Stolen Innocence (56 page)

“What was your reaction when you heard about your sister Elissa Wall’s pending marriage to Allen Steed?”

“Disbelief,” Kassandra answered slowly. “I was horrified.” She described how she and Rachel had gone to Rulon in the hope that he would intercede on my behalf, and how she had instructed me to ask Uncle Fred for two more years.

“Why did you go to Rulon Jeffs?”

“Everyone else who had been confronted with our concerns had been turned down, so I went with Rachel and we explained to Rulon the situation and that our sister was upset. He did not understand the situation. He was confused and looked to Warren Jeffs. He said, ‘She is only fourteen. What the hell is Fred thinking?’ and Warren said, ‘Well, because of who he is, we’d like to honor his request.’ Rulon replied, ‘There should be no rush.’” This was a whole new element that I had no idea ever existed. If this were true, and it was Uncle Fred who had really put this together, then why hadn’t Warren listened to me? He’d been the one person who could have changed it, despite Fred’s supposed insistence.

“After this meeting, how did you feel about your sister’s situation?”

“I was hopeful.”

The questioning shifted to the marriage itself.

“What was Elissa’s emotional state the night before the wedding?”

“She was crying. She didn’t care about the dress. Very emotional and just…sobbing. We took pictures and tried to get her to look happy.”

Kassandra explained that my distress lasted long after those initial days and nights. “In the first few months she became very depressed. I saw her at Rulon’s house just two to three months after the wedding. She told me she was there for an appointment with Warren.”

“Did you meet her as she was leaving?”

“Yes, I did. And she said, ‘Kassandra I can’t talk to my sisters. I am supposed to go home and obey my husband.’ Warren Jeffs then told me to encourage her to be happy where she was placed.”

The state’s final witness was Jane Blackmore, the midwife who had taken care of me in Canada after my stillbirth. It was smart thinking on the prosecution’s part to include Jane’s testimony of her treatment of me during my pregnancy and stillbirth so that the Walls didn’t come across as some self-important troupe of sisters out to get the prophet for no solid reason. I appreciated Jane’s participation; the stakes for her were quite high. Her life was very much entwined with the FLDS, and many of her children remained loyal to the sect. In publicly speaking out against the church she faced losing these children forever, but she did it because she knew it was right.

After Jane’s testimony, we took a short break. Gathering in Brock’s office, in the building next door to the courthouse, the prosecutorial team invited me in and we talked about how to proceed. We came to the decision that the state would rest. There was a lot more evidence and also more witnesses to give accounts of the FLDS culture, Warren Jeffs, and underage marriages. But we chose to keep it short and simple, and I had faith in the prosecuting attorneys. They had done their job well. We had presented the truth, and though we wondered if it was enough, we returned to the courthouse that afternoon and much to the surprise of the defense team, rested the state’s case.

E
ven though we’d provided the defense with a lengthy collection of names to counter the list of seventy-seven potential witnesses they’d turned over, the prosecutors were confident that providing the jury with the simple facts would win a conviction. I’d been disappointed to see some of the people on the defense’s list. They had pitted family against family. Every person that we had on our witness list was countered by that witness’s family members, who would testify against the witness. The most troubling name was my mother’s, although I was pretty confident it had been placed there more for intimidation. Still, I was saddened to think that Mom was possibly out there hurt by my actions, actions that I knew she didn’t understand because the priesthood and even Warren Jeffs still had a solid hold on her mind. I was sure that others were looking down on her for the bad things that her children were supposedly doing against the church, and I imagined that she and my sisters were suffering as a result of their scorn.

The defense team had not expected our case to end so promptly, and Wally Bugden asked for a short break to prepare his witnesses. When we returned that afternoon, he called Jennie Pipkin, my FLDS friend who, along with her husband, had accompanied Allen and me on our camping trip in an attempt to perk up Lily. Jennie’s anxiety was visible, and her knee bounced uncontrollably. We caught eyes for a moment, and I mouthed “Hi” to my old friend, but she promptly looked away. I watched in quiet empathy as Jennie was sworn in. Wearing a cobalt-blue pioneer-style gown, with her hair carefully coifed in a classic no-frills FLDS style and not a drop of makeup to conceal the exhaustion in her face, Jennie nervously took a seat in the witness box.

