Patti

My question is why??? No one is listening.

Every women that went there has to same story no matter what years. I graduated in 1984. I got whatever that paper was that said I was done. One of the happiest days. I never even told my parents because I did want them to feel guilty. I just kept in all inside. Unsure how I feel about opening this box with no changes still. Very Very sad .  

I got out of Hephzibah House and I completely blocked everything that happen there from my mind. First, I never thought any one would believe it and I needed to move past it. For the longest I thought I deserved it.

I can only remember was actually happened to me and not really all of that. I can tell you every thing I remember.

I was one of the girl workers. I remember laying tile in the big house. Gardening, you could not miss a bean or blue room. 

My bunk was right above that blue room. I could hear every girl that had to go there every single night. Praying my name would not be called.

I remember only one black girl she didn't stay long she was pregnant. 

I remember awful tales of past students who got out and didn't make it. I don't know if there was any truth to that other to just scare me more.

I remember I was not allowed to be friends with anyone because we were to bad for that. I remember not knowing if I could even trust the other girls for fear they may tell something on me. I remember Don Williams being bad and the awful sermon that night. This was before he married the younger house mother there her name started with a W.

I remember my feet turning all the way blue from working out in the cold so long. I remember my back side being black and blue then yellow for weeks. It hurt to sit down. These are just a few of my on personal memories.  

Patricia Stewart Parker

Mindy~

To whom it may concern:

I arrived at Hepzhibah House towards the end of 2001 at the age of 12 and a half and left at the beginning of 2005 at almost 16 years old. During my time there I not only suffered physical and mental abuse but I also witnessed the abuse of others while I was there. Upon my arrival, they (staff) required us to undergo a "medical" exam from someone who they claimed was a doctor. The staff members put me in a small closet where the exam was to be performed. While getting prepared for their "doctor" to come into the closet,  I'm already crying and telling the staff that I already had a full physical exam done by my own family physician before arriving there and that I didn't want to go through this again. The staff member slapped me across the face and told me this was a requirement and that I needed to just suck it up and comply with the rules. As I'm crying more, this said doctor comes into the closet to perform this exam. He didn't say a word to me. He wasn't wearing anything to identify himself as a doctor. So no scrubs, no white coat, just jeans and a collared polo type shirt. The staff member that had just slapped me is now holding me down on this table as I am dreaming and telling them NO repeatedly  and another staff member was prying my legs apart for this doctor. At this time, I'm not being held down and restricted by two staff members. There was no type of sink or anything in this room so the doctor didn't wash his hands. This "exam" he did lasted for what seemed like forever to me but probably about 30-45 minutes. During the entire time, as I'm being held down and my legs held in a pried open manner I'm screaming as loud as I possibly can hoping that someone will hear me to help me. This "doctor" shoved different objects that I wasn't able to see inside of me during this examination and I screamed even more in shear pain and agony added to the terror I was already in! I just wanted it to stop! When it was finally over, the staff made me clean up my own blood and mess from the eternal damage they had done! It hurt so bad for so long after this traumatic experience I could barely move or walk.

Deborah Bogardus: Surviver Stories

            My name is Deborah (Fritz) Bogardus. I was a student at Hephzibah House (HH) for over 3 years.  I have tried to write down my experience at HH before but have always ended up putting it aside, unable to complete it.  When the subject of HH is brought up, life seems to stand still. I get sucked into this spiraling black hole, even 25 years later. The damage is done. I survived it. I will not allow the people who are responsible for my treatment and experiences at HH to destroy the unconditional love, mercy and grace I know my Savior has for me. I am able to stand firm in my faith, despite HH.   It is extremely difficult reliving these memories. Very few memories were good.  The only good memories I have are from spending time directly with other girls, those were rare moments, but ones I treasure.

