Brian had an idea: What if he came by after I put the kids to bed? They were usually in their rooms by ten, so around ten-thirty, rather than knock on the front door, he would tap softly on my window.
I’d hand him a small stool and pull him through the window. We’d pour two glasses of wine, talk about our day, and watch the Sci-Fi channel. On weekends I’d spring for a babysitter, and we’d go out on a conventional date. But during the week, we’d do the knock-and-pull routine. He’s probably the only Harvard MBA ever to climb through a trailer window to meet a girlfriend with eight kids.
Brian wouldn’t park in front of my trailer because we didn’t want to alarm the children. My low-income neighborhood was iffy. One night Brian parked a few doors down, and a woman yelled. “Don’t park next to my trailer if you’re cheating on your wife with some whore in this neighborhood.”
Brian fired right back, “You should know what you’re talking about before you start attacking people.”
Trying to build a relationship with a man I desperately loved was frustrating because I couldn’t put my children on the back burner to be with him. After we’d been together about a year, I knew it was time for my children to meet him and understand what he meant to me.
One reason I’d put off this introduction was that my kids had been raised in the FLDS to believe that a woman who has an intimate relationship with a man outside of marriage has committed a crime punishable by death. According to the bizarre theology of the FLDS, the nine new wives Merril had married shortly after our divorce brought him closer to God. But my dating was a capital crime.
And once I told my children about Brian, they would realize we were never going to go back to the FLDS. My “sinning” would rule it out forever.
One morning Brian and I overslept. When Merrilee came knocking on my door, he ducked into my walk-in closet. I went to get something in my bathroom, and Merrilee opened the closet door looking for socks. They were so shocked at the sight of each other that both were speechless.
I reassured Merrilee that Brian had come over early to look for something, but she didn’t buy that explanation. Later she told me she had thought he was in the closet because he was spying on me.
That’s when Brian and I decided we had to stop hiding the fact that we were in love. I had met his boys a few months earlier. I told my children one by one, and it did not go well. Arthur was sulky and uncommunicative. Betty and LuAnne were furious; in fact, the next time Brian came over, LuAnne threw a ball at him.
Without missing a beat, Brian said, “LuAnne, do you need attention?” Today the two of them are extremely close, and he has had an enormously positive impact on LuAnne’s sense of herself. My younger boys responded to the news of our relationship by acting out and throwing tantrums, but I knew that what they really yearned for was a dad.
Slowly Brian became an integral part of our family. My children were amazed to see a man truly love and value their mother. He also intervened when my children behaved abusively toward me. It was hard for him to stomach at times. I explained that women in the FLDS were seen as doormats and that my kids had been routinely encouraged to mistreat me by Merril’s other wives. Brian continually told them how special I was and how much he loved me. If one of them asked Brian for something, his first response was “Is your mother happy? If Mom isn’t happy, then nobody is happy.” He set a powerful example by being so respectful toward me.
Most of all, Brian is fun. He’s athletic—he used to run marathons in New York and Boston—and always up for an adventure. My children had never had a man in their lives who was eager to do things with them. They quickly got used to the idea!
Brian also let my children know that we were living in poverty because Merril was irresponsible. Brian told the kids flat out that a father is responsible for supporting his children. Period. He explained that it was wrong for a man to think of a woman, or any person, as property.
After the kids were used to us as a couple, Brian invited his mother, Edith Moroney, to visit. Edith had raised six children but worried about her son getting involved with a woman with so much baggage. Brian’s dad was a military man who was devoted to his wife and children, and Edith always hoped Brian would find a woman he loved as much as his dad loved her. One of the few regrets Brian and I have is that his dad died before I could meet him. Brian always says that his dad would have loved me.
Before Brian took us all out to dinner with Edith, we sat in my living room, and he introduced her to each of my children. When he was finished, Edith said, “Brian, every one of them looks just like you.” I was stunned by her generosity and acceptance.
Like any couple, Brian and I have our ups and downs. We acknowledge our disappointments with each other and try to confront them head on. When I was writing Escape, Brian was enormously supportive of me and tried hard not to resent the time it took away from him. After the book became a success, he was its biggest cheerleader.
Before I left on my book tour, he was driving me to the airport and asked what I’d do if someone showed interest in me while I was on the road. I said I had no idea.
“Let me tell you exactly what to say: ‘I have eight kids.’”
