Cult Insanity

by Irene Spencer

Verlan and his counselor Siegfried Widmar continued to urge the Mexican authorities to capture and punish those responsible for Joel’s death.

  In an effort to expedite Ervil’s capture and eventual incarceration, his brother Floren printed a poster with Ervil’s picture on it, offering a $10,000 reward to anyone who gave information leading to his arrest. Floren sent it to Ervil’s followers, hoping they’d think hundreds had been distributed.

  Somehow Ervil still believed he was invincible and decided to take the initiative before being arrested by the police.

  On December 13, 1972, after thinking he had made ironclad arrangements with the Mexican authorities to quickly clear his name, he walked into the Ensenada police headquarters, accompanied by his lawyers, who requested that all charges be dropped. The law, however, required at least a seventy-two-hour investigation, so Ervil was temporarily detained.

  As soon as word got out, the church leaders took action, compiling the needed evidence to press charges against Ervil for Joel’s death. So Ervil was held for trial, upsetting and foiling his plans.

  Ervil’s own mother and three brothers—Verlan, Alma, and Floren—wrote to the governor of Baja California, requesting that he use his influence to assure that Ervil was justly punished and kept imprisoned so he could not continue killing.

  During the trial itself, a voluminous amount of evidence was presented to prove how and why Ervil had masterminded Joel’s murder.

  Witnesses testified that he was in Ensenada at the time of the murder. Many testified that Ervil had bragged that he was going to kill Joel for being a false prophet and said that Joel must be put to death!

  Ervil lied through his teeth, claiming to be innocent. He professed to be a noble humanitarian, stating that he was nowhere near the murder, let alone responsible for it. Most of the defense witnesses were Ervil’s own family members, which further weakened his case.

  Finally, the overwhelming evidence resulted in the court’s determining that he was responsible for the murder. On November 9, 1973, Ervil was found guilty and sentenced to twelve years in prison.

  At that time, the Ensenada authorities were still searching for Dan Jordan, Gamaliel and Raul Rios, Andrès Zarate, and Conway LeBaron. The police believed all these men had been involved in the assassination of Joel F. LeBaron.

  While Ervil was in the Ensenada jail, he was informed that his number one supporter, Dan Jordan, was dead. But, shortly after Ervil’s arrest an investigator, Pasqual Vallverde, told Siegfried that Dan Jordan was very much alive. In fact he had filled out job applications in Mexico City.

  Siegfried was beside himself. Dan had fled after Joel’s murder, but Siegfried had spent several thousand dollars of his own money trying to track him down. His goal was to see that both Ervil and Dan were apprehended and brought to justice, so he urged Pasqual to search for Dan in Mexico City. Siegfried had once helped Dan get hired as a consultant in an engineering company that built cooling compressors. Dan had absconded one night, leaving more than three hundred thousand pesos (more than thirty-seven thousand dollars) in unpaid bills. If he was found, he could be legally detained for that as well as for the murder of Joel.

  When I first heard that Ervil had finally been apprehended, I was relieved. With him in jail, I hoped I wouldn’t have to spend my days and nights expecting to be killed at any moment. My children would be safe and we could live in peace. On the other end of the emotional spectrum, my anger toward him was indescribable. This psycho predator had robbed me, my children, and many others of peace of mind and security. He had robbed me of my sleep. He made it impossible for me to be near my husband, who had been forced to go into hiding. His threats had caused me to move several different times, trying to stay one step ahead of this madman. Yes, Ervil who claimed he was God’s anointed one, who would bring peace and usher in the millennium, was now a jailed criminal.

  I was relieved after the sentence, but as happy as I was that Ervil was behind bars, I still didn’t feel completely safe. I knew we could still not relax. His Lambs of God were trained to kill traitors, which according to Ervil, included all of Verlan’s family. Ervil’s own children had been indoctrinated to be God’s avengers, and I knew as loyal followers they wouldn’t stop if he gave them the word to continue the killings.

  Ervil used his stint in prison to his advantage. He did not have to waste his precious time traveling from state to state to visit his numerous wives. He could simply stay in one place and enjoy conjugal visits at his convenience.