My parents fought a lot.  I couldn’t take the constant bickering and fighting.  One night, I ran away to a friend of a friend’s house. The next day I was returned to my parent’s home. I was immediately taken to the ER. My parents wanted to make sure I hadn’t been raped. I assured them I had not been, but was asked to be examined by a physician. I agreed. The physician explained they were going to do an exam. I saw a speculum on the tray and said I do NOT want a vaginal examine. The Dr agreed it was unnecessary and respected my wishes. I had a regular physical examine minus the vaginal exam/ pap smear.  I was 13. I had never had sex, done drugs, drank, smoked etc, and in general, was not a problem child. I was a typical frustrated, unhappy, complicated, hormonal teen, growing up. Unbeknownst to me parents looked into reform and boarding schools. I was not told I was going to HH.   I arrived at HH on May 13, 1994. I was 13 years old. I remember being so scared. My first interaction with Ronald Williams was that day. Most of the conversation was a blur, but I vividly remember he told me I would be living there for a minimum of 15 months. He said there were staff ladies who would be taking care of me and if I ever stepped out of line or became defiant, I would be brought upstairs and he would discipline me. He proceeded to pull out a long wood paddle to show me. He said two chairs would be placed over me, one over my shoulders, and the other over my legs. Two staff would sit on the chairs while he administered discipline. I was terrified at the very thought.

I was led downstairs to the basement by a staff lady. The door shut behind me and was locked.  I soon found out all the doors and windows had locks and alarms. The basement opened up as a walkout by the kitchen. The entire backyard was surrounded in a huge fence at least 15ft high. There was no way to leave. I was a prisoner. 

 I was told I would be allowed to see my parents in 3 months, my sibling in 6 months. Little did I know I would be monitored at all times, unable to talk to my family and tell them what life was really like for me.  I was required to write my parents and pastor weekly. Every letter was monitored and read. If any content was unflattering or did not portray HH or their staff, or our activities in a good light, we were required to rewrite it or our letter would not go home.  Often letters from home had blacked out content. Staff decided what we were allowed to read and receive from home. The same monitoring went for phone calls.  We were allowed one 10 minute phone call home each month. On our birthday month we received an extra 5 minutes.  A staff lady would dial the number, connect with our family, call us into the staff closet and sit next to us the entire time, monitoring our conversation. Our letters from home were opened and read before we received them.  We were not allowed to have communication with anyone other than through our parents.

We were dehumanized.  We became puppets. Shells of the girls we once were. We were unable to help each other. So many times I cried myself to sleep, horrified that I couldn’t speak up or help as one of the other girls were punished for some ridiculous offense that day. While I was never beaten by him over the course of my stay, many times I heard girls being beat. I witnessed girls coming back downstairs from being “disciplined”. They would be visibly shaken tear stained eyes. You could tell they had been broken.  We became hopeless, helpless and broken. 

The day I arrived I was forced to strip and shower moments after I walked through the basement door. They took my clothes while I showered and provided me a uniform. I wish I had taken a longer shower, because after that moment, every shower I had at HH was timed. We were allowed 3 minutes of running water. 10 minutes total in the bathroom stall, 2min. to undress, 3min. to shower, and 5min. to dry and dress.  After I was in their approved attire, I was led down a hall where other girls were.  Relief poured through me when I saw another girl my age. It was short lived. I asked her a question and a look of sadness filled her eyes as she nodded her head toward the staff lady. I looked at the staff lady who told me girls were not allowed to talk to each other unless they were on their talking list.

 Every single aspect of our lives were controlled. We could not use the bathroom unless it was during the allotted bathroom break. So many times over the many years I witnessed normal, healthy girls wet themselves or their bed because they were not suppose to use the bathroom and could not physically hold it. They were then forced to wear diapers and be publicly shamed and humiliated further. We could use the restroom “anytime” but they gave out a punishment so severe we would hold it as long as humanly possible. Using the restroom not on a scheduled break was instant 16 demerits.  I am positive many of us girls have experienced damaging, long term affects due to holding our urine to the point of severe pain almost daily. I regularly heard girls stirring in their beds, rocking, crying because of the pain, sitting on the edge of their bed, waiting for the clock to strike the precious moment we could get off our bed without punishment. The mind games were sickening. Most of us girls, who previously had normal menses, stopped menstruating due to the trauma, stress, and lack of nutrition our bodies were put through.

  Staff would move beds in front of the exit doors at night. As if alarms and deadbolt locks weren’t enough, they had motion lights added so that if a girl got off her bunk at night, all of the lights in the dorm would turn on.  

