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Stolen Innocence - Lisa Pulitzer [201]

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for the investigators. Some women refused to speak altogether, and those who did comply provided fake names and declined to give concrete answers to the questions asked of them. I had the perspective to understand that the authorities were there to provide assistance and investigate and protect the innocence of young women and children, but the people, locked in the church’s grasp, were devastated by what was happening to them. Once, long ago, I would have felt the same way. I observed one young mother in particular with a baby in her arms and a small boy holding on to her finger as she made her way past the phalanx of uniformed Rangers toward the awaiting buses. She walked with her head held high and a silent tear cutting down the side of her cheek. As she reached the bus, she turned and looked one of the officers directly in the eye, saying, “I want you to know I truly forgive you for this.” Within that simple statement, I could see the difficult road ahead. These poignant words made it apparent that she, like many of the women, felt victimized by the police and the Texas government. She was unable to see that the few men in charge of the FLDS had placed these girls in harm’s way and made matters worse by refusing to cooperate with authorities.

Beneath these hardships, however, I was able to witness firsthand the outpouring of kindness, respect, and dignity given to the FLDS people involved in Texas’s investigation. From Texas law enforcement to Child Protective Services, and every other department involved, each made an incredible effort to reach out and understand the people of the FLDS, their culture, and how they could best approach them and communicate with them. It was clear that this investigation was not about religion. It was about child abuse, sanctioned and directed by the FLDS men in authority.

As hard as it has been to watch the events of Eldorado unfold, they prove that there are still so many young girls and women who don’t yet realize that they, too, have the right to cry out against injustice. I hope this book reaches the many young girls and women around the world whose faces I’ll never see and whose names I’ll never know, and that perhaps in some way my words will help them to use their strength to reclaim what is rightfully theirs—the power of choice.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

This is my story. The events described are based upon my recollections and are true. I have changed the names of some individuals to protect their privacy.

In this book, I have used the terms “FLDS” or “priesthood” to describe the religious system in which I was raised. I have also made brief mention of “The Work”—later more commonly known as the FLDS Church, as well as the UEP—the trust through which the priesthood owns and controls all the property and homes of the FLDS people. I have usually combined The Work, the FLDS, and the UEP into the terms “FLDS” or “priesthood” for simplicity, but also because they are one and the same—inseparable parts.

After I began working with law enforcement, I brought a lawsuit against the FLDS system, naming as defendants Warren Jeffs, the FLDS Church, and the UEP Trust. In conjunction with that case, I have set up a fund, the MJ Fund, to provide girls and women with options that I did not have and help them start lives for themselves. It is my intention to use proceeds from that lawsuit, a portion of my profits from this book, and donations to start and operate the MJ Fund. There are so many people that need help, and it is my hope that I will be able to provide the necessary services that these people will need to get their lives back.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This has been a long and difficult journey for me and I have been blessed with the support, friendship, and love of so many wonderful people.

To Lisa Pulitzer, whose dedication to learning my past inside and out and helping me to get it down on paper will never be forgotten. Your visits to Utah and our long speakerphone conversations were always a breath of fresh air and a source of comfort as I explored many painful memories. Our friendship

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