The contrast between her appearance and that of the Wall sisters must have alarmed the jury. She was a walking embodiment of the restriction that had been placed on my sisters and me during our lives as members of the FLDS. But as soon as Jennie’s testimony began, I would realize that she, along with her fellow witnesses, had clearly been instructed to dress in this manner to appear innocent and unworldly—or, as outsiders would call it, uncultured. But I couldn’t imagine her dressed any other way.

Even more transparent than Jennie’s appearance was the degree of prep work she must have endured before standing trial. This was clear from the excessive manner in which she praised FLDS teachings and misrepresented its protocol, especially on the subject of marriage and sexual relationships.

“How old are you?” Wally Bugden asked her.

“Twenty-six.”

“Have you been married?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“When I was seventeen years old.” What followed was a shocking and painfully inaccurate-sounding account of the process by which Jennie Pipkin had been married. “I took the first step,” she stated plainly. “I desired a placement marriage, and I turned myself in.”

“Please explain.”

“The woman indicates that she wants to get married,” she said, “and my intent was to ask my father to pray for me.”

“Did you have a choice? A part in the decision?”

“Oh, yes, of
course,
” she declared smugly.

“And when did you ‘turn yourself in’ for marriage?”

“Four days after my high school graduation ceremony.”

“What did your father say about your request to get married?”

“He said he would think about it. He asked me to get him something, and on my way back into the room, I picked up the phone. I really wanted him to make the call to Rulon Jeffs.”

“Did you get married?”

“Well,” she smiled slightly, “yeah. Warren said to Rulon, ‘This is a young lady looking to be placed,’ and Rulon asked, ‘Who does she want to marry?’ The prophet then contacted my father, and my father and I agreed that yes, we both wanted this. The marriage took place the next day.”

At first I was a bit confused listening to Jennie’s account. I had heard of girls turning themselves in to the prophet for marriage. It seemed contradictory that she’d desired a placement marriage and that then the prophet asked, “Who does she want to marry?” It didn’t seem like there was anything placement about that. I was disturbed by Jennie’s recounting of these events, and scribbled furiously on the legal pad that sat on my lap, “Turn yourself in ‘First Step.’ I
NEVER
TURNED MYSELF IN!! I was never asked if I had anyone in mind…. I never took the ‘First Step’ and asked to be married.”

“During your wedding ceremony, was there any mention of the phrase ‘to be fruitful and multiply’?”

“Well, that text is in the Scripture,” she said. “It meant that I could have children.”

As she spoke, Jennie refilled her water glass, and the object became a constant distraction from the questioning. I wondered if subconsciously she was creating a diversion from the subject at hand.

“Was there any expectation of when you were to have children?” the defense lawyer solicited.

“No, that was a girl’s personal choice.”

“And how many children do you have?”

“Five.”

Her false confirmation that a young girl’s progression into sexual activity was a matter of her own choice was aggravating, and she continued by launching into a statement that force in any way—sexual included—is not utilized or encouraged in the FLDS, let alone in a marriage.

When asked about her understanding of the concept of “obedience” and the duty of women of the FLDS, Jennie responded, “I wouldn’t necessarily describe it as a duty. A man has learned and teaches his wife.”

“Is a wife obligated to agree with her husband?”

“Absolutely not,” Jennie said in a defiant tone. “That would be hypocritical.” Jennie paused to take another sip of her water. “What if he went psycho or something?” Her rhetorical statement didn’t fool me, and I searched the faces of the jury to determine if they felt the same. A few cracked smiles, but Jennie’s jumpy body language seemed to betray her words.

“Would a husband command his wife what to do every day?”

Jennie laughed nervously and then responded, “No. Of course not.”

“If a wife rules over her husband, is that considered a bad thing?”

“No,” she answered firmly. “I do what I want whether we agree or not.”

Her statement shocked me. She was outwardly defying so many teachings of the FLDS in a desperate attempt to prove a point for the defense.

“Can you please explain the husband’s authority and the woman’s right to say no?”

