that I came to understand that God makes "all things work together for good!" I believe that God has taught me who HE is through the trials I've been through including Hephzibah House. Just like Joseph and all the injustice he endured... but in the end God had a plan for his life.. just as He has for each of us...

I do believe that the Williams' are deceived and I don't believe that any child should have to endure what we endured at Hephzibah House. My prayer is that the right people are enlightened to what is going on in places like Hephzibah House (and HH itself) and put laws in place that will prevent this kind of abuse.

God bless you all!
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 12:51 PM
Labels: Survivor's Stories
MiChelle Miron: Survivor!


My name is MiChelle Miron. Please accept this as my official statement. I was at Hephzibah House from 1990 to 1993.

After much trepidation, I have decided to share my experience. I was born and raised in a strict fundamental Baptist home. I was your average sheltered 15yr old. I had never drank, smoked, run away or any of the other "sins". My home was conflicted because we knew we could get away with things with my dad that my mom would not allow. Please don’t get me wrong. I love my family and believe they did the best they could for us.

I was preparing to go to camp and the weekend before my mom suggested we go visit Shipshewana in Indiana. I had heard of the place and was excited that we could go for a mother/daughter visit. My parents had me sleep in their room on the floor and then we got up early the next morning. I was told my dad had gone to work. My mom and I loaded into the van and stopped to get gas. I was very surprised when we drove to the church and my dad and the pastor walked around the building and got into the van. I was then told that I was being taken to Hephzibah.

We knew about the ministry because my parent’s church supported them. However, it was a standing joke that if you didn’t behave you would be sent there. All of the girls knew it was not a good place to be sent. We had heard the stories from girls that had been there. It was a long drive and I remember just resigning to the fact I had no way out.

When we arrived, my suitcase was gone through and may items such as curling iron, hairspray, etc. were sent back home with my parents. I was then taken into the bathroom and stripped down to my underwear, told to get into the shower and hand out my panties and bra. Then I was told to wash all the hairspray and makeup off. When I was finished I was handed a blue jumper and red shirt made of polyester. I was told I could only wear slippers. I later found out this was to prevent new girls from running away because they couldn’t get very far.

I was not allowed to say goodbye to my mom and dad but was escorted downstairs into the basement and the door was locked behind me. I will tell you that I had never felt so lonely or lost than that moment. I was scared, isolated and crying. I was taken to the main room and seated at a table. I was given a copy of the rules and told to read them. I was also told that I needed to be quiet and stop crying. I softly wept for several days missing my family. I knew that I would have to immediately conform in order to stay out of trouble.

I always felt "branded". We were the worst of sinners. We had no privacy whatsoever. We were monitored in the bathroom and given assigned stalls. We had to mark what they called a BM chart. You had to indicate whether we had a bowel movement that day and mark it with an S for soft, M for medium, H for hard or D for diarrhea. If we forgot to mark the chart, we would be given demerits. I do not remember how many demerits you got before you had to write sentences but the least amount was 500 sentences. You would not be allowed to speak to anyone and you had to wear the uniform to church to indicate that you had been bad. Demerits were handed out freely and offenses were made up at the drop of a hat.

Meals were very scary. We were allowed to pick whether we wanted half portions (dieters) or full portions. For me the food was never enough.

I learned to stay out of trouble very quickly so I was allowed to be on the "garden crew". These were the only girls allowed outside of the fence. The house that we lived in was surrounded by a very tall wood fence. The doors and windows had alarms. It wasn’t to keep people from getting in but from us getting out.

The garden girls did intensive, back-breaking work from sun-up to sundown in the summer. We would lift five gallon buckets of honey over our heads in confined spaces, pick corn and carry large tubs of it back to the trucks through a field in the hot summer sun, rip out old fence rows covered in poison ivy, etc.

I was always hungry and resorted to stealing food from the "blessing room". The blessing room was a room upstairs in the Williams family living area. There were shelves lined with cooking supplies, food and juices. We were not allowed to eat any of that; it was reserved for them only. I was ashamed to be stealing but I was very hungry. We were fed from the supplies they could get from a food bank. Most of it was unmarked cans that would be opened and tossed into a large pot and then served as soup. I know that some of those cans we opened smelled and looked just like Alpo dog food. We were fed things like millet, barley malt and others I had never heard of. We were made to take vitamins daily and would have reactions to having too much in our system.

Because I was one of the "trusted" girls, I was allowed to talk to almost everyone. I was not allowed to speak to one of my childhood friends that was there until she graduated. We could only talk about approved subjects. We could not talk about friends, past students, or even our brothers. We were not allowed to have pens and paper unless in school or during approved letter writing time. Everything in our lives was monitored. Our letters were read before going out and read before we got them from our parents, phone calls and visits were strictly monitored.

You were denied meals for failing to pass a duty inspection. I was not spanked while I was there but I heard many girls crying and yelling and they would come back downstairs sobbing. It was one of our worst fears to be called upstairs. We knew what was happening. We had assigned bathroom breaks and if you had to go before that you would get demerits. This went for in the middle of the night too. The staff were very uncaring, crabby and vindictive.

Maybe these things don’t seem so bad to you but we lived in fear. You trusted no one and the best way to stay unnoticed was to keep your mouth shut and head down. I had severe menstrual cramps growing up. I would be doubled over in pain, throwing up. I had the same thing while I was there and was denied any pain killers. I was expected to perform my duties even though I could not even stand up without doubling over in pain. I could not eat and would not have wanted to eat if I could have.

I was forced to drink a protein shake because I was "sick". The protein shakes were similar to what they give to body-builders except ours were not mixed properly. They were mixed with cold water and that left them clumpy and hard to choke down. I would often just throw them back up. I would lay there and ask God to please kill me.

I have had glasses since I was a kid. While I was there, my frames broke. I do not recall the exact circumstances. I was not allowed to have an eye exam to get them fixed. They were taken somewhere and the lenses put into some old frames. The frames were not the right shape for the lenses so everything was distorted. They gave me headaches and I was told there was nothing they could do. I resorted to not wearing them at all which left me almost blind. I failed a sweeping duty because I missed a piece of popcorn behind a large door. I could barely see the hand in front of my face and the staff knew that but it was not given any consideration. I was then made to drink a protein shake for dinner.

During my stay, a past students family had tried to get the State of Indiana to investigate reports of abuse. I and another student were hand-picked to speak to this agent. We were taken to his office and he questioned us in front of the staff lady. I was terrified to tell him anything because I knew the trouble we would be in. He asked the staff lady to leave but she left a tape recorder behind. We knew that she would hear us anyway so we said that things were all okay. He asked us to write on a piece of paper anything we might want to say but I was petrified and knew that not only would the Williams family be very angry but so would my family and church. I couldn’t take the chance of being all alone with no way to support myself.

Shortly after that meeting all of the girls were sent home to their families. I don’t know the time frame but probably a month or so, the school was reopened and I was sent back to finish my schooling. The staff ladies are not trained to teach so there was no one to explain algebra to me. They figured that I was not getting it so I was given a different subject in order to graduate.

I sum all this up by saying, God was sorely misrepresented to us. We were always afraid of judgment and humiliated. Our sin was thrown into our faces daily and we were not to forget that we were the forsaken. I learned to hide my emotions, to be untrusting and unforgiving. I have nightmares that I am trapped there as an adult and trying to explain that I don’t belong there. I have unfounded fears that my husband will abandon me.

I beg you to reconsider if you are thinking of sending your daughter there.
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 12:44 PM
Labels: Survivor's Stories
Marissa Joungblood: Survivor!


My name is Marissa Joungblood and I attended Hephzibah House from June 1998 to January 2003.

My memories and experiences at Hephzibah were far from pleasant.

I wouldn't describe myself as a bad kid; I was a normal teenage girl with the normal problems of those awkward years everyone goes through. I remember I had cut class and a big deal was made of it....well i was deemed as a rebellious child and therefore sent to Hephzibah.

I personally was never physically abused though I was abused emotionally. They seemed to enjoy public ally humiliating girls including myself. I remember a few girls made to wear depends because they were unable to hold it until the staff decided to take all of us to the bathroom. We were made to drink a lot of liquids and I remember having to take a lot of vitamins making you have to go frequently.

One incident I remember shortly after I arrived was one of the girls was speaking out about something right before church and Patti (Ron Williams wife) was called down and Wendi (Don Williams wife). Patti had slapped the girl across the face and put her in one of the closets and we were all rushed off to church. The girl was left behind with Patti and Wenda, and I could just imagine what went on when everyone had left. She was made to lay in bed for the rest of the day. This was a quick reminder to me that I had better do everything I was supposed to do.

Another unpleasant thing, of many that I remember, was some so called doctor came down to give us an exam. I told him I was a virgin and he still continued with the pap smear or pelvic exam not sure exactly what he was doing. I was in extreme pain! He also had the hardest time taking my blood poking me several times. I've never had anyone have such a hard time taking my blood.

I also remember the tremendous amounts of food we were given to eat in a certain amount of time. This was very difficult for me because all too often I couldn't finish in time and had to eat it at the next meal (including the other meal). Sometimes a few of us girls would sit and rock in our chairs trying to get the food down. I was told I was rebellious because I had such a hard time finishing my food.

There was absolutely no privacy for ANYONE. We had a "BM" chart where we had to record what kind of bowel movement we had made that day. If you forgot to sign it it resulted in demerits.

I remember having to do back breaking work made for a man to do. Carrying five gallon buckets of dirt, water, rocks. Work was always a priority over school. If there was a project to be done we were pulled out of school to do it. I feel we were used for labor many times.

I also remember a lot of food was donated to us from stores and food banks. The Williams and other staff would sort though it and use all the good food for themselves.

Most things I chose to forget and push out of my mind. I think Hephzibah House does more harm than help. Maybe their intentions are good but what they are doing is really no help. I hope my statement could be of some help.
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 12:43 PM
Labels: Survivor's Stories

Katherine (Kurrus) Shanks: Survivor!


I was a "student" at Hephzibah for 4 months at which point they told my parents I was demon possessed and a hopeless case, that I would never change. Needless to say they did not return any of the years worth of money my father paid them in advance.

I went in when I was 15.

During the time I was there I was "disciplined" twice by being held face down on the carpet by four adults and beaten with a large wooden paddle until I was bleeding. I was forced to wear diapers.

We did back breaking labor there, scrubbing the brick floors on our hands and knees every day, as well as the huge kitchens and multiple toilet and shower stalls. We were required to do strenuous workouts run by Theresa Dawson every day - military style workouts.

While we were fed plenty of food, none of it was the high calorie food we needed due to the large amount of work we did and I lost nearly 30 pounds in 4 months.

I quit menstruating after the first month. I was constantly humiliated, made to feel like a failure, physically pushed around, told I was hopeless, and once even stood up in front of the entire group of girls and told that until I "straightened up and quit being rebellious" my parents would never love me.

To this day nearly 10 years later I still have nightmares about that place.


Thank you,

Katherine (Kurrus) Shanks
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 12:41 PM
Labels: Survivor's Stories
Karen Glover: Survivor!

7-13-08

My name was Karen Glover. What it is now is irrelevant. For all intents and purposes here, you may all call me Karen. I was incarcerated in Hephzibah House from Aug 1980 to July 1982. Here is my story.....

I was your average teenage girl. I was 15, dealing with pubescent hormonal imbalances, defining myself as a person. I had a big brain and was never shy of vocalizing my opinions. I know my attitude was considered to be rebellious in church circles. I found the teachings of the church we attended to be small minded and narrow.

I never quite fit into the religious "right". My parents also changed the definition of "sin" to whatever suited them that month, which added to my confusion and distaste for the hypocrisy I was witnessing. My biggest "sin" was smoking cigarettes. They smoked, so I smoked. I never had voluntary sex. My grandfather molested me many times throughout my childhood but in my mind, I was a virgin. I was never arrested or had any legal problems, was never pregnant or thrown out of school. I was just your average, mouthy, questioning, attitudinal teenager.

I didn’t know I was going to a religious reform school when my parents woke me in the middle of the night. It was with great confusion that I was shuffled into the two-door car my parents borrowed from my grandfather. (as opposed to their four-door, from which I could have run) Once on the road, I was informed of my coming incarceration. Needless to say, I flipped out. I then spent the rest of the 7 hour trip in the back seat with my back to my parents. When necessary, they escorted me to the bathroom so I wouldn’t run away before getting there.

When I arrived at Hephzibah House, then at 508 School St, Winona Lake, IN, we were taken directly to the "Blue Room". I was quickly separated from my parents and taken upstairs by Mrs. Kagin. I was told to strip and bathe while she watched me. My belongings were taken from me and replaced by a uniform. I didn’t see my parents again for many months.

The first month was pure hell. I remember it was hard to keep all the new rules straight….when to stand and when to sit; when to talk and when to be silent. Communication to our families was strictly governed by the staff at HH. Phone calls were monitored and terminated if anything was spoken that they didn’t like. If this happened, we were disciplined for trying to be rebellious. Our outgoing letters were censored. If we wrote anything "unacceptable" like, "HELP! I’M BEING BEATEN TO DEATH!", we were made to re-write the letter and disciplined again. All incoming mail was read by staff and anything they didn’t want us to know was "blacked out".

Food: The food was horrid. Our breakfasts consisted of hot bran with a small bit of honey in the bottom of the bowl, and a glass of powdered milk which had a nasty taste. On weekends, we would get very eggy French toast or pancakes with sorghum syrup. For lunch we were fed egg salad sandwiches and sometimes soup. Dinner was usually a casserole of some kind, stretched with eggs. Unlimited amounts of eggs and mislabeled Campbell’s soups were donated to the "ministry" so we ate eggs and mixed cans of soup more often than anything else. After 6 months of unending eggs, many of us were belching sulfur. They decided our portion size and if we didn’t eat it all, we were given it cold for following meals until it was all gone. On the other end of the spectrum, we were taken to "all you can eat" buffets a few times a year and warned not to overeat. Having no choice over your food intake for months on end, then being given total choice over the same for the span of an hour thrice a year, made for some gluttony for sure! I remember going to the bathroom and trying to pass all the food so I wouldn’t be sick. If we got sick from eating too much, we were beaten. Talk about playing with our minds!

Menstruation: I started my period the first week I was there, which was not my scheduled time, and I never had another one for the 23 months of my incarceration. Since our bodily functions were not private, I knew the same thing happened to all the other girls who were there at that time. Charts were kept on the dorm door that marked our weight, bowel movements, menses, and bathing. I know excessive exercise and stress will cause amenorrhea (stopping of the menses). If this was the reason my periods stopped and never started again until I left HH, then how come it happened within days of my arrival? It takes months for excessive exercise and stress to effect a woman’s period.

I personally believe we were given veterinary hormones in the powdered milk. We girls were made to help with the food preparations. The one thing we were not allowed to handle was the making of the milk. At that time, it was made down in the staff quarters by one of the senior staff members. Of course, the hormone issue is speculation. My question for HH is this, if they weren’t poisoning us with hormones to stop our menses, then why didn’t they report the amenorrhea to parents or physicians? It is, after all, a severe medical condition. Especially alarming that it was happening to all of us there at that time.

Discipline: "Work Duties" were given, like demerits, for any infraction of the rules or jobs not done to their standards. When too many work duties were accumulated, penalties were given out in paddlings instead of work duties until one could work her duties down to a lower number. There was a period of two months when I was beaten almost every day because my work duty count was too high. We were assigned tasks, from cleaning to gleaning, from chipping tile to gardening, from shoveling manure to yard work. If there was a broken plant in our row of the weeding, we were beaten. If a duty was not performed to their satisfaction, we either got more work duties or beatings.

And by beatings I mean this – we were held down by female staff members at both our heads and our feet, while we were hit with a board measuring approx 2’x6"x1". Sometimes it was a female staff member holding the board. Other times it was either Ron Williams or Mr. Kagin. Mind you, Ron Willams is around 6’6" and surely weighs 285#. Silence and isolation were also used as discipline. As I noted earlier, I was smart and mouthy, a regular know-it-all. I was not allowed to speak to anyone, even if it was staff, for over 8 months. It was this complete isolation that finally broke my will.

Torture: Aside from the beatings, we were psychologically tortured in many ways. We were demeaned and ridiculed by staff, not allowed to use the bathroom when we needed to then shamed when we couldn’t hold our bowels or bladders any longer, exercised severely (I lost 80# in my first 8 months), shown fear inducing videos of what would happen to us and our souls if we didn’t convert, isolated from forming bonds with the other girls, made to keep our hair curled and beaten if it went straight during the day, given school work way below our abilities to prove we were stupid, forced to memorize gigantic amounts of bible and protestant catechisms involving hours of weekly testing, worked far too hard for the amount of calories we were given, not allowed to speak to anyone outside the "ministry", and even forced into prolonged silence (8 months worth in my case).

I believe the staff of HH used every opportunity to belittle us and degrade us to quicken the breaking of the will. All this time we were told we were sinners, useless, meaningless and unloved. How can young teens have any defense against such meanness?

Indoctrination: The amounts of scripture and catechism we had to learn were insurmountable. We were required to learn a verse a day, five days a week. This was accumulative. We had to recite them each week. So by the time a girl was there for six months, she was reciting approximately 120 verses of scripture weekly. Add to this the chapter of scripture and hymn per month we were required to learn for school and the individual verses required for each PACE we completed. These latter were not accumulative. For each error we made in recitation, we were dealt a work duty, and if our duties were too high, a beating instead.

We attended religious services raining hellfire and brimstone on us many times per week. We were periodically forced to watch hours of brutal Armageddon; rapture movies intended to scare us into conversion. We were taught scripture set to music and forced to sing them on both Ron Williams' radio show and at fundraising church events. We were forced to "sell" the man who was torturing us! This deep indoctrination left us little time to think or reason about our dilemma of imprisonment. I have forgotten more bible than most people will ever learn in the first place.

I have a very high IQ and an almost photographic memory. The school work and bible memory/catechisms were easy for me to deal with. I had great difficulty with the beatings, having to eat food that disgusted me, not being able to go to the bathroom when I needed to, and not having freedom of speech.

When I finally graduated from Hephzibah House Academy (the school branch of the "ministry"), I was allowed to go home provided my parents promised to send me to either Pensacola Christian College or Bob Jones University. Before I graduated, I was taken to a doctor’s office and vaginally inspected. I had no idea what was going on! To this day, I don’t know why they did that. I felt so violated and shamed.

My life since Hephzibah House has been a struggle at best. I attended PCC then BJU, totaling two years of college. During my time at Bob Jones University, I started seeing a therapist to work through my "attitude problems.” As I began to recover my self from the brainwashing of HH, I realized I didn’t want to follow a christian path. I didn’t want to be a part of a god that was so cruel. I left college and after a few promiscuous years I joined the military.

After the service, I worked in the sex industry and became deeply involved in the drug culture. I hated myself so much that I did everything I could, short of suicide, to destroy myself. Unfortunately, I believed what HH taught me about myself: that I was not a beautiful, unique creation, that I was a monster. I lived a very violent life for many years after I left HH. I truly feel their indoctrination and cult brainwashing techniques removed my ability to respect myself.

With a lot of work, therapy and love from friends, I have since found a spiritual path free of religion and violence. I found love for myself and for those around me through a pagan path. I used nature as my teacher. Nature taught me not to judge, to respect life and death, to see the balance in all things, to love my uniqueness, and to forgive.

I am forever grateful that I could heal past the hate into love and peace. I am forever grateful that there is not only one path to god. I have found love and have been in therapy my whole adult life to try to embrace that love, for others and for myself. I have forgiven my parents for sending me to HH. I have forgiven the church pastor who told my parents this was their only way to "save" me. I have even forgiven the staff and founder of HH for the torture through which they put me. I am still suffering from the scars and damage done by them and hope to be a part of closing Hephzibah House in the near future. I want the cult to end. I want the healing of young women to come through love and compassion, not torture and hatred.

I write all of this hoping one parent will read it and make a different decision for their daughter than mine did for me. To this day, my parents are sorry they did this to me. If they had known what was happening, they never would have left me there. Remember, the internet wasn’t around in the early 80’s for the easy gathering of information and we were not allowed to cry for help.
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 12:19 PM
Labels: Survivor's Stories
Jennifer Sengpiehl: Survivor!

I went to Hephzibah house 10 years ago for 15 months.

My first day I was there I was severely beaten by the Williams' "rod of god" as they called it. I was beaten because I tried to leave the minute I walked in. The sons were all called and held me down as Patti beat me over and over again from my entire back to my knees. I was bruised all over. It hurt to sleep and move for weeks.

While I was there I was "shadowed" and the entire time there never allowed to speak to more then two girls that were on my speaking list. I never got to ever leave the building. My parents letters were often blacked out with a black marker as if my parents were writing me things that they didn’t approve of...whatever that may be.

