Stealing Flowers

by Edward St Amant

  “Didn’t I tell you,” his eyes seemed to say. I caught Sally’s attention. “What about Mom and Dad?” I said. “They’ll kill you.”

  “They aren’t home tonight. I’ll be back in time tomorrow.”

  “Senator Al Stevens’ son, Bobby,” Solemn Necessity said, “Known now as Pilot Love, is the head administrator for the Family at Ashbury Farms.”

  “Washington State’s Senator Stevens?” I asked in open disbelief. I knew Stan had met him a few times. He nodded. This had an enormous impact on me and made the situation more dangerous in my mind.

  Divine Love and Love Israel began touching Andy and I again, and quoting scripture: “‘Think not that I come to send peace on Earth,” she whispered, “I come not to send peace but a sword. For I have come to set a man at variance against his father and the daughter against her mother and a man’s foes will be those of his own households. He that love the father or mother more than me is not worthy of me.’ Matthew 10: 34-37.”

  I sucker punched Solemn Necessity and Andy flew at Silent Peace, but to our endless surprise, this caused Divine Love and Love Israel, and others of the bus people to fly at us as though we had ripped their babies from them. They bit us, punched us, and kicked us, and to my everlasting dismay, Sally didn’t raise a finger to fight them, perhaps in her heart, for all I know, cheered them on.

  When we were thrown out of the bus, we were hurting, bleeding, and humiliated. When I rose and tried to again get into the bus, it sped off on to Western, and was soon out of sight.

  “What are we going to do?” I asked panicky.

  “Phone the police.”

  That didn’t seem the right thing to do, and I realized, I’d have to phone Stan in Japan; yet another screw-up from his son in regards to his only natural daughter. I swore over and over as we walked along the boulevard; then suddenly I hailed a cab. “We better not make this any worse by delaying,” I said to Andy.

  “This would be a good time to have one of those new portable phones.”

  When we arrived at the mansion I called out for Una and realized only then that of course she was in Jamaica, remembering The First Law of Life for the unlucky.

  “Phone her anyway,” Andy said. I did. She told me to phone Isaac, who in turn, connected me with Mary in Germany. After I had finished telling Mary the story, I could tell she’d grown furious. “Phone the police,” she ordered, “and then you go right up to that place and get our Sally out!” She hung up.

  “You best go phone your Dad,” I said to Andy, “and see if he can help us.”

  “He’s in Maryland, but I’ll try.”

  Stan phoned a minute later. After I recounted the events once again, this time I think exaggerating the beating we took and the persistency of our bravery to get Sally off the bus, he rescinded Mary’s order. “Phone the police and make an initial report,” he said in his calm assured voice. “Don’t do anything else until we arrive; we’re both on the way!”

  Talking to the police would have been a difficult task for me, since instinctually my view of them was as an enemy, but this job was made easier by the fact Isaac came over to the mansion and arbitrated it; we were unfortunate enough to get the two most incredulous cops on the New Jersey police force. They knew who the bus people were, The Family of Truth, a Jesus Cult as they said, and refused to believe that either we were beat upon or that Sally was in anyway abducted.

  The next morning when I awoke, Mary was home and I served a breakfast of toast, fresh fruit and yogurt. Mary said little and was obviously, anxiously, awaiting Stan’s arrival. I apologized again to her, but this time her response was not emotional. She had reconsidered her first reaction. “You did what any brother would do for his sister,” she said. “You put yourself in harm’s way and we’re proud of you.”

  We finished our meal in silence. Before Stan had made his arrival, to my utter surprise, Peter Burgess showed up and asked me to recount my story, having a coffee with us. He knew, already, a great deal of the bus people. “They use to call themselves The Children of Moses,” he said, but for legal reasons have changed their name to The Family of Truth. What you heard is correct; they are a Jesus Cult, and their methods leave a lot to be desired. Ashbury Farms is a compound of sorts. I cased the place yesterday. It’s very secure.”

  At that moment, Stan arrived. I expected him to be tired, but he’d slept well on the thirteen hour flight and was rather free of any jet lag. He hugged and thanked me for putting Sally first when the incident occurred. We were in the foyer, and Peter piped up.

