My free online book

The links that are working are the finished part. Chapter One is on this page. I will have this completed soon. Thank you for reading 

Published by David Wilkerson

Copyright 2017 , and updated 2020 David Wilkerson

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE   Growing up in the enchanted kingdom  (SCROLL DOWN FOR CHAPTER ONE) 

CHAPTER TWO At last I can escape, leaving home at age 18

CHAPTER THREE   Glendale and Mesa Community college, burglaries

CHAPTER FOUR Arizona State University, sex drugs and crime

CHAPTER FIVE     Treatment alternatives to street crime.

CHAPTER SIX Back in College, More sex, drugs and crime

CHAPTER SEVEN On the run, fugitive from justice

CHAPTER EIGHT Surrender and Arizona State Prison

CHAPTER NINE Paroled out of Arizona State Prison

CHAPTER TEN Arrested in Texas, Escape attempt from the County jail

CHAPTER ELEVEN Darrington Unit TDC Vietnam West

CHAPTER TWELVE Paroled from Texas with 12 years of parole to live down

CHAPTER THIRTEEN Beth decides she is a lesbian and I become a single Father

CHAPTER FOURTEEN Single Father in Seattle

CHAPTER FIFTEEN 1st and 2nd trip to Manila 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN Faye arrives in the USA from Manila

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Marnie and Madness, Third trip, this time Cebu City

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Marnie arrives from Cebu

CHAPTER NINETEEN Fourth and final trip. The story of Hope House 

CHAPTER TWENTY PART ONE  How it works, My spiritual Journey to the heart of God

CHAPTER TWENTY PART TWO 

CHAPTER TWENTY PART THREE 

CHAPTER TWENTY PART FOUR 

CHAPTER TWENTY PART FIVE 

Preface by the Author

I write about the things that stood out over my life, and how those events led to me coming to the Philippines to start Hope House in Cebu City. I appreciate all of you who have prayed and helped more than I can put in words. The story of Hope House is a love story.

