Stolen Innocence - Lisa Pulitzer [100]
With Rulon’s health failing, most of the prophet’s young wives spent the summer of 2002 at home praying for his renewal. They all dreamed of the days when they could start to produce children with Rulon—even going so far as to sew baby clothes in anticipation. But Kassandra wanted nothing to do with that. She continued to leave the compound whenever possible, and she’d been caught sneaking out on several occasions. Unbeknownst to Uncle Warren, Kassandra had begun a friendship with a young FLDS member named Ryan Musser, who was actually one of Rulon’s grandsons. They shared a close, secret bond, and her trust in him gave her an outlet for her bottled-up emotions. Ryan was the one person whom she felt she could confide in without the threat of her words being reported back to Warren.
Photographic Insert
I was my mother’s eleventh child of her eventual fourteen, and we were close from the moment I was born.
As I grew up, Dad started calling me Goldilocks because of my long blond hair and how I skipped around the house.
Though I had many older sisters, the closest in age was seven years older than me. As a result, I grew up spending a lot of my time with my brothers.
Our annual camping trips offered a chance for many of my siblings to spend time together. In the vast spaces of the wilderness, we could roam freely without the secrecy of our normal lives.
My parents always tried to expose us to classical musien though we were in the FLDS. Here I am performing with my brothers and sisters in a violin recital in Salt Lake City.
FLDS members must wear church-sanctioned clothes at all times, even in warmer weather. The Utah summers could be brutal in our ankle-length Pioneer dresses, and for the boys constantly running around in collared shirts was incredibly uncomfortable. I’m in the front row on the left.
This photo of Dad, his three wives, and his younger children was taken in 1996. My mother stands behind Dad.
This photo was taken on Pioneer Day down in Short Creek when some of my sisters and I were in the Dancing Girls troop. I’m standing second from the right.
This picture of me and my father was taken at Alta Academy shortly before I was baptized in its basement “baptismal vault.”
Warren often went on school excursions with us. He was our principal and was highly respected, so posing with him for a photo was considered special.
Here my brother is walking toward the highway on the day that Dad ordered him out of the house. In his hand is his sign that read DENVER. My mom later told me that leaving him on the highway that day was one of the hardest things she ever had to do.
I was staying with my sisters at the prophet’s home in Hildale when I was invited to take a picture with the prophet Uncle Rulon. It was an incredible honor to have your picture taken with the prophet, and for years I cherished this photo.
When we were taken down to the Steed ranch, we were surrounded by our extended family and there were so many of us that we had to eat in shifts. Here my siblings and I stand with many of our cousins.
While we were at the Steed ranch, Dad and Mom were remarried. Here Dad and Mom are with Warren and Rulon in Rulon’s living room, where the ceremony was performed.
Even today, Alta Academy still looks like an ordinary house, but it’s a massive structure that stretches far away from the road. Abandoned and slated for demolition, it holds many memories from my younger years in Salt Lake.
One of Alta’s secret cubby holes where women and children could hide if there was an unexpected raid by authorities.
Cryptic writing scrawled inside a secret hiding spot in Alta. Though they were never substantiated, rumors often circulated that the crawl spaces, which had locks on the outside, were