Demerits were handed out liberally.  If you accumulated more than 15 demerits, you had to write sentences. (a scripture verse was a sentence) 16 demerits=100 verses,  17demerits =200 verses,  18 demerits =300 verses,  19 demerits =400 verses,  20 demerits =500 verses. Writing out God’s word was their punishment, along with no talking all week, isolation, no treats, or any extras of any kind (birthday parties, special occasions, etc.)We were forced to wear our uniform to church services to further distinguish our shame. We would also be removed from outside crew for the week if you were deemed lucky enough to be on outside crew. Outside crew meant you were trusted enough not to run away. (Stockholm syndrome at its finest)  If a girl made it to outside crew status, she would walk (supervised the entire time by staff ) through the briefly unlocked door, work outside, and walk right back down into captivity.  We did so much manual labor that did not pertain to us girls, but help was needed by other staff, and we were free labor. We hauled massive heavy 5 gallon buckets, unloaded food trucks, cleaned the outdoor walk in freezer, thoroughly cleaned staff member’s homes and personal quarters, weeding their personal gardens, detailing their vehicles, raking and weeding  the outside grounds and collated so much scripture ( they had a printing press and made little booklets of scripture) when they needed it.    Demerits were given for all sorts of things, a chore not passing the white glove test, looking in the mirror at the same time as another student who not on your talking list.  Infractions were decided by the staff. It was easy to accumulate demerits.   I forgot my hairbrush on the dorm ledge and received 15 demerits for it. Already having had 4 demerits at the end of the week, that put me at 19 demerits which instantly gave me sentences the next week. This occurred regularly.  The staff laughed at me when I asked if we were allowed to earn merits too. There was a rule book we had to read and initial monthly. It was a thick rule book with so many rules you probably wouldn’t believe me unless you read it for yourself.

We were forced to eat and drink excessive amounts of liquids and foods at times and other times went hungry, our stomachs would growl most often on Saturdays & Sundays. Saturday we would be fed two meals and Sunday, being the observed Sabbath, very light food.  Food was mostly donated. Often food was rotten, expired, or just a mystery. They struggled to meet our nutritional needs.  I literally cringe when I hear Ronald Williams laugh at how much teen girls eat, as if it was some joke. Every bit of food was measured. We were forced to drink powdered milk.  I will never forget a new girl arrived and told the staff she was allergic to dairy. The staff did not believe her and told her to drink it anyway. She pleaded with them to talk to her parents. They would not listen to her and forced her to drink it. She drank it and within moments she vomited. She turned bright red and broke out in hives. They made her clean it up.

After 15 months of following the rules and doing what I was told, I went home. Unfortunately, nothing had changed in our home.  I still struggled. I never shared what truly happened at HH with my family.I had been brainwashed into believing that was acceptable behavior.  Talking about HH was one of the last things I wanted to discuss. I was free.  I was still unhappy in our home. The fighting continued. Discord, all the time. Looking back, my parents had to have known that if they sent me back to HH, they wouldn’t have to deal with me or my unhappiness.  I was so shocked the 2^nd time my dad pulled up the drive at HH. I couldn’t believe they were doing this, again. I was numb.  I was now 15. I remember the first counseling session after I arrived back at HH. Ronald Williams asked me why I was back. I said I didn’t know why. I hadn’t done anything wrong. He asked me if I was still a virgin. It felt gross discussing this with him. I assured him no sex, no drugs, no alcohol. I had friends my parents didn’t approve of and I was generally unhappy. That was my offense.

  I was given a medical “exam” while at HH. I was forced. There was no option. I was brought into the staff closet by the compound nurse. It was a very tiny room which housed some staff belongings.   An old medical table was uncovered and some man preformed the exam. I had no choice. I had never met him before and never met him again. I was outnumbered physically. There was nothing professional about that exam. It was violating and traumatic. I have had lasting trauma as a result of that forced exam.

Medical care was a joke. If you were ill, you were forced to be in bed for 24hours. If you threw up you cleaned it up immediately. Staff would not offer help or support.  We were treated as an inconvenience. We would be required to stay on the bed for 24 hours.  It was not an experience any girl would enjoy.   You were given a can of ensure, no comfort food was allowed, such as a bowl of soup. The only comfort or affection I was given while at HH was a hug by my parents every 3 months. THREE PLUS YEARS. As a mother of 5 children, this alone brings tears to my eyes and breaks my heart.  We were developing young girls. This alone will have damaging psychological impact.

The sexual, physical, mental, emotional & spiritual abuse I experienced and witnessed while at HH have had lasting effects on my life.  What us girls were put through was not done in the name of God. We lived in a constant state of perpetual fear.  We could never be good enough.  We were not hardened criminals, yet we were treated like it. At night as we fell asleep we were often repeatedly subjected to listening to audio religious scare tactical propaganda. More brainwashing as we went to sleep. I cannot remember the name of one the audio tapes,  but I distinctly remember the sound of hearing  souls crying in hell, as they were tormented.  I remember praying to God and wondering if this is what He heard from our minds at night as us girls lay in bed. Our heartache. Our desperation.  We were forced to be silent, in our beds, while we listened to these tapes. Submission and obedience was key.  As a Christian woman who knows and understands what the Bible says, the methods HH used are more cult like than Christ like.

