Stolen Innocence - Lisa Pulitzer [166]
Incidents like this created concern for our safety among my attorneys, Roger and his brother Greg, as well as the prosecutors in Washington County, and they reached out to me in early June. Agents from the Utah office of the FBI offered us protection. Brock and others thought it might be a good idea. A meeting was organized to discuss the possibility of Lamont and me entering the Federal Witness Protection Program, which would entail us literally disappearing from our lives, receiving new identities, and relocating.
“I’ve barely put my family back together,” I said, growing emotional. “I’m not going to leave them now.”
A long debate ensued and alternative plans were entertained. It was decided that we’d enter a less severe witness protection program, which included being relocated and going into hiding. None of us were comfortable with the arrangement. But I was six months pregnant with our second child, and Lamont and I feared for the safety of our small, growing family. There seemed to be little choice. I was distraught as we packed up our house that July for our big move north. We’d been living in a rental on a quiet cul-de-sac in Hurricane, and my friend Sarah and her husband, Terril, were now our neighbors. We’d grown close over the months and had begun to socialize with other families on our street. It was fun to be like “regular” people and do things like host barbecues in our backyard. That summer had marked another historic event for me. Ten of my family members had reunited for a Wall family camping trip. I had finally been able to reopen communication with my family. Justin, Jacob, Travis, Kassandra, Teressa, Caleb, Brad, Dad and Audrey, and one of their son, spent three days in the mountains learning to be a family again. All of us had experienced so much hurt and pain from the past. Still, we realized that no matter what it had taken for us to survive, there was one thing that could not be taken from us: our bond as a family.
Once in Salt Lake City, Lamont and I put our few worldly belongings into storage and headed for the motel where we’d be staying until appropriate housing could be secured. With fall rapidly approaching, I grew lonely and desperately missed my life in southern Utah. Lamont and I were to keep a low profile, and neither one of us could get work because we were in the process of getting new identities. We were living our days in the small hotel room, trying to make do, but with a one-and-a-half-year-old who’d just begun to walk and a baby on the way, it wasn’t easy.
As August drew to a close, Warren had been on the run from the criminal charges for more than four months, and authorities had been looking for him in connection with other legal matters for nearly a year. Already, several of his supporters had been arrested, and one, his brother Seth, was even thrown into jail for refusing to divulge his whereabouts. Seth had been picked up the previous October during a routine traffic stop in Colorado when police mistook him for Warren. Once they realized who he was, they demanded information about his brother’s whereabouts. When Seth refused to cooperate, he was placed under arrest. According to news accounts at the time, during a search of his vehicle, police found $140,000 in cash, prepaid phone cards, and a bag of letters addressed to the prophet. Authorities later informed us that one of those letters was from the police chief of Colorado City, asking Warren’s advice on how to handle the missing-persons report that Kassandra had filed on Mom and the girls back in February 2005.
It was three o’clock in the morning on August 29, 2006, when the phone in our hotel room startled me awake. It was Brock Belnap from the district attorney’s office in Washington County. “Warren’s been caught,” his soft voice informed me. “In Nevada.”
A shiver ran through my body. “Warren’s been caught,” I whispered to Lamont, hoping not to wake up my sleeping son.
Lamont and I spent most of the day in front of the TV