I Am Sarah
It’s all like a bad dream; really a nightmare. I’m here, hunched before my computer screen, wondering how I could have been so stupid and immature. When you’ve heard me out, you’ll think of other, more descriptive adjectives for my sad self. Crying into my lap doesn’t help at all and I can’t tell my parents, who don’t want to discuss any of my teen woes. And so I’m left alone, with my keyboard and a hope, or dream, maybe, that just one person out there somewhere will answer this prayer for understanding. Condemnation is justified and inevitable, I know, but right now, I can’t bear the thought of it. The only way out may be another lost life; perhaps my own?
You have no doubt seen all of the TV coverage of the raid on the “Yearning for Zion” ranch here in El Dorado, Texas. Like most others that the news anchors addressed their comments to, you probably think that the ‘State of Texas has taken an ugly bull by the horns; that the raid and the resulting capture of four hundred sixteen children from their parents was justified. The whole thing brings a song from Porgy and Bess to my mind now. Its title is “It Ain’t Necessarily So”. Well, I guarantee you that the raid should have never happened. And it’s all my fault. That’s the God’s honest truth.
My real name is Pattie Hanks and I’m a fifteen year old student at the Sam Houston Junior High. I am no deprived child myself. I have my own room, this computer, two well-meaning parents and a life that most girls my age would envy. I get B’s in almost all of my ninth grade classes and, up till now, I have always felt real good about myself. However, because of what I have done, things are now entirely different. For the last two days I have avoided the mirror. I’ll tell you why.
On April Fool’s Day I was bored. Most of my friends had decided to attend a cook out that night over to Archie Willis’ place. ‘Cause I was the only one in my group who didn’t like Archie, I decided to stay home. Me and Archie had problems that a cook out wouldn’t ever solve. Anyway, I was up in my room and decided to play a prank. Maybe it was to cure a case of loneliness; maybe it was because I thought I was a smartass young gal but it was a terrible, terrible mistake. I made that call that will haunt me forever; I know it.
I called the family shelter hotline and the bad joke began. I told them that my name was Sarah and that I was a member of the Fundamentalist Church of the Latter day Saints. (FCLS) I gave the woman who answered the hotline that name and said that I was sixteen years old and living on the Zion Ranch. Being a social worker, she was immediately interested and sympathetic. She listened to my story that I had been married to a 51 year old man and that I had a young child. I also lied that I was pregnant again and that my husband had physically abused me, breaking my ribs once. The whole story was whispered in low and serious tones. I had starred in our sixth grade play in the role of an unhappy woman so I was able to lay it on thick. The social worker insisted that I immediately meet her somewhere so that she could help me. I only started to feel bad about my stunt when the lady choked up and had difficulty speaking to me. She might have even been crying. I hung up the phone quickly, believing that the whole thing was over. I hadn’t meant to hurt anyone’s feelings.
Two days later, as my Dad would say, the crap hit the fan. Police cars, satellite TV trucks and ambulance sirens blared as they raced through our dusty El Dorado and out to the ranch. The whole town was on the streets, wondering what was going on. My worst suspicions were confirmed when Mrs.Shelby, in a crowd of women, could be heard above the rest. “They say that a young girl called up and they think she been raped.” The other women moaned together at the news, most agreeing that the call was not unexpected. My heart raced, my mouth went dry and I suddenly felt dirty all over. Standing back away from the women now, I felt like I was gonna faint with fear. It could only get worse and it soon did.
At the dinner table that night, Mom and Dad could talk of nothin’ else. Dad told us that 416 children were taken away and would be housed in the coliseum over on Antonio Street. He recounted the events in Utah in the 30’s, 40’s and 50’s, when children were seized from Mormons. Then he went to the subject of the raid at Waco where 74 men, women and children were killed by the government. “I guess that our neighbors at the Zion Ranch had a damn good reason for their paranoia,” he muttered, biting down on a chicken wing. “They’s always talkin’ about terrorists in this country now but I’m beginning to wonder who the real terrorists are,” he went on. Mom just nodded ‘cause that’s what she always did when Daddy started gettin’ serious. I was stiff in my wooden chair, like I imagined a dead body would be. I can’t remember even tasting that chicken, my head was spinning so fast.
It’s been over a month and things are no better. Judge Barbara Walther has already tried to hold a hearing in San Angelo with over 400 lawyers involved. It was pure chaos, as most everybody expected. My grades are dropping at school because I can’t think straight no more. Everybody’s wondering who Sarah is; the poor young girl who made the call. Many experts have been brought into town by the state to support their action. One named Marci Hamilton, a professor from New York, of course, has criticized the women from Zion, saying that “they’re doing everything they can to create sympathy. If they can sway the public, then that puts pressure on the prosecutors.” I’m guessin’ that Ms.Hamilton doesn’t have any children! Mr. Parker, the lawyer for the folks at Zion angrily denounced the State, saying that “They know that there’s no Sarah. She was just their foot in the door.”
Well, Mr. Parker, you’re wrong. I am Sarah. I am unable to sleep, eat or do much of anything else nowadays. Should I have known that the police in my home State would act like Nazis? Could I have anticipated physicals for all the women, DNA tests and total separation from their own beloved children? Should I have expected that nearly every child advocate in the country would be in town damning the Zion folks? I just read the ranch’s website at captivefldschildren.org where it is said that the State’s standard of proof about alleged abuse is low, not proof beyond a reasonable doubt; just a simple balancing test.
I pray that my God will judge me some day with only this one test: “Did she mean for all of this to happen?”
Sarah