None of the staff ladies I was surrounded with in the 3 plus year span I was there had any formal training to deal with “troubled” girls. The school is not credited.  There is no program that the family of these “troubled” girls are required to complete at home.  No counseling is provided for the family as a whole. “Troubled” girls don’t arrive at this point in their life all on their own.  I have heard so many horror stories from other HH survivors. As mandated reporters, HH staff have covered up and lied to so many people in efforts to keep the doors of HH open. HH sounds wonderful in the brochure. They lead you to believe they are a ministry serving troubled girls out of the kindness of their hearts.  They portray that girls will experience a balanced life in their stay at HH.  In reality they are wolves in sheep’s clothing, sucking parents financially dry and accepting donations and raising support as they “voluntarily” serve Christ.  They lure in parents who are desperate to help their daughters, preying on families who are searching for help.  They forced obedience through fear, but they did little to reach my heart.   Unfortunately HH still has their doors open and still has girls forced in captivity as I write this. 

Kim Long: Survivor!

I left Hephzibah house without a blessing a few weeks after my 18th birthday, I had no high school diploma, no driver's license, 7 dollars in my pocket and nowhere to go.

As you know, they sent me to Toledo OH. At the bus stop I was practically lost! I was so confused and upset I could hardly say what my name was. The phone numbers Pastor Williams gave me were a joke! One place had been closed down for years and the other was the Salvation Army's refuge and it was for men only!

There was a security guard who helped me out a little. He referred me to a women's refuge that was for abused wives etc. They were really good to me there although getting there was quite and experience.

Walking across the city of Toledo in the middle of the night is a little less than appealing or safe. I spent the night there and the next day went to a travel agency there. I only had the seven dollars and that would not get me back to my hometown Norwalk so they sent me to the welfare department.

Red tape could have kept me there quite a while, but fortunately we found a short cut. They called my mother to get a Social Security number for some type of aid, but she was not home. I went to the library to try to look up phone numbers of anyone I remembered that might be able to help me. When I got back to the welfare office they called my mother again to no avail. We then tried the first number on my list of friends, the woman who had called the welfare on my mother in the first place leading to my being placed at Hephzibah House. This kind woman said she would be right up to pick me up within two hours I was on my way home!

I lived with this woman until I got married, it was the best time of my life! D was in her 40's but she spent hours talking to me and letting me talk and talk. She was really my strength during those months.

After I was married a couple months I got my GED, and then a few months after that my driver's license. I then went to college where my major was medical records. My new husband made good money so it was not necessary for me to work. I really didn't have the confidence it

took anyway.

Statement of Kim Long 1980- 1982

Bonnie: Survivor!

I am a former HH student.

I only went there for about 4-5 weeks back when I was 16 years old for being a "rebellious child," when in fact, I was just trying to be a normal teenage girl. I was humiliated and thankfully, never beaten.

I remember being ushered into a bathroom, made to strip, and searched all over my body for any "contraband". I was then told to take a shower, which I was told I had 3 minutes to wash my body and my hair completely. Then, as soon as the shower was over, I had to get dressed into clothes that they had set out for me.

I did not have a period at all the entire time that I was there. I did have to take some sort of shake to make myself have a bowel movement. What kind of place would do this to ANY teenager?!? 

Ron Williams is a SICK, SICK man.

I know there is more that I could bring up, but I am not sure that I need to rehash it all for those who endured this for the full 18 months they were there. I was lucky that my real father and grandparents got a lawyer and had a Private Investigator to look in on this "school" and as soon as HH found out that there was someone snooping about, I was then told that I had to leave because they couldn't afford to have anyone snooping about and show all the horrible things that happened there.

Thank you for allowing me to post my not so happy thoughts...

Bonnie

Becky Cramer: Survivor!

I was in there for only a couple of months. I got sent home when Amy K. ran away. Thank God for her! I think I went in in early April and I know I got sent home in June- my parents were on their honeymoon- they got married June 5th.

The year was 1982.