  He also preached to his captive cell mates, some of whom looked upon him as brilliant. Others considered him a fanatical kook.

  One inmate, Leo Evoniuk, a drug dealer who was serving eight years, studied the scriptures with Ervil throughout the day. He became convinced of Ervil’s claims to greatness and soon began to help Ervil write pamphlets from their cell.

  Ervil effortlessly converted Evoniuk to the belief that polygamy was a law of God. After all, Ervil proved it directly from the Bible. Ervil shared a secret with him that the world did not understand: Jesus Christ was a polygamist! He had married both Mary Magdalene and Martha.

  When Ervil was convinced that Leo Evoniuk was sincere in his conversion, he arranged for a Mexican woman from among his converts to marry Leo.

  The wedding was held in the prison, where Ervil sealed the woman to Evoniuk for time and all eternity. This thirty-eight-year-old bride who was willing to do Ervil’s bidding became Evoniuk’s second wife.

  Soon, rumor had it that Ervil’s followers were raising money to bribe the authorities to release him! Leaders from the Church of the Firstborn informed the Mexican authorities because the reports were reliable. They were assured that Ervil’s case would be scrutinized and that Ervil would serve his term without escaping.

  But, as always, Ervil found a way. The Mexicans call it la mordida (the bribe). So, on December 14, 1973, a higher court in Mexicali, Baja California, overturned the verdict and set him free, on the supposed grounds of irregularities and insufficient evidence.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  The members of the Church of the Firstborn were deeply saddened when Verlan announced at a conference that Floren would no longer be working with his brothers. He had forfeited his position as one of the twelve apostles. To this day, Floren believes that he is the only LeBaron brother who can fulfill his father’s prophecy, “that through him and his sons, all the nations of the earth would be blessed.”

  He lived in Nicaragua for a couple of years and then moved to southern Mexico near Cancún, where he has been for over twenty-five years. He has a few followers who are awaiting the return of Christ, who believe in his teachings. Five of his wives have left him; nevertheless, he strongly believes he will fulfill the promise and that he will set God’s house in order.

  AT THE CLOSING OF OUR CONFERENCE we sang the hymn “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet.” Someone offered a closing prayer. No sooner had the crowd said, “Amen,” when Jeannine walked up to the podium. Verlan looked upset, even though she insisted she only wanted to make an announcement. Because of some of her previous ideas, he didn’t trust her. Verlan tried to avoid her request, but she pressed him further.

  “I just want to welcome some of these people as guests to my house,” she stated, perturbed, thinking he was denying her the opportunity to speak.

  Verlan, still uneasy, capitulated and asked the audience to wait one brief moment because Jeannine had something to tell them.

  “Brothers and Sisters,” she said, “tonight all of you are invited to Esther Spencer’s rock house for Joel’s resurrection. Be sure to be there by seven thirty. Our prophet Joel will return to his people at eight o’clock sharp. Make sure you’re there.”

  The crowd was aghast. Verlan now regretted that he hadn’t followed his inner promptings. He hoped people would be smart enough not to participate in such nonsense.

  I’d been with Jeannine eleven years earlier when I accompanied her to the ocean to be translated. I knew it was all just po
ppycock! Nevertheless, my inquisitive spirit drew me inside Esther’s rock house, shortly after seven thirty. To my surprise, about fifty people were crowded together, seated on folding chairs around the room and on the floor. The partial silence was tainted with whispers, snickering, and doubtful looks from some in the crowd.

  Jeannine’s younger children, two daughters and a son, sat among the expecting and curious spectators.

  I knew no one expected Joel to appear—except Jeannine and her gullible children. Her youngest daughter, Florence, kept falling asleep. Her head bobbed time and again until she was forced to lie down on the floor. Just before she closed her eyes, she cried out, “Mama, be sure and wake me up when Daddy comes back. I want to see him.”

  Hearing little Florence’s sweet request angered me. I couldn’t believe Jeannine had planted such false hopes in the minds of her innocent children. However, I kept my mouth shut for once. I didn’t want to be accused of criticizing or trying to rain on Jeannine’s parade.