I reminded him that this was one of the first things I told him when we went out to lunch.
“Most men are not like me,” Brian replied. He’s so right—and that is exactly why I want to share my life with him.
By the time Escape was published in paperback, Brian and I were living together. When I traveled to promote the book, he’d hold down the fort at home. I remember returning one night from Kansas City, dead tired but elated by the hundreds of people who had turned out to meet me and get their books signed.
I called Brian as soon as my flight touched down. He didn’t answer. I tried calling again before reaching the baggage claim. Still no answer.
Brian was usually early, and if he was running late, he’d be sure to answer his phone. I arrived at the baggage claim and looked around, disappointed, exhausted, and demoralized. I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t there. Then as I turned back to watch the luggage tumble onto the conveyer belt, I felt Brian’s hands grabbing my waist. He was laughing as he pulled me toward him and began kissing me. He hadn’t answered his phone because he wanted to surprise me. Little romantic moments like this are a part of life I never really knew existed before.
My life now sometimes zigzags between the ridiculous and the sublime. Two days after winning my child support battle against Merril and seeing Betty, for example, I flew with Brian to Boston to celebrate the twenty-fifth anniversary of his graduation from Harvard Business School. It was surreal to begin the week testifying against Merril in a courtroom in San Angelo, Texas, and to end it walking across the Spangler Lawn at Harvard holding hands with my true love. The leaves were turning from green to gold, and the Harvard campus was even more beautiful than Brian had described. I could barely comprehend that a few years earlier I was a single mom of eight on welfare struggling to keep a roof over our heads. Now I was a best-selling author visiting one of the world’s most prestigious universities with my lover, a distinguished alumnus. Harvard epitomizes everything the FLDS tries to destroy: self-expression, academic rigor, and intellectual freedom.
When I first fled the FLDS, I was completely disoriented, as if I’d landed on another planet. And in some ways I had. Similarly, Harvard left me feeling wonderfully disoriented. I had never been in an environment where so many had achieved so much. I felt like I was floating inside the world’s most exclusive bubble.
We went to lectures, parties, and receptions. Brian’s friends were all type As who had been fast-tracked from an early age. They had soared far above the ordinary achievements that the rest of us are content with.
That weekend helped me understand Brian in a way I never had before. He is a perfectionist who sets the bar very high for himself. Like his Harvard classmates, he is used to being at the front of the line. Brian always tries to come in first, and when he doesn’t, i
t upsets him.
My approach is much less intense. I go with the flow, trying to control what I can but accepting that I’ll be disappointed a lot of the time. I am far less self-critical than Brian. I’ve learned that no matter how high you fly, life will reach up, grab you, and slam you back to earth. Brian gets disappointed far more than I do because his expectations are so much higher.
My rare glimpse into privilege and power at Harvard was both liberating and grounding. It was a potent reminder that my life experiences are radically different from most people’s. In the FLDS, I was forced to pay constant attention to everything and everyone just to survive, but in doing that I learned a lot.
Shortly after we escaped in 2003, my children and I went to San Diego with Dan Fischer, the former polygamist who was instrumental in helping me begin my life again. It was the only vacation we had ever taken, but we were all so battered and worn out that we didn’t really enjoy it.
After Escape was published, I had enough money for a family vacation but not enough time. Two summers went by, and finally in the summer of 2009, I told Brian we needed to take a trip as a family. He and I voted for Yellowstone National Park. It would be an adventure and educational. But the kids overruled us. They wanted to go back to San Diego to enjoy what had felt too foreign and strange the first time. It was a long drive from Salt Lake City. Yellowstone was much closer. But the kids pleaded, so off we went.
Neither Brian nor I would ever describe a two-day car trip with six kids (Arthur stayed home because he had a summer job) as restful, but everyone was so excited that the kids bickered only occasionally. With all of us on good behavior, we were simply grateful to be together and have a week away from our daily routines.
Brian had bought tickets on the Internet for Sea World, the San Diego Zoo, and the Wild Animal Park and had arranged for his mother to meet us in San Diego to help out with Harrison. She couldn’t have been more wonderful. She pushed Harrison in his wheelchair and was as enthusiastic about Sea World and the Wild Animal Park as the kids. Clearly Brian inherited his irrepressible spirit from his mom. Edith has infused our lives with kindness, support, and love.
