Sometimes I hesitate to write certain stories from my life that were “red flags” about John’s secret life as a practicing pedophile because quite honestly it’s hard to write about these things and it’s shamefully embarrassing to me that I didn’t at least tell someone — anyone– what was going on.  I think that’s the cry of every person who has been emotionally abused — fear of nobody believing you and also fear of being called stupid for putting up with so much wrong. I lived with both fears.

This story is graphic and if you are weak in the stomach, please do not read this one.It’s very difficult for me to think about, and I’ve tried and tried to shove it out of my mind, but the images are burned there forever.  I will share only because I believe this information is important for you to know — this is information that clearly shows something was wrong with John.  He was a gentle, kind person, and he was also one of the most cruel men I’ve ever known.

If you are new to this blog, I’d suggest you begin reading here. It will help you to get a bit of a background of the unfolding of how this mystery came to be solved.

By now, our kids were older and we had allowed them to have pets.  Our oldest daughter chose a doggie, and he was adorable.  He slept with her and he was truly our spoiled family pet.  We had the usual parakeets, turtles, and fish, but this particular year one of the kid’s friends from school had some bunnies to give away so of course all we heard from morning ’til night was, “Please….please can we have a pet bunny?  I promise to take good care of him.  I’ll play with him and teach him tricks.  I’ll feed and water him every day.”  And, on and on it went.  Well, as it turned out, we visited the farm, the kids chose their bunnies, and we came home with three of them.  They were adorable!

The kids wrapped them in little blankets while John put the finishing touches on their bunny cages.  They would stay in the side yard during the warm months, and during the winter months they would be brought into our garage for protection from the cold.  The kids had used their allowance for the feeders, the straw, and the bunny pellets which they ate.  And, so we became a family with a pet dog, several kittens, and now playful bunnies.  Every day after school the kids would play with their pet bunnies in the yard.  That is until they began growing larger and got a bit too frisky for them.  Rabbits have sharp claws and they can give a pretty good bite, too!

It wasn’t but a couple of months into the pet bunny ordeal that the kids came to me and said, “Do you think we can give the bunnies back?  They’re mean and they aren’t fun to play with anymore.”  That was fine by me because quite truthfully I felt sorry for those rabbits always cooped up in their cages.  What kind of life is that?

I talked to John about calling the farm to see if they wanted the rabbits back, but he stopped me on that idea.  “No way!  I have a better idea.  We don’t have to call the farm.  I’ll find a home for those little rascals on Saturday.”

Hmmm….I had no idea who John was giving the rabbits to, but I wasn’t at all worried about it. I was just glad that those poor things would find a good home.  Our kids were afraid of them, and they just weren’t getting the attention they needed.

Saturday rolled around and I asked John if he was still taking care of the rabbits.  “Yep.  It’s a done deal.  I’m going to wait ’til the kids are down for a nap.”

Nap time came and John went outside.  He said, “I’m going to take care of those rabbits now.”

“Okay.  Thank you!”

This is the part that is very hard for me to share.  It’s grotesque and barbaric. It was so out of character with the man I thought I knew.

After about thirty minutes, John walked into the kitchen and said, “Hand me a baking pan.  I’m cooking rabbit for supper.”

I froze in my spot in the kitchen.  No.  He wouldn’t do that to the kids pet rabbits.  No way would he do that.  John loved to hunt, but my goodness — these were family pets!

I could feel myself starting to cry.  “What did you do?  Please tell me!  What did you do?”

John looked at me with a half grin, half smirk on his face as he calmly said, “We’re having rabbit for supper.  Those things were hard to kill.  They kept running around in their cages.  I had to hold them down while I got them.”

My body is shaking as I’m telling this story because I truly became afraid of John that afternoon.  For the very first time I knew with full assurance that he was capable of doing atrocious things.  He said he took a hammer from the garage and hit each one on the head several times to kill them.  He literally smashed in their skulls, skinned them, gutted them, and then wanted to prepare a feast with the pets he had just murdered.

I dropped to my knees screaming and I thought I was going to vomit.  John had the most odd look on his face as if to say, “What is wrong with you?  I’ve just brought home supper and this is how you act?”