  “I’ve heard from this expert I know that they get everyone who gets on the bus. You and Andy were lucky,” . . . He looked me straight in the eyes . . . “not to be sucked in, and brave to put up a fight. Your parents should be proud of you; go get Andy. See if he’ll come with us.”

  I went next door and Bert answered the door. He had just arrived home. I told him what was happening. He helped Andy get ready, and as we were getting set to go, he added, “I think these hippy-type Jesus-Freaks are the real mean deal. Don’t listen to what they say, but watch what they do! If they’re like the Moonies, you’ll be in for a real show.” He gave a chuckle and Andy curled his eyes behind his back. “Go get Sally and good luck.”

  We took two cars and Peter asked that I go with him and that Andy go with my parents. I was fine with that, not suspecting anything. He drove a brand new Beamer and played Marvin Gaye on his tape deck. “According to my expert, your sister is in great danger,” he said when we were well on our way.” I was depressed to hear it, but before I could ask why, he answered my question. “They use mind-numbing techniques and endless propaganda to convert you. It’s called, Snap Conditioning, and they drill you, starve you, use sleep depravation, never let you think for yourself, and have an answer for everything. I’m not totally up to spec yet, but the more I read, the scarier it looks. If you notice that Sally already looks different when we see her, if they let us see her, that will tell you that she’s hooked.”

  “They have to let us see her,” I insisted as though I was an authority on it.

  He shook his head sadly. “That’s the thing though, Christian, they don’t. Even your parents don’t know the worst of it. I didn’t want to upset them. But she’s of legal age. If she refuses to see us, she’s within her legal rights.” I must have showed with my expression that I didn’t understand; I had began to look at the incident as a kidnapping, but of course, she hadn’t been physically abducted. She had gone willingly onto the bus, and stated clearly to me that she wanted to go to Ashbury Farms. I became insecure about Sally’s future. “Sorry, young man,” Peter whispered, “life can be complicated. ”

  I soon discovered from Peter that The Family of Truth believed that God appointed Moses Truth, their recluse leader, to save as many young people as he could before the world ended, which apparently, they preached, was to happen any day. Peter saw that I was getting emotional, I’d not forgotten at all about The First Law of Life for those born unlucky, especially orphans, and was expecting the worst, and he kindly changed the topic; we talked for about another half hour.

  When we arrived, we drove up a dirt road to a high locked gate. The property sat about a mile from the highway. An eight-foot high fence, topped by barbed-wire, enclosed the entire property. The first and biggest building was an old barn converted, as was assured by Peter, into a convention or recruiting hall; it looked old and modern at one and the same time, and was surrounded by huge banners. One said, ‘When we who have not the law do by nature, what the law requires, we are a law to ourselves.’ Another one said, ‘But as for these enemies of mine,’ Jesus said, ‘Who did not want me to reign over them, bring them here and slay them before me.’ Luke 19: 27. Three hundred yards further from the barn, stood a respectable low-framed western-style farmhouse. We got out of the cars, the five of us, and we were met by a security guard, who had two German Shepherds with him. Stan talked to him in private. I could see that after ten minutes or so, he’d become f
rustrated and resorted to bribing the guard, who finally began to make his way up to the farmhouse.

  “I think we can assume,” Peter said when Stan rejoined us, “that’s where the priests, reverends, elders, or whatever they call themselves live.”

  Word must have spread that we were here for one of their recruits. A steady stream of youths in new clean t-shirts, which had a printed logo, The Family of Truth, 1979, and jeans, began to congregate. Soon it grew into quite a group, I’d say fifty or so. They all stared openly at us, like on the bus, but instead of love or longing in their eyes, it had been replaced by hate and resentment. Soon some older young men, came from the farmhouse; they were aged about thirty. The tall striking-looking young man with a beard, Solemn Necessity, was among them. He was in the pink and purple tie-dyed t-shirt which separated him from the rest. Then I remembered that he had kissed me on the lips. Coming from another direction, I saw the pale young man with a purple birthmark and thick beard, Silent Peace, and his step seemed hurried. He and Solemn Necessity talked heatedly for a moment and Silent Peace returned from the direction he’d come.