Our hotel was a particular highlight of the trip. It had several saltwater swimming pools, each only four feet deep. Every night after dinner a huge screen was set up by one of the pools for a kids’ movie, complete with popcorn for everyone. My kids had the time of their lives. After they went to bed, Brian and I had some quality time in the Jacuzzi. Relaxing there together gave me a chance to take stock of how far I’d come in the six years since my escape.
What a joy it was for me to realize that, with the exception of Betty, my children were all thriving beyond my wildest dreams. Arthur, 22, had just transferred from the University of Oregon to the University of Utah and was working hard to save money. He has his private pilot’s license and is working toward getting his commercial one.
LuAnne, 18, is an athlete with a brown belt in karate. She worked her way onto the honor roll in high school and stayed there. Now she is enrolled in community college. After two years, she plans to transfer to Mount Holyoke in Massachusetts—a college she and I both fell in love with after I spoke there in 2008 and again in 2009. It seems unbelievable that six years ago LuAnne told me it would be a privilege to marry Warren Jeffs. Now she’s horrified when she remembers that and understands how distorted her sense of reality was. These days she dreams of being an attorney.
Merrilee, 12, who for years wanted nothing more than to be a princess, has settled into the seventh grade and loves spending time with her friends. Her personality is one constant smile. She has earned her green belt in karate and caught up academically in school.
Patrick, 16, and Andrew, 14, were both distraught when we fled. Pat thought the world would come to an end and he would be destroyed if he stayed with me. Now he is a typical high school junior who loves text-messaging his friends and playing sports. Pat hates inequality and never fails to stand up for people in need.
Andrew has nearly doubled in size since 2003, when he was convinced I was taking us all to hell. He missed the siblings he left behind and was terrified of not doing what his father wanted. Today he is a well-adjusted high school freshman whose passion is football. (He’s a wide receiver.) He would never consider missing a single practice, and, like Pat, he has earned a junior black belt in karate.
Bryson, who’s eight, is remarkable because he alone has grown up entirely outside the FLDS. He was just a year old when we escaped and is an academic star because he never experienced the educational neglect of the FLDS. Bryson taught me the thrill of being a one-on-one mother—with him, no one ever told me not to hug or kiss him and no sister wives disciplined him behind my back. I learned how rewarding and joyful it is to raise a child and shape his values in accordance with my own.
Brian is the only dad Bryson has ever known, and they adore each other. Brian is an avid golfer, and one day he came home with a miniature set of clubs for Brycie. For me, watching the two of them go off together to “golf” is another chapter in the miracle of love.
And then there’s Harrison, sweet Harrison, who couldn’t hold his head up when we first arrived in Salt Lake City and needed a high-calorie formula to maintain his weight. A few years ago it felt like a miracle when he managed to sit up; now he’s walking. At ten, he still doesn’t speak, although he once said “Mama.” His school bus driver says he is the happiest child on the bus.
Taking Harrison to Sea World was the high point of our trip to San Diego. We went as a family to see the show with Shamu, the whale who is Sea World’s biggest star. The younger kids wanted to be in the splash zone and get wet, so Brian, Edith, LuAnne, and I sat with Harrison in the handicapped area. He was fascinated watching the stadium fill up with people. When the show began, he looked confused. He had no idea what was happening or what to expect.
First, Shamu’s trainer talked about how he had become involved with whales. Then suddenly Shamu leaped high out of the water. Harrison nearly jumped out of his wheelchair. He began to laugh and laugh and laugh. When Shamu burst through the surface of the water again, Harrison became more excited than I’d ever seen him. Each time the whale soared up from the water, Harrison was over the moon with delight. He was jumping around so much in his wheelchair that even with the brakes on it began to move.
Brian and I looked at each other in pure wonder. Who knew there was so much joy in Harrison waiting to be unleashed? What a triumph.
Copyright © 2010 by Visionary Classics, LLC
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Broadway Books, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Jessop, Carolyn, 1968–
Triumph : life after the cult—a survivor’s lessons / by Carolyn Jessop with Laura Palmer.
p. cm.
1. Jessop, Carolyn, 1968– 2. Forced marriage—United States. 3. Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. 4. Polygamy—United States.
I. Palmer, Laura. II. Title.
HQ994.J47 2010
289.3092—dc22
[B]
2009048795
eISBN: 978-0-307-59072-5
v3.0
Carolyn Jessop, Triumph: Life After the Cult--A Survivor's Lessons
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