While I was there the depression I had was indescribable... The girls said I never smiled...(now mind you my nickname is Sunshine because I never stop smiling) I thought about suicide constantly while I was there...

I look back and hear these stories and the pain and hurt even now is unimaginable...

I am now a mother and I would NEVER EVER put my child in there.
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 12:16 PM
Labels: Survivor's Stories
Jennifer Gooch: Survivor!

I was taken to Hephzibah House (HH), on December 7,1993 at the age of 13 (nearly 14). Little did I know I was going to be locked in this home and would spend the next 21 months of my life there.

To be clear, I had never had sex, done drugs, drank, or really done much of anything at all. I had always been home schooled and was struggling through normal growing up years. My parents had recently started a new church, and the pastor had gave them the large amount of money needed to go to HH. They were very religious and feared I was going to leave home as my older sister had, so they thought HH seemed like a good place for me at the time. In retrospect, they know the place is not right and would not send any of my siblings there.

That is a key thing with HH, it is presented as a super ministry... In my personal opinion, based on my experience and observations, it is NOT!! As a mother of two daughters myself, I am so glad they will never have to experience this place. By sharing this story, hopefully other girls will also be spared the experience.

My first day there, as we sat in the room with the director, Ron Williams, he pulled a very large wooden paddle out of the closet and proceeded to explain how if they felt a girl needed it, they would have her lay down on the floor, put a chair over each end of her body, and with staff members present (as I recall to sit on the chairs and probably to also be witnesses), they would proceed to spank the girl.

I lived in fear when I was there and never wanted to do something which would lead to a spanking. From what I have heard, this was more of a beating. I remember one girl committing some transgression and being taken upstairs, when she came down, she was so shook up, they had her breathing into a brown paper bag. Things were not allowed to be questioned nor discussed among us. If a girl was taken home before her fifteen months were up, she would just disappear while we were in school or doing assignments. Immediately she was referred to as , "past student", and no discussion as to why or where she went was allowed.

I remember just sobbing the first night I was there, and telling the staff I needed to talk to my parents..I was not allowed to that night, nor for some time. Phone calls home were made once a month. A staff would come and get us once the connection had been established, we would take one seat in the closet room , she would take the seat right next to us as well as listen in on the other line and take notes as we spoke to our parents. Each call was strictly timed for 10 minutes, (15 was allowed for birthdays). There were rules about what we could and could not talk about, so, not wanting to lose the precious privilege, I would leave so much unsaid and try my best to sound happy and conformed. The same applied for visits, they were allowed once every three months for a certain amount of time. We were not informed of the visit until it was practically time to see our parents, then we would be taken up, and a staff would be present throughout the entire time and writing what was talked about. Again, I would try to appear happy and conformed, desperately hoping they would take me home, but not being allowed to mention such a thing.

Each month we had to read and initial the, "rule book", in it, amongst many things, were rules such as we were not allowed to talk about going home, why we got demerits, and so forth. They had a chart with who we could speak or not speak to. If we couldn't speak to a certain girl, than we could not make eye contact with her, nor look in the dorm or bathroom mirror with her unless a staff gave permission while they watched. I recall one night in particular, I had received permission to show another girl my pictures. The staff lady became very angry with us because she felt we were talking too quietly while looking at them, and for the rest of the evening, we were not allowed to talk to anyone but staff. This, "no talking", punishment was doled out liberally.

If a girl had too many mistakes in the writing out of her weekly memory verses, ( there were required weekly and an even larger monthly passage from different sections of the Bible assigned), she was not allowed to talk to any one but staff all week, had to write it out numerous times as she could find moments here and there to do so, and wear a uniform to public services. All the while, the next weeks verses had to be perfected as well.

The wearing the uniform, silence, and writing of many sentences also applied if too many demerits were received in a week. Demerits could be received for virtually anything and everything. Things such as wearing my hair pulled back on one side, or slouching rather than cuffing my socks were considered worldly and could be punished. I guess the wearing of the uniform to services was to shame us publicly. Which brings me to more memories...

We were not allowed to enter the church until they started the service, then, we would file in lined up in our assigned place and sit in assigned metal chairs, the door was guarded as we filed past. Then, we would take notes on all sermons that would later be checked by staff, and not be allowed to use the bathroom during the entire service. This could be especially hard during Sunday mornings when we were not allowed to do anything but stare ahead while everyone else in the Church had the break between services and got to stretch their legs and use the bathroom. (No talking to other church members.) Since a typical Sunday service lasted 3 hours or more, this could be uncomfortable at times.

The same applied to school, no getting up to go to the bathroom until they took us to go. I remember at least one girl wetting herself and having to wear depends diapers after that, I believe there were others as well. I know sometimes I would hold it so long in the morning, it would sometimes hurt and I would be so glad when the staff told us we could finally get up and get our stuff for the bathroom. Even then, we had to line up and wait for our assigned stall to be open. (They had three bathroom and three shower stalls).

Showers were taken when they said, usually during the afternoon's many work duties, they would let three of us get in, call out we were ready, and wait for the other girls to be, so we could be given permission to start the water. Showers were timed for 3 minutes. I am so glad I didn't have the long hair some of the girls did at the time!!

We didn't have much for free time at all, and if we did, I usually used it to clean, and re clean the small amount of things we were allowed there, (baskets my stuff was stored in, etc.), because we could be punished for things such as one too many hangers in our assigned areas, dust in our baskets, etc. Our assigned wardrobe or closet space was locked each and every night, and the staff would make sure our shoes were their before locking them. (I guess I had mentioned getting out early on, because they kept my shoes and made me wear slippers for some time).

The doors and windows were locked and/or alarmed anyway, and we were surrounded by a very tall solid fence, so chances of escape were slim to none although I did dream of it. I remember getting permission to go outside and dump a bucket or something, and smelling the fresh air, and hearing the sounds of life outside, and just imagining freedom. We were young girls, not hardened criminals, although we were not allowed to talk about why we were there either.

Our days basically consisted of rushing to keep up with the assigned schedule, which was mostly school, cleaning, and more cleaning. During work duties, we weren't supposed to talk either, ...a great deal of our time there was spent in silence. Work duties were assigned, and we had to get permission to go from point A to point B to even accomplish the task. Then, we had to get a staff lady to check it and pass it for us. I got to the point where I was afraid to say I was done until they told me it was good enough , lest I failed. This didn't always work though because jobs were of course expected to be done in a short time as well. One staff lady would literally shine a flashlight and there best not any dust show up in the beam under the beds.

I learned to keep my head down and mouth shut so to speak, the vast majority of my time there. I think I became as a puppet of sorts, dancing as I was told and showing no mind of my own. For this, I earned privileges, such as being allowed to eventually talk to all the girls, not having to perform the kitchen duties, etc. I was so afraid of using said privileges, that I think I just kept my mouth shut more and worked all the harder until they would tell me to take a break.

I honestly don't remember Patti, (the director's wife being around much, and when she did come around, it was terrifying, I would try to just blend in unnoticed. She would become very angry at us for things we didn't even know we had done wrong. She would also call down over the monitor angry at us, and all we dared say, was, "yes ma'am, or no ma'am." Her son Don, who was also part of the, "ministry", and the school principle when I was there, was kind to us, and would sometimes read to us in morning school.

The thing is, even unintentional wrongdoings, things normal people would not consider as some horrible crime, were treated as such. Girls were publicly humiliated and made to feel terrible for small things. I recall one girl was chewed out in front of us all for not marking, "how much " diarrhea she had on the chart. (Yes, we were required to mark each day how we had gone to the bathroom,..this was a public chart and demerits would be giving for failing to mark it).

I had started my menstrual cycle the month or so before going to HH, I had one within my first couple weeks of being there, and then never again until some months after returning home. This would worry me, and when I would question it, they didn't give much for answers. This is strange, because it turns out many girls stopped menstruating while there and some of us have had reproductive/other issues later in life.

I never saw a doctor or dentist while there, ( with the exception of a forced and unexplained vaginal exam performed in their closet room by a man who I assume was a doctor). Their, "nurse", (also secretary..I'm not sure on her credentials), would answer any health questions we might have. If we said we were sick, (even if it was just a head cold or bad headache, etc. ), we got to go to bed for 24 hours, but of course this was spent in silence and no meals were allowed, just a can of ensure. There are some sicknesses that don't effect your appetite of course, and so it was as though we were punished for being sick as well.

There were times when I would get so hungry, esp. on Saturdays when after a larger than usual breakfast, we had to work the day away and not eat again until dinner. On Sundays, dinner was generally something like measured out peanut butter and jelly and some sprouts...for the most part, we were fed adequately, but it was measured and not always the most tasty fare. They could also use no meals as a form of punishment.

We were also allowed to send letters to our families once a week, (we couldn't write anyone unless our parents had specifically put them on the list, then a note could be included on the same paper as we wrote to our parents on). There was a limit on how much we could write, although there wasn't much to write anyway, because so many things were not allowed to be talked about. All ingoing and outgoing mail was read, and if they would not like something, they would black it out. Patti would threaten that our letters would not go out if our menus were missing something, (we had to write what we ate), or if she didn't like what we were writing. So, as you may well imagine, my letters home were glowing reports.

That is one of the biggest things that saddens me about this place, the fear and isolation and no way out. Also, the fact that it is all done under the name of Christianity. Basically, we were made to feel inadequate and inferior and just over all as, "bad girls" in general. We were not allowed to keep any type of journal, diary, or calendars while there. So I am sure there are things that are forgotten. However, they can't erase some of the memories, even with all the brainwashing of us being bad, and them being good. The staff ladies were scary people, and although there were moments of kindness, for me, it was constant fear and uncertainty.

I was one who wrote my , "testimony", for them after getting out, it basically read as all the other testimonies on their website., " I don't know where I would be if it hadn't been for HH", but that is the thing, ..they seemed to want and program us to think that. I have still struggled with speaking out against them, but I know that things were not right there, and again, hopefully some other girls will be spared the heartache.

To me, HH is like a cult, and it is horrifying that they are given total control behind closed doors with no unmonitored conversation between child and parent. I feel like I left there a shell of the girl I went in, and to this day, there are effects that are hard to shake. I have had dreams of being stuck back there and trying to get out to my babies. Essentially, the little good that may be learned there was far outweighed by the damaging effects!!!
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 12:12 PM
Labels: Survivor's Stories
Former Student: Survivor!

When I was there, I was afraid that I would unintentionally do something wrong, and would be punished. It could, and did happen.

We were not allowed to talk to our parents about such things and I think parents should be aware of what is going on in there child's life. From the outside, this does look like a good home, from the inside, it is a home where girl's are humiliated, not allowed some basic privileges, and led to live in an unhealthy fear of God and the staff over them.

Perhaps things have changed since I was there, I really hope they have!!. If they haven't though, I think it is really sad if girls are still having to go through this type of treatment.

Was I rebellious at 13? I suppose I was, neither I, my parents, nor any other human being was, or is perfect.

I just believe Hephzibah House was, and probably still is, an EXTREME that does more damage than good. I could list all sorts of things that went on and were wrong. A child should not live in fear and have no one to talk to about what is going on.

Day after day getting up and spending every moment in a controlled life, you become as a robot, and when you make mistakes, even unintentional, or even done nothing really wrong, just someone's twisted version of wrong, you face punishment. That is not God and it is not good, period.
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 12:09 PM
Labels: Survivor's Stories

Aileen Jaramillo: Survivor!

My name is Aileen Jaramillo, I was at Hephzibah House in 1999 thru 2001 and the following statements are true.

I have to tell you that I can’t remember all that went on for the simple fact that I have done my best to forget that such a place exists. I can tell you that my mother is truly sorry for sending to such a facility and that I came out of there learning absolutely NOTHING.

Upon my arrival at HH, I was stripped of all my clothing and personal belongings as a staff lady watched me and then I had to shower after explaining to them that no less that an hour ago I had showered. They explained to me it was to wash away all my impurities, as to say I had some sort of deadly disease. The girls came in and I starting talking to they and they stared at me as if I was an alien.

Conversing with other girls was forbidden and looked at as only a privilege. It was truly sad and then to only discover I would turn out to act in the same matter as they did. I could go on for days telling you stories that I remember but I will focus on just a few and then what it did to me emotionally and mentally. I can’t say that they ever hit me but I can remember a time they made a comment to me in regards to being "spanked" and being sixteen at the time I clearly told them, "I will turn gangster on you if you ever lay a hand on me." One girl and I will not mention her name did tell me she had been "spanked" and it truly made me cry as I had already heard stories on how "spankings" were done.

They made me perform several embarrassing actions such as an exam in the closet performed my a man who I till this day do not think he was a real doctor, mark my bowels and menstrual cycles or even show them, count my dirty underwear, hold my bladder to the point were I was "dancing" because I could hardly hold it, etc. The girls that couldn’t hold it had to wear a diaper, which I just felt horrible for them.

We had to do numerous chores, exercises in days were it was freezing and snow coming to our knees or unbelievably hot (mind you we had layers of hideous, itchy clothing on.) We would miss meals if things were not done correctly.

When we had a meal the amounts were enormous and I am in no way exaggerating. That was probably one of the hardest things for me, which was trying to consume such large amounts of food in just 20 min. and I knew if I did not finish all of it that it would be what I continued to eat for the next meal. I would get extremely ill from such large portions, yet they continued to serve them to me. I recall one incident were we had Swiss chard for dinner and while I was eating a chewed on something that was obviously not lettuce and then spit it up to see a half chewed worm. The staff stood and debated whether I had to eat what I had thrown up, after debating I did not have to but did have to eat the rest of the worm that was in the Swiss chard. Then I took a bathroom break, (to throw it up) which was not scheduled so I received 20 demerits which resulted in me being on punishment for the next week.

I had to write countless sentences and could not take part in activities that showed an ounce of fun. The Bible and God were shoved down our throats as punishment and clearly not what God intended it for. They make it very difficult to continue your high school education anyplace else but there. The picked a curriculum that I have yet to find any other school to offer.

We were only allowed to see our parents every four months and they visitation was only three hours long. I could not write to anyone except for immediate family. I got one a call a month which was only 20min to talk to my entire family. We had a staff member that would sit less than a foot away and connected to another phone to hear everything and if they felt it necessary suspend the call. This visitation was not only monitored but short and ridiculous for the significant amount of money that was spent for families to get there.

They had my parents send a certain amount of money every month including all my necessities and supplies that I would need. They had clothes, food, material, money, etc. donated yet the always wanted more and it was never for us girls. I couldn’t imagine how our water bill was so high seeing that we only were allowed a three minute shower.

I did and said what I had too to make it there and by the end of my stay I was extremely confused. I didn’t keep 99% of their standards or beliefs, but at the same time I felt as if I was the wicked person that walked the Earth because I didn’t continue in their cultish ways. They made me feel that I wasn’t good enough for anything or that I would never make it in the world.

I now have a wonderful husband, two beautiful boys, and live a pleasing, successful life. HH does nothing to make, train or teach a woman to be a better Christian or a well respected citizen. I still have weekly horrible dreams of the things that went on while I was there and wake up in a panic mood. I think about it daily and try to understand what sort of pleasure and accomplishment they get for treating people in such a demeaning manner.

We were constantly working and till this day if I am not engaging in work or some form of activity I feel guilty and lazy. Yet at the same time I keep myself busy so I don’t dwell on it much otherwise I get depressed.

It has been 8 years and I continue to have a wall up and will not allow people into my life. I shun any form of help seeing as the only kind I "received" from HH has done nothing for me. It is something that I struggle and work on daily.

I hope that from this statement I save one girl from the treatment I received.
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 12:01 PM
Labels: Survivor's Stories
Dawn Woodhull: Survivor!

My name is Dawn Woodhull. I was at Hephzibah House from 1990-1991.

I want to begin with telling you why I was sent off to that horrid place so that maybe others wont be so quick to assume I was this out of control teenager that no one could deal with.

I was 15 years old and a typical run of the mill teenager. I wasn't a perfect angel, but honestly I never got into any type of trouble. I weighed 315 pounds and, well, I just wanted attention from someone. I wanted people to like me for me.

My parents were married and divorced, and then married again and divorced again (like once wasn't enough). My mom worked 2 jobs to keep a roof over our head and food on the table. My father, well he was different story. I hadn't seen him in 2 years; he never paid child support, and he became the Jim Jones of the neighborhood, minus the Kool-Aid and mass suicide. He once tried to get his pastor to perform an exorcism on my mother because she was the devil reincarnate.

So after going through all that nonsense, I was well adjusted kid. I went to school, got good grades and so on. Well being way overweight and not so pretty I still had friends. One guy stood out; he liked me for me and wanted to be my first boyfriend, so I began to hang out with him. He was sweet and didn't care that I was fat. I wasn't raised to hate others just because they might be different. He was black, and oh my, that wasn't going to happen in my family I guess.

Phone calls were made, and well a week later my father and grandmother showed up at my door at 6am and I was told that we had to pick up my grandfather in South Bend because he broke his leg. I should have known then something was up because I hadn't seen them in 2 or 3 years. After a 4 hour drive, we pull up in front of this big white house and my father puts his hands on my shoulders and says, "This place is going to help you". I began to scream and cry and jumped out of the car. I tried to run, but the Williams boys were already at the car to escort me in by my arms.

My first hour there I was threatened with the paddle and told that God didn't like girls who strayed outside their race. I was then escorted to the bathroom by Naomi and Mrs. Williams and told to strip and put my worldly clothes in a garbage bag. I was searched from head to toe, and even told to bend over so they could search my private areas. I felt used and dirty after that search. I felt like my dignity had been stolen and that was just the beginning. I then was told to shower and put on the famous blue and red uniform with the square knot in the back.

After all that I was taken back into the room with my parents and the Williams' and told to keep my mouth shut. I wasn't allowed to speak, and I was told if I ran again I would be paddled. I sat there quietly and watched my parents sign all the paperwork and then leave me there for good. I was ushered down stairs to the dorm room and into a closet where a table was set up. I was told to take off my underwear and lay down on the table. No sheet, no blanket, no nothing. I met Miss Saylor and Miss Bronsing. The 2 women held me down as a man walked in and told me he was going to do a pelvic exam on me. I didn't even know what that was at the time. They refused to tell me anything let alone let me speak. The man and both women forced me to strip once again and he examined my whole body inside and out. I also received my first rectal exam. After all that mess I was escorted once again into the dorm room and had to put my belongings away. All this happened in the first 3 hours I was at HH. I had no money in my account yet so I was told to use another girls dirty red socks as a pad until the money came through to get a bag of pads.

We all know the horror stories from all the girls that have given a statement before me. It's happened to all of us including the ones that wont admit it. We all went through one piece of individual hell or another. The two that stuck out for me the most besides the first 3 hours was when I was laying in bed on my 3rd night, and still crying. Miss Bronsing (who was in the bunk above me) got down and sat on my bed and told me to stop crying immediately or else she would send me upstairs. Well I made the worst mistake ever. I said go ahead I don't care. Well next thing I knew I was being yanked out of bed by my hair and taken into the area where we ate (so not to wake the others so I guess) and here came Miss Hoke. I was told to stop crying that instant or else. Well you can guess it didn't happen. I was held from behind by my arms and slapped repeatedly and told not to scream or Mr. Williams would come down and paddle me.

I no longer screamed or cried. I learned from that moment what the place was all about. It's abuse no matter how anyone looks at it.

Yes, we had BM charts, demerits, sentences, 3 minute showers, things they knew we were allergic to but made us eat or do anyway,(they took my epi pen away because it was a weapon), 10 minute phone calls to our parents once a month , which were listened to in case we told them the truth. A 4 hour visit with your parents every 3 months if your tuition was up to date ( I had 2 visits during my 13 months there) and so on and so on.

The list is long of things that happened to me. I have seen so much abuse to other girls as well. Which is my 2nd story, a bunch of us girls came down with a bug. We were all sick and throwing up and so on. Well in order to use the bathroom at night , we had to wake up the staff lady in the hallway and ask permission. I was in the bathroom at this point getting sick for about the 5th time that night when I heard another girl ask to use the bathroom, as she was going to be sick. Miss Hoke told her no she couldn't go in because it was occupied. The other girl threw up right there in the hallway. Miss Hoke made her clean it up with her hands. I ran back in the stall when I heard Miss Hoke threaten her with having to eat it if she got sick cleaning it up. I felt so bad for the girl, but if I knew if I got involved it would be worse for me.


November 11th of 1991 was the best day ever. We went to school like every other day. At 10:00 am we went for a potty break like normal, except we were told be very quick. At that point we were told we were going back to the dorm and to grab our church clothes and coats. I thought it was a field trip; great I can run this time I now weigh 140 pounds (only good thing that came out of it all).

