Give Carte Blanche
To Molesters

What am I supposed to do 15 years later? He’s an old man now. He’s had years of practice in hiding this from himself. If he says Nah, I didn’t do it, can I go ahead and kill him, bust him up so he never has the equipment for it again, try to take him to court?

I was what, 55 when told about this. That means then that for 36 years my only concern for my daughters had been when they were out of my sight. I went through training with CDEC and my combat training came in real handy. Nothing moved in any room I was in without me seeing it. The only gray areas I had known of before being told of this had been those times they were out with my (now) exis.

Even at the best of times I have a hard time sorting out who is right and who is wrong and what I should do about it. Consequently, when I was still dealing with this issue the perp went into the hospital, dropped into a coma that lasted for weeks. The doctors insisted that the plug be pulled on him and four members of my family demanded that I go see him before he was allowed to die.

So I went and his wife left me alone with him and I looked at the placid face of the man who had molested my daughter. Air was being forced into him, then yanked out of him. With every breath his body would jerk and spasm with agony. His wife was taking a long time and I watched this going on, and on , and on. Finally I stretched forth my hand and gave him a priesthood blessing and I begged the Lord to ease the pain of his body and the torture of his soul. It was the hardest blessing I have ever had to give. He was breathing much easier when his wife returned, and I went home. After a month I called to find out why I had not been invited to the funeral.

He woke up the night you were there Daddy, and he went home the next day.

Went home?

Yeah, he’s working again now.

Can you go kill the man that you prayed for? I couldn’t.

So, because he was always invited to go, I definitely did not go to any family reunions. Even after I divorced my wife he came uninvited to my father’s funeral, but I avoided shaking his hand, though I smiled like a hypocrite and thanked him for coming. He came to my mother’s funeral too, and that time I really was stricken with grief, and did not have to work that hard at avoiding touching the hand of the man who molested my child.

Years have passed, and calls come in to let me know that he is in the hospital again, dying for sure again, come see him Daddy. Come see him. Bless him one more time. Why are people so afraid of dying that they want to keep everybody hanging onto life by a worn out shoestring?

Bless him again? No, I’m sorry, no.

By now I had a good excuse. "MY health is not good enough for me to make the trip. No, no, not even if you come to get me." Two more daughters called, then another one. Please come. Then they called again with tears of bewilderment in their voices. Come to his funeral Daddy. "NO." What is so hard to understand about this word?

Then even the daughter that he had molested called and I still refused to go. “If I can forgive him, so can you, Daddy.”

Yes. God has said I have to forgive him — and I have — I really have. I know I have because I did not go kill him. But there is no commandment anywhere that says I have to pretend nothing happened to one of my daughters that God gave me to protect.

Daddy, it wasn’t just me.

What? You told your mother, how could he get to anyone else?

She kept taking us over there. She kept leaving us there overnight.

"I don’t believe you. She would NOT do that! Nobody would do that!"

Mama said we couldn’t let anyone know what kind of man he was. We couldn’t let people know there was someone like that in our family. That’s the reason I left home, Daddy.

"Kid, I’m sorry.

"I don’t care what you think.

"I will not go to his funeral.

Last week the one daughter that has not spoken to me for the past 15 years, wrote, wanting to "start a relationship with me."

Okay, but if you expect me to apologize for raising you as strictly as I did. No, it isn’t going to happen. I thought I was right then. I still think so today. Yes, I am ashamed of that one beating I gave you, but you had it coming. You should have went to jail for that and I didn’t even let you go to court.

"(Her sister) said she told you how (he) molested us. Daddy, I just want to know, did you know that (he) molested me?"

I was shocked. I snapped back at her, bitterly. "After all these years have passed, I have finally learned about two, now you come and that’s three. How many more?"

Daddy, it was all six of us. Maybe our brother too.

"All six?

"-- And your mother knew about this too?"

Yes. I’ve really had a hard time dealing with this, Daddy. I’ve had years of counseling now. It’s so hard for me to deal with this. After years and years of counseling I can’t hardly stand to be anywhere near Mama. She kept taking us back there. She kept leaving us there overnight.

"Kid, I can understand this being hard on you, but I have a hard time dealing with this too. All six of my girls, and maybe even Junior too? After I left it is excusable if he got away with something, but while I was there, still in the family, still watching? How could he get away with it while I was there? There is no excuse for me not knowing."

So now I’ve had weeks to let this thing seethe through me, burn itself out and let the miracle of forgiveness work its magic, and I’ve worked through my relationship with my father at the same time because violence to me and violence to my kids all seems to be tied in together.

I haven’t asked any of my girls yet, maybe I won’t ever. And I know that I won’t ever ask my exis, but I still want to know. I really want to understand. Kids, you’ve got Bishops. You’ve got Stake Presidents, you’ve got home teachers, YOU’VE GOT ME. All of us have sworn to God that we would protect you at the risk of our lives. Why didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn't you tell any one of us? Why did you give this, this child molester, carte blanche to go on down the line with all my girls, all your sisters?

And I want to know. I want to understand why none of yawl ever come see me -- me that you wouldn't even talk to and me that did not know about this until it was all way over -- yet you all flock around your mother that did know, and support her and love her? Me you leave out in the cold until the day comes it looks like I’m dying, at death’s door. Your mother, you go see. And HIM, even him that you claim has done this thing, repeatedly, him you kept going to see long after you are grown — and you throw your arms around him and you love him so much that you beg me to come give him another blessing, to go to his funeral.

I am really having a problem with this.

Can anyone, anyone.
Can anyone tell me why child molesters are given carte blanche?

Give Carte Blanche To Molesters

Give Carte Blanche
To Molesters