“Whatever she feels is wrong, she doesn’t have to do,” Jennie uttered the words staccato, then took another sip of her water.

“Did you learn that from Warren Jeffs?”

“Yes, I’ve learned this from Warren Jeffs and the supporting words of other church officials before him.”

The more I heard, the more I grew flushed and agitated, but it wasn’t until Jennie completely misconstrued my relationship with Allen that I was livid.

“After Allen and Elissa were married, do you remember seeing them together?”

“Yes.”

“How did Elissa respond to Allen?”

“She was nasty to him. Once, on a trip to St. George, he bought her two dozen roses and she was still being rude.”

I honestly didn’t remember the shopping trip to St. George that she was speaking of, or the roses. Still, I was thinking, “Well, of course I was, he was hurting me. Anybody who’s hurt lashes out.”

“Was there a camping trip?” the defense lawyer asked, referring to the trip on which I’d been put in charge of encouraging Lily.

“Yes, and they were both smiling the whole time.”

“They seemed very happy?”

“Yes, something had changed.”

“Was Elissa standoffish?”

“No. She showed me a negligee she had purchased. She was excited; it was cute. They seemed to be communicating well.” I looked back on that trip and found myself seething with anger at the way in which Jennie described it. I remembered how frustrated and uncomfortable I’d been the whole time, and I couldn’t believe that she would deny that. We both knew that I’d been put in a position to show everyone on the trip that negligee because Allen had presented it to me in front of them all. Still, I tried to calm my anger toward her, knowing that she was under pressure.

Jennie explained the unraveling of her marriage, emphasizing that Warren Jeffs had granted her a release from her husband, Jonathan, when it was clear that things were not going to improve. I was furious that she had been granted a release, especially when she described her meeting with Warren; she had used the same language I had to explain my problems with Allen. I wrote Brock a note saying: “Didn’t I use the same language? He didn’t give me a release!”

Her cross-examination was irritating as well. She described coming across a passage in an old sermon that stated that it was a woman’s job to invite her husband to have marital relations. At this point, her understanding of her own role changed.

“And would there be consequences if you refused him sexually?”

“There was none.”

“Were there times when you had refused and then it happened anyway?”

“Yes. But only if I consented first.”

“Were you aware there were husbands in the FLDS who would use force?”

“No. Force is against our religion.”

When the prosecution asked about our shared camping trip, they intended to prove that I had been keeping sweet that week despite my pain, as I’d always been taught to do.

“Have you ever heard of ‘keeping sweet’?” she was asked.

“I have heard that, yes, but it’s not a central doctrine.”

Of all her statements, this one shocked me the most. It was Rulon’s favorite saying and he’d used it on every occasion. It was even printed on his funeral program. “Keep sweet, no matter what. It’s a matter of life and death.”

“One principle is if you suffer inside, you keep sweet, smile, and appear happy, right?” the prosecutor asked.

“It could be if you chose to smile,” she answered.

“Warren Jeffs is the prophet?”

“I
choose
to see him as that, yes.”

“Have you ever heard of the song ‘We Love You, Uncle Warren’?”

“No, I’ve never heard that song.”

After she had finished her testimony, Jennie Pipkin stepped down and crossed the courtroom to return to her original seat. I felt so bad that my honest friendship with her had been used to try to discredit me.

Several more FLDS women and their husbands followed with accounts of happy marriages, Warren’s loving guidance, and inaccurate details of church teachings and expectations. The most painful testimony for me to bear was that of my dear friend Joanna.

She was an older sister of my friend Natalie, and after my marriage, she too had been placed for marriage. We had bonded over the similarity of our experiences. I was surprised to see the defense use her as a tool, because I believed that her marriage had been much like mine. Interestingly, her testimony didn’t touch on her problems; it only related the details of how Warren had guided her to happiness in her marital union. When asked about her relationship with me, she said that we’d gotten together many times to “complain” of the situations we were experiencing with our arranged husbands. She countered these admissions by testifying to how happy she and her husband were now, thanks to “Uncle” Warren. Her accounts of her meetings with Warren about her unhappy marriage differed greatly from those that I remembered in the moments that we’d sought each other for comfort.