The staff finally told us that we were going home. We were split up between those who lived on the East coast, and those who lived on the West coast. we were sent to 2 different churches in other states. Once we arrived in Lima, Ohio, we were told that our parents were coming to get us. We could talk to whomever we wanted to at this point. So of course the conversations began for the first time with those whom we had never been allowed to talk to. I had known 2 girls when I arrived at HH because I had gone to Christian school with them at one point, but I was never allowed to speak to them ever at HH. Now we were free to talk with one another.

After about 4 hours, Mr. Williams finally showed up with an announcement. He told us that a past student had filed child abuse charges against him and the school. Mr. Williams also told us that child welfare was on the way to pick us all up and take us to foster care homes. He told us that's why he had to get us out of state and send us home. He then left and I never saw him again.

I arrived home the next day still asking permission to come down the hallway at home, asking if my plate was clean enough after I ate a meal, yelling coming down everywhere I went in my own house and having to relive the trauma I had endured there with my mother. I called my grandmother the next day and told her I was home and what had happened. Within 15 minutes my father called. He told me I was going back as soon as the mess was cleaned up with abuse charges. I politely told him over my dead body.

From what I was told HH opened back up Jan 1st of 92. The girl who filed charges against them decided to drop the charges. Gee, I wonder which Williams man got to her and her family? I never heard anymore about HH or the Williams until I decided to do a search on my name (Cuz I thought it would be cool) and came across a site that had my name listed as past student of HH.

So as I sit here 18 years later, with tears running down my face, I can finally tell someone what happened to me at Hephzibah house without feeling like a nut case. Someone else has the same story as me and we will no longer be afraid to speak out.

As for life right after HH. I've been through 2 really abusive marriages and divorces. I found out when I was 17 I could never have children because of internal damage most likely from the botched pelvic exam I had when I got to HH. I went through therapy to find out I have Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome and abandonment issues.

18 years later as I sit here and write all this down for the first time, I realize what I do have now. I have a wonderful partner (and yes some of my family blame HH for me being gay, but I don't. I knew before just didn't want to admit it). Her name is Crystal. We have been together for almost 7 years now. For the first time I have finally been able to tell her what happened to me. I wanted to share my story with all of you so that you know you're not alone anymore. It happened to me too.

Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 11:57 AM
Labels: Survivor's Stories
Dannetta Fisher: Survivor!

My name is Dannetta Fisher, formerly known as Dannetta Kester, and this is my story as a survivor of the cult sect Hephzibah House (May 1987 to September 1989).

I was not like a lot of the girls who came from a christian background and christian homes. I was, indeed, a typical mouthy 15 year old girl who was trying very hard to find herself in this world. My mother would threaten to take me to HH "if I didn't straighten up".

That morning my mother and I didn't have our usual hour and half long tug of war to get me out of bed and off to school. Instead she let me sleep in. Then I was told we were going shopping or something of that nature. On the way I was told that I was going to HH. I figured she was just trying to scare me and would never actually leave me there. Now she tells me repeatedly that she was coerced into sending me there and it is one of her greatest regrets.

Upon arrival I, like all the other girls, was immediately separated from my mother and made to strip down to bare nudity in front of Heather Williams and take a shower. I did not get the forced vaginal exam. I assume this is because I had gotten a physical exam not long before arriving although no vaginal exam. I was told I would be there for 15 months and then I was taken downstairs to the prison. I was a crying mess so I sat with Miss Emery and watched a bunch of "really geeky" people playing volleyball.

That first night I was served a small dinner. I ate it all but the skin from the chicken. To this day I do not like skin on my chicken. The skin was given back to me each meal for the next 5 days. I did not eat for those 5 days because I do not like skin on my chicken Sam I Am (I will not go Dr. Seuss on you). On the fifth day I was taken to the middle of the steps leading up to the Williams castle with 6'6" Ron standing at the top looking like the jolly gray giant and scaring the crap out of me saying, "Now, Dannetta, I want you to eat your food". I gagged on it but Miss Emery did take a bit of pity on me and gave me a piece of dry bread with which I made my chicken skin sandwich out of.

My sweet (I'm being sarcastic) sixteen birthday rolled around a few weeks later. During a moment of actual fun and running around outside I felt my ankle give out and followed by a very loud "POP" and intense pain rushing up my leg. My entire ankle swelled up and turned blue. I had sprained it. I was not taken to a doctor to make sure it was not fractured or otherwise. I was made to sit and bite my lip through the intense pain as pain medication was taboo. My leg was then wrapped up and I was tossed (not literally) a pair of crutches which I was told to use for the next 6 to 8 weeks. If you have ever seriously sprained something then you know how painful it is. Some ibuprofen or something would have been nice and I'm sure I wouldn't have gotten high on it.

Just before my birthday (three weeks into my imprisonment) they decided they didn't like my attitude and I needed it adjusted. This was my one and only spanking. I was taken upstairs and told to lay face down on the floor with my arms crossed over my chest. Two women then held down my top half while a third held down my legs. Ron Williams (all 6'6" of him) then took this paddle that I am sure was ten feet long and starting wailing the crap out of me. Or I should say pee since I urinated all over myself due to the intense pain. Now let me point out that I was a veteran of intense, poorly administered "spankings" and thought I was big enough to handle it. Even a veteran like myself could not handle what that man did to me. After administering at least 7 or 8 hits and leaving me black and blue and welted he then had me sit down on my wounds.

Didn't Jesus go through something like that? Salt on the wounds per se. He tried to talk to me about blah blah blah...I don't know. I just wanted to take the chair and throw it out the window behind me. I did not deserve such a beating, attitude or not. Not even men in prison get treated that badly (maybe I'm wrong). It did not break my spirit but it sure as hell scared the crap out of me and I made sure it never happened again! Now I never told anyone that I had urinated all over myself but rather changed my clothes and put them in the laundry. I was so humiliated as you can imagine should you put yourself into my shoes. They found my urinated clothes while doing laundry check to count my dirty panties and I got demerits for my embarrassment.

Eventually, I did get a phone call and, of course, told my mother that I had gotten "spanked". The phone call being monitored, I had to change the subject fast as to not have my ten minutes cut short. I only remember maybe two visits during the twenty six months that I was there. The first was the worst, of course. By the second I had learned to put a big smile on my face and lie lie lie so as not to lose any of my so called "privileges" (if you call looking at anyone you wish a privilege).

That brings me to the "talking list". When you first get there you are told that you are only allowed to talk to a handful of girls (the ones who have the privilege of talking to everyone). If you are not allowed to talk to a girl you are not allowed to look at her or remotely in her direction let alone have any contact with her. Now imagine living, eating, sleeping and working with 29 other girls and you can't talk to or look at maybe 25 of them. For many years after leaving HH I had a terrible time walking with my head up or looking people in the eyes. I can do it now but I really have to force myself and it is a taught trait.

One night not far into my imprisonment as I was sleeping on the bottom bunk I awoke to find these two giant rat like creatures standing next to my bed and staring at me (now follow me on this before you think I just went off the deep end). I was terrified but we weren't allowed to leave our beds so I rolled over, pulled the blanket over my head and forced myself back to sleep. Now the normal person would trump this up to a seriously freaky dream. However, I wrote upstairs about my dream and Patti sat me down and explained that she had dabbled in witchcraft in her past, that sometimes demons attach themselves to a person and can be passed down from family member to family member and that the lady who played Samantha on "Bewitched" was a real witch (I'm not really sure where that came from).

Now, do I believe that I had a terrible dream or do I believe I was being watched by demons as it was explained to me? What would the rational person do? If you believe in God you have to believe in the devil. If you believe in angels you have to believe in demons. This is what I learned at HH. For the longest time I thought I was crazy because I didn't know what to believe. What would you think if you were a 15 year old girl and trying to detangle such a strange mess? If I say I believe I really saw two demons standing over my bed then I am certifiably crazy by social standards. If I say I do not believe in demons then I am in essence saying I do not believe in God. These are the lovely things I learned at HH.

Should you look at my website http://www.freewebs.com/hephzibahwounds/ and view my past pictures you will notice that I was rather a chubby girl while at Hephzibah House. Let me say that they fed you incredible amounts of food whether you wanted it or not but you were only allowed to eat during the three meal times (two on some days). They worked you like grown men and you were always hungry but the amount they wanted us to eat at once was ridiculous. And you ate it or you got it back for the next meal just like I did my wonderful chicken skin.

But I think the biggest fear we had was not being able to eat at all. This happens a lot. If you're sick you do not eat for a full 24 hours. If you do not pass your chores or get too many demerits you do not eat. It was the cruelest of their tactics in some ways as food was one of the very few and rare delicacies in our barely humanoid existences. We had our vision cut off from not being allowed to look at anyone. Our speech taken away by not being able to talk to but a few people. Our feelings were depleted by constant humiliation and scorning. Taste was one thing we still had for ourselves although I'm sure they tried to kill that as well with some of the monstrous concoctions they passed off as "food".

Another medical condition that comes to mind would be my hands. My hands were so bad and in so much pain. The skin was literally peeling off of me in huge pieces just like when we were kids and let glue dry on our hands and peeled it off. It looked just like that. And the tips of my fingers would split so bad that they would fillet like a piece of meat. Instead of getting me proper medical treatment the ever so astute staff of Hephzibah House had me glop Vaseline over my hands and arms which were then covered in bread bags and then socks to keep them on. This is how I slept at night. When I did not have the Vaseline on they had me use a very cheap brand of Vaseline lotion which burnt like fire due to the open wounds and the perfume in the lotion. To "cure" it they had me consume cod liver oil.

Now if you've never drank cod liver oil, I wouldn't suggest starting now. It's awful. This was done a couple times a day and did absolutely nothing to cure me. I honestly believe I am allergic to the bleach they made us use to clean everything on a daily basis. To this day if I manage to get bleach on me I break out in blisters. Even regular cleaning agents cause my skin to peel at times if used for even an hour or so. You can imagine cleaning for several hours a day, day after day. But I was a big girl and smiled and tried to never complain. That's what girls at Hephzibah House are suppose to do...grin and bear it. And bear it I did.

As you can imagine there were unending periods of silence. We were not allowed to talk during school, during church (obviously), during chores, during letter writing which consumed most of our Sunday hours, between services, at night once lights went out... and more if I stopped to think about it. This left very little time during our day for socializing or constructing friendships. It did, however, leave a lot of silent time for us to think about home, family, daydreaming of love, laughter and romance and all the "horrid" things we were forbidden to talk about. If you have ever been a single parent or a stay at home parent then you understand completely how those long, quiet days of silence can be. Lonely. Ever so lonely.

I am not exactly sure how long it was after I arrived that I quit menstruating. It was explained to me that we were not meant to be menstruating yet and that the only reason we were was because of our awful diets and terrible lifestyles we had come from. In other words, the crapola they served us and passed off as food (sometimes I pretended it was food just for a change of pace) and the wonderful world of beatings, silence, insults, manipulation and child labor were better for us and put us back on God's menstrual timetable.

Let's not forget the laundry check. This is when one of our lovely staff go through our laundry and literally count how many pairs of dirty panties we have in there. I do not know about you but I would rather keep my dirty panties to myself, thank you very much. Imagine being a timid insecure teenage girl and having your panties gone through on a regular basis. Imagine having to show your dirty feminine napkin to someone. Imagine if you will all of the things you have read in these stories. It was a nightmare.

How has this influenced me since then you ask? I'm glad you did. I have made some terrible, terrible choices. Let me say this: I did so truly want to be a good Christian. I wanted to do what God wanted. I wanted to continue in a good way. Instead of going home when I left I went to stay with a family I had never met from my church that I had never attended (that I remember, we were not church goers). I finished my high school education in that church's school and graduated third in my class. Of course there were only three in my graduating class. I wanted to go to the college there as well but was talked into going to a college I was not interested in by my preacher which I did for three semesters.

Eventually I moved out on my own to "find" myself and decide what I really wanted to do. I was robbed by my own roommate and thrown out on the street and taken in by a man who would become my husband. I had nowhere to go and he was there. I insisted we get married right away because I did not want to live in sin (this is what I learned at HH). I knew him a whole three months when we married. It was the most awful time of my life and another story in itself. Marrying him wasn't half as bad as the guilt I had divorcing him even though it was DEFINITELY the right thing to do. This guilt and the fact that I let him abuse me in more ways than one was a leftover effect of feeling I was worthless and deserved to be abused that I learned at HH.

From there what little self worth I had after leaving HH went downhill. I spanked my children although a far cry from the way we were beaten at HH. This is a regret I still feel today. I could have done things so differently. I could have hugged them more, showed them how much I loved them more often and just been a better parent had I not been brainwashed into thinking "spare the rod, spoil the child". I could go on and on about all the poor choices I made and how I can link them back to the way of thinking I learned at HH but I won't. Each of us has our own stories in this area.

There were only a handful of times we were allowed out of the confines of the prison. When I first got there they were taking girls soul winning. Only one was allowed to go at a time and this was sporadic. I was taken once that I remember although I was not saved at the time and really had no concept of what soul winning was. I just remember memorizing the verses to the Roman's Road along with all my other thousands of verses I memorized while I was there. They quit taking us girls shortly after I went. I may have even been the last one they took.

The other opportunity we had to leave was to go out to an all you can eat buffet. This didn't happen very often, I would say I got to go maybe 3 times in the two years I was there. I remember one time in particular when several of us girls got sick after wards and were taking turns throwing up. They made us go to bed for a day and a half. This meant doing nothing but laying there, eating nothing but broth for 4 meals and being told we were gluttons.

Now I want to go on record saying that to this day I can eat quite a bit when I want to and I know on that particular occasion I did not eat as much as I would normally eat now when I go to a buffet. I'm not saying I do not get gluttonous but I do know that I was not gluttonous that particular day. I remember sitting with Miss Emery during the meal and I kept waiting for her to stick up for me since she should have seen how little I had eaten but she never did. I am not saying that maybe she just wasn't paying attention but I am saying that had she been that I should never have been treated like I did something wrong when I seriously believe either there was a flu bug going around or we got food poisoning. Did I mention there were somewhere between I would say eight to ten of us who got sick? That is a lot of girls to be saying it was just gluttony.

I want to make it clear that I do not hate anyone or hold a grudge against any of the staff at Hephzibah House. I think this home started for the right reasons so many years ago but that power and greed took over. I think that the rules changed so often that delusions became secondary. I believe that some of the staff also had the wool pulled over their eyes. I think that anger became commonplace for everyone involved and that the so called submission that we were taught was one of the core reasons. The women on staff seemed so angry and resentful yet tried so hard to appear strong and looked like they had a fake smile plastered on their faces on the rare occasion they had a smile. I want to insert a comical interjection here but it's rather sad to think that these people could have been just as miserable as we were and, thus, the reasoning for tearing us down to their level.

I know I threw in a few funny lines but I do want to end this on a very serious note. Even if we cannot change the laws, even if we cannot make Hephzibah House accountable for their actions, even if we cannot get these kinds of institutions closed for good...I implore you to stop and think twice about sending your daughter(s) to this place. There may be one or two good testimonies who came from this place but I can give you a couple dozen more who didn't.

If it is your goal to intimidate, humiliate, diminish what little hope and self esteem your daughter has then by all means send her there. If it is not then please I beg of you to think again and find an alternative way of dealing with whatever you feel the issue may be. Is it really that big of an issue or have you made it that way? Have you tried talking to her? Listening??? Have you asked her how to change or resolve the issue and let her give you the answer?

Please do not throw her into this dungeon of disillusion, heartbreak and anguish.

My name is Dannetta Fisher and this is my story.
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 11:54 AM
Labels: Survivor's Stories
Alicia Hamilton: Survivor!

This duplicate post also appears HERE.

My name is Alicia Hamilton.

When I was sent to Hephzibah House (HH) in the fall of 1989, I had just recently turned 12 years old and my last name at that time was that of my stepfather, "Cornish".

When sent to HH, I was not in any trouble with the law; I had not yet had any boyfriends; I hadn’t done or even ever seen alcohol / drugs. My childhood "problems" only began after my mother married a man who began to physically and emotionally abuse me when I was 6-7 years old.

Driving into the grounds of HH for the first time, I saw a simple but large white house with a church on the side and lots of fencing. My parents said little as we were quickly ushered to the upstairs room, the room where I would receive many beatings in the next 20 months to come. My memory begins to play tricks on me here, as there are some things that I VERY VIVIDLY recall about what happened to me during my stay at HH, and then other daily things that I have completely forgotten about. I do remember the initial trauma of my HH experience was being told that I would be there for 15 months (at least), and more importantly, I was told that I could not have contact with my grandparents (with whom I lived from birth to age 6 and were like parents to me).

Upon "orientation" Several of William’s family members went through my items with me and began marking them. I was told I could not have some of my belongings and I was stripped of the clothing I had, put into an itchy polyester outfit and the rules further explained to me, I remember saying "Oh my god!" and Heather, one of the Williams’ daughters, slapped my face and told me "we do not use the Lord’s name in vain here!" I was told that I will be learning to be a child of god and to become a Godly woman, and as such the dress code was explained to me among other rules.

Much of my memory has repressed the details of daily life but I do remember being spanked "for being disrespectful" that very first night for questioning the food I was served (it was some kind of strange soup). On my first morning of HH, we were woken up very early, and of course after not sleeping most of the night I did not awaken easily. A staff lady ripped my sheets off me and later that day I was paddled again, this time for disobedience.

One of the more unusual things about HH’s rules is that as I learned upon my introduction to the living quarters, there were certain girls there that I was allowed to talk to and others that I could not even make eye contact with. This concept was incredibly strange, not being able to even LOOK at another girl. I was spanked many times for looking at girls I should not have looked at. Initially, I was limited to talking with a few girls, then they allowed me to talk to everyone…for a while….I will explain more about this later.

The most important thing that anyone should know about HH is that no girl has any privacy; even the one large bathroom was watched vigilantly by a staff member, and though we did have "stalls" for showers and the toilets, our time monitored closely (Just imagine, "Alicia you’ve been on the toilet for a while are you constipated?!" being loudly questioned in front of all the other girls in earshot), sanitary napkins were inspected and we were told to account on a public chart for what kind of bowel movement we had that day.

We had a specific shower time, and we were herded into the shower stalls and given a short amount of time to get ready and then the timer was set: Three minutes to take a shower. Most of the time my shower was last and the water was cold so it wasn’t so bothersome, but I felt bad for the girls that had a lot of hair to wash and condition in such a short amount of time.

Fear was constant, most often it was the fear of intense pain and humiliation. The spankings I received were random (sometimes I’d be spanked 1 to 3 times in a week sometimes none for a week) so I was always on edge. The spankings were very ritualistic: I would be forced to lay down, a chair was placed over my head while either Ron Williams or his Wife Patty Williams, or in other situations I believe his son’s wife (Wanda?) would spank me. There were usually three staff members present to hold my feet and arms. After getting me on the floor and holding me down, whomever was going to do the spanking would pray for me, and then sometimes they would wait for what seemed like minutes before administering the punishment—I think it was to add to the fear I felt as I just wanted to get it over with. I personally felt they enjoyed being sadistic in the times they slowed the process down, to show us the power they had over us.

My first couple of spankings were 7 swats each time, and I cried in great pain, as they were very severe swats, and after the beatings I discovered severe bruising and sometimes welts with blood droppings oozing from the welts. Sometimes they missed my buttocks and hit my spine and this left very painful deep bruising. I had heard of a girl that had been there right before me that they deemed unable to help so I thought maybe if I was "too hard to help" that they would let me go early too. So, at my very insightful 12 years of age, I decided that if I didn’t cry during the spankings that they would think I was unable to be helped and that they would let me go. So when would get spanked I would try not to cry at first, biting my cheeks until they bled to fight the urge to scream, but I learned that this just led to more swats, usually 14 at which point I was certainly wimpering, but once I counted 21 and after that particular beating I was covered in welts and they were bleeding little droplets of blood, more blood than any other beating. I was so uncomfortable to sit or sleep that I was on very good behavior for the next week but I still somehow managed to get paddled again despite my best efforts to follow all the rules perfectly, and this time I cried immediately.

During the first few months at HH, I went to bed hungry many nights and fantasized about food and far away places. One of the ways that we were punished is to be denied dinner, which could be very difficult after several hours of performing vigorous chores, and for me that occurred at least 3 to 4 times a week; Instead of eating food, I was forced to drink a protein drink which was not mixed properly, and though some of the girls did not mind the drink, I had to gag it down. I dreaded these drinks. Dinner was taken away for just about any reason so it seemed, usually I did not pass my chores or do my "church notes" or memorize very long passages of bible verses well enough to earn my supper.

And on the note of chores…The cleanliness standards that we were held to were above those of any 5 star hotel I’ve ever been to. When it came to work and doing the chores, I actually tried very hard to do them correctly (I hated that protein drink!) and would still fail. Again, I believe that this was yet another way for the leadership of HH to exert their power upon us and keep us insecure, afraid, and ready to embrace their extreme religious agenda.