  The round blue clock on the wall held everyone’s attention as time ticked by. It was now eight thirty, and Joel was late—as usual. Jeannine, who stood across the room from me, motioned for her sister Gaye to follow her into the kitchen. I could see by their facial expressions and body language that something was bugging them. After they conferred for about two minutes, Gaye returned to her chair and Jeannine wove through the weary bodies situated on the floor, making her way over to me. “Irene, would you please step outside for a moment?”

  My gut feeling told me I was in trouble. We walked down the sidewalk out to the gravel road into the darkness.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “I’m really sorry to have to say this to you. I hope it won’t ruin our friendship . . .”

  I braced myself. “No, go ahead and say whatever you have to say.”

  “I’ve prayed fervently every minute with great expectancy for Joel’s return. When he did not show up at eight o’clock like I was told he would, I pleaded with the Lord to explain to me what was preventing his appearance. God spoke to me. I heard it clear as a bell. He said, ‘Irene’s negative doubting spirit is preventing Joel’s return.’ I’m really sorry to have to say this, but I must ask you to leave these premises.”

  “Okay, Jeannine, but I want you to know that you are deceived. Joel isn’t returning! He is deader than dead!”

  “No, Irene! He’ll show up for sure when you leave. This I know for sure.”

  “Good night!” I said matter-of-factly, not only feeling snubbed but disgusted.

  I was cold from the October chill in the air. I had no heat in my house except a fifty-gallon metal barrel that had been converted to a “heater.” The fire had died down long before I had gone to the séance, so I slipped off my shoes and crawled into bed, fully clothed, beside my three smaller children. After a long stressful day, I was in dreamland in a flash.

  In the darkness of my room, I was shaken awake. Groggy and momentarily frightened, I sat up wondering who was disturbing me. Jeannine’s voice calmed my agitated spirit. “Please, Irene, I’ve come back to get you. I so want for you to be a part of this wonderful event. Joel loved you so much, and I know he doesn’t want to return until you are present. Get up, come with me,” she demanded.

  Irritated by her contradiction, I blurted out, “Jeannine, I thought God was an unchangeable God! First he told me to go home because I was preventing him from executing his plans. Now you come back and say that he’s changed his mind. What God is so indecisive?”

  “Oh, Irene, please come. I still have an audience of about thirty-five people. They’re tired and weary from the wait. You must come. The glorious moment will take place as soon as you join us.”

  Angrily I exclaimed, “Leave me alone! Go away! Supposedly I was the reason Joel didn’t show up on time. Now with me absent you have no one to blame. What’s going to be your excuse next time?”

  “I’m so sorry you feel that way.”

  “Well, I’m not,” I snapped. “God told you to have me stay away . . . and I am. Good night!” And I rolled over.

  The following day I was informed that the crowd cleared out by ten o’clock.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  After searching the scriptures, Verlan, Alma, and others became convinced that Nicaragua was the appointed place for the saints to gather to await Christ’s return. They were infused with joy when they read Isaiah:

  Then shall he give the rain of thy seed, that thou shalt sow the ground withal; and bread of the increase of the earth, and it shall be fat and plenteous: in that day shall thy cattle feed in large pastures. . . . And there shall be upon every high mountain, and upon every high hill, rivers and streams of waters in the day of the great slaughter, when the towers fall. (30: 23, 25)

  They gathered from these verses that in Nicaragua they would be protected when the United States was burned and completely destroyed.

  In November, Verlan thought it best to go to Nicaragua. Two thousand miles would separate him from Ervil. He could continue working on the new project there. The brothers—Verlan, Alma, and Floren—found and purchased land in the jungle, in the Bocay River area. They had investigated it diligently, deciding it would be an isolated and secure place where the saints could colonize. It would be a protected refuge away from the world, where they could raise their families in peace.

  After Verlan left, I was heartsick to be alone again in Los Molinos. It seemed my whole life I’d been left to fend for myself while Verlan was away working to support his wives.

