Strength in Silence
New life was growing in me, but so far it was only making me sick. The thought of my baby triggered emotions bigger and deeper than any I’d ever known. Along with the love came worry: how would my child be accepted in a family that refused to accept me?
My first wedding anniversary was approaching. Morning sickness made everything surreal. As I looked through the dining room window marveling at the softness of the spring sunlight hitting the pink peach blossoms, waves of nausea would wash through me. Except when I was asleep, I felt dizzy and weak all the time. I was trapped in a marriage and family I never wanted, having been forced to abandon my dream of becoming a pediatrician.
But as sick as I was, I was desperately in love with the child I was carrying. But I also felt panicked because my first year of college was almost over and I would be losing the only part of life that was mine and mine alone. In college I was taken seriously, and my potential for achievement was unlimited.
Summer school was not an option because my morning sickness was too severe. While I was in college and commuting home on weekends, I knew I could survive two days of craziness and head back to campus on Sunday night. But now, as a full-time member of Merril’s hateful family, I needed a survival strategy.
One morning, as I approached the kitchen, I suddenly heard loud voices.
“You should tell Father!” the first one said.
“You know how he feels about keeping secrets from him!” said the other.
“I will be the one to report what happened,” retorted the second. “You stay silent!”
Merril’s daughters were startled when I walked into the kitchen. Instantly the room fell silent. I wondered what would be reported to Merril. Family members routinely informed on each other. A daughter who brought an offense to her father’s attention would be rewarded by him with more power and status.
Merril insisted that no secrets be kept from him. Every time he and I spoke, he’d ask, “Is there anything I need to know? Anything you want to tell me?” In the first months of my marriage this confused me. Was he asking me to confess something? Had someone reported something about me that I needed to defend? I finally gathered the courage to ask Merril what he meant.
“I feel strongly that every member of my family understand the seriousness of bringing a report to me of behavior that isn’t in line with my wishes,” he said. “Reporting can be seen as trying to get another person into trouble by being a snitch. But in reality if someone is straying from the work of God, reporting to me is one of the most merciful things that can be done for them.”
Merril then told me one of the family’s cherished stories. As an adolescent, his daughter, Merrilyn, began to fall away from the teachings of the prophet. Her friends were disreputable, and she started to associate with boys and skip school. This wild and uncontrollable streak had been evident since Merrilyn was small. When she was a year old, Merril took her from her mother, Ruth, and gave her to Foneta, his other wife, to raise. When Merrilyn started ditching school, no one noticed except her sisters, who caught her in lies and other unacceptable behavior. They reported her to Merril.
Merril looked at me proudly when he said, “I was only able to pull Merrilyn away from the black hole of hell because I was made aware of her problems before it was too late.” He told me he got “very harsh” with her. When that didn’t work, he made his wife Barbara shadow Merrilyn for months until she finished the eighth grade. At that point Merril decided she no longer needed to go to school, and he kept her home for a year.
Merril was proud of this story. His daughters also recounted it as one that promoted faith. They felt virtuous because they had pulled their sister back to the way of God. Merrilyn was never again taken seriously by her sisters. She eventually graduated from high school and tried college for a short time. When she was in her early twenties, she was married to the prophet Rulon Jeffs, who was decades older. When I left, she was up for blood atonement—in other words, death—because she’d allegedly had other relationships after her “marriage.” I don’t know if blood atonement was ever practiced by the FLDS, but I do know that Warren Jeffs told Merrilyn that this was the only way she could ever be forgiven for the sin she had committed.
As far as I know, he told her that unless she was granted the mercy of that ordinance—blood atonement—she would have to live the rest of her life at the mercy of Satan and work as a slave for the family she was assigned to serve. At the moment of her death, the devil would be there to claim her, and no one would be able to save her. Her only chance for any form of salvation was to die now via the gift of blood atonement. She would never receive this gift unless she proved worthy. In other words, Merrilyn had to prove herself “worthy” of being murdered by the FLDS for the “sin” of having a relationship outside of her “marriage,” before this perverse “gift” could be granted. I don’t think blood atonement was ever used on Merrilyn or anyone else, thankfully, but I heard Warren Jeffs preach about it.
I had no interest in reporting on my sister wives or Merril’s daughters; it was a line I did not want to cross. Even though I had always lived in an exceedingly controlled society, I could see that Merril was trying to keep all of us off guard. He was suspicious and dominated the family through fear. He felt that forcing people to do good—as he saw it—meant he was a righteous man. I knew better and quietly took a vow never to engage in these tactics.
I have always been a keen observer. It was a skill I honed in childhood to help predict the violent outbursts of the adults in my world. I learned and studied power. During my first year of marriage Merril’s daughters tried to force me to submit to them. I ignored their mandates, which drove them crazy. They’d manipulate situations to control me. I didn’t fight back, nor did I ever report them to their father. I refused to play their games.
The day after I interrupted my stepdaughters’ argument and they left, Cathleen came into the kitchen to get some coffee. As she stirred milk and sugar into her mug, I smiled and said, “Good morning. It’s such a beautiful morning.”