Another note about the food, there were some very unusual meals that we had to eat along with many pills we had to take. Many of the "soups" they made were just a bunch of unmarked cans thrown into a pot together and the soups that arrived from this method were disgusting to say the least. I remember being unable to eat this soup a few times without throwing up, I could not eat it all at once. When at HH, if you did not eat all your food, it was served as your next meal. Cold. I had many cold, mystery soup breakfasts and dinners there.

I lost a lot of weight and began to have irregular periods (I actually had my first period on my 12th birthday and was regular until a few months into HH). They gave us a lot of vitamins at HH as well, and I recall to this day an unusual reaction some of us had to the vitamins: the reaction was what we were told was a "B" reaction. I had over a dozen of these reactions and they always occurred after the mornings breakfast and during "devotional" time; what would happen to me is that the skin on my entire body would become red and burn for about 10-20 minutes then it would go away. Other girls could see if I was having a "B" reaction and I could see if they were as well as the skin would become very red and flushed. The staff explained that it was the body’s way of removing excess vitamin B from the system. It happened to some other girls as well and was random.

After about 4 months there at HH, I’d say around Feb of 1990, I was placed on "Shadow" status for about nine months, I remember this because I got off of it right before thanksgiving. Being shadowed was psychologically and emotional torture. Literally, I was not allowed to talk to any other human being or look them in the eye and I had to follow a staff member around 24/7 (including sleeping right next to one). Being "shadowed", it was extremely humiliating, dehumanizing, and it served the purpose they wanted; they broke my spirit…I think I went a little crazy during this time, living in fantasy land, coming up with imaginary friends...If I was desperate enough to interact with another human being, I could ask for some "religious counseling" about some passage in the bible and get some conversation that way, but it really wasn’t what I wanted to talk about considering that all day and all night was religious indoctrination.

Fortunately, I actually found some of the Old Testament gory and barbaric enough to be interesting, and I remember discussing with one of the staff ladies some of the stories and the meaning of why god wanted his armies to cut off the foreskins of his enemies, which often just got me into trouble (even though I was discussing scripture, I was not to "question it"). This, "do not question" rule I specifically learned when I questioned a staff member about Lot and how he basically murdered his daughter, and I was, in so many words told that "as you see this is gods way of showing us your role as a woman; women are not as important as a man and woman are flawed because of Eve’s sin this is the lot you bear; that you do not understand that by now is troubling" and I had to write some 500 sentences about my place under god and man. Sentence writing, by the way was another form of punishment. I probably wrote some ten thousand sentences over the course of my 20 months at HH and that is not an exaggeration.

So I learned to conform. I learned how to ask the right questions and how to appear submissive, weak, and without any will of my own. Sometimes I fear, that there were weeks that went by that I really was that way---they were stealing my soul and I was loosing any sense of individuality. We went to church at least three times a week. We had to sing in the choir, a choir in which we spent countless hours practicing and were ultimately recorded and tapes were made and sold with my / our voices on them. Since singing (and I have an awful voice) was the only time I could use my voice during my period of being shadowed, I sang with vigor. To become un-shadowed, I had to prove I was godly so I tried everything I could, I got baptized, I wrote profusely long church notes, I memorized extra bible verses, and so on and son on.

During my time of being shadowed, I became very sick. If one became sick with the flu or with the cold, no medicine was given, even though I remember a time when I was very sick with a high fever with vomiting. Even though I was throwing up, I was forced to drink the protein drink, I remember this vividly, I was nearing the end of the glass, then I gagged it all up, along with bile my stomach as I dry heaved into the into the bucket I was allowed to carry around with me. Ms. Saylor (Spelling?) made me drink my vomit out of the bucket, which took over an hour and I was very tearful. Later that night, with a high fever and still being very ill, I was paddled.

I was finally allowed to be off of being shadowed, and it was so strange to speak to another human being. I felt incredibly insecure, as if I didn’t know how to act anymore, what is the right thing to say or not? As I got more and more used to the routine and fast paced schedules of HH, the time began to go by faster, mostly because they kept us so busy.

Regarding some of the "chores" we had to do, I believe that I was exploited for labor, along with other girls. When staff discovered I had skill working with my hands and that I could crochet with fine thread and read / interpret complex stitching designs, I was given the task to make hundreds of these little figurines and cross stitch projects which were sold / traded for goods to benefit HH’s financials. I was 13 when I was making these things, and my curse was my speed and ability to do good work.

Sometimes the demand was so high for these crafts that making the crafts was my only chore and I’d crochet for an entire Saturday or be told to do it during school hours. This was actually a job that girls wanted as it was more appealing than scrubbing the entire dorm floor on your hands and knees, but after doing it so much, my fingers and wrists would begin to really hurt.

Also, though I never had to, I know other girls were sent upstairs to clean the Williams’ house. Near the end of my stay, when I was seen as "reformed" and "godly", I was actually transported beyond the walls of HH, I was sent to a church "officials" home to clean and renovate, it was the Keagan’s (?) home I believe and my job was to remodel their kitchen and home. I used sanding paper and arm strength and worked for hours to sand off the old varnish and paint from their cabinets and then we stained and prepared the ‘new’ cabinets. We painted their home, we did their gardening….While at HH, I even had to "clean" a deer carcass killed by a car that the Williams family ate for many meals I imagine. I remember feeling misused but too afraid to do anything but the best of work and to do it with a smile on my face.

In short those are the most significant memories that come to light about my experience with this place. I indeed feel that HH abuses girls’ on a physical, psychological, emotional, religious and spiritual level. The isolation and fear tactics they use are powerful and the results, while short term may be successful, they leave a lasting impact.

As a disclaimer, I want it to be known that after "release" I was forced to write a "testimony" about how great HH was and how much it helped me. My stepfather sat down with me and pretty much wrote the testimony; After being there for 20 months and finally being "free" I was so afraid that if I did not do what they wanted me to do that I would be sent back, and my worst nightmare was having to stay there until I was 18. So whatever HH sent out as my "testimony" way back when…Those were not my words, they were forced.
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 11:52 AM
Labels: Survivor's Stories
Connie: Survivor!

This is a duplicate post which also appears HERE.

Hello. My name is Connie and I was at Hephzibah House from Oct or Nov 1980 to July 1983.

I currently am involved with Foster Parenting/Adoption and have worked closely with The Department of Child Services. I have read a lot of the postings and been through the sites online. I feel it is my time to write my experiences and hopefully bring some insight to help those still there.

I came from a rather good home. At the time, you don’t see or even understand some of the things you go through, but you do learn from them. I was the youngest of three girls. My next to oldest sister was what my parents called "a bad influence" on me. We ran around together quite frequently. My parents’ biggest concern for me was I was going to turn out like her. They also did not like the boyfriend I had at the time. So, they thought if I went to another place then I would not be able to ruin my life.

I really did not think I was that bad of a child to have gone through this even though I do believe my parents did what they thought they had to do at the time. I also know that if they had known all of this they would not have sent me. I do believe it has done some damage along the way and I am not sure it will ever be overcome. At the time and quite some time after that I really never stopped to think that it was child abuse. Probably because it was not much different than the home life I came from.

I was confronted about going to a girl’s home where I could come home for Christmas, Thanksgiving, and 2 weeks in the summer. I asked for how long. They said for 15 months. I said okay, not knowing what I was in for at the time. My parents, I do believe, had good intentions.

The night before I left, my father and I had a disagreement. My father was abusive. He used the belt as well as his hands on us girls. You only spoke when you were spoken to and you always did what he said no matter if you agreed or not. You were never to voice your opinion or even question things. After the disagreement, I had a black eye, busted knee, and bruises.

I must put in that my father has since passed away. He ended up being a GREAT man that I looked up to. He admitted that he did us girls wrong and apologized. He tried to make it up with the grandkids. He was and always will be my best friend.

My father, mother and I made the trip to Winona Lake. We had stopped at a restaurant for breakfast/lunch. We then went to the School House location where I would spend the rest of my time. We went in to what was called "the blue room". Little did I know that was where all the paddling would occur. They went through my suitcases and took out almost everything my parents had sent saying I could not have it. My parents left and I was then taken upstairs to the "big dorm" where I would live for the moment. I had to go into a closet to change into the uniform assigned. I was then taken downstairs where lunch was being served before going over to the Pierceton Road location for school. I told them I had already eaten, but they insisted I eat and gave me a bowl of soup. I was only able to eat part of it. I was ready to get sick. But, since I did not eat it all, it was put in the refrigerator and I had to eat it cold for supper. Everything that was given to us for breakfast, lunch, or supper had to be eaten at that time or we would get it for the next meal cold. There were no excuses.

I could write for days on all the stuff that happened and how things went, but that would be a book. I remember a lot of things about Hephzibah House. The cleaning and inspection of our chores was definitely white glove. Demerits we received for not being good or doing things wrong. After so many demerits, you got paddled if you could not get them down. You could not be in the hallway with any other students. You always had to yell "coming through" if you were going through the hallway or "going down" if you were going downstairs. We as well had the BM chart that others have talked about.

All our calls were screened. All our visits were screened. We did not have talk lists. We could not talk to any other students. Discussions of home, location, and phone numbers were not allowed at all.
The first time I ran around the Pierceton Road location for gym, I thought I was going to die. My asthma medicine was returned home. Later that night I had an asthma attack and could not breathe. I told the staff I needed my inhaler. I was told I didn’t need it and would be fine. I could not breathe and had a hard time catching my breath.

One time I got paddled because I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth and another student said I had to go downstairs. Because I finished brushing my teeth, I got in trouble for being disobedient. The paddling was done in what they called "the blueroom". Our upper body was held down by one staff, the feet were held by another staff, and one staff paddled. I would be safe to say the paddle was approximately one-two inches thick and about 12 inches long. I got paddled quite frequently. I remember getting paddled about 22 times one time. It hurt to sit down and I had bruises. I do not remember why I got that one or the one I got on my 16th birthday. Eventually I got the hang of the rules and life was not so bad.

We went out to a Smorgasbord place a couple of times. If you got sick, you got paddled. I never got sick, but I sure did stuff myself with the ice cream, chocolate, and junk food that we were not allowed having at all. I do remember a couple times that someone got sick and you could hear them getting paddled from the small dorm room. The blueroom was right underneath it. If your bed was in the small dorm, you could hear the students screaming.

I also remember a student finally getting taken to the hospital. She was sick for awhile. Actually, it seemed like days. If I remember correctly, they finally took her after her urine turned green. They did end up having to do exploratory surgery on her and when she was better, she came right back instead of going home.

I remember getting letters from my parents. And right before I left to go home, I found out that both my sisters had children. I was not told because neither one of them were married. The children were about 6 months old by the time I found out. The letter I was to get telling me that was held and did not pass. We had to watch everything we said in our letters, on the phone, and visits. They were always supervised. My parents had gotten me a radio/cassette player as a graduation present. I received it the day I left.

I also have to comment on the cockroaches at the School House location. It was a game. They were a dime a dozen. I guess it was because the house was built on a cockroach farm. After church, when the lights went on, we would see how many we could kill.

We worked in the garden constantly. Our work was checked to make sure all the weeds were pulled. If not, we had to redo the work, no matter how long it took. I do not remember being allowed bathroom breaks until we were done. Eventually I was put on Kagins crew. We shoveled manure-chicken and horse. We did most of the heavy labor. If I remember correctly there were 5 of us. We missed out a lot on the happenings at the house because we would get home late. Even so, we were constantly under supervision.

I also want to mention the concern of not having a period for the whole 34 months I was there even though I had a normal one before I got there and got a normal one again about a month after I left.
I remember the bath time to be 15 minutes total, from going in to coming out. I also remember every Sunday morning inspection. Your nails were checked to make sure you were not biting them and your hair was checked to make sure it was curled. I had a terrible problem of biting my nails. I remember getting paddled for it as well as demerits. I did not have to worry about my hair curling because 2 rollers always curled my hair, but I remember those girls that had straight hair and no matter what they did, their hair just would not hold a curl.

I remember every day except Sunday we were required to memorize a verse in the Bible. Each week we would have to recite what we learned back to a staff member. That got to be quite tedious after one year etc. If we did not know them, we did get demerits and sometimes paddling. I had a shoe box packed full of index cards of them.

When my parents mentioned me coming home for about 2 weeks before I went to College at a college Pastor Williams recommended, I was treated terrible. I was not able to speak to any girls or even say bye. I was separated from them. Pastor Williams did not even say goodbye. Even though I had been there 34 months, he still did not think I was ready to go home. My belongings were already packed and when my mother showed up, I was pretty much shoved out the door. Pastor Williams did not figure I would end up at College. When I did show up, two other students were there as well. They took awhile to talk to me because Pastor Williams told them I was not a good influence on them and they should stay away from me.

I always looked up to Pastor Williams and his family. Mrs. Kagin was the best. She seemed to understand us girls more than some of the other staff. I always felt a connection with Miss Emery, but you still had to watch what you said. But, I always felt since I left that I was never good enough and some of the things that have happened in my life was because of me not being good enough. I went and seen Pastor Williams when he came to a church near me to tell them about Hephzibah House. He did talk to me, but he never acknowledged me as being a former student to anyone in the congregation. It was like he was ashamed of me.

I did carry some of the repetition forward. When we washed dishes, it was cups, plates, silverware, pots and pans. They had to be dried perfectly or we got them back. Even one little drop of water was not acceptable. To this day when I wash dishes, it is cups, plates, bowls, pots and pans. I also have a "neat freak" problem. When I clean, it is just not clean enough and really gets me frustrated. I have tried to break these things, but have had no luck.

I think the hardest part of all this for me is the fact that I stayed so long, graduated, and went to the college Pastor Williams chose and still got rejected when I left. I did everything I was told to do, but because I did not stay for long after graduation and because my parents requested me home, I got humiliated and condemned. I did not have Pastor Williams blessing when I left. That disappointed me because I looked up to this godly man for so long and he did not even have time to say goodbye. He just had them pack my stuff, keep me from everyone else, and send me on my way. He also told other girls going to the same college that I probably would not show, but if I did, I would be trouble and I was not godly.

I may not be godly according to his standards, but I will say the good Lord has walked with me and helped me through all the hard times in my life. I know this because without Him and His assistance, I probably would not have survived through it. I am older now and do recognize things more, but I still believe that the good Lord has been with me all this time and when I make mistakes it does not mean I am going to Hell.
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 11:48 AM
Labels: Survivor's Stories

Anonymous: Survivor!

Ok..this is bringing back some bad memories, but I thought maybe I should go ahead and share a certain experience.(I hope I will be able to remain anonymous????)

While I was a student there about 6-7 years ago I remember there were two scheduled bathroom breaks during the night. A staff lady would hit your mattress once or twice to let you know you could use the bathroom if you needed too...and if you didn't wake up, tough. You didn't dare get out of bed at any other time or the lights and alarms would go off.

One night I woke up a couple of hours before a bathroom break was scheduled...and I had to go very bad. I laid there and suffered in tears for at least two hours because I didn't dare get out of bed. One morning another girl had to go to the bathroom really bad but the staff made her stand by her bed and wait until all the girls were out of bed and ready to get in line. Well, this girl didn't make it...she wet herself right in front of us all. For the rest of the time she was there they made her wear depends and at every bathroom break a staff lady would check her to see if she was wet.

I remember one day in particular when a staff lady ridiculed her in front of all of us girls. Not long afterwards, she was sent away. The rumor was she was sent to a mental institution. I could forgive for the time I spent there...but it is hard to forgive for that. She was such a sweet girl...and she played the piano like an angel. I wish I knew where she was now.

As far as spankings go...I did not recieve any spankings while I was there. I do not know if an other girls did...if so I never knew about it. I think for legal reasons they may have stopped that practice. But there are other forms of treatment that can hurt just as much...humiliation, loneliness, etc. I remember just aching for one little hug.

I do know there are girls who have been helped there...perhaps they needed a firm hand. But all girl's do not need "hard love"...most just need gentle love. It was as if we were all put into a mold based on the hardest girls that went through their system.

I think they truly mean well, but they are treating all girl's like I said, like we are all the same, and that the same thing will work with each girl. But it won't...and in the end I think some girl's are being more hurt than helped.

Sorry this got so long. I have pushed it all aside for so long that I guess this became a vent. Thanks for listening.
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 11:44 AM
Labels: Survivor's Stories
Angela Guest-Jones: Survivor!

My name is Angela Guest-Jones. I am divorced but kept my exes names since I have had it since I was 19 years old, and for the sake of my children.

Where do I start? My parents were saved and started going to church when I was 6 years old. Not long after going to the church my brother and I started going to the private school. I loved that church and school. My family was happy and everything seemed great. When I was 14 there was a church split and my dads friend talked him into going to Metro Baptist. Of course we started the school there. I had twin sisters that were born when I was 13 so there were over a year old when we left our old church.

Practically overnight I was no longer allowed to wear pants, hangout with some of my friends, especially guy friends, no longer listen to any music other than the churches and so on. My family argued a lot more and it seemed to be falling apart. You cant tell a 14 year old after all these years that all these things are bad and expect then not to rebel when their family was happier before we got into a cult like Baptist Church. I now go to a Baptist church and they preach these things but they do not force then on you. These are convictions and a person has to have their own convictions. My parents realize a lot of things should have been done different and it has proven to be better for my sisters, Thank God. I would never want them to have to go thru the things that I did.

I was an all A and B student and cleaned my parents house, did laundry, cared for my sisters etc…I was rebellious in my attitude and was a little boy crazy and liked rock music. The typical teenager rebellion. In no way did I think I deserved or needed to go to a school like HH. My parents now admit they were talked into it and should not have abandoned me and pushed me off on someone else and the fact that things changed so drastically so fast could have been the cause of some of my rebellion.

I remember the day I went to HH very clearly. I was supposed to be going to a volleyball tournament at school and my dad and his friend from church said they were taking me to school that day because my dad needed the car. I used to drive my brother and I to school. I didn’t see my mom that morning and she usually was up. Didn’t thin twice about it. When my dad passed the school I was asking why. That’s when he told me that he was taking me to HH. It was a long drive. My mom packed food and a letter that she didn’t want to do this. I didn’t know till I got that my mom never signed the papers and they took me ahead of a lot of girls because I was 17. I tried to run several times but they weren’t going to let it happen. We stopped at some Dr.’s office and I was told I was getting a pelvic exam. I refused it and to my memory they still signed my release papers. That was the Doctor that sees the HH girls.

When I got there Ron Williams and his wife were out of town. I was talked to by Pastor Don his son. I remember Heather taking me into a shower and I had to strip in front of her while they took all my jewelry and everything else that I could not have. I was in this strange place and was naked in front of a stranger. I felt like I was in a Nazi prison camp or something. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to my dad because I was begging him not to leave me there. I remember seeing my dad crying. I was not told of any rules as far as I can remember, unless I just blocked it out. I don’t remember a lot of things there and didn’t until I read some of the other girls stories. I think I blocked it out but deep in my mind I know these things are the cause of some problems in my life today.

I was taken downstairs into the dungeon is what I call it. I was told to sit at the first table. I saw Katrina and said hi because I did not know that I wasn’t allowed to talk to her. I had to label all of my things and read this big book and then I finally started to get it. I was so depressed and didn’t eat much at all. I was given my food back twice and started eating so I wouldn’t have to do that. I only ate ¼ portions though and they made me write that on my menu. We had to write what we ate and our BM’s were recorded.

I remember not having a period there for over 3 months at least and then I bled so heavily I think it may have been a miscarriage.

I was not there because I was lazy and did not have a hard time getting the chores done right. I was a neat freak, always have and always will be. I think that they wanted us to fail though because I would do my best and when we swept the bedroom they would take paper and wave it under the bed, if one little piece of dust flew up, you failed and would not eat. I don’t remember protein drinks either. I only remember chicken broth. I think they were actually ticked that I caught on and just found reasons to fail me. I learned their ways pretty quick and got on the garden crew.

I remember that we had to write home every week and if they didn’t like what we said we got our letter back till they liked it and all my mail coming in was blacked out if they didn’t want me to see what was said. I couldn’t tell my parents what was going on there, they made sure of it. Our 10-minute monthly phone calls were monitored and we would be in big trouble if we tried to say anything "wrong".

I don’t know how long it was before my first visit but I do remember that I was not feeling well and my front tooth was in sever pain and pain shot up every time I ate or anything jarred it. I told them about it but they said nothing. My face was swollen by time my parents came to see me and my eyes were a little black. I had an abscess. I wrote a note to give to my parents and hid it in my bra. I decided not to give it to them because I was thinking that if they sent me here then they must agree with them and if they gave it to the staff then I would get a beating. I flushed it down the toilet after they left.

I had somehow managed to avoid getting a beating up to that point. I remember acting like everything was so great and Miss Saylor was saying I was so sweet and all that…. My parents got them to take me to the dentist though. I was so sick I couldn’t even think about running. I had to lay up in the dark closet in the school on a mattress and they drilled a hole in my tooth for the infection that caused my face to swell up could drain out. I ate broth for 2 weeks at least. I was thin when I got there and by that point I was anorexic looking.

