The last blog I wrote created quite a stir among you as readers.  “How did you not see the red flags?”  “Why didn’t the church fire him?”  “Why didn’t the children he was abusing tell on him?” “Why did you put up with all of that?”  “Why?”  “Why?”  “Why?”

The answer to that question is because pedophiles are brilliant at masquerading who they really are.  They are two different people.  As John wrote to me in a letter from prison, “I’m sorry you had to find out about my dark side this way.”  He knew he was living as two different people, and the one I fell in love with was the one my heart most readily saw and accepted. 

John had a tender side of him that was so special.  I was the emotional one always flying off the handle with the kids.  He was kind, gentle, patient, and so understanding.  In fact, the kids could tell him they shot the moon right out of the sky and he would have said, “Okay.  That’s alright.  I did stuff like that when I was a kid, too.”

I used to pray so hard for similar qualities in my own life.  I’d look at him staying even keeled over everything, and I didn’t know how he could do it. I was impatient, overly emotional, and often flew off the handle.  Not him.  He was always in control.

It didn’t matter if the bills were piled high, every kid in the house was sick, the car was broken beyond repair, and the roof was leaking, John would still say, “It’s going to be okay.  Tomorrow’s a new day.  We’ll get everything fixed.  The kids will get better.  You worry too much.”  Oh, how much I loved that about him!

But, there was something that was always a mystery to me.  Just as soft-spoken and kind-hearted as he was, out of nowhere he could strike like lightning when you least expected it.  It was frightening!

We could be riding along in the old station wagon going home from church and the kids would be wrestling in the back of the car.  They’d be loud and noisy, and he’d be laughing as he was driving.  All of a sudden, though, he’d hit the brakes, and the kids would come tumbling forward in the car (this is the day before seatbelts) and he’d say, “When we get home, the belt is coming off.”  And, it would.  He’d whack them across the back of their legs and I’d cringe as I’d see his beady eyes looking like he enjoyed doing that.  Power.  It was like he enjoyed the power.  Yet, he was still very much in control.  Always, always in total control.

So scary to me.  In fact, it sends shivers up my spine just recalling these events.

Two occasions stick out in my mind so vividly because I sobbed for hours after these happened.  The first one took place in the basement of the church and involved our then three-year-old.  He was pulling a stubborn fit not wanting to go sit down when he was supposed to, and I could see John across the room talking with someone.  He very casually strolled over to where I was struggling with our little one, and in one quick strike, he reached over, grabbed him by the hair and ripped out a huge chunk of his hair leaving a big bald spot!!!

Let’s just say there was total silence — everyone was stunned!  Our little fella never cried (he knew better, I suppose) and he went and sat down while John picked up his conversation with the gentleman across the room just as though nothing had happened.

I could feel my face turning bright read and hot tears where falling from my face as I looked at my son with a large patch of his dark, curly hair missing.  I was sick in my stomach for days.  This was so unexpected.  It was as though John came out of nowhere, struck with his deadly venom, and went on about his business never blinking an eye.  If he could do this, what else was he capable of doing? 

It was years until such a thing happened again, only this time it was with a much older son.  John was goofing around with him — they were wrestling to see who was the strongest and my son was just about ready to get the best of him when it happened.

One quick PUNCH to the center of his chest and down my son went!  I screamed and ran over to him thinking he had broken bones or worse yet that he wasn’t breathing!  The other kids stood back in shock not saying a word — too afraid to speak.

“Is this my dad?  The same gentle, fun guy that had just been horse playing around?”  “How could he heave a punch like that to the center of the chest so unexpectedly and so fast?”

John walked off and said nothing.  We were left shaking and so surprised.  I still tremble when I think of his quick change — the quick temper coming without warning!

I watched him punch our family dog with the same violent force for no reason other than the dog jumped up on him wanting some affection.  I didn’t speak to him for over a week when he hid in the dark waiting for our daughter to return from a basketball game.  He lunged at her, grabbed her by the hair, and yanked out a fistful because “she lied” about where she was.  A stray dog had wandered up our driveway and he said he was going to shoot it right between the eyes.  I begged him not to do that.  “Why?  Why can’t we drop it off at the animal shelter?”

His answer was calm, but forceful.  “We don’t know if the dog has had its shots.  Do you want this dog hanging around the kids and eventually biting one of them?”  He waited until the kids were asleep and shot the dog. Very calculated and without feeling.

John was such a difficult person to understand.  How could a man be so loving, so full of kindness for the elderly, for the poor, for the sick and be the same person who “struck with violence”?

I didn’t understand.  And, so I did what so many emotionally abused wives tend to do.  I fell for the kind side of him, and shoved the abusive incidents far, far back to the hidden corners of my mind where I prayed I’d forget them.  I only wanted to see and know the kind, gentle man I married.  It was too painful and too scary to think of the other John. 

Do you see the red flags waving so heavily before my eyes?  I only saw what I wanted to see.  I only felt what I wanted to feel.  And, it was the same for the kids.  99% of the time their dad was awesome!  They graciously forgot about the “bad parts” and only remembered the dad who was the best dad in the world!  Isn’t that what we usually tend to do with our pain — shove it to the very back of our minds.

As John’s pedophilic tendencies ran rampant, so did his swings from “good John” to “bad John.”  It got so bad that instinctively I kept a knife with me in the living room where I now slept as protection against him.  I would lay awake at night and wonder if he was stalking in the dark waiting for one of the kids or for me.  Living like this really messes with your mind.

Two nights ago, I did something I haven’t done in a long time.  I googled John’s name.  Instantly newspaper article after newspaper article came up and I began to read.  “Hinton sexually assaulted children under the age of 7.”  “Former Somerset man claims rebellious streak caused him to molest children.”  “The tentacles of this type of thinking wrapped itself around my heart” he told the Judge.  “An electronic analysis of camera cards from Hinton revealed numerous digital photos of children’s private parts and full nude photos of children.”

And, on and on it went.  I had to read those articles again to believe it.

Yes, it is true.  The kind, gentle, caring, patient, servant of God that I married also committed the most heinous crimes known to mankind to innocent little children.

Who is a pedophile?  The preacher, the teacher, the mother, the grandfather, the car salesman, the body builder, the accountant.  Anybody can be the molester!

Please pay attention to the red flags waving before your very eyes.  Don’t be like me.  Please think with your mind and not with your heart!  If something doesn’t seem right, then it probably isn’t!  Look what was hidden behind this façade of John’s.  Those outbursts were his claim to “power” and “control.”  And, he knew just how to do it and leave everyone blind sided by his actions!

Protect your children and your grandchildren!  Don’t wait until it’s too late! Be aware of the red flags and have the courage to speak out — speak loud and speak often!  Please, for the children, let’s be a voice of protection!

Thank you for reading, and thank you so much for sharing. Together we are becoming a voice that is making a difference!

If you are interested in doing more, please read my son’s blog.  It’s a hard read.  Very hard.  And, be sure to sign the petition in the video.  It’s time for these horrible actions against children to end!

Love,

Clara