“How are you feeling? Any better?” she asked.
“No, I’m still fighting to keep something down,” I said. “Plus, I feel sicker after overhearing our daughters and realizing someone has committed a crime that will be reported to Merril as soon as he gets home.”
Cathleen shook her head. “When Tammy and I lived in the home of the prophet, he would not allow his wives to report on each other. If we had a conflict with each other, we were required to work it out. Uncle Roy [the wives’ nickname for Leroy Johnson] didn’t like to get in the middle of our conflicts.”
I sat down next to Cathleen. “The kind of reporting Merril encourages isn’t just about him getting in the middle of a conflict. It’s more about using this spy system to force all of us into a corner.”
The power games in the family were not centered on genuine or moral power. No one submitted to Merril’s daughters unless we’d run out of other options. Merril’s daughters had created enemies out of those of us who could have been their friends.
Tammy prided herself on her ability to get along with people. But she mistook being popular in the family for having real personal power. I was learning that the two qualities had nothing to do with each other. Real personal power is the ability to influence, lead, and inspire. Real power is when people follow your lead because they choose to, not because they’re forced to. Real power has a moral basis. A true leader understands that if you build people up instead of tearing them down, they are more likely to respect and follow you. Merril controlled his family through the abusive power of fear and manipulation.
The family was a hierarchy, and Merril was at the top of the ladder. I opted not to get on the ladder at all. I’d learned that if I didn’t provoke or challenge him, I could basically manage to avoid most conflict. It worked as long as I was in college. The summer was more of a challenge. On top of that, becoming a mother would change everything. Before my baby was b
orn, I could disengage from the family dynamic. But I couldn’t ignore or rebel against authority if it put my child at risk. The stakes would become higher once I had my baby.
As spring gave way to summer, the climate in the family heated up. Tammy was outraged with the treatment she was receiving. She became masterful at the game of “reporting to Father first.” She also courted favor with Barbara. This was dangerous terrain to navigate. Barbara held an unchallenged monopoly on Merril’s time. She controlled the family finances and was deeply involved in Merril’s business. She spent unlimited time with Merril and understood his business dealings as well as he did.
Barbara was as dangerous as a wild animal. I decided in the first few weeks of my marriage that I would be insane to give her information about myself. Seeing what happened to Tammy early in my marriage reinforced this decision. I remember sitting with her in her bedroom while she wept, rocking in pain and gasping for breath. “I only wanted to explain,” she cried between sobs. “I thought if he understood me better he would forgive.”
While Tammy had been courting Barbara, she’d made the fatal error of telling her that she was jealous of the amount of time Barbara and Merril spent together. Tammy used the influence she thought she’d gained to insist that if Barbara was serious about living the gospel, she would have to accept Merril’s other wives. Merril had made a covenant to five women other than Barbara, Tammy pointed out, and he had obligations to them.
Tammy would tell anyone who would listen—guests, children, and Merril’s employees—that she felt she wasn’t being treated as a wife. I tried to stop her. “Tammy, you shouldn’t make those statements publicly,” I said. “Image means everything to Merril. Crossing that line and embarrassing him is totally unforgivable to him.”
The amount of time Tammy was getting with Merril decreased even more. He essentially stopped having sex with her, upsetting her even more.
Tammy continued to sob. “I decided to come clean with Merril,” she said. “He’s a good man who possesses the spirit of God. I thought if he understood my inner feelings about some of the things I’ve been through, he’d understand why I acted so badly.”
Tammy had chosen a rare occasion when Merril came to have sex with her to show him the journal that contained her most intimate thoughts. If he understood the depth of her feelings, she thought, maybe, just maybe, he would accept her for who she truly was. “I knew I was risking everything,” she admitted. “I felt like I couldn’t breathe, but I was hoping I would earn his understanding for what I have suffered.”
The Yearning for Zion Ranch, a sprawling $20 million compound spread across 1,700 acres in West Texas, was operated by my ex-husband, Merril Jessop, one of the highest ranking men in the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (FLDS). Here, an aerial shot of the temple and annex. (Photo courtesy of The Eldorado Success, Eldorado, Texas)
A week after the ranch was raided in April 2008, journalists visited for the first time. When scenes like this one aired on television, it was most Americans’ first exposure to the polygamous subculture of the FLDS. (Photo courtesy of The Eldorado Success, Eldorado, Texas)
In these photos from the late 1990s, Merril is surrounded by his six wives. After I escaped from the FLDS, he married at least twice more, to sixteen-year-olds. Above: Along with my five “sister wives,” I am pledging allegiance (on far right) to Merril. Below: That’s me standing, unsmiling, at the far left.
My firstborn, Arthur, holding his younger brother Harrison, who became disabled after being diagnosed with spinal cancer when he was fifteen months old. On the wall behind them (in Merril’s office) are photos of the FLDS “prophets” Warren Jeffs (at left) and his father, Rulon Jeffs.
After we escaped, Arthur developed an interest in aviation and is now an amateur pilot as well as a college student. Here he is preparing to take friends on a short flight.