I don't ever remember being strip searched. I know they searched my stuff when I got there. As for the food, I remember the options were Extras (for the skinny people), regulars ( for those who were just right), and diet (for those who were "plump") I was on diet portions. In the 6 weeks that I was there, I lost 35 pounds. Yes, losing the weight was a good thing. and, what was the deal with "not dissecting your food"? Anybody remember that? Couldn't eat the crust and then the bread, couldn't eat the white and then the yolk...........and other fun stuff like that.

I am just glad that Amy K. ran away when she did or I would have been stuck there for the whole time.
I have questioned my parents about my being sent home. Their take on things was interesting to sat the least.

I Was only there for 6 weeks and got spanked 4 times. They held me down every time and I was not trying to put up a fight. Miss Emory and Miss Saylor, I think those were the names of the ladies who were in there. One at the head and one on my legs. And the reasons for it were ridiculous. Once it was because I took those stupid pink rollers out of my (naturally curly) hair and was ripping the brush through it. Yeah I was frustrated. Who wouldn't be. the hair was already curly and the roller made it worse. Apparently, it was a bad attitude. Well, my hair started it! It was uncooperative!

Stephanie Boyd: Survivor!

Hi! My name is Stephanie Boyd and I recently left HH just this past January.

I only had to stay there for about 9 months because they took me when I was 17. I was so glad when I turned 18... I still couldn't leave for another month though because I had no where to go. My parents took me there because I was "rebellious" or as I would say I had a mind of my own, and I wasn't going to let my parents live my life for me.

My dad became a pastor in Florida. It was a small church. Within the first year there I got a boyfriend that my parents didn't like. All my dad ever said was that my boyfriends parents were divorced and so we would end up divorced too. So that's why he wouldn't let us date. I dated him anyways. I would go to his house or hang out with him at school. MY parents decided that I was a little reprobate and they didn't want me "influencing my brothers for evil" or whatever. And so one day they showed up at my friends house and dragged me off to HH.

They don't do beatings anymore, but we did write sentences. I was counseled all the time and told that I was a little reprobate heathen that was worthless and all that garbage. I was told that if I didn't live the way they wanted me to then I wasn't right with God, and they continually asked me if I was even saved.

I know I didn't have it as bad there as some of the former students. I just wanted to share my HH experience.

Nikki Poindexter: Survivor!

I was there at HH from Oct-02 thru March-04.

When I turned 18 on Sept 4 of 2003, I asked to speak with someone about leaving. It took me a total of 6 months to actually leave that forsaken hell hole! I went through hours of Don, Ron, and the Halamyns (sp?) talking to me about why I needed to stay and reasons that if I had left now that I would be breaking a promise I made to God, and I would lead a life of "worthlessness.”

I was told that if I left that I wouldn’t have their "blessing"(what a joke right?). I remember being told that school work was the #1 priority there at the school when we first came there. I was devastated that I would be going through these PACE packets and learning very little, because cleaning other staff members houses were more important!! (These people were just LAZY!!)

I unfortunately did not finish my schooling while I was there. I came home and received a GED. The sad part is is that before I had been going to public school I was doing very well and on my way to graduating. I can still hear the cries of many of the girls I spent so much time with. There were nights in the dorm room where I would just beg and plead for these girls to receive peace. I laid in bed so nervous of what the next day might bring.

Were we going to have a scream fest from Patti (damn nutcase)? Were our chores not going to pass the white glove inspection? Were we going to eat rancid food? Was I going to have to down bottle after of bottle of magnesium citrate and then not be able to have permission to go to the bathroom? I could go on and on like so many other of us women.

I lay in bed still to this day and pray and beg God to bring this awful place to the ground, because as I'm writing this... There is a girl missing her mother, a girl wondering what she did so bad to deserve this, a girl who cries herself to sleep night after night, a girl who is mentally abused, a girl who is physically abused,a girl who is mentally abused!

I do have one positive thing that came from my stay at HH, and that is a bond that will forever be strong and unbreakable with some of the best women you could ever meet. Those girls that shared those bunk beds,those girls that share my stories,those girls that are there for me whenever I need to talk, I am thankful for every last one of them!!

Jessica McKenna: Survivor!

I went there in 1993 when I was 13. Please add my name to the students list.

I remember Jennifer Gooch. She was so sweet and quiet. Didn't her family end up moving there and going to the church for a little while? I remembering feeling so sorry for her when she was finally able to leave cause every Sunday she would be sitting on the other side of the church with her family. I can remember thinking it was like she never really got to leave that horrible place.