  Verlan’s dream had been to prepare a place before the destruction of the United States. As administrator of the new project, he hired a dozen or so men to plant several thousand trees. His hope was to have coconut, banana, avocado, and citrus trees producing by the time the group relocated in the jungles of Nicaragua. He wanted the group to be self-sustaining by having orchards, vegetable gardens, and enough small bamboo huts for protection from the rains when the members arrived. The new plantation in the jungle did not excite me. In fact, I was disheartened by the idea of moving two thousand miles away, where I knew I would be abandoned again and forced to live under someone else’s control.

  I knew Alma held a grudge against me. I’d never respected him and he knew it. I wasn’t one to grab hold of his strict rules. At our last confrontation, he had demanded that I not wear pants. He said the Bible restricted women from wearing men’s clothing. I strutted in my green and brown corduroy slacks and asked him, “Are these men’s pants? Do they look like it to you?”

  He held his ground. “Pants are for men, dresses are for women. You must obey the scriptures. When we make our move to Nicaragua, everyone will be forced to live by my dress code, or they will not be allowed to live among us. My duty as bishop is to see that the laws of God are enforced.”

  “Well, Alma,” I quipped, “I think Christ is in big trouble then.”

  “Why?”

  I tried to keep a straight face. “Well, he wore a long robe. It looks like a woman’s to me, and,” I couldn’t resist adding, “from the pictures I’ve seen, it doesn’t appear as though he was wearing men’s pants underneath.”

  “Well, that was the custom in those days,” he said, rebuking me.

  “That’s right,” I said, hoping he’d get the point. “Our custom today is that women wear pants. And”—I couldn’t help but laugh—“I’ll bet you wouldn’t be caught dead in mine!”

  After much discussion among the members of the church, he’d finally capitulated by allowing women to wear jeans, but their blouses had to be long sleeved with a high neckline and flowing to cover their hips and buttocks.

  On the trip Alma, Verlan, and others made to Nicaragua, Alma explained how they would clear the jungle and divide it into lots. Verlan suggested the fairest way to distribute the parcels of land was by numbering every lot. Those who drew a number that corresponded to the lot would be the new owners.

  Alma agreed to the arrangement, but he warned Verlan that I was not w
elcome to live among God’s people. Verlan objected. “There’s no reason for me to live here if one of my wives is denied the right. What has Irene done that’s serious enough to keep her from living among the saints?”

  “Well,” Alma said gruffly, “she’ll have her radio, tapes, music, and novels. That rubbish will pollute the women. And I for one will not tolerate it!”

  “If Irene isn’t welcome to live in our new Zion, then you should take her before a church court and make your accusations. It’s absurd, and I don’t want to listen to such nonsense,” Verlan said.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  I bolted upright in my bed. My pounding heart made me gasp for air. My nightmare had seemed so real, but all I could remember was that a voice had warned me to move out of Los Molinos immediately. There was no possible way I could leave. I had no vehicle, no driver’s license, no money, and nine children still at home. Kaylen was my oldest son at home. I had allowed Brent to go to Chihuahua with a friend. My two oldest boys, Andre and Steven, were working in San Diego in drywall to help support Verlan’s large family. When it was convenient, they would drive across the border and come to the colony to see us on weekends. It broke my heart to see my boys leave home at such a tender age. As teenagers, they took on the responsibility that should have been their father’s. Sadly, they lost their childhood.

  I thought that my fear may have been triggered from the previous weekend when Steven had arrived from San Diego to visit. In spite of his young age, I looked to Steven for protection in these perilous times. In the night, I had been spooked when I heard a banging noise on the front porch; a five-gallon metal bucket clanged as though someone had kicked it. I bolted up in bed, my mind racing. I wondered, was it one of Ervil’s “soldiers of God” sneaking around, looking to fulfill his orders to kill me? Stiff with fear, unable to move, I listened, trying to detect movement outside the bedroom window. My heart was in my throat, pumping so violently I could barely breathe. Finally I summoned the courage to make my way down the hall, feeling cautiously along the walls in the dark. I slid gently onto Steven’s bed, which startled him. “Shh. It’s just me,” I whispered as I hugged him spoon fashion.