Here I am with my terrific attorney, Natalie Malonis, whom I met when we were both guests on the Nancy Grace show. This photo was taken after our successful court hearing to get back child support from Merril. (Photo courtesy of The Eldorado Success, Eldorado, Texas)
Brian took this picture of me with seven of my eight children at home in our trailer a few years after I escaped. From left, Patrick, me, Merrilee, Harrison, LuAnne, Andrew, Bryson, and Betty. I’m not sure where Arthur was that day.
LuAnne and me at Mount Holyoke College in South Hadley, Massachusetts. LuAnne fell in love with this school when I was there for a speaking engagement and hopes to enroll.
LuAnne (at right), Merrilee, and me in front of the small private plane we flew in to go to Texas, just after the raid on the YFZ Ranch.
Betty (left), LuAnne, and me, snapped by Brian on his cell phone, during our unexpected reunion following the settlement of my child-support case.
In the summer of 2009 the whole family (except for Betty, of course, and Arthur, who had to work) took a long-awaited vacation to San Diego. Here, on the central staircase of our hotel, are Bryson and Merrilee (bottom); Patrick, Andrew, LuAnne, and Harrison (middle); and Brian and me (top).
Andrew, Patrick, and Merrilee at the San Diego Zoo’s Wild Animal Park.
Brian and Harrison on our San Diego vacation.
Merrilee and Bryson at the San Diego Zoo.
Brian and me on a trip to New York in 2006.
Two days after my child-support hearing in Texas, I was transported to a whole different world when I joined Brian in Cambridge, Massachusetts, for the twenty-fifth reunion of his Harvard Business School class.
For ten years Tammy had been married to “Uncle Roy,” seventy years her senior and the ruler of the FLDS. The vast age difference between them complicated some aspects of their marriage. She wrote about it in her journal. Even though being married to the prophet put her on center stage in the FLDS, she still felt alone and trapped. Her writing also detailed the insecurity she felt toward Merril’s other wives. “I know I’m a beautiful writer, but I watched Merril’s face,” she continued. “None of what he was reading was religiously acceptable, which is why I never allowed anyone to read my writing before.”
Merril read in silence, then stood up and told Tammy to follow him. He took Tammy’s journal to a coal-burning boiler and ripped out each page and threw it into the fire. He said that she should never have allowed herself to feel the terrible things that she’d expressed in words and that his actions would put an end to her unholy emotions.
Tammy stopped talking and continued wiping tears from her face. She seemed scared. In the weeks ahead she began spending more time away from the family. She seemed to be giving up on having any kind of a life with Merril. However, one month later, when she poured out her heart to me, she was clearly worried about offending Merril. “He is upset with me because Barbara is complaining that I am not spending any time with her on weekends,” Tammy said.
“Why would you even consider spending time with her after all the trouble she got you into?” I asked.
“I got myself into that trouble by keeping secrets from my husband and not reporting things I should have,” Tammy said, looking serious. “I will only have the place in this family that I earn and deserve.”
I believed that if Merril, who never went beyond the eighth grade, had lacked power to wield over her, Tammy would have ignored and despised him. Twenty-two years younger than Merril, Tammy was a college graduate trapped in a world where her only status and recognition came from submitting to Merril and Barbara. I could see she was determined to claw her way up as far as possible on the ladder of power. Watching her desperation opened my eyes to how a woman acts when she’s trapped and powerless to leave.
When I gave birth to Arthur on December 20, 1987, he was so beautiful, I felt that anything I’d given up was worth it to have him in my life to love. I was lonely in the family, but between a new baby and returning to college, I was sure I would be happy and stimulated.
Once Merril and Barbara realized I was not going to talk about t
he way I felt or rat out other family members, they felt more threatened. Slowly I began to understand that I had the power of silence and the power that comes when you choose not to talk. No one knew what I was thinking, and no one was close enough to me to make me do what Barbara wanted.
Unlike Tammy, who blabbed her feelings to anyone and everyone, I never volunteered a single scrap of information. My unwillingness to report on other family members was seen as outright mutiny. No one could figure out why, if I loved and cared about the people in my life, I wouldn’t report on them to Merril so he could help them live the rule of God. He told me I was offending him by choosing to ignore what he had asked me to do. He continued to insist that the most loyal thing a person could do for someone she cared about was protect the person by keeping him informed of his or her behavior. I held firm. I didn’t want anyone spying on me, and I had no intention of spying on anyone else. At nineteen, I was entitled to make my own choices.
Merril preached about this endlessly at family prayer and at dinnertime, but I still couldn’t see a religious justification for intentionally hurting someone. This practice had created a life where family members constantly watched their backs. We were always on the defensive. No one acted out of respect for Merril. Fear and coercion determined our choices.
I couldn’t understand how God could be used to justify force and domination. This view directly conflicted with what I had been taught about my fundamentalist Mormon faith as a child. I was raised to believe that there had been a war in the heavenly realm that defined who we, as Mormons, were. The logic went like this: God created a planet so his children would have somewhere to go to work out their salvation. But he needed a savior who would experience an earthly existence and point the way for human salvation.
Triumph: Life After the Cult--A Survivor's Lessons Page 14