I got to leave after 13 months and 21 days (funny how 16 years later I still remember EXACTLY how long I was there for). Never got to say goodbye to anyone. Things were so strange there. I would never send my child to any type of place like that.

The funny thing is I wasn't bad, I was just trying to grow up, but being the oldest my parents just did not know what was normal I guess. And never tried to talk to me about things.

Jennifer L. Millar: Survivor!

At 15 years old, my Mother tricked me into believing we were going on vacation to Ft Wayne, Indiana. Instead, she dropped me off at Hepzibah House on May 6, 1991. She disposed of me, bought her freedom, and married her boyfriend two weeks later. I cannot begin to express my pain and sorrow as my Mother effortlessly walked away.

I was left to the care of strangers who brutally beat me and violated me. I was “shadowed” for three months in which I wasn’t allowed to wear shoes (only socks) and was forbidden to speak with the other girls. Everything was closely monitored/controlled and if any of us stepped out of line, we’d would pay the consequences.

I can still hear the keys that jingled knowing I was being taken upstairs to be beaten. I was forced to lie on my stomach with my arms stretched out. Chairs were placed over my head, arms, and legs so I would not move. The physical beatings left dark purple bruises and welts all over my bottom. My rear end was in such pain that I had to sit on my pubic area to avoid contact with the seat.

One morning I was taken out of class and told to get a shower and put on my robe. I didn’t understand what was happening, but we weren’t allowed to question them. When fear overcame me, I quietly asked what was going on. A man, and two staff ladies came into the bedroom and made me lie down on the bed. I was forced to have a breast and vaginal exam despite my pleading to not do this. I was a virgin and noon had seen me naked, yet these three individuals violated and humiliated me. At 33 years old, I still cry when I think of this. How could anyone do this to someone and what hurts the most is that my Mother consented.

I still have a file of pictures, menus, sermons, Hephzibah House newsletters, and of course that ugly yellow receipt that forever reminds me of being brutally violated. To me, that was a form of rape. How could my Mother have agreed to this when she had been a victim of sexual abuse at the hands of her step-father? A Mother should protect her children, but she never did. I wasn’t a bad child, I was simply lonely and sought to be loved.

At 14 years old, my married 36 year old history teacher, Albert Dejoseph, gave me the attention that I was so desperately seeking. He toyed with my emotions and even kissed me on school property. He discussed having a life with me, moving to England, and having children. He made plans to have me stay with him and his wife, but my Mother caught on to his act, and stopped him in his tracks. Yet, I was removed from high school and none rescued me. Eventually, I heard that he lost his job, but what about me, the girl who was hurt by him and by so many?

I was thrown away and punished as though I was at fault. It was a convenient excuse for my Mother to send me to Hephzibah when really she just didn’t want to be bothered. I lost 30 lbs in just a few months from the small portions of food and at times lack of food. I was allowed a monthly telephone call from my Mother in which a staff lady wore a head set to listen to our conversations. I was not allowed to discuss the beatings or anything of that nature or the call would be disconnected and I’d then pay the consequences.

We were required to write weekly letters home, but could not seal them. The staff ladies read all incoming and outgoing mail. There was no privacy. As I’ve read and reread those letters today, my Mother missed so many of those phone calls. Where was she? She couldn’t be bothered to make sure that she was home for those calls?

Showers were limited to three minutes and we had to shut them off as soon as the timer rang. I remember trying to lather up without water prior to the staff ladies saying “begin” just to give me a head start. Everything was about control.

My Mother was allowed to visit every three months, but again, a staff lady remained with us to document our conversation and to make sure I kept quiet. I truly believe that even if I was able to tell my Mom what was happening, she still would not have rescued me.

Along with the other girls, I was given three chores to be completed after school. I remember scrubbing the floors on my hands and knees. It was difficult to squeeze under the triple bunk beds and clean between the large wardrobes. Staff ladies hovered over us to ensure that we would not communicate and also to inspect our work. When my work didn’t meet with their satisfaction, I was not allowed to eat dinner. Instead, I was given a clumpy flavorless protein drink while everyone else ate in front of me.