I was always ahead in school and they thought that I would not be able to get done by time I was 18 but I was used to the system they had there-it was what we had in my first Christian school. I worked hard and even did college prep because I was determined to get out of there in December when I was 18 and with a diploma.

I remember some good days and they were only because of Aaron. He used to take me and one other girl sometimes to help him and Daniel out. We would do all sorts of things like fixing the buildings and gutting deer. They would come play volleyball and stuff with us as well. I think that this is why I got my beating one day. I was doing what I was told, doing my chores, my schoolwork, memorizing my scripture, and really had no reason for the beating. The Williams were out of town of course and Miss Emory and Miss Saylor took me up there and when I asked why I was getting the "spanking" Miss Emory said, "Oh, just the general attitude."

I was told to lay on the floor and they put the chairs over my head and feet and then Heather I believe is the one who was hitting me. I didn’t cry so I got more. I didn’t count but I know I was in pain and by this time I was very thin so that made it worse. I tried to go to the bathroom to see my bruises but Emory wouldn’t let me. I still have back problems to this day and sciatica from my low back being hurt there.

I remember the day before my birthday. I was planning on how I was going to tell them I was leaving and they had no more rights over me since I was 18. I was looking at the chore list that day as well and want on it. I was so scared that I was being taken off the garden crew. I found out soon enough that my parents were there to get me on December 21, 1989. I was taken out when the girls were doing choir rehearsal or something so I never got to say goodbye.

The first thing I did when I got in the car was grab a bottle of pepsi that they had there, and then I started crying. My parents told me that they were trying to get me out before that because they could tell something wasn’t right when they came to visit me and when I told them about the note they said they would have taken me then. My mom said my dad fasted a lot when I first got there and he gave up sweets while I was there because he loves sweets and was so sad when he saw my menu.

I was there from January 6, 1989 till December 20, 1989. I cannot imagine having to stay as long as the other girls did. I have enough problems from the short time I was there.

There are so many crazy and weird things that went on there and can be read on the blogs and stories on the website. I remember the 3 minute showers and if they were so obsessed with how dirty we were why would they do that. Remember how we were never praised for what we did right, only what we did wrong. I still have problems with negativity today.

I have had female problems since I left there. I had a cone biopsy when I was 20 and had difficulty getting pregnant. I had difficult labor and I have already had a hysterectomy almost 4 years ago. I am 36 years old. I do have 2 wonderful girls and they are the most precious things in the world to me. They know I love them and tell them everyday. They are strong and smart and have turned out well despite going thru a difficult time when I divorced my ex. I have problems with relationships and know what I want but always end up picking the bad guy and don’t really know why. I am considering going to counseling when I get out of nursing school because I want to meet the right man and fall in love. I guess I know that I need it but just think I can handle it on my own.

I still go to church on Sunday am and believe in God but I did before I went there. I hated church for a while because of what I saw there. I thought how could these people say they are Christians and do what they do to these girls. I don’t see anywhere in the Bible where God says to humiliate and bring down and beat a child. He wants us to be loved and nurtured and spanked properly as a child. My pastor says spanking beyond 5 or 6 years old is pointless. If you don’t have control by then you have to use other methods like taking things away and stuff like that. Beating a teenager only brings more rebellion and hatred and pushes them away from God.

I know that all the things I read are true. I was there. I lived it and have to live with the after effects everyday of my life. I know that the Williams are Christians believe in salvation and God but I don’t feel like they are helping girls at all. They are hurting them emotionally and physically for the rest of their lives.

I could go on and on and I know this is a long story but it doesn’t even begin to tell all the things that happened there. I only pray that this website and these stories can make a difference and that no girl has to go through what we girls at HH did.
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 11:41 AM
Labels: Survivor's Stories
Andrianna McCree: Survivor!

My name is Andrianne McCree and I attended Hephzibah House from 2001 to 2004.

Upon entrance of the home, was asked if I’d like a tour. Before the tour, I noticed a very large tree branch that had the engraving, "Rod of God" on it in the large room that was painted blue. This rod was often referenced as being used to discipline girls who were disobedient.

Instead of receiving a tour of the facilities and being returned to my Grandfather as I assumed, I was brought to the shower area and told to strip in front of two staff members. Being shocked and disoriented that I was being told to bare my body in front of women I had never met, I exclaimed, "Oh my god!" As the last word escaped my lips, I was slapped across the face by a staff member. Little did I know that being smacked across the face was going to be a common occurrence if I did not keep my opinions to myself and my head low. I was devastated that I was unable to say good-bye to my Grandfather and that for all I knew, he had already left. I immediately wanted to leave but also knew that I needed to "Fake it till I made it."

Soon after my arrival, I was made to have a vaginal exam in the school closet by a man who was never introduced to me. This supposed doctor never asked my permission to touch very private parts of my body nor did he speak a single word to me. I felt degraded, defiled and humiliated. When the exam was completed, I had to have blood drawn. I easily become faint at the mere sight of blood and told this to the "nurse" who was accompanying me. She laughed at me, told me to grow up and continued to poke for a vein while the supposed doctor looked on. I fainted and remember almost throwing up as soon as I awoke. I was told that I was pathetic and felt even more humiliated. For several days after the exam, I was in pain and discomfort in my vaginal area besides feeling traumatized by the invasion of my privacy.

About a month after my arrival, I received my period for the first and last time while I stayed at Hephzibah House for three years. Many of the girls who attended Hephzibah House also report that they did not experience a monthly cycle during their stay. I have since spoken with a gynecologist and been advised that if a teenage girl goes without her cycle for such an extended period of time, she should be seen by a doctor immediately. I was told by Staff members that the lack of my period was due to stress. Was I under such stress for three years?

During my stay there, a girl arrived who played the piano beautifully – had for ten years. Because of our rigid supervised bathroom break schedule and exorbitant amount of water we were required to drink, she accidently relieved on herself. She was put into diapers almost immediately and humiliated in front of all of us girls by staff. She was only one of several girls made to wear diapers while I was there because staff members were unavailable to accompany them to the rest room when they needed to use it. Another girl in particular I remember having to wear diapers was thirteen when she arrived and was soon also put into diapers. How humiliating for such a young, impressionable girl to have to be put into diapers. I remember feeling so badly for her.

Talking lists were a part of the norm at Hephzibah House and a form of control by the staff. You had certain girls you were able to speak with and others with whom you weren’t allowed to even make eye contact. Upon my arrival, I was only allowed to speak with a certain list of girls. These girls were considered "trusted" girls. If I had demerits, I was not allowed to speak to these girls for the entire week. If I didn’t complete my extensive Scripture writing (another consequence of demerits), I was unable to speak with these girls until it was also completed. Eventually, I became a trusted girl and was able to speak with everyone who was not on demerits (a.k.a. Sentences).

One of the ways girls were able to depart from Hephzibah House in good graces with Patti and Ron Williams was to graduate from school. I worked very hard to accomplish my graduation in a short period of time. Unfortunately, school was not made a first priority by staff and I did not have very much time to complete my school work. Most afternoons, I would be called out of school to help a staff member do any myriad of chores including clean cars, garden, clean a staff members’ home, haul rock, scrub floors, rake, etc. I did not complete my school work during my time at Hephzibah House even though I was previously a very accomplished student that was ahead of my grade. Being that Hephzibah House is supposed to be a school, I would think that academics would be top priority.

Some other things I experienced during my stay including being forced to eat worms on lettuce from the garden because "We were responsible for picking off the worms and if we weren’t able to perform that small duty, we would be made to eat them". We were also force fed a very large amount of food at dinner time during a thirty minute interval. I often had to have extra water to swallow the last bites before I was called for my next and seemingly unending work duty. If I was unable to finish the amount of food allotted to me during that thirty minute period, I would be served that food the next morning, cold and in addition to whatever the next meal was. We were often fed expired Dole lettuce with expired salad dressing, rotten and bitter squash or other garden vegetable, milt with rocks in it, burnt oatmeal, hard bean soup with rocks, dog food (yes, Alpo to be exact), broth or a nasty powder milkshake when you were sick and a myriad of other things that weren’t particularly palatable or eatable.

Another way of humiliating us was having us write our bowel movements for the day and ending and starting dates of our menstrual cycle on a large, public paper in our dorm room. At the end of each month, this list was sent to Ron and Patti Williams. I often put down fake dates for my period because I was nervous of what may happen to me if I did not have a period. If a girl failed to have a bowel movement for a certain amount of time, she was forced to drink a green liquid of magnesium citrate. It has been stated in medical journals that this type of laxative should not be used often as they can damage the kidneys but I remember a particular girl named Mindy who often had to drink the green liquid. These girls were also put on a psyllium drinking schedule in addition to a treatment of magnesium citrate whenever deemed needed by staff.

Humiliation and mind control were continuous tactics of Hephzibah House. Early in my stay, Patti asked me to take out some frozen meat and put it on a tray. My logic was to put it back into the fridge so it would not spoil sitting out on the counter. After I had finished my chores in the kitchen, I went to another area of the grounds and soon received a phone call. On the other end of the phone, Patti was screaming at me and asking me where the meat was. When I returned back to school and we were served dinner, Patti told all of the girls that it was my fault we did not have meat with our dinner and they could complain to me. She also forced me to stand up and apologize to everyone.

I was so uptight after that event whenever I worked with Patti. I felt as if I had to repeat her instructions several times over to make sure I knew what she was saying and not to experience that embarrassment ever again. When Patti would fly into these fits of rage, she would often slap us across the face, tell us that you were worthless and that was a reason we were there; our parents didn’t love or care about us and sent us because no one could deal or stand us, that even God had forsaken us and that we were ultimately failures and would end up addicted to drugs, whores, having children out of wedlock and any other terrible sin she could think of.

Speaking of Patti’s anger, I have a vivid memory of Patti coming down into the dorm, grabbing girls belongings and strewing them all across the lawn in the fenced in backyard. Another memory is of Patti being very angry with a girl who obviously had learning disabilities and was very slow. She took her by the neck and collar and throwing her up against the brick wall. The girl’s face was one of panic. All of us girls were ushered out of the area immediately and were ordered not to speak of the event.

Another time we were escorted out of an area was when we would hear a girl called upstairs during the meal. Her screams would be audible from the area we were occupying and we would be ushered into a different area. I never had the "Rod of God" used on me but I remember a particularly quiet afternoon when a few girls were called out of the school and were gone for a long period of time. Each girl returned with tears streaming down her face. One girl in particular sat next to me during the lunch hour and was unable to sit down without wincing and made no effort to hide her pain and discomfort. Staff told her that she was being overly dramatic and had to stop.

She also wore diapers. During the bathroom break, each girl who wore a diaper was required to show their diaper to staff so staff could ensure she had not used her diaper (if she did, she received extensive demerits). I remember this girl telling staff she could not take them off because they were sticking to her bottom. All of us were ushered out of the bathroom while staff checked her diaper. I assume because she had blood on her diaper from her recent beating.

We were often told not to speak about certain events. In the rule book, we were told if we spoke of certain things during our once a month monitored phone calls home, our phone calls would be immediately terminated. We were never told what these "certain" things referred to but we knew. This rule also applied to our visits from home. Each of my visits, my grandparents and my mother would come. My mother is deaf and communicates using sign language. She has difficulty lip reading at particular times. During my first visit, I began communicating with my mother in sign language and was ordered to stop and never use it again. I was pulled aside by the staff member who was monitoring my visit and told if I ever used sign language again my visit would be terminated. These visits were very hard and emotional for each family member present but I believe it was even harder for my mother and I as we were never able to fully communicate.

In addition to monitored visits and phone calls with our parents, we were allowed to receive letters from our Pastor’s (the only male other than our fathers who were allowed to correspond with us), phone calls and visits. My pastor did not approve of me being sent to Hephzibah House and I believe Hephzibah House knew this. Whenever my pastor would write (which he said was almost weekly), I would receive the letters with much of the writing blacked out. My Pastor also got several of his letters returned. Whenever my Pastor called to speak with me (he was told he was allowed to call at ANY time), he was told I was busy or unavailable and to call back at a specific time. He would call back at the specific time and be told again that I was unavailable. After three years you can imagine how disheartening this was for him.

I turned 18 in January of 2004. Turning 18 was another way of being able to leave Hephzibah House; but usually without the good graces of Ron and Patti Williams. Upon my turning of age, Ron sat me down and said that I had turned 18 and had a choice to stay at Hephzibah House or return home. He also told me that my mom and grandparents thought it best if I stayed at Hephzibah House and reminded me that if I was to stay in God’s favor I needed to obey my mother and grandparents. I had also heard many stories of girls who left Hephzibah House upon their 18th birthday; it was usually insinuated that they were disdained by God for doing so. Later, my mother told me she had been fighting with Hephzibah House for an entire year to release me. Ron and Patti refused to communicate with my mother because (they said) she was deaf; instead, they chose to communicate with my grandparents who were concerned that I continue my stay at Hephzibah House until my education was complete. Again this was against my mother’s desires.

Hephzibah House taught me that the man was the head of the house. Never to be questioned and his authority never challenged. This carried over into my life after Hephzibah House and, I became involved in a very verbally and often physically abusive relationship for almost three years.

As I continue to reflect on my stay at Hephzibah House and how it has continued to affect me to this day, it is hard to know exactly but I find new and different things everyday that trigger memories and reasons for some of my inhibitions such as being very conscious about getting undressed in front of other people; despising my yearly exam; having endometriosis that my doctor has said could be related to my lack of a menstrual cycle during my stay at Hephzibah House; being continually reminded by close friends that I am not worthless and my opinion and thoughts do count and should be voiced; Feeling that the education I received through the PACE system at Hephzibah House was inadequate and therefore I do not have the skills to pursue my educational goals in life; knowing that it is okay to stand up for myself; issues with my privacy being invaded by others without my permission; feeling lazy whenever I am resting; cleaning constantly and get very irritable and frustrated when things are messy or unclean; having strained family relations; and so much more.

My goal in writing this statement is to first warn parents who may be considering sending their child to a reformatory school to do extensive research but secondly and most importantly to change laws with regard to religious schools like Hephzibah House and to require some kind of accountability to an outside source.

I can’t change the past but I’d like to change the laws for girls who are currently there and for those who may attend in the future.
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 11:34 AM
Labels: Survivor's Stories
Amy Bruce - Hobby: Survivor!

Hi, my name is Amy and I attended Hephzibah House from June of 92 through December of that same year.

The choice to go to HH was mine, a decision based in part on the lies I was given by pastor Williams, who was visiting our church at the time. I was shown pictures of girls braiding each other's hair or sitting around a bonfire singing. I was told that HH was a structured, but loving environment for teen girls. Based upon these lies, my pastor encouraged my mom to take me to HH.

I was desperate to get away from everything. I was fighting with my mom constantly and my father had moved back in with us, which didn’t help the situation at all. There were issues of abuse and emotional pain that I was unable to deal with. My mom tried to help, but was just as lost as I was. She simply didn’t know how to handle me and Pastor Williams played right into her emotional fears.

In June of 1992 we made the trip from South Carolina to Winona Lake, Indiana in two days. Upon arriving I was separated from my family and treated to a humiliating strip search and shower where every inch of me was inspected and scrubbed. I was wearing makeup at the time and I remember someone scrubbing my face until it was bright red and stinging. Everything I was wearing was taken away from me and I was given a navy blue jumpsuit and red shirt made from polyester. My hair was short at the time and I remember this woman telling me I would be growing it out, because harlots wear their hair short.

Later I was brought down into the dormitory and told to sit quietly and wait for dinner. I was not allowed to speak to anyone until I made a profession of faith. I told them repeatedly that I was saved, but it didn't matter. A couple days later a girl was taken upstairs and a few minutes later I heard her start crying and yelling. I looked around the room and was stunned to see the staff and all the girls sitting in silence through the noise of an obvious beating that went on and on. I’d never heard anything like it. The girls were sitting in silence yes, but it was the visible emotion in their eyes that made me really understand what was going on. The beating was a form of control the staff used to keep us all in line. They knew we could hear everything and they counted on our fears to make us conform to the outrageous rules.

HH used various forms of abuse to keep us in line, but the most damaging was the psychological attack on our minds. Staff members excelled in making life miserable for the girls who didn't follow the rules. These rules were not just 'keep your bed made' or 'be polite'. We had to curl our hair every night with sponge rollers and they had to be placed perfectly, or we were punished. We were not allowed to speak to just anyone, even when we were finally allowed to start talking. If we were caught talking to another girl who was not on our talking list, even if it was just 'excuse me' we were punished. Simple chores done wrong, such as dusting could ruin your entire day. My point is that these were not rules broken out of spite or disobedience. They were accidents or mistakes that anyone could have made, but the price we paid for even minor infractions was beyond high, they were ridiculous to the extreme.

One method of punishment was isolation and not in the traditional sense, though that was used as well. I am referring to the isolation of human contact in its most basic form. Imagine sitting in a room full of people, but being unable to communicate. I know this doesn't sound that bad, but imagine this occurring day after day, week after week, forever sitting in the silence of your own thoughts. Another method of punishment was humiliation. We were constantly assaulted mentally and physically from every direction. There was no reprieve or break from the abuse. The dead of night brought only partial relief, but it was a sense of relief that didn't quite follow into our dreams. We woke in the morning with a startled and fearful awareness of wondering what came next. The emotional toll of being in a constant state of fear began to affect us physically.

Some girls began 'adolescent bed wetting' …I will admit that I was one of those girls. The details of what happened next, is something I have never discussed with anyone…ever. The staff's response to wetting my bed was the most humiliating moment of my life. I was forced to wear a Depends, basically a diaper, which didn’t quite fit, because I was somewhat chunky. Periodically throughout the day, my diaper was ‘checked’ to see if I’d had an accident. I had to strip my sheets and get them cleaned before breakfast, which was impossible. As punishment for not getting this done in time my meals were taken away. My mattress was pulled out into the fenced in courtyard to air dry. Everyone knew the mattress was mine. I just wanted to die. I never slept a night through again while I was at HH. I would wake myself up terrified and shaking. Sometimes I would dream that I had wet my bed and wake up crying and soaked with sweat.

Another side affect of being in a constant state of terror was that I had almost no periods for six months.

Another method of punishment was starvation. Okay so they fed us protein drinks, but these were not the protein drinks you buy at the health store. These tasted awful, to the point of gagging, which was also punished by the way. It should also be noted that we were fed these shakes when we were too sick to do chores or school work. Well obviously death was preferred over these shakes. No one ever complained of being sick…even when we were. Starvation was used to punish a number of offenses, but for me, in the beginning, it was mostly used because I had trouble memorizing the huge amounts of scripture required each week.

There were just plain vindictive punishments given as well. I remember one time I forgot my rubber gloves to wash the dishes. Instead of letting me go get them, I was made to wash those dishes bare handed. The water was really, really hot and burned my hands to a bright angry red. My hands stayed bright red and burned for several hours' afterword, but it could have been worse. There was a girl there, I think her name was Marcy or Melody or something like that. Anyway every time Ms. Hoke walked away, she washed the dishes for me. I don't think I ever spoke a word to this girl the entire time I was at HH and yet she was willing to put herself on the line for me. There were a few brave girls who never conformed, no matter what the staff did to them, but I wasn't one of them. I am ashamed to admit that I

In order to survive my stay at HH; I sacrificed my identity and conformed to the rules. I conformed so well in fact that I was given a spot on the garden crew. This was good, because the garden crew almost always got to eat. The price of getting to eat was steep though. They worked us from sun up to sundown, doing back breaking labor. Many times we would shower and crawl into bed long after the other girls went to bed, only to awakened a few hours later. The upside was that I had little time to think about where I was.

I swore I would never forget who I was and that when I got out, I'd find the girl I left behind and get to know her again. This was not as easy as I once assumed it would be, as young teenage girl. The process of finding Amy took years, but I did get her back...eventually.

One thing I never fully got back was my belief in God. I am putting this in here, because I believe it needs to be said, as controversial as it may be. I came to Hephzibah House with a firm belief in God and Christianity and I left questioning everything I thought I knew. I have not been able to step foot inside a church since I left without having a panic attack. I will never allow anyone, not even God to have such control over me ever again.

Seventeen years later, the lessons I have taken from Hephzibah House are this...Even in the silence and the remembered humiliations I went through, I find myself remembering that girl who did the dishes for me, while never saying a word. I remember the looks of sympathy or the casual smiles passed in secret that helped me get through the day. I remember those girls, who were for a time, in hell right along with me and I wonder how they are. They broke us down and humiliated us at every turn, but they never managed to touch our souls…the very thing they wanted more than anything else. In the end we were stronger.