  “Those are the two men who beat us up,” Andy said.

  I looked at him with a frown. “Yeah,” I remarked gruffly, “those two and a few others.” I caught a look from Mary that shut me up.

  Stan again went forward and offered his hand to Solemn Necessity, who refused to take it. We had all come closer to the fence entrance, within hearing. I could see that they wouldn’t let us pass through the gate to get inside. I saw that Mary was distraught and near tears.

  “I want to see my daughter,” she interjected to Solemn Necessity, “her name is Sally Tappet. I’m swearing to you now before God, I’m not leaving until I see her.”

  I thought that some confusion existed among the older ones. Solemn Necessity scratched his beard in short rapid movements and whispered intently with another person his age who was also in a the pink and purple tie-dyed t-shirt.

  “That’s their famous recruit,” Peter whispered to me. “He’s head guy here. I don’t know his ridiculous name, but his real name is Bobby Stevens, the son of Senator Al Stevens.”

  I wondered how this could happen to a famous senator’s son, but of course, it was happening right now to Sally. Bobby Stevens, or what he called himself now, was a thin man, thinner than Silent Peace, and older by at least a decade. He had a beard and wore John Lennon-style thick bifocals. I saw Love Israel, the blond girl from the bus who had the Marilyn Monroe-type build. She had joined the crowd with others, in fact, the numbers were now, five of us, and maybe seventy of them. I was getting alarmed. They hung back just within hearing; more of their leaders came to the gate. It was obvious they knew who we were.

  “Why won’t you let me see Sally?” Mary shouted. “What are you hiding? What are you afraid of? What have you done to her?”

  Solemn Necessity came near and nodded. “We’re trying to get her to come. She doesn’t want to see you.”

  “We aren’t leaving until we’ve seen Sally!”

  After much whispered debate between the leaders, Sally finally came out shyly to the gate escorted by Silent Peace and stood in front of us, staring out with resentful adolescent eyes. I was as if hit over the head with a bat when I saw her and could hardly breathe. The crowd had grown to a hundred people and a few of the leaders came close to her, including the striking Solemn Necessity. How seventy-two hours could transform someone so radically, just didn’t seem possible. I knew at once they’d stolen her soul.

  “Sally,” Mary cried out, “my God, what has happened to you?”

  Mary tried to hug her, but Solemn Necessity, intervened, putting himself between them. “Don’t touch her,” he ordered.

  “She’s our daughter,” Mary protested.

  “She is God’s daughter, if you want to talk to her, don’t touch her.”

  “Then, let us talk alone?” Stan said, “at least that!” I could see that he was in disbelief and I now began to see that we would fail in our quest to take Sally home with us.

  Solemn Necessity shook his head. “Your daughter is of legal age.” He spoke loudly, so that everyone could hear. “She is here of her own free will.”

  Sally nodded in agreement and stepped forward. Her cheeks were flush and again her transfiguration seemed impossible, yet for all that, she was even more beautiful in my eyes than she ever had been. She radiated a sense of female virgin innocence, and also sexual beauty. She possessed a Mother-Mary bearing, as well as otherworldly quality. “I don’t know you,” she said loudly to us, now only steps away from Mary, “The Lord is my new house. You have Satan inside of you. I’d rather die than leave my new family.”

  Mary fell to her knees as though being struck but as though at once realizing that this tactic wouldn’t work with this crowd, she’s steeled herself and rose, regaining her composure. “Please, Sally, come home just for the night.”

  Sally leaned forward and spit in Mary’s face, then walked away from the fence. “Praise Jesus Sally,” the striking-looking Solemn Necessity called out. “She’s stood the test of Satan. Praise God.” The crowd of onlookers clapped and gathered around Sally shouting in joy, and singing Rock of Ages as they walked away.