I must say that at times I preferred the protein drink opposed to what was being served. We were forced to consume everything on our plates. We then showed an empty plate to the be inspected before turning them into be cleaned. I remember taking my napkins to cover the food then balling it up into my hand. When my bowl or plate was inspected, my hand was hidden under them. I prayed so many times that I didn’t get caught. Food was old and served over and over again. We drank powdered milk and ate from the supplies that the Williams family discarded. I remember the smell of their family cooking above us. How cruel to rub it in our noses knowing they could eat anything they wanted. They were heavy set individuals while the girls below deteriorated.

We were not allowed to sleep with a doll or teddy bear. Stuffed animals, etc were strictly used as bed decorations for pictures. Sometimes, I’d hide my little bear and bring him to bed with me hoping they wouldn’t find out. I’d hold him close to my chest and cried so many nights. A couple years ago, I finally decided to let go of “Bear” and gave him away. I didn’t want to carry that pain with me anymore and unfortunately that little stuffed animal was just a reminder of those memories. I suppose it’s silly, but I was only able to give him away when I realized that my bear could bring joy to a child in need.

After 6 months at Hepzibah, something out of the ordinary took place. All the girls were hurried into different vans and were taken to various locations. My group went to Ohio where one by one, girls disappeared. I was so naive and didn’t know what was happening until it was my turn to leave. I found out later that Hephzibah House was being investigated for abuse and therefore fled from Indiana.

Fortunately for me, 6 months was all I had to endure. My heart goes out to the many girls who were forced to live there for years . There is one girl that I think of so often. Her name was Anna Berkey who I believe was from Pennsylvania. Anna was just 12 years old and hearing impaired. They treated her worse than the rest of us. I’d really like to find her. Even though we were not allowed to communicate, I knew a little sign language. Mostly we just signed “ I love you” in passing. It was a sparkle of joy in the midst of sorrow.

To this day, I have nothing to do with religion. I believe in karma and in being kind to all people. My wife and I have a home in Canada where one day we hope to have a shelter for those in need. After a life of pain and heartache, at last I am free. May all my sisters of survival have peace, joy, and healing.

In Warmest Friendship and Love Always,

Jennifer Millar (formerly Davidson)

Anonymous: Survivor!

I was at HH for a very short time many,many years ago.

Reading these blogs sure does remind of how many memories I repressed! It was nothing but a very MISERABLE experience all the way around for me. I was very meek and submissive while I was locked up there, but I did not think anything about it was right.

The only thing I can say is that because I had to read my Bible so much, and memorize Scriptures, I actually drew closer to God while I was there. Other than that, it certainly was NOT because of any of the staff, or the "ministry" they say they have there.

I really do hope they get shut down. They should have been shut down 30 years ago! My heart goes out to all of the girls that have passed through their doors. I am a Christian, and I love the Lord, but I don't think there is anything Christian about them. I think they are a cult. It makes me angry to see them pretend to be doing good in the name of Christianity. It gives all people who are not born again a bad taste in their mouth.

Amy Krueger: Survivor!

My name was Amy Krueger. I was there in 1981...for about 10 months. Starting in the summer,we were out of school,I can't remember exact dates. I turned 16 while I was there. I weighed about 135 lbs. When I went in and the last time I was weighed there I was 117 lbs. I was regularly menstruating before going there. I did not at all after I was there.

I can remember working in their garden,from which we rarely got anything, helping to finish their house,cleaning their trucks,and any other chore they didn't want to do. Things had to be perfectly done too or we had to redo it plus we got into trouble!

(Trouble for me usually ended up with me on the floor getting beat!) If we wanted to see our families then that depended on us. How much we got in trouble, did we memorize our bible verses and catechisms(can't spell it) did we recite them back right,were our nails always good,hair always curled,notes from the sermons good?

I can still see the fenced in yard. The fence was so high you could only see the sky above it....I knew there was a world out there but I couldn't see it. We were totally cut off from civilization,we were their prisoners to do with what they wanted.

I was beaten every day until I played their game. It was about 4-5 months. It was so bad that my underwear stuck to my skin. I had two large open sores from the beatings. I was hesitant to say anything to the staff about them. I was afraid of their reaction. I was never taken to the doctor. They just took it upon themselves to 'treat' them. I was laid on the floor and had them wiped off, the door was almost always cracked open, anyone that walked by could see in,they were re-bandaged. I was beaten again at night. Even though they knew the shape my bottom was in. They said it was my fault...that I shouldn't have done whatever it was ...gotten into trouble.