This was my story, but there are literally hundreds of others who have gone through the same if not worse, humiliating and abusive conditions at HH. Our pastors and our parents were lied to about these conditions. They were never told of the lack of proper medical care, or the horrible food that sometimes had bugs in it. They never knew of the days of starvation in punishment for simple ‘crimes’. They never knew of the countless times we were referred to as worthless or harlots, who lead men into the sin of lust.

Knowing nothing of these things, our parent were stunned when we came home as shells of ourselves, silent and fearful of everything, because now we believed we were worthless. Basic conversations were beyond us at first, so we said nothing. I personally have never spoken in any detail of my time at HH until now…not even to my husband of eleven years. Writing this was incredibly painful and brought back nightmares I hadn’t had in years. But after seventeen years…it was time.


Many of the girls who have come forward about the abuse at Hephzibah House have been slandered and told that things are not as bad as they are saying. So I am including an excerpt about Pastor Williams views on discipline…in his own words.

In this he discusses breaking the spirit of infants. Yes, spanking babies. You don’t believe me? Read it and then we’ll talk. He also discusses the ‘correction sessions’ some lasting several hours. For more information on Hephzibah House and to read other testimonials from survivors spanning thirty years visit the following links.

http://www.formerhephzibahgirls.webs.com

Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 11:31 AM
Labels: Survivor's Stories
Lisa Mueller Luczak: Survivor!

I was at Hephzibah House for 15 months, from Aug 1985-November 1986.

I have a lot of mixed feelings about my time there. I do not agree with the ways the girls were dealt with, their methods, or even how they portray Christianity. In spite of that, God DID work in my heart while I was there. I always attribute this to HIS Word.

If there is anything GOOD I can say it is that God's Word does not return void, and He used the intense scripture memory that was required of us to convict me of sin and make me willing to surrender my will to His.

It was a very difficult time in my life, and I have struggled a lot to recover from the negative impacts that the indoctrination has had on my life. I am not bitter about my experience there, God has helped me to work through all that, but I would not recommend anyone else send their daughter there.

I consider myself a miracle of God's Grace, having come through with my faith in tact, in SPITE of the way I was treated there, rather than because of the way I was treated there.

The things that happen there simply should not be allowed.
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 1:35 AM 0 comments
Labels: Survivor's Stories
TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 2008
Monica Atkinson: Survivor

My name is Monica Atkinson and I was a student at Hephzibah House from June 1981 to September 1982....

I was raised in a Christian "dysfunctional" home if that makes sense at all. My mother raised me primarily as a "single mother." I was the oldest of 5 children and the only girl in the bunch. My mother had become a member of a "non-denominational" church that consisted of a very small congregation. The pastor was very strange and when I look back, had all the attributes of a "cult" leader.

I was 15 when we began attending this church. Needless to say, I had begun my typical "teenage" rebellion. Actually I don't believe I was really that bad, but my mother sought advice from our "so-called preacher." Little did I know, this advice would be making plans to send me to a "girl's home" in Winona Lake, Indiana.

I wasn't aware of the plans being made for my going to Hephzibah House. The night before I left, I remembered getting up in the middle of the night and noticed my mother doing something with my clothes. I had no reason to suspect anything at that point, so while it was strange, I didn't question her and went back to bed. She came in early in the morning, woke me up and told me to get dressed. They didn't tell me where I was going, but when I went into the living room, my pastor and another deacon were at our house. I knew something was up! I started to throw a fit, but found out quickly they were prepared for that. There was no way out. They took me to the airport and my mother and I got on the plane at which time she told me where I was going. I had in my mind that I would get there and run away. (Little did I know... there would be no way out!)

When we arrived at Hephzibah House, I recall Ms. Kagin and Heather being there as well as Ron Williams. They took my things, sat us down in the "blue room," prayed with my mother and I, and my mother was escorted out. Thus began my Hephzibah House journey. I will never forget the "lock" of the door that signified there was no way out. The prayer that Ron Williams prayed with my mother and I included something about my mother's disobedience by being "divorced." I couldn't believe my mother was going for this!

I have always been a very strong willed child, even from birth! But something in me knew that rebellion was not going to bring about the results I was wanting. I really had never seen anything like it. They went through everything I had and took almost all of it. Heather watched me change my clothes and gave me uniforms to put on. They were the ugliest things I had ever seen... ( I was quite the fashion diva even at 15!) There was absolutely no individuality allowed! They told me I could make a list and send it to my mom for things I needed. On this list I put tampons or pads that I recall... I was told that I would not be needing them.. ??? I did not understand. I had one period about a week after I got to Hephzibah House so why wouldn't I need pads or tampons? I had regular periods from the age of 13... Ms. Saylor just smirked and told me that none of the girls had periods while they were there... and that was it. She was right! I didn't have another period the entire time I was there.

The initial adjustments were excruciating! I was a healthy girl when I went to Hephzibah House. I wasn't "fat" by any means, but healthy. Probably a size 8 or 9. However, they immediately put me on 1/2 portions and I thought I was literally going to starve to death! Not to mention we were on this exercise regimine that was very difficult. We had to jog 2 miles plus a day and exercise for an hour doing various jumping jacks, leg exercises, situps etc. I lost about 40 pounds while at Hephzibah House and was a size 0 when I went home.

Aside form the exercise and diets, we had to adjust to perfection or else! We were assigned work duties for everything from wrinkles in our bedmaking, to leaving things out, to looking in the wrong direction. It was a major adjustment for me and one I did not do well with. If we accumulated more work duties than we could work off in a day (2), we would be paddled if at the end of the day we had more than 30 work duties. This paddling was like nothing I had ever experienced. I would lie away in my bed "awaiting my turn" while I could hear the screams of the girls going before me. When my name was called, I would go down to the "blue room," I would have to lie down on the floor face down. They would lift my night gown up...One of the staff would straddle my back and hold my arms down, another would get at the end of my feet and hold them down while another would take the board (about 2 inches thick and 4 inches wide and I don't remember exactly how long, but long) and I don't know how many times they would hit me, but I can remember I had never experienced anything so painful.

This went on night after night, despite my trying so hard not to have more than 30 work duties. After the first couple of paddlings, I had blood blisters on my rear and bruises beyond what I can describe. The humiliation, the pain, the utter hopelessness of this practice was very depressing. But I didn't dare show that emotion...

This place tried to take every bit of dignity that we had. Our self esteem was attacked from any angle in the name of "humility." WE couldn't go to the bathroom in peace, we were timed even in bathing. I watched other girls suffering also. Some from medical neglect, others just like me...sheer emotional torture. We were not allowed to console each other. It was extreme brain washing and mind control. Since I left and have gotten older have I come to understand how cults operate and this is their number one tactic! I remember just feeling like there was no hope.

We were required to curl our hair for Sunday morning services. We had foam rollers and roller our hair on Saturday night. Fortunately my hair curled easily, but there were several girls who had very fine hair and were in constant fear of being paddled for "rebellion" if their hair did not curl for services.

Our mail was censored both coming and going, our phone calls were monitored (6 minutes every 2 weeks), there was no way to let anyone know what was going on. My mother came to visit during a Thanksgiving celebration where all the parents came and I was warned before she came that I was not allowed to speak to here where noone could hear me. I couldn't go to the bathroom with her no nothing... still a hopeless situation.

Girls would come and go... but when they went, we couldn't say their name anymore. I remember there was no way to please some of the staff. I lived in fear and I believe some of them thrived on that... not just from me but from all of us. We were subjected to some of the most evil tactics. We had to behead chickens, pluck them and eat them almost the same night. The same with ducks and rabbits. I just wasn't used to that. We were forced to eat liver, hearts, etc. when I could barely choke it down! It was horrible, but I knew if I didn't finish it, I would be eating it for the next meal.

Work duties were graded on a "more than perfection" scale. If there was one piece of grit on the floor, we failed and didn't get credit for what we had done...

I could go on and on about the cruel and unusual punishments, the torture both physically and mentally but I think enough is said in that respect. The bottom line is that I believe that in the end, there is justice and God does reserve justice for those bringing harm to "God's children."

The night before I left Hephzibah House, I was desperate.. I went into the cedar closet and cried out to God... I had no idea at that moment, my mother and Ron Williams were having a "heated" conversation regarding my staying until I was 18. My mother refused to commit to my staying any longer than the 15 months, and as a result, Ron Williams told her that they were going to send me home. Praise God! I was sent home the next morning. I didn't get to say goodbye, didn't get to see anyone before I left, just called to the office and that was it. I was sent home. I knew I had been delivered. It felt like a dream!

Needless to say it was a "huge" adjustment after coming home. I started my period again about 2 months after coming home. Things eventually settled down for me, I went back to school and life went on.

Hephzibah House could have destroyed every bit of faith I had in God. Instead, what my time at Hephzibah House taught me was a very good lesson in what true Christianity is about. It's all about God and the Word of God! People will always disappoint me, but God never will. It's because of Hephzibah House that I came to understand that God makes "all things work together for good!" I believe that God has taught me who HE is through the trials I've been through including Hephzibah House. Just like Joseph and all the injustice he endured... but in the end God had a plan for his life.. just as He has for each of us...

I do believe that the Williams' are deceived and I don't believe that any child should have to endure what we endured at Hephzibah House. My prayer is that the right people are enlightened to what is going on in places like Hephzibah House (and HH itself) and put laws in place that will prevent this kind of abuse.

God bless you all!
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 1:50 PM
Labels: Survivor's Stories
FRIDAY, MAY 30, 2008
Susan's Story...

This post is a duplicate and also appears HERE.

My name is Susan Grotte. I am writing to state officially that I was abused at Hephzibah House from February, 1981, to July, 1983.

I realize that this is far in the past, and nothing can be done. However it has come to my attention that girls are suffering under the same cruel conditions right now.

The state of Indiana investigated while I was a student at Hephzibah House, but we were hidden in a dark church while they came through. A few girls who were coached and intimidated were allowed to stay and speak to the investigators.

I was beaten with a paddle until I was black and blue. My skirt was pulled up, and I was laid out on the flour. One adult sat on my back and tightly held my arms, while another sat on my feet to keep me from kicking. A third wielded a paddle and beat me. I was beaten nearly every day for the first three to four months when I was there. After that time, I was sufficiently broken and docile, thus only receiving two to three per month. These beating were so severe that they left blisters, hurt my back and twice I fainted. I still smell that carpet and feel it against my face.

I was so hungry all the time. The Williams ate very well, while they denied the girls sufficient, healthy food especially considering the energy we expended. I lost nearly 40 lbs in four months-- dropping from a normal 128 pounds to a mere 88. This in spite of the fact that we were not allowed to turn down any food offered.

I was menstruating normally before arriving at Hephzibah House, but ceased until I left in 1983.

I did heavy, back breaking labor. There was emotional abuse in the form of humiliation and isolation. Hephzibah House denied any form of contact with the outside world including media and notice of my grandmother’s death, as well as censoring letters from my parents. The rare phone calls from home were tightly monitored. Communication with other students was supervised and very limited.

The saddest part is that the Hephzibah House staff managed to convince me that they loved me. They taught us that we would go to hell if we ever would betray them, or "rise up against God's man."

Williams recently contacted me. I was shaking when I heard his voice. He asked me to write a letter to his lawyer stating that I was never abused, nor had witnessed any abuse while I was a resident. He was asking me to lie for him. I step forward now to defend these poor girls who cannot defend themselves.

Hundreds of girls have suffered because I did not have the courage to speak up then. This clear violation of normal human rights should not still be happening, 25 years later, in America.

It is important to point out that I had never shown any aggressive or violent behavior, had never experimented with drugs or alcohol, never been with a boy. My crime was never disclosed to me. I never had a trial, I never had a voice. I was 15.

In Christ alone,
--Susan Grotte
Posted by clayzeimet at 1:00 AM 6 comments
Labels: Survivor's Stories
TUESDAY, APRIL 15, 2008
Connie's Story: Survivor!

This is a duplicate post which also appears HERE.

Hello. My name is Connie and I was at Hephzibah House from Oct or Nov 1980 to July 1983.

I currently am involved with Foster Parenting/Adoption and have worked closely with The Department of Child Services. I have read a lot of the postings and been through the sites online. I feel it is my time to write my experiences and hopefully bring some insight to help those still there.

I came from a rather good home. At the time, you don’t see or even understand some of the things you go through, but you do learn from them. I was the youngest of three girls. My next to oldest sister was what my parents called “a bad influence” on me. We ran around together quite frequently. My parents’ biggest concern for me was I was going to turn out like her. They also did not like the boyfriend I had at the time. So, they thought if I went to another place then I would not be able to ruin my life.

I really did not think I was that bad of a child to have gone through this even though I do believe my parents did what they thought they had to do at the time. I also know that if they had known all of this they would not have sent me. I do believe it has done some damage along the way and I am not sure it will ever be overcome. At the time and quite some time after that I really never stopped to think that it was child abuse. Probably because it was not much different than the home life I came from.

I was confronted about going to a girl’s home where I could come home for Christmas, Thanksgiving, and 2 weeks in the summer. I asked for how long. They said for 15 months. I said okay, not knowing what I was in for at the time. My parents, I do believe, had good intentions.

The night before I left, my father and I had a disagreement. My father was abusive. He used the belt as well as his hands on us girls. You only spoke when you were spoken to and you always did what he said no matter if you agreed or not. You were never to voice your opinion or even question things. After the disagreement, I had a black eye, busted knee, and bruises.

I must put in that my father has since passed away. He ended up being a GREAT man that I looked up to. He admitted that he did us girls wrong and apologized. He tried to make it up with the grandkids. He was and always will be my best friend.

My father, mother and I made the trip to Winona Lake. We had stopped at a restaurant for breakfast/lunch. We then went to the School House location where I would spend the rest of my time. We went in to what was called “the blue room”. Little did I know that was where all the paddling would occur. They went through my suitcases and took out almost everything my parents had sent saying I could not have it. My parents left and I was then taken upstairs to the “big dorm” where I would live for the moment. I had to go into a closet to change into the uniform assigned. I was then taken downstairs where lunch was being served before going over to the Pierceton Road location for school. I told them I had already eaten, but they insisted I eat and gave me a bowl of soup. I was only able to eat part of it. I was ready to get sick. But, since I did not eat it all, it was put in the refrigerator and I had to eat it cold for supper. Everything that was given to us for breakfast, lunch, or supper had to be eaten at that time or we would get it for the next meal cold. There were no excuses.

I could write for days on all the stuff that happened and how things went, but that would be a book. I remember a lot of things about Hephzibah House. The cleaning and inspection of our chores was definitely white glove. Demerits we received for not being good or doing things wrong. After so many demerits, you got paddled if you could not get them down. You could not be in the hallway with any other students. You always had to yell “coming through” if you were going through the hallway or “going down” if you were going downstairs. We as well had the BM chart that others have talked about. All our calls were screened. All our visits were screened. We did not have talk lists. We could not talk to any other students. Discussions of home, location, and phone numbers were not allowed at all.

The first time I ran around the Pierceton Road location for gym, I thought I was going to die. My asthma medicine was returned home. Later that night I had an asthma attack and could not breathe. I told the staff I needed my inhaler. I was told I didn’t need it and would be fine. I could not breathe and had a hard time catching my breath.

One time I got paddled because I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth and another student said I had to go downstairs. Because I finished brushing my teeth, I got in trouble for being disobedient. The paddling was done in what they called “the blueroom”. Our upper body was held down by one staff, the feet were held by another staff, and one staff paddled. I would be safe to say the paddle was approximately one-two inches thick and about 12 inches long. I got paddled quite frequently. I remember getting paddled about 22 times one time. It hurt to sit down and I had bruises. I do not remember why I got that one or the one I got on my 16th birthday. Eventually I got the hang of the rules and life was not so bad.

We went out to a Smorgasbord place a couple of times. If you got sick, you got paddled. I never got sick, but I sure did stuff myself with the ice cream, chocolate, and junk food that we were not allowed having at all. I do remember a couple times that someone got sick and you could hear them getting paddled from the small dorm room. The blueroom was right underneath it. If your bed was in the small dorm, you could hear the students screaming.

I also remember a student finally getting taken to the hospital. She was sick for awhile. Actually, it seemed like days. If I remember correctly, they finally took her after her urine turned green. They did end up having to do exploratory surgery on her and when she was better, she came right back instead of going home.

I remember getting letters from my parents. And right before I left to go home, I found out that both my sisters had children. I was not told because neither one of them were married. The children were about 6 months old by the time I found out. The letter I was to get telling me that was held and did not pass. We had to watch everything we said in our letters, on the phone, and visits. They were always supervised. My parents had gotten me a radio/cassette player as a graduation present. I received it the day I left.

I also have to comment on the cockroaches at the School House location. It was a game. They were a dime a dozen. I guess it was because the house was built on a cockroach farm. After church, when the lights went on, we would see how many we could kill.

We worked in the garden constantly. Our work was checked to make sure all the weeds were pulled. If not, we had to redo the work, no matter how long it took. I do not remember being allowed bathroom breaks until we were done. Eventually I was put on Kagins crew. We shoveled manure-chicken and horse. We did most of the heavy labor. If I remember correctly there were 5 of us. We missed out a lot on the happenings at the house because we would get home late. Even so, we were constantly under supervision.

I also want to mention the concern of not having a period for the whole 34 months I was there even though I had a normal one before I got there and got a normal one again about a month after I left.

I remember the bath time to be 15 minutes total, from going in to coming out. I also remember every Sunday morning inspection. Your nails were checked to make sure you were not biting them and your hair was checked to make sure it was curled. I had a terrible problem of biting my nails. I remember getting paddled for it as well as demerits. I did not have to worry about my hair curling because 2 rollers always curled my hair, but I remember those girls that had straight hair and no matter what they did, their hair just would not hold a curl.

I remember every day except Sunday we were required to memorize a verse in the Bible. Each week we would have to recite what we learned back to a staff member. That got to be quite tedious after one year etc. If we did not know them, we did get demerits and sometimes paddling. I had a shoe box packed full of index cards of them.

When my parents mentioned me coming home for about 2 weeks before I went to College at a college Pastor Williams recommended, I was treated terrible. I was not able to speak to any girls or even say bye. I was separated from them. Pastor Williams did not even say goodbye. Even though I had been there 34 months, he still did not think I was ready to go home. My belongings were already packed and when my mother showed up, I was pretty much shoved out the door. Pastor Williams did not figure I would end up at College. When I did show up, two other students were there as well. They took awhile to talk to me because Pastor Williams told them I was not a good influence on them and they should stay away from me.

I always looked up to Pastor Williams and his family. Mrs. Kagin was the best. She seemed to understand us girls more than some of the other staff. I always felt a connection with Miss Emery, but you still had to watch what you said. But, I always felt since I left that I was never good enough and some of the things that have happened in my life was because of me not being good enough. I went and seen Pastor Williams when he came to a church near me to tell them about Hephzibah House. He did talk to me, but he never acknowledged me as being a former student to anyone in the congregation. It was like he was ashamed of me.

I did carry some of the repetition forward. When we washed dishes, it was cups, plates, silverware, pots and pans. They had to be dried perfectly or we got them back. Even one little drop of water was not acceptable. To this day when I wash dishes, it is cups, plates, bowls, pots and pans. I also have a “neat freak” problem. When I clean, it is just not clean enough and really gets me frustrated. I have tried to break these things, but have had no luck.

I think the hardest part of all this for me is the fact that I stayed so long, graduated, and went to the college Pastor Williams chose and still got rejected when I left. I did everything I was told to do, but because I did not stay for long after graduation and because my parents requested me home, I got humiliated and condemned. I did not have Pastor Williams blessing when I left. That disappointed me because I looked up to this godly man for so long and he did not even have time to say goodbye. He just had them pack my stuff, keep me from everyone else, and send me on my way. He also told other girls going to the same college that I probably would not show, but if I did, I would be trouble and I was not godly.

I may not be godly according to his standards, but I will say the good Lord has walked with me and helped me through all the hard times in my life. I know this because without Him and His assistance, I probably would not have survived through it. I am older now and do recognize things more, but I still believe that the good Lord has been with me all this time and when I make mistakes it does not mean I am going to Hell.
Posted by Jasmine Rosebrough at 6:42 AM
Labels: Survivor's Stories
MONDAY, APRIL 14, 2008
Alicia Sanders-Wagner: Survivor!

My name is Alicia Wagner formerly it was Alicia Sanders.

My stay at HH is hard to talk about. I do not have as many memories as you would think I would. My mind has tried to block out most of it. I can only recall probably 40% of what went on there. I do not remember most of the girl’s names. The 4 names I do remember I was able to get in contact with later through searching on the internet.

I was there from about 1998-2000.

I remember that I was told I was being taken on a family trip that summer. (Many of the girls were told this and the pastor there once admitted to telling the parents to tell us that to get us to cooperate for the car ride.) I did find out through my sister that I was not being taken on a family trip minutes before leaving. Had I known the place I was going to be taken I would have run away but at the time I had no idea. My home life was not much to talk about at the time so as much as I screamed I didn’t want to go.