After eating at the chow hall that first evening, we returned to our cell blocks and they racked the cell door open and I walked inside. I sat there on the bottom bunk after the barred cell door shut, I had reached the end of the line. The county jail, the hot uncomfortable prison bus trip and arriving at the Darrington unit of the Texas Department of Corrections, and now I sat in the cell with the cell door closed, and I felt the finality of my situation. I was locked in this small dark concrete and steel roof cell with bars, I had nothing but my prison issue clothes, mat and a sheet and a pillow. I sat and thought about how I had really messed up. I believed I was going to stay out of prison after getting out of prison in Arizona. I was working helping build townhouses. I was a good worker. I was staying out of trouble, but I fell into drinking and drugging with the workers at the construction site. We would get paid on Friday and go to bars or someone’s place and drink. It was a Friday night when we went out and razed that small farm. I was already drinking and high when we went out there. I thought to myself, why didn’t I just walk away and walk home, or tell the guy, no let’s just go home. I couldn’t walk home because we were miles from San Angelo, but it would have been better than being in this prison cell. I thought about how my co-defendant should have taken the rap, because it was all his idea and he did the actual stealing and destruction. I sat and wondered how it was this is what my life had come to. I also realized I was in maximum security and it wasn’t lost on me how the convicts in Arizona feared going to the central unit in Florence, a maximum-security prison. I was now in a place like that which they had feared. I resolved in myself that I was going to fight the first time anything came up, and I was not going to be raped. I already hated blacks and I thought about that. I drifted off to sleep finally, and in the morning, my own personal Vietnam was about to begin.
CHAPTER ONE   Growing up in the enchanted kingdom
Between Las Cruces and Lordsburg, on interstate 10, there is a wide space of road and that is where I was born at Mimbres Memorial hospital, November 12, 1958. The doctor said “take him home and feed him a hamburger, I weighed over 11 lbs. The proud parents were Merritt and Myrtle Wilkerson. Deming is a small town on the southern New Mexico border. The population was around 10,000 people. Deming boasted having 99.99 % pure water, and it was. I have some very early childhood memories such as being in my crib and throwing a fit because I wanted to get out. I remember being held before I could walk. My parents owned a flower shop and a plant nursery. It was fun growing up with all the plants, and greenhouses and we had plenty of space to play. We played games like kick the can. We did not have Play stations, Nintendo’s, X-boxes, no video games at all, no 99 channels on cable, no video tape movies, no surround sound, no cell phones, no personal computers, no Internet or Internet chat rooms, but we did have friends, and we went outside and found them! We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets. We rode our bikes with no helmets. As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags. Riding in the back of a pickup truck was always a special treat.
I was struck by lightning when I was three years old. The lightning hit a big evaporative air cooler outside a window of our house, and I was standing next to it. I saw a white light surrounding my body—it was like I was in a bubble. Everything was slow motion. The lightning arched over and struck me, knocking me to the ground. My ears were ringing and I felt a numbness in my arms and legs. I got up and ran inside the house telling my mother. She went outside to see the large metal box that was our evaporative cooler, and she saw the mark where the lighting hit on the metal. My mother just about fainted right away. I was energetic and didn’t sleep for a couple days after that. My mom took me to Dr. Feil, and he gave me a check-up and told my mother that I seemed to be fine, and that I was lucky, my burns were very minimal. We had a little black dog named Smokey, and one day a car ran over him in the road in front of our house. He survived, but was injured badly with one eye popped out and hanging there. My dad took the dog away and put him out of his misery and buried him. I was very sad about Smokey. I was learning that sometimes very sad things happen to people. We played games like monopoly and Yahtzee. I think I was luckier than the average person at games. I won a shopping trip at Stewart’s market, a little mom and pop grocery, and my parents took me there and I wanted to fill the cart up with candy, but they made me buy food and then I got some candy. For his nursery business, my dad would get trees and fertilizer delivered by 18-wheeler truck. One of the drivers was Paul and he was in his 40’s I guess looking back. He was friendly and gregarious, and he always had a pack of cigarettes in his pocket. The drivers were not required to help unload the truck, but he would help. He would mark the height of my brother and me on a post. We stood there while he made a mark at the top of our heads on the post. He would do that when he came back every 6 months or a year, and we would be excited about our growth in height. Then Paul never came back. I think I asked my dad, but I don’t remember what he told me. I was sad that he wasn’t coming back. It was one of my first teachers that life changes. He was also a teacher that no matter what station in life a person may be, they can be sunlight to those they meet. Paul spread love up and down the interstate. My brother and I worked in the Nursery and flower shop, and we also helped my father with landscaping jobs he would get, such as planting plants at the bank and residences. We broke down larger bags of fertilizer and pesticides and re-packed them into smaller bags for sale. One of those pesticides was DDT. That was a very dangerous chemical and we handled it with no protection and inhaled the pesticide dust. My father also sprayed pesticides in the nursery and would spray outside the windows when we were eating, and I remember my mom telling him to stop. I learned about DDT and other chemicals later in life and I really believe our exposure to them caused some of the problems that happened in our family. I had severe headaches for years, my mother had symptoms with unknown causes, and we just thought she was going nuts. My Father’s health with diabetes was not good, and he was prone to anger and irritability. I also had sporadic outbursts of anger. My brother seemed not affected, and he just held everything inside. I was angry at my father when I learned of what these chemicals can do. I first heard from God at the age of 9 years old while standing in the rows of a field on a farm. I ran to the farmhouse we were visiting to tell my parents, and they said to our hosts… “OH he has quite an imagination!” That hurt my feelings that they did not believe me. We would go to the City of Rocks and buy apples every apple harvest there, and buy boxes of apples. They had the coldest cokes in glass bottles there and I got the Fanta Orange. It’s odd how we remember little things like that. Way down in a remote corner of New Mexico, the City of Rocks State Park is where nature had carved volcanic rock into a world you might find