During one of the rare visits I had with my father and little brother, I was told I would stay until I was ready for college. I was 16. I made the decision then that as soon as I could....I was gone! I was told to help another girl clean the room between the back door and the garage. I went to the garage to look for boxes and noticed All of the blinds on that side of the house were closed, no one was on the street, there was my chance! I had to try....I ran like my shirttails were on fire!They would not catch me!

I don't know how long or how far I ran but I ran until I thought my chest would explode. I hid in an open basement until dark. I walked, not even knowing if it was the right direction,down a highway until I saw a light on in a garage. I asked if I could use their phone to call my father. He had already been called by hh. The people ended up giving me a ride to the police dept. after stopping to get something to eat...which I inhaled..after all not only did I miss the snack they called meals I was starving to begin with!I walked in and saw some of the staff from the house and I was ready to run again. They would not ever touch me again! I let the police know about the abuse that went on there, I showed the woman the scars. They did nothing.

HH was taking a girl to Indiana that next day so they were going to take me there to meet my father. I was promised nothing would happen if I spent the night at the main house. Nothing did. I went home. I filed child abuse charges against hh. I was told they were closed and the girls were sent home. They lied!

This was a man that did this to us. Not JESUS CHRIST! I BELIEVE in HIM! I am alive today because of HIM.

Many things have happened in life but I've always known that no matter what goes on JESUS CHRIST is there.

Stephanie Stansbarger: Survivor!

I was at HH for a short time. I was there from 11-90/12-90.

My grandmother got wind that this place was horrible and finally convinced my mother to come and get me. In a blizzard the night of my 17th birthday I got to go home.

I was treated like "Cinderella", scrubbing floors with toothbrushes and peeling vegetables for hours.
I went many times with nothing to eat due to not memorizing bible verses.

I was shadowed because they thought I would either try to escape or kill myself.

It is an experience that to this day still gives me nightmares.

Tami Jo Klimasara: Survivor!

There is no way that I can put in to words what is on my heart and in my mind today, as a 45 yr old mother of 1, and grandmother of 2 now.

I have it buried so deep in my heart and soul, you see this is how i have learned my survival skills. I am what I am today because of the road I’ve traveled and because I have chosen to STUFF my feelings for all these years....

My story does not begin at H.H... Nor did it end there... It has been just a part of this puzzle... Which one day, I will be able to ask our Father God.... WHY? I cannot "SAVE FACE," so to speak, or my story will not make sense. It will not be TRUTH, and how can we expect to get the truth... If we do not give it..?? SO... After a long thought process and prayer, here is my story...

MY name is Tami JO Klimasara, and for as far back as I remember, I was just ordinary, had to stir up attention, and this I mean from my parents. My parents love me of course and provided my needs and I feel did the best they could with me. BUT - Were by far perfect parents.

My mother had her own "issues", and one seemed to be with me for a long long time. She would rage and jump on me and hurt me, mostly killing my spirit as a young girl, but also physically, just plain go off on me leaving bruises and using things to hit me with such as hair brushes and brooms and shoes...of course her own fists. She would rage on me and then tell me to wash my face and go to school.

The school teachers knew something was wrong because I flinched whenever they would approach a certain way. My mother allowed me to see a school social worker and it was just not enough... So, that system also failed me.

I had a best friend growing up, her name was Lori. Her mother saw some bruising on my back once and was in AWE. She didn’t believe this was being done to me by my mother. I was then failed again... My mom of course would see me later and ask for forgiveness... After I’ve been in school all day hurt and upset and wondering why..........If you know my mom you will not believe this story... But, It did happen, and my siblings will tell you it did.

I learned to take abuse very young, so my stay at H.H. was HARD, but, I felt so deserving of all the terrible things that we had to go thru there, they are all true stories....

Yes, we were paddled as young woman,we were restrained to do so... We were hungry... We did lots of physical labor.... We were treated horribly and our parents were lied to. I did not get my diploma after 17 months and 9 of which, I was SHUNNED to speak or even look at the other girls...... I could go on and on about the abuse there...

Bottom line is We need to save others from this cult called H.H. We needed to be loved and understood... Not abused and belittled.

I chose to take the hard road in life and I own up to all my sins... I was by far an angel... But, my parents would have been far better putting me in a foster home for a while to teach me a lesson or two, than to put me somewhere they knew absolutely nothing about. Now as an adult I have major issues regarding trust and anxiety. I have addiction problems and I still STUFF my feelings....Most of all I have no self worth...

GONE, GONE, just like the little girl sent to H.H. to get help. She is forever Gone........