I thought to myself well it couldn’t be much worse. It was much worse. I was no longer being given the” rod of god” by my mother but I might as well have been. I was never given a bruise or a beating while I was there but the fear and brain washing I received will always be a part of my life. The bruises fade, some memories fade, but the impact and black cloud the experience has on my life will never go away no matter how hard I try.

I wake up 3-4 times a month with horrible nightmares that I am locked up somewhere and can’t get out. The dreams are so real. I often wake up trying to catch my breath. My months at HH affect my every day life as well. I am very much a people person yet I find it hard to truly trust anyone. I have a constant struggle with how I perceive God. I often have spouts of depression when I think of this place. I have seen a therapist who has stated that I have had depression from this place. She has pointed out many signs in my life of depression from this place that I wasn’t even aware I had.

I will start from the day I arrived and give you as many memories that I have left of the place.

So back to the beginning I was told I was being taken on a family trip I was taken by my mom’s friend and my mom. We arrived at the place and the sons of the Pastor there came out as soon as we pulled up to get the bags out of the car. I was escorted by the pastor into the house. My first thought was the way the people dressed. It was very much like in the pilgrim days. This didn’t bother me much as it was not too different than the way I was raised to dress.

As soon as we got there the first discussion was money. My mom gave the pastor some money and he said it wasn’t enough and she said that his dad (the head pastor) had told her she would get a discount. He stated he would talk to his dad about it. I felt like a piece of meat being sold. They were bargaining over how much they needed to take me and my mom was paying to get me off of her hands.

I have never in my life felt so unwanted as I did in that moment. I have never felt more abandoned or of less worth than I felt on that day. I truly can say I felt as if I had no one. It is such a horrible feeling to have no one. Not a soul to go to. I had never been so alone and I pray I never will again. I was told to say goodbye to my mother as if I was going to thank her for taking me there or something. I told her I would never forgive if she left me there and that promise I have kept.

I was taken downstairs and told to take off all my clothes in front of two staff members. It was almost as if I had been admitted to jail. Although, at the time I wouldn’t have known much about jail. I had never seen a drug, never tasted alcohol., never seen porn or used bad language. I had a boyfriend that my mom did not approve of and that was the reason for me being there. Not really sure what 16 year old boyfriends any moms approve of but this was just the sin of all sins in my family.

After I stripped I was told to get in the shower and wash really hard. I was told afterward this is custom when a new girl gets there to wash the sin off of her upon entering. I was told when I got out that I would never be able to use a hair dryer or makeup or any hair supplies as long as I was there so not to bother asking. I was dressed in a very itchy old uniform. My mother had paid for culottes to be made for me. She was told the pastor’s daughter would sew some for me. I was given instead some old bleached stained form of a skirt. That had been used by many past student.

After entering there I was never again to look the same. Never could I pretend to like something about myself and I really didn’t have to pretend. I could never so much as get the tangles out of my hair. I never wore anything (expect to church or my uniform to school, that didn’t have huge bleach stains on them. I was told that my mother had told the staff that I had an eating disorder so I was never given small or half portions upon my arrival. I was told I had to eat heaping amounts of food. The first week there I would throw up after every meal. If I did not eat my whole meal I was given it at the next meal. If I did not eat my fish for supper I was given it in the morning to eat cold right out of the fridge I had to eat it as well as my breakfast and it would just keep adding up and getting more old every day that I couldn’t finish.

We only had a small amount of time to eat our meals so food was swallowed never eaten. We were only allowed to talk to our assigned talking buddies at the table if a staff member was present so talking really didn’t happen as the few minutes we had to eat were spent shoveling food in so that we didn’t have to eat it cold the next morning. Some girls did not get to eat at all if they were being punished. This was hard especially on days we had to work very hard outside.

We were sometimes given jobs that grown men should have been doing. I remember a particular day having to break up rock with shovels and load the rock into the back of a truck. The rocks were huge many girls were crying from trying to lift the rocks. The pastor’s wife (about 150 pounds over weight) would stand on the balcony of her house and yell at us that we were lazy and needed to work harder. She often did this when we would do our daily exercises also. She would correct us in our format.

I was not allowed to talk to anyone but one person for many months and like I said that was only at the dinner table if a staff member was present. I had to read the rule book weekly. It told us what we could and cold not say on the phone or in letters home. My phone calls were timed and monitored by someone on another phone sitting 1 foot away from me. Everything I said was written down in a book by the staff lady listening to the conversation. I was always warned before the phone call that If I said anything wrong the phone call would be disconnected and I would not get a phone call for a few months.

We only got to talk to our parents for 10 minutes once a month on a Sunday. I was only allowed to see my mother once I believe my whole stay there. My meeting with my family ended horrible as I was told I was giving to much eye contact to my sister. I was brought down to the basement and in front of all the students scorned and told that I am the reason that they would not be able to have siblings come to see them anymore. They were told that from now on only the parents could visit them in these meetings. I believe they were allowed to visit for 3 hours in the conference room once every 3 months with a staff member present at all times.

I felt so horrible not because I had gotten in trouble but because I would never do anything to make the stay harder for any one else there. I had let my girls down and I felt as though I would never be able to make it up to them. Of course I could not tell them I was sorry or anything of the sort. There was no form of love shown. No one could touch or show emotion. I was a walking puppet for fear I do anything to be punished. Punishment was given out hourly. I tried to blend in and never say anything. I tried to always act happy although the inside of me was screaming..

We had to write down when we pooped and how big or small it was and if it was not what the staff thought it should be were where given castor oil and psyillium seed. If we had a period (I did for some of the months there) we were to show the staff member our pad before throwing it away. Not really sure the reasoning behind that. If we went a day without pooping we had to show the staff member our bowel movement before we could flush. There was no such thing as any privacy or self respect. It was non existent.

I really put everything I had into my school work it was my escape and my hope to finish early and leave. I did stay 2 months longer than 15 months because I was 2 months short of being done with school. My mother was not told I was done with my school work until 2 weeks after I had graduated (or finished my courses) I was forced to sit in a cubicle and read a book since my studies were through. Humiliation was often a way to punish us. I made A and B honor roll all throughout my schooling there. One time I failed a history test and Patty had me stand in front of the school and say that I was selfish for failing this test and when I asked her why I had to say this she said because I didn’t care a damn about anyone if I did I would have memorized the dates of the war because I would have cared about those people that died there.

I remember having horrible migraines while I was there and I was never given any medicine not even so much as an Advil. My migraines were so bad I would often throw up from the pain. I was told to lay in bed and my meals were taken from me. If I wasn’t better in 24 hours I had to repeat the same thing for the next 24 hours even if I was feeling better in the next 12.

I remember a new student coming in and screaming and banging to get out she yelled I cannot live hear I cannot be like those robots. They are robots they are robots can you not see that!!!! It hit me like a slap in the face. That is exactly what I am a robot. But as fast as it hit me I reminded myself – but I have no other choice.

We had to line up to go to the bathroom and wait our turn for our stall to open. We could never just go to the restroom when we wanted it was when the staff member wanted to take us all. I remember a couple of girls being forced to wear depends because they could not wait for the next bathroom break and since the staff members would not let them go they would wet themselves. One girl was forced to wear depends every day to school and and to church. All of her underwear were taken from her. I remember being so afraid that I would maybe be that person one day. She was such a normal person when she came in just like me. But now she was wearing depends and crying all of the time almost as if she turned into a crazy person. I use to pray every night that God would keep me sane.

Speaking of God: He was used to scare us. He was a god of judgment and wrath; He was never portrayed as a god of love unless they were talking about the fact that he so lovingly died for our sins. That is the only time god and love were used in the same sentence.

I was never beaten but I know of a girl that was taken upstairs and given the rod of god while I was there. I did not see what happened but I know that it did. My sister use to send me about $20.00 per month to use on books or school socks. I was never given any of this money. I once asked if I could buy some chewable vitamin C from the pantry since I had a horrible cold. I was told I had no money in my account. We were where constantly reminded how much it cost to keep us there and how grateful we should be and that our parents only paid 1/4th of what it cost to keep us there.

I remember cleaning a warehouse they had there. It was filled with shelves from top to bottom of gifts given to the home. Pots and pan in boxes not even opened so many things that would never be used that someone could be using in this warehouse. We were never given good food unless it was a birthday. We were forced to drink moldy orange juice, powdered milk still warm, old cereal all dumped together no matter what kind. We often had to open cans of food with no labels and dump them all in a pot and that was supper.

I remember one a girl found a big green hairy worm in her salad we had picked they forced her to eat it. She started throwing it up and it became a huge debate that some of the staff thought she should have to eat the portion she threw up also and some thought she should just have to finish the worm. The plate had to be taken upstairs so patty could determine what portion of the plate she had to finish. She had to finish eating the worm but not the part she threw up. Were where told this would happen if we did not clean our lettuce good enough.

We lived in constant fear. We were never allowed to leave – not for a wedding or a funeral – never. We were taught that men are superior to obey them no matter what. To never disrespect them. We were told not to talk in the presence of a man unless asked a question. It was very much a place of mind control (brain washing). I would never wish anyone to go there. I have left so much out but I really wish to not remember most of it.

I have written this against the advice of many. I was told there is no point in it it would only make me remember bad things and for a stranger I don’t even know. My instant response was I want to do it because it is the right thing to do. But after much thought if we don’t do this for the strangers that are going there now or might go there later who will? It won’t be the people that send them there. It won’t be the family and friends at home because most of them have no idea where the student has been taken. If we don’t do it no one will. Not only that but these aren’t strangers we are HH sisters.

I live for the day that this place will be shut down. I think only that would make me feel the weight lifted off of me. How can a place like this exist in America? How can it not be against the law to lock someone in a basement for months on end with no outside communication and no crime committed?

They are abusing girls in the name of God and that is unforgivable. I feel as though not family, not a best friend, no one could every truly understand me. And they never really could unless they went to a place like this and woke up every single morning brokenhearted because it wasn’t just a nightmare. Every morning feeling sick because you have to live another day after day after day in the basement.

People can say they understand but they really can’t. They have not lived it. Only us girls truly understand. We will always feel close for that reason.

My testimony is open to anyone and I will answer any questions anyone has about this place.
Posted by hephzibahgirl at 8:38 AM
Labels: Survivor's Stories
SATURDAY, APRIL 12, 2008
Alicia Hamilton' Story: Survivor!
This is a duplicate post which also appears HERE.

My name is Alicia Hamilton.

When I was sent to Hephzibah House (HH) in the fall of 1989, I had just recently turned 12 years old and my last name at that time was that of my stepfather, "Cornish".

When sent to HH, I was not in any trouble with the law; I had not yet had any boyfriends; I hadn’t done or even ever seen alcohol / drugs. My childhood "problems" only began after my mother married a man who began to physically and emotionally abuse me when I was 6-7 years old.

Driving into the grounds of HH for the first time, I saw a simple but large white house with a church on the side and lots of fencing. My parents said little as we were quickly ushered to the upstairs room, the room where I would receive many beatings in the next 20 months to come. My memory begins to play tricks on me here, as there are some things that I VERY VIVIDLY recall about what happened to me during my stay at HH, and then other daily things that I have completely forgotten about. I do remember the initial trauma of my HH experience was being told that I would be there for 15 months (at least), and more importantly, I was told that I could not have contact with my grandparents (with whom I lived from birth to age 6 and were like parents to me).

Upon "orientation" Several of William’s family members went through my items with me and began marking them. I was told I could not have some of my belongings and I was stripped of the clothing I had, put into an itchy polyester outfit and the rules further explained to me, I remember saying "Oh my god!" and Heather, one of the Williams’ daughters, slapped my face and told me "we do not use the Lord’s name in vain here!" I was told that I will be learning to be a child of god and to become a Godly woman, and as such the dress code was explained to me among other rules.

Much of my memory has repressed the details of daily life but I do remember being spanked "for being disrespectful" that very first night for questioning the food I was served (it was some kind of strange soup). On my first morning of HH, we were woken up very early, and of course after not sleeping most of the night I did not awaken easily. A staff lady ripped my sheets off me and later that day I was paddled again, this time for disobedience.

One of the more unusual things about HH’s rules is that as I learned upon my introduction to the living quarters, there were certain girls there that I was allowed to talk to and others that I could not even make eye contact with. This concept was incredibly strange, not being able to even LOOK at another girl. I was spanked many times for looking at girls I should not have looked at. Initially, I was limited to talking with a few girls, then they allowed me to talk to everyone…for a while….I will explain more about this later.

The most important thing that anyone should know about HH is that no girl has any privacy; even the one large bathroom was watched vigilantly by a staff member, and though we did have "stalls" for showers and the toilets, our time monitored closely (Just imagine, "Alicia you’ve been on the toilet for a while are you constipated?!" being loudly questioned in front of all the other girls in earshot), sanitary napkins were inspected and we were told to account on a public chart for what kind of bowel movement we had that day.

We had a specific shower time, and we were herded into the shower stalls and given a short amount of time to get ready and then the timer was set: Three minutes to take a shower. Most of the time my shower was last and the water was cold so it wasn’t so bothersome, but I felt bad for the girls that had a lot of hair to wash and condition in such a short amount of time.

Fear was constant, most often it was the fear of intense pain and humiliation. The spankings I received were random (sometimes I’d be spanked 1 to 3 times in a week sometimes none for a week) so I was always on edge. The spankings were very ritualistic: I would be forced to lay down, a chair was placed over my head while either Ron Williams or his Wife Patty Williams, or in other situations I believe his son’s wife (Wanda?) would spank me. There were usually three staff members present to hold my feet and arms. After getting me on the floor and holding me down, whomever was going to do the spanking would pray for me, and then sometimes they would wait for what seemed like minutes before administering the punishment—I think it was to add to the fear I felt as I just wanted to get it over with. I personally felt they enjoyed being sadistic in the times they slowed the process down, to show us the power they had over us.

My first couple of spankings were 7 swats each time, and I cried in great pain, as they were very severe swats, and after the beatings I discovered severe bruising and sometimes welts with blood droppings oozing from the welts. Sometimes they missed my buttocks and hit my spine and this left very painful deep bruising. I had heard of a girl that had been there right before me that they deemed unable to help so I thought maybe if I was "too hard to help" that they would let me go early too. So, at my very insightful 12 years of age, I decided that if I didn’t cry during the spankings that they would think I was unable to be helped and that they would let me go. So when would get spanked I would try not to cry at first, biting my cheeks until they bled to fight the urge to scream, but I learned that this just led to more swats, usually 14 at which point I was certainly wimpering, but once I counted 21 and after that particular beating I was covered in welts and they were bleeding little droplets of blood, more blood than any other beating. I was so uncomfortable to sit or sleep that I was on very good behavior for the next week but I still somehow managed to get paddled again despite my best efforts to follow all the rules perfectly, and this time I cried immediately.

During the first few months at HH, I went to bed hungry many nights and fantasized about food and far away places. One of the ways that we were punished is to be denied dinner, which could be very difficult after several hours of performing vigorous chores, and for me that occurred at least 3 to 4 times a week; Instead of eating food, I was forced to drink a protein drink which was not mixed properly, and though some of the girls did not mind the drink, I had to gag it down. I dreaded these drinks. Dinner was taken away for just about any reason so it seemed, usually I did not pass my chores or do my "church notes" or memorize very long passages of bible verses well enough to earn my supper.

And on the note of chores…The cleanliness standards that we were held to were above those of any 5 star hotel I’ve ever been to. When it came to work and doing the chores, I actually tried very hard to do them correctly (I hated that protein drink!) and would still fail. Again, I believe that this was yet another way for the leadership of HH to exert their power upon us and keep us insecure, afraid, and ready to embrace their extreme religious agenda.

Another note about the food, there were some very unusual meals that we had to eat along with many pills we had to take. Many of the "soups" they made were just a bunch of unmarked cans thrown into a pot together and the soups that arrived from this method were disgusting to say the least. I remember being unable to eat this soup a few times without throwing up, I could not eat it all at once. When at HH, if you did not eat all your food, it was served as your next meal. Cold. I had many cold, mystery soup breakfasts and dinners there.

I lost a lot of weight and began to have irregular periods (I actually had my first period on my 12th birthday and was regular until a few months into HH). They gave us a lot of vitamins at HH as well, and I recall to this day an unusual reaction some of us had to the vitamins: the reaction was what we were told was a "B" reaction. I had over a dozen of these reactions and they always occurred after the mornings breakfast and during "devotional" time; what would happen to me is that the skin on my entire body would become red and burn for about 10-20 minutes then it would go away. Other girls could see if I was having a "B" reaction and I could see if they were as well as the skin would become very red and flushed. The staff explained that it was the body’s way of removing excess vitamin B from the system. It happened to some other girls as well and was random.

After about 4 months there at HH, I’d say around Feb of 1990, I was placed on "Shadow" status for about nine months, I remember this because I got off of it right before thanksgiving. Being shadowed was psychologically and emotional torture. Literally, I was not allowed to talk to any other human being or look them in the eye and I had to follow a staff member around 24/7 (including sleeping right next to one). Being "shadowed", it was extremely humiliating, dehumanizing, and it served the purpose they wanted; they broke my spirit…I think I went a little crazy during this time, living in fantasy land, coming up with imaginary friends...If I was desperate enough to interact with another human being, I could ask for some "religious counseling" about some passage in the bible and get some conversation that way, but it really wasn’t what I wanted to talk about considering that all day and all night was religious indoctrination.

Fortunately, I actually found some of the Old Testament gory and barbaric enough to be interesting, and I remember discussing with one of the staff ladies some of the stories and the meaning of why god wanted his armies to cut off the foreskins of his enemies, which often just got me into trouble (even though I was discussing scripture, I was not to "question it"). This, "do not question" rule I specifically learned when I questioned a staff member about Lot and how he basically murdered his daughter, and I was, in so many words told that "as you see this is gods way of showing us your role as a woman; women are not as important as a man and woman are flawed because of Eve’s sin this is the lot you bear; that you do not understand that by now is troubling" and I had to write some 500 sentences about my place under god and man. Sentence writing, by the way was another form of punishment. I probably wrote some ten thousand sentences over the course of my 20 months at HH and that is not an exaggeration.

So I learned to conform. I learned how to ask the right questions and how to appear submissive, weak, and without any will of my own. Sometimes I fear, that there were weeks that went by that I really was that way---they were stealing my soul and I was loosing any sense of individuality. We went to church at least three times a week. We had to sing in the choir, a choir in which we spent countless hours practicing and were ultimately recorded and tapes were made and sold with my / our voices on them. Since singing (and I have an awful voice) was the only time I could use my voice during my period of being shadowed, I sang with vigor. To become un-shadowed, I had to prove I was godly so I tried everything I could, I got baptized, I wrote profusely long church notes, I memorized extra bible verses, and so on and son on.

During my time of being shadowed, I became very sick. If one became sick with the flu or with the cold, no medicine was given, even though I remember a time when I was very sick with a high fever with vomiting. Even though I was throwing up, I was forced to drink the protein drink, I remember this vividly, I was nearing the end of the glass, then I gagged it all up, along with bile my stomach as I dry heaved into the into the bucket I was allowed to carry around with me. Ms. Saylor (Spelling?) made me drink my vomit out of the bucket, which took over an hour and I was very tearful. Later that night, with a high fever and still being very ill, I was paddled.

I was finally allowed to be off of being shadowed, and it was so strange to speak to another human being. I felt incredibly insecure, as if I didn’t know how to act anymore, what is the right thing to say or not? As I got more and more used to the routine and fast paced schedules of HH, the time began to go by faster, mostly because they kept us so busy.

Regarding some of the "chores" we had to do, I believe that I was exploited for labor, along with other girls. When staff discovered I had skill working with my hands and that I could crochet with fine thread and read / interpret complex stitching designs, I was given the task to make hundreds of these little figurines and cross stitch projects which were sold / traded for goods to benefit HH’s financials. I was 13 when I was making these things, and my curse was my speed and ability to do good work.

Sometimes the demand was so high for these crafts that making the crafts was my only chore and I’d crochet for an entire Saturday or be told to do it during school hours. This was actually a job that girls wanted as it was more appealing than scrubbing the entire dorm floor on your hands and knees, but after doing it so much, my fingers and wrists would begin to really hurt.

Also, though I never had to, I know other girls were sent upstairs to clean the Williams’ house. Near the end of my stay, when I was seen as "reformed" and "godly", I was actually transported beyond the walls of HH, I was sent to a church "officials" home to clean and renovate, it was the Keagan’s (?) home I believe and my job was to remodel their kitchen and home. I used sanding paper and arm strength and worked for hours to sand off the old varnish and paint from their cabinets and then we stained and prepared the ‘new’ cabinets. We painted their home, we did their gardening….While at HH, I even had to "clean" a deer carcass killed by a car that the Williams family ate for many meals I imagine. I remember feeling misused but too afraid to do anything but the best of work and to do it with a smile on my face.