  We all stood there in tears except Peter, he was calmly watching the whole event, and hanging back. “Come away, Christian,” Stan whispered eventually. How much time had gone by, I’d no idea, I’d fallen into an internal outward stare which took me to who knows where, perhaps to the time when we were caught shoplifting, or at the cottage when we’d burned our asses, or to the day in the swimming pool when Aunt Gayle caught us at it. It was irrational and inexplicable but I had fallen into a sort of animal trance and I wanted to fight them right now for possession of Sally.

  Chapter Eight

  That’s how fast it happened to Sally. Looking back, it seems impossible that it could come about so swiftly, but despite its element of un-realness, the science-fiction aspect of it, it doesn’t in any fashion deter from the fact that the young unformed mind can be overwhelmed in just such a manner. I know that now. In a purely negative case such as torture, assault, armed-robbery, rape, or whatever, you are a victim traumatized by the event itself, everyone understands that, but if it’s a “conversion” event, you become an “unseen” victim, because where is the “you”? Where has your old self disappeared? Very few will have the slightest sympathy for your plight; they won’t even understand it. “Sally got on that bus in New Jersey of her own accord, buddy, no body forced her!”

  Stan sicced Peter Burgess on The Family of Truth; Peter found a book, The Family of Lies, by Rick Edwards for us to read, and when I’d finished it, wanted to fly at them and rescue Sally out of the absurd grip of false doctrine they had somehow placed on her. They believed in Jesus, but they fundamentally served the luxuriant decadent lifestyle of their leader, Moses Truth, a.k.a., David Love, a.k.a., David Moses, or whoever he was. The cult was called by the author, one of the most dangerous in America, I gave it to Stan. Peter in the meantime had infiltrated the cult to covertly find out how we could rescue Sally, but they’d moved her within days of our visit there to Denver. From the book, The Family of Lies, I had learned they had compounds in New Jersey, Denver, San Diego and Los Angelus, and they were all very secure places. They raised millions of dollars by selling flowers in the city streets and because they were a so-called religion, didn’t have to pay a penny in taxes.

  Peter phoned me after he’d spent twenty-four hours in the cult. “I’ll tell you what I told your parents,” he said. “The place began to get to me fast, and on an emotional level, it made me angry. My parents are wonderful and I loved them not just as parents, but as fine, hard-working human beings; I admire them. I read on one of the picture posters there that parents are rotten, decadent, decrepit, hypocritical, self-righteous, . . . it went on and on . . . they didn’t leave anything out!”

  I tried to keep the fear for Sally out of my voice. “It sounds so hateful.”

&nb
sp; “I was totally prepared for the psychological assault and on my guard. I had infiltrated them so easily that at first I scoffed at them. I thought you had exaggerated about Sally getting on that bus. I have had military-training, and consider myself to be fit and strong, yet within twelve hours with them, I began to wonder about my own safety. They wear the recruits down so effectively that it should frighten anyone raising children. As a parent, I saw that I should have more fear of cults. Although I was antagonistic to the conversion process, I didn’t give a damn about their message, or for that matter, about Jesus, I realized this wasn’t about choosing freely or resisting with one’s resolve, but about a group of people overtly overthrowing someone’s will. They use every technique in the book. If I hadn’t read about cults, what they do to their converts – I wouldn’t believe it.”

  Days later, when I returned home from work at Tappets, Una had returned the day before, I found Mary in tears, and Una looking bewildered. “The world be lain different than intended by the Lord,” she said sadly and passed me a letter.

  August 11, 1979

  “Mother and Father, As you know, I have joined The Family of Truth and am now on a farm in Denver. My only source of love and inspiration is the Holy Bible. The head of our family is Moses Truth, who is the final word in all we do and say. I have given up my old satanic ways and I’m devoted to our new life of serving God with all my heart and soul. I’ve found my true home and wish now to be respected in my decision since I’m of legal age. As well, I’ve given up my old name and all that went with it. I’m to be known as Patience Hosanna. I’m very happy. Turning back to my old life of sin can only be considered a covenant with Satan, and thus, I must divorce myself from you and the evil which you represent. This will be my only communication with you, Yours, Patience Hosanna.”