He took the baking pan and brought in the rabbit meat as I sobbed and wondered how to tell the kids what had just happened.  Do you know what?  I don’t even remember what they were told.  I’m drawing a blank.  I want so badly to completely forget that scene, but it’s one that will never be forgotten.  I saw a side of John — an evil, malicious side — that I never knew existed.

He breaded the rabbit meat and cooked it as he hummed a song in the kitchen.  No, I did NOT eat any of the meat.  I couldn’t bear to look at it.  I just kept replaying over and over in my mind what it must have been like as he threw blow after blow onto the heads of those rabbits until they died.

I looked at John from a distance as he sat eating his rabbit meat, and I saw evil.  I felt the evil.  I knew at that point that something was terribly wrong, but I didn’t know what it was.  He had crossed a line and had gone into territory that was reserved for those who were mentally ill, only he didn’t see it that way.  He never thought there was a thing wrong with what he did!  In fact, he said that was the best rabbit meat he had ever eaten!

The red flags were there!  Something was very wrong with this man who could intentionally plan on killing his children’s pet rabbits in such an inhumane way and then sitting down at the dinner table and eating them.  That look on John’s face — that sneer — was frightening.  He looked like a different person.  I knew from that moment forward that he was capable of inflicting pain on the innocent without feeling any remorse.  I had seen it with my own eyes, but I didn’t know what to do.

Do you see what was going on here?  John had crossed safe boundaries — he had exposed part of his dark side to me and I reacted just as he knew I would.  I was shocked.  I was repulsed.  I was frightened.  But I didn’t tell a soul.  Ever.  That was a well-kept secret without him ever threatening me not to tell.

Molesters do evil things to children.  They hurt them on purpose.  They do not feel remorse.  They get a rush from doing it.  They love the feeling of being in control — being the one with the hammer — and pounding down until there is no more breath left.  In a most unusual way, John was exposing to me who he was, but I didn’t get it.  I knew something was wrong, but……I slid deeper down into the hole of secrecy and despondency and never told anyone.  However, from that day forward, a side of me always knew that he was not to be trusted.  Ever.

What can you glean from this story?  Two things are most important to remember.  A child molester is charming and kind and sweet to others.  I don’t think anyone would ever have believed this story had I told them.  They would have looked at me in dismay and thought I was the biggest story-teller around.  Never in one million years would kind Mr. John do anything harmful — not even to a flea! Wasn’t he the one that spent hours buidling the rabbit pens?  Wasn’t he the one that went and got fresh straw for them every week?

Besides that, he loved and adored his children and he’d never, ever do anything to intentionally hurt them.  My goodness!  He was the most loving father ever!  He never raised his voice.  He never said a swear word.  He was always funny and even-tempered with the kids.  This is not something their dad would do!

A child molester always has an air-tight story.  The kids always surrounded him with love and their complete allegiance.  In their eyes, their dad could do no wrong!

Beware.  I’ll say it again and again and again.  Chances are very big that you know a child molester.  Chances are that you trust a child molester.  Chances are that you’ve had red flags waving in your face, but you keep saying, “No.  Not this person.  He is too kind.  Too giving.  Too loving. He has done so much good in our church and community.”

Familiarize yourself with some of the characteristics of a pedophile. If you think something is “off” — something is “wrong”, then report it.  It’s better to err on the side of protecting our children than letting this behavior go on!

When I put together the Christmas gift, the skull for Mother’s Day, and the abominable eating of the pet rabbits, you can clearly see that there were dangerous red flags.  Why didn’t I do anything?  Think of the complexity of it all.  John was a beloved preached.  An adored father.  Women swooned over him because of the way they thought he treated me.  And, in public I was the adoring wife.

I felt like I was crazy.  I was not crazy.  I was living with a practicing pedophile — a man who continued to molest children up until the age of 63 when he was arrested.

Please don’t allow this same thing to happen again!  Pay attention and take action! Pay attention in your churches, in your schools, in your daycares, in the homes of your children’s friends, with your babysitters….just pay attention!!!!

For the sake of all of the children, please be a voice!

Love,

Clara