In short those are the most significant memories that come to light about my experience with this place. I indeed feel that HH abuses girls’ on a physical, psychological, emotional, religious and spiritual level. The isolation and fear tactics they use are powerful and the results, while short term may be successful, they leave a lasting impact.

As a disclaimer, I want it to be known that after "release" I was forced to write a "testimony" about how great HH was and how much it helped me. My stepfather sat down with me and pretty much wrote the testimony; After being there for 20 months and finally being "free" I was so afraid that if I did not do what they wanted me to do that I would be sent back, and my worst nightmare was having to stay there until I was 18. So whatever HH sent out as my "testimony" way back when…Those were not my words, they were forced.
Posted by hephzibahgirl at 6:53 PM 0 comments
Labels: Survivor's Stories

Gabriella Fleury: Survivor!

My name is Gabriella Fleury, and I am a former Hephzibah House student. I was at Hephzibah from August 1989-November 1990, and I was there for the entire 15 month program.

Upon my arrival at Hephzibah House, I was strip searched by one of Ron Williams' daughters. It was humiliating to me to have a girl who was only a few years older than me watching me take my clothes off and then checking me to see if I had anything with me.

On my first or second day at Hephzibah House, I underwent my most traumatic experience there. I was taken into a closet/dressing room in the dorm area, and I was forced to undergo a very personal female physical examination. There was a man in the room, but he was never introduced to me, and it was never explained to me what he was going to do. I remember very vividly how scared I was just laying there hoping it would be over soon, as I gritted my teeth and dug my nails into the palms of my hands.

During my stay at Hephzibah House, I managed to keep myself out of trouble, and I quickly became one of the "garden girls." I was fortunate enough to be on an outside work crew, so I was spared many of the daily activities inside the house. However, being on an outside crew, I was worked like a dog. I would literally miss days of school in order to help with some building or cleaning project that was going on. I would also get back to the dorm in the evenings after the other girls were in bed for the night.

I would be awakened in the middle of the night to help clean road kill that was donated to our facility. I would help to clean and process many deer that had been hit by cars; however, none of us girls ever got to eat one bite of that venison. I always viewed the food and meals at Hephzibah as a form of reward and also punishment.

I often had severe headaches while I was at Hephzibah House, and the first time I had one, I "complained" to the staff nurse that I needed to take something to help my headache. The solution then was to make me stay in bed all day with no meals. I was forced to drink a broth-like substance for all three of my meals that day. In addition, I missed a day of school and also was not allowed to speak to anyone for the entire day.

I had several occasions in my first months at Hephzibah where I had a chore that did not pass the white glove inspection. Since I failed a chore, I also had my evening meal withheld as punishment. Once I earned a spot on the garden crew, I never had to miss a meal again for a failed chore, but I did have to eat my meal during an allotted time. I had a few occasions where I just could not eat all of my meal in the specified amount of time, and the food from that dinner was saved and then re-served to me for breakfast the next morning. It was served on the same plate, cold, and hardened from a night in the fridge. I had to finish that meal and then quickly eat the regular breakfast meal as well, in order to avoid having my leftover breakfast served to me along with my lunch.

I was 17 years old when I arrived at Hephzibah, and up to that point I had been menstruating regularly. After the first month at Hephzibah I never had another monthly cycle for the remainder of the 15 months. I thought it was odd that I had completely stopped having my period, but I was afraid to voice my concerns to anyone, especially our staff nurse. I was afraid that I would get in some sort of trouble, or be forced to eat or take some sort of herbal supplement or vitamin, as was common practice for anyone who had an ailment. The same can be said for the "BM chart" that we were forced to mark daily. I knew anyone who did not mark that they had gone regularly would be forced to take flax seed and cod liver oil.

I turned 18 after about 7 months at Hephzibah House. I requested to talk to Ron Williams to tell him that I wanted to go home. He did speak with me, but he told me that I was not ready to go home. I was forced during my entire stay at Hephzibah to write letters to my parents, pastor, and to Hephzibah board members saying that I was happy and that I was thriving spiritually. Each of these letters was read for content before being sent out, and all incoming letters were read as well and only passed on to me if they met the requirements, and often the letters I received had large portions blacked out with a permanent marker. I never had an unmonitored phone conversation with my parents the entire stay, and I only had one 10 minute phone call per month to speak with my parents.

The worst thing I remember from my time at Hephzibah is the humiliation and isolation of each of us girls. We were almost "played" against each other because we were all striving for, and would have done anything for, staff approval. We had to earn every little right or privilege that we had, but we knew it could be taken away with no explanation whatsoever. We were forbidden from talking about our lives before Hephzibah House, and we were only allowed to talk to another girl if we had staff permission, and if every word of the conversation took place within earshot of a staff member. We had very specific talking lists which outlined exactly who was allowed to talk to whom.

There were girls there who seriously went months without speaking to a single should excerpt for staff. That was one of the scariest things that I felt loomed over my head...having any speaking and socialization privileges taken away. I knew it had to be extremely lonely to live that way. I saw girls who were shadowed for months on end. I was shadowed once personally, but it didn't last very long. I'm sure they missed me on the work crew, so that's why they decided to drop that punishment. While being shadowed, I was not allowed to face any other girls but had to face the wall instead. Of course, I could not speak to anyone except the staff member who was shadowing me.

All of us girls, shadowed or not, had to be escorted to the bathroom. We were only allowed to use the bathroom at assigned bathroom times, and that was it. If I had to go at any time other than a regularly scheduled bathroom time, I just had to hold it. There were girls who could not hold it, and they were forced to wear depends or diapers. The staff took every opportunity to humiliate them in front of the rest of us girls for their laziness and rebellion because of their lack of bladder control. There was a girl who was there with me, who would frequently wet the bed. Every morning the staff ladies made a big production of checking to see if she had wet the bed or not. Then she would have to hurry and strip her bed and wash her sheets while still getting ready for school in the allotted amount of time. None of us girls was allowed to help her get her bed stripped, washed, and remade.

Sometimes during the night I was allowed to get up out of bed and wake the staff lady who was guarding the door near the bathroom to get permission to use the facilities. If the staff felt like too many girls were getting up for potty breaks during the night, then they would change the rule to only using the bathroom during specified breaks in the middle of the night. If you didn't go during one of those breaks, then you didn't get to go at all. The rule for potty breaks overnight fluctuated between those two policies while I was there.

I mentioned the one time that I got shadowed. That is also the one time that I got spanked while I was at Hephzibah House. There was a student who was at Hephzibah with me, and she stayed on after she had completed the program and became a sort of staff member. I had been working on the outside crew with her for several months, so I felt like I knew her (to the best of my ability as we were closely monitored). Ron Williams had a son who also worked closely on the outside crew with us. This student and the Williams boy started secretly "dating" each other. Now, bear in mind that they never once left the premises together, they never kissed, and they never even so much as held hands. But the Williams family believes in arranged marriages, so this secret "dating", which was nothing more than a crush, was strictly forbidden.

Their relationship came to light somehow, and it also came to light that I had known of it. I was awakened in the middle of the night and brought into the closet where all of my belongings had been strewn onto the floor, and all my drawers had been emptied. I was questioned over and over as to what I knew about this relationship. I honestly didn't know much except that the two "liked each other." I was told that I was lying, and that I was being rebellious and deceitful in allowing this relationship to continue. After being questioned by several staff ladies I was allowed to go back downstairs and join the other girls. But from the moment I went back downstairs I was shadowed. I thought that was the end of my punishment, and I was upset about not being able to work outside or to talk to any other girls at any time.

A day or so later I was called back upstairs into Ron Williams' office. I was scared to death. When I had originally been questioned, Ron Williams was on the road, so I didn't have to face him. But this time he was in the room waiting for me. He sat down with me and begin asking me the same type of questions over and over again. I didn't have anything new to tell him. Apparently I was not giving him the answers that he wanted to hear. I remember 2 other staff ladies coming into the room, and I knew in that instant what was about to happen to me. Even though I instinctively knew, Ron Williams explained it to me anyways. He explained how the rod of correction cleanses away the evil from the soul, and he quoted a bunch of Bible verses.

I was forced face down onto the floor of that office, and my arms were straight above my head. One staff lady knelt on and held my arms while another staff lady held my legs. At this point Patti Williams was in the room, and she spanked me while Ron stood by and watched. I don’t recall how many times she hit me, but I remember that she was talking during the whole ordeal. She was very angry, and I could feel her anger each time she hit me. I was crying because of the pain and embarrassment, so I guess it was assumed that I was sufficiently broken, so she stopped hitting me.

After the whole ordeal was over, I had to immediately sit down with Ron Williams while he talked to me again and told me how that was God's will that I be punished to rid my soul of its wicked ways. I was very sore, and it hurt to sit down and talk with Ron. I hurt for days after that. I was still being shadowed, so I was not working outside; in fact, I would have had a hard time doing the heavy labor we were required to do outside after I had just received such a brutal beating. After a few weeks, I was no longer shadowed, and I was put back on the outside crew.

The rest of my time at Hephzibah House was pretty much uneventful. Of course, there were all the days being surrounded by uncaring and uncompassionate staff members.

Posted by hephzibahgirl at 10:41 AM
Labels: Survivor's Stories
TUESDAY, APRIL 1, 2008
Alicia Hamilton: Survivor!

This is a duplicate post which also appears HERE.

My name is Alicia Hamilton.

When I was sent to Hephzibah House (HH) in the fall of 1989, I had just recently turned 12 years old and my last name at that time was that of my stepfather, “Cornish.”

When sent to HH, I was not in any trouble with the law; I had not yet had any boyfriends; I hadn’t done or even ever seen alcohol / drugs. My childhood “problems” only began after my mother married a man who began to physically and emotionally abuse me when I was 6-7 years old.

Driving into the grounds of HH for the first time, I saw a simple but large white house with a church on the side and lots of fencing. My parents said little as we were quickly ushered to the upstairs room, the room where I would receive many beatings in the next 20 months to come. My memory begins to play tricks on me here, as there are some things that I VERY VIVIDLY recall about what happened to me during my stay at HH, and then other daily things that I have completely forgotten about. I do remember the initial trauma of my HH experience was being told that I would be there for 15 months (at least), and more importantly, I was told that I could not have contact with my grandparents (with whom I lived from birth to age 6 and were like parents to me).

Upon “orientation” Several of Williams' family members went through my items with me and began marking them. I was told I could not have some of my belongings and I was stripped of the clothing I had, put into an itchy polyester outfit and the rules further explained to me, I remember saying “Oh my god!” Heather, one of the Williams’ daughters, slapped my face and told me, “We do not use the Lord’s name in vain here!” I was told that I will be learning to be a child of god and to become a Godly woman, and as such the dress code was explained to me among other rules. Much of my memory has repressed the details of daily life but I do remember being spanked “for being disrespectful” that very first night for questioning the food I was served (it was some kind of strange soup). On my first morning of HH, we were woken up very early, and of course after not sleeping most of the night I did not awaken easily. A staff lady ripped my sheets off me and later that day I was paddled again, this time for disobedience.

One of the more unusual things about HH’s rules is that as I learned upon my introduction to the living quarters, there were certain girls there that I was allowed to talk to and others that I could not even make eye contact with. This concept was incredibly strange, not being able to even LOOK at another girl. I was spanked many times for looking at girls I should not have looked at. Initially, I was limited to talking with a few girls, then they allowed me to talk to everyone…for a while….I will explain more about this later.

The most important thing that anyone should know about HH is that no girl has any privacy; even the one large bathroom was watched vigilantly by a staff member, and though we did have “stalls” for showers and the toilets, our time monitored closely (Just imagine, “Alicia you’ve been on the toilet for a while are you constipated?!” being loudly questioned in front of all the other girls in earshot), sanitary napkins were inspected and we were told to account on a public chart for what kind of bowel movement we had that day. We had a specific shower time, and we were herded into the shower stalls and given a short amount of time to get ready and then the timer was set: Three minutes to take a shower. Most of the time my shower was last and the water was cold so it wasn’t so bothersome, but I felt bad for the girls that had a lot of hair to wash and condition in such a short amount of time.

Fear was constant, most often it was the fear of intense pain and humiliation. The spankings I received were random (sometimes I’d be spanked 1 to 3 times in a week sometimes none for a week) so I was always on edge. The spankings were very ritualistic: I would be forced to lay down, a chair was placed over my head while either Ron Williams or his Wife Patty Williams, or in other situations I believe his son’s wife (Wanda?) would spank me. There were usually three staff members present to hold my feet and arms. After getting me on the floor and holding me down, whomever was going to do the spanking would pray for me, and then sometimes they would wait for what seemed like minutes before administering the punishment—I think it was to add to the fear I felt as I just wanted to get it over with. I personally felt they enjoyed being sadistic in the times they slowed the process down, to show us the power they had over us.

My first couple of spankings were 7 swats each time, and I cried in great pain, as they were very severe swats, and after the beatings I discovered severe bruising and sometimes welts with blood droppings oozing from the welts. Sometimes they missed my buttocks and hit my spine and this left very painful deep bruising. I had heard of a girl that had been there right before me that they deemed unable to help so I thought maybe if I was “too hard to help” that they would let me go early too. So, at my very insightful 12 years of age, I decided that if I didn’t cry during the spankings that they would think I was unable to be helped and that they would let me go. So when would get spanked I would try not to cry at first, biting my cheeks until they bled to fight the urge to scream, but I learned that this just led to more swats, usually 14 at which point I was certainly whimpering, but once I counted 21 and after that particular beating I was covered in welts and they were bleeding little droplets of blood, more blood than any other beating. I was so uncomfortable to sit or sleep that I was on very good behavior for the next week but I still somehow managed to get paddled again despite my best efforts to follow all the rules perfectly, and this time I cried immediately.

During the first few months at HH, I went to bed hungry many nights and fantasized about food and far away places. One of the ways that we were punished is to be denied dinner, which could be very difficult after several hours of performing vigorous chores, and for me that occurred at least 3 to 4 times a week; Instead of eating food, I was forced to drink a protein drink which was not mixed properly, and though some of the girls did not mind the drink, I had to gag it down. I dreaded these drinks. Dinner was taken away for just about any reason so it seemed, usually I did not pass my chores or do my “church notes” or memorize very long passages of bible verses well enough to earn my supper.

And on the note of chores…The cleanliness standards that we were held to were above those of any 5 star hotel I’ve ever been to. When it came to work and doing the chores, I actually tried very hard to do them correctly (I hated that protein drink!) and would still fail. Again, I believe that this was yet another way for the leadership of HH to exert their power upon us and keep us insecure, afraid, and ready to embrace their extreme religious agenda.

Another note about the food, there were some very unusual meals that we had to eat along with many pills we had to take. Many of the “soups” they made were just a bunch of unmarked cans thrown into a pot together and the soups that arrived from this method were disgusting to say the least. I remember being unable to eat this soup a few times without throwing up, I could not eat it all at once. When at HH, if you did not eat all your food, it was served as your next meal. Cold. I had many cold, mystery soup breakfasts and dinners there. I lost a lot of weight and began to have irregular periods (I actually had my first period on my 12th birthday and was regular until a few months into HH).

They gave us a lot of vitamins at HH as well, and I recall to this day an unusual reaction some of us had to the vitamins: the reaction was what we were told was a “B” reaction. I had over a dozen of these reactions and they always occurred after the mornings breakfast and during “devotional” time; what would happen to me is that the skin on my entire body would become red and burn for about 10-20 minutes then it would go away. Other girls could see if I was having a “B” reaction and I could see if they were as well as the skin would become very red and flushed. The staff explained that it was the body’s way of removing excess vitamin B from the system. It happened to some other girls as well and was random.

After about 4 months there at HH, I’d say around Feb of 1990, I was placed on “Shadow” status for about nine months, I remember this because I got off of it right before thanksgiving. Being shadowed was psychologically and emotional torture. Literally, I was not allowed to talk to any other human being or look them in the eye and I had to follow a staff member around 24/7 (including sleeping right next to one). Being “shadowed”, it was extremely humiliating, dehumanizing, and it served the purpose they wanted; they broke my spirit…I think I went a little crazy during this time, living in fantasy land, coming up with imaginary friends...If I was desperate enough to interact with another human being, I could ask for some “religious counseling” about some passage in the bible and get some conversation that way, but it really wasn’t what I wanted to talk about considering that all day and all night was religious indoctrination.

Fortunately, I actually found some of the Old Testament gory and barbaric enough to be interesting, and I remember discussing with one of the staff ladies some of the stories and the meaning of why god wanted his armies to cut off the foreskins of his enemies, which often just got me into trouble (even though I was discussing scripture, I was not to “question it”). This, “do not question” rule I specifically learned when I questioned a staff member about Lot and how he basically murdered his daughter, and I was, in so many words told that “as you see this is gods way of showing us your role as a woman; women are not as important as a man and woman are flawed because of Eve’s sin this is the lot you bear; that you do not understand that by now is troubling” and I had to write some 500 sentences about my place under god and man. Sentence writing, by the way was another form of punishment. I probably wrote some ten thousand sentences over the course of my 20 months at HH and that is not an exaggeration.

So I learned to conform. I learned how to ask the right questions and how to appear submissive, weak, and without any will of my own. Sometimes I fear, that there were weeks that went by that I really was that way---they were stealing my soul and I was loosing any sense of individuality. We went to church at least three times a week. We had to sing in the choir, a choir in which we spent countless hours practicing and were ultimately recorded and tapes were made and sold with my / our voices on them. Since singing (and I have an awful voice) was the only time I could use my voice during my period of being shadowed, I sang with vigor. To become un-shadowed, I had to prove I was godly so I tried everything I could, I got baptized, I wrote profusely long church notes, I memorized extra bible verses, and so on and son on.

During my time of being shadowed, I became very sick. If one became sick with the flu or with the cold, no medicine was given, even though I remember a time when I was very sick with a high fever with vomiting. Even though I was throwing up, I was forced to drink the protein drink, I remember this vividly, I was nearing the end of the glass, then I gagged it all up, along with bile my stomach as I dry heaved into the into the bucket I was allowed to carry around with me. Ms. Saylor (Spelling?) made me drink my vomit out of the bucket, which took over an hour and I was very tearful. Later that night, with a high fever and still being very ill, I was paddled.

I was finally allowed to be off of being shadowed, and it was so strange to speak to another human being. I felt incredibly insecure, as if I didn’t know how to act anymore, what is the right thing to say or not? As I got more and more used to the routine and fast paced schedules of HH, the time began to go by faster, mostly because they kept us so busy.

Regarding some of the “chores” we had to do, I believe that I was exploited for labor, along with other girls. When staff discovered I had skill working with my hands and that I could crochet with fine thread and read / interpret complex stitching designs, I was given the task to make hundreds of these little figurines and cross stitch projects which were sold / traded for goods to benefit HH’s financials. I was 13 when I was making these things, and my curse was my speed and ability to do good work. Sometimes the demand was so high for these crafts that making the crafts was my only chore and I’d crochet for an entire Saturday or be told to do it during school hours. This was actually a job that girls wanted as it was more appealing than scrubbing the entire dorm floor on your hands and knees, but after doing it so much, my fingers and wrists would begin to really hurt.

Also, though I never had to, I know other girls were sent upstairs to clean the Williams’ house. Near the end of my stay, when I was seen as “reformed” and “godly”, I was actually transported beyond the walls of HH, I was sent to a church “officials” home to clean and renovate, it was the Keagan’s (?) home I believe and my job was to remodel their kitchen and home. I used sanding paper and arm strength and worked for hours to sand off the old varnish and paint from their cabinets and then we stained and prepared the ‘new’ cabinets. We painted their home, we did their gardening….While at HH, I even had to “clean” a deer carcass killed by a car that the Williams family ate for many meals I imagine. I remember feeling misused but too afraid to do anything but the best of work and to do it with a smile on my face.

In short those are the most significant memories that come to light about my experience with this place. I indeed feel that HH abuses girls’ on a physical, psychological, emotional, religious and spiritual level. The isolation and fear tactics they use are powerful and the results, while short term may be successful, they leave a lasting impact.

As a disclaimer, I want it to be known that after “release” I was forced to write a “testimony” about how great HH was and how much it helped me. My stepfather sat down with me and pretty much wrote the testimony; After being there for 20 months and finally being “free” I was so afraid that if I did not do what they wanted me to do that I would be sent back, and my worst nightmare was having to stay there until I was 18.

So whatever HH sent out as my “testimony” way back when…Those were not my words, they were forced.


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from formerhephzibahgirls.webs.com/survivorstories.htm.
Posted by clayzeimet at 1:00 AM 3 comments
Labels: Survivor's Stories

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