in science fiction or fantasy. We climbed on the rocks and risked falling and breaking an arm. My mom was always worried about us climbing on the high rocks. We had an apple eating contest on the way home. My dad always bought these big station wagons for the family and if they had SUVS back then, He would have bought a big one. We started out eating the whole apple, but then we started cheating and not eating the whole apple. We were stuffed with apples when we got home. We took the neighborhood kids with us. They were mostly the Hobbs family. They were a large family, and there were also more Hobbs children around town who were their cousins. I remember all of them quite well, Ronnie, Donnie, Johnny, Bonnie, and Connie, and there were more as I say. The neighborhood kids would play up and down the street and at our houses, but our place was the most popular because of the space. We went and hunted coyotes with greyhound dogs, and not guns. My dad had a pick-up truck and would carry the dogs out to the country and there were coyotes out there. The farmers did not like the coyotes. They used powerful spotlights to light up the landscape at night, and when they spotted a coyote they would release the dogs who chased the coyote and killed it. The Hobbs boys would go with us. It was a thrilling site to see the dogs chasing the coyote, but seeing them kill it isn’t something I enjoyed. I went because of the adventure and friends, but I was never into killing animals. We also hunted rabbits with the dogs and that did not bother me as much. The coyote fights were violent. There would be another truckload or two of kids and others that would go with us. When we were out there in the desert, I would look up at the moon and the stars and I liked it on a moonlit night, because you could see the mesquite and desert cactus. I always had some sense of the spiritual in nature. I would often look up at the stars at night at our house. We built a tree house in a big tree at the nursery and I liked that, it was a place where I could escape. It was made from these large wooden crates that roses and other flowers would come in from California. this virus is kinda freaking me out in some ways. When I was a child, I liked it when it snowed in Deming New Mexico. It did not snow that much. Well at night I would go out on the big road nearby, Gold Street and walk in the road and I liked how empty it was, no cars, the snow covering everything. I liked to do that. It was beautiful and eerie at the same time. I see all these city streets on you tube that are deserted now, I see that here. Its that same feeling I had back then, the eerie feeling, but this time its ugly and not beautiful Facebook Post by me. 
We always watched the Rose Parade from Pasadena California on television, and when color television came in, we liked it even more. My mom enjoyed watching all the floats covered with flowers. My mother was from Ventura California, and we would take trips to see her relatives there. Her father, Homer Aten, was an alcoholic and drank a big jug of wine every day and my father didn’t like that. He wasn’t a falling down drunk, he just drank all day. I think my mother was a little sad that we as children saw him that way. Then we went to see Aunt Jane who was little off in the head. She followed horoscopes and believed in occult things and my dad did not like that. My mom would laugh and say, “Oh that’s just Aunt Jane” For me, I liked Aunt Jane, and I thought she was interesting. She lived in a little trailer and she had all these old Life magazines, and I would look through them when we were there. I especially like the magazines with John F. Kennedy in them. We would also go to the beach in California and that is something I loved. I liked nature and I loved to watch the ocean. I wished we had a house overlooking the ocean, and I sometimes dreamed of owning a place next to an ocean. As we were growing up, all her relatives died.
I went to Smith Elementary school. I remember I was nervous to go to school the first day of first grade and my mother went with me. In the first grade, I urinated on myself and onto the floor while sitting at my desk. The teacher made a huge deal out of it, and I was humiliated. Every time I was humiliated in school, I was angry. We had all the small-town stuff going on and the setting was the 1960’s. We didn’t have police guarding the schools and metal detectors at the doors and we could just walk the few blocks to school. There was a candy store across the street from the Elementary school, and it was packed at lunch time. I don’t recall our Elementary school having a cafeteria and we brought our own lunch. One of the things that fascinated me was the oiled sawdust the janitors put in front of those large floor mop dusters. I always wanted to do that. I liked how all the dirt was picked up and the floor was shiny clean. I would stand and watch them sweep the floor. I have a vivid memory of traveling with my mother and brother on a greyhound bus to meet my father who had gone ahead to Tucson. I must have been around four years old. My dad had ties with a church there in Tucson. The main guys who ran that church were brothers and were contractors who built houses. We went to one of their construction sites, and my father had told my brother and myself not to go into the swimming pool which was dry, except for some water at one end with leaves in it. We went walking on the cement down into the empty pool, and my father got angry and spanked us right there in front of everyone, and although we had dis-obeyed my father, I was upset about that. One of the Yarbrough brothers was bright about business, and they built and sold homes. They got their start by building their first house by going across the street and seeing what the carpenters there had done that day, and they would go back to the house they were building and copy them. There were three brothers and they all did well. One of them was a leader in this Church of Christ fellowship we were in and his name was William Yarbrough. He died four or five years ago. He was a divisive person in our churches and he and a man named Ford Copeland did a lot of damage to the churches with their divide and conquer mentality. The hypocrisy of legalism is hard to watch, and we had it in spades. It was disappointing for me to see unethical behavior in the people we were supposed to be looking up to. I grew up and saw these people for what they really were. The behaviors of people who called themselves Christians really turned me off to Christianity. I wonder how many people have been hurt in church by Christians. Maybe one of them is you. When I saw the truth of legalism, I was like others who have been in cult churches all their lives. Children growing up in cults are put in a terrible bondage. My reference point to God was wrong, and that impacted my life. Cults control people with fear, and they are a fear based and self-works ideology. I grew up in a culture of fear, legalism, and self-righteousness.
Deming is close to the best green chilies in the world. We owned a rental house on our property, and a Mexican grandmother there would make the best tamales and homemade chili picante sauce. Nowhere is there an American chili hot sauce, green or red, like the New Mexican versions. In southern New Mexico, chili is king.
The area around Hatch, New Mexico is prime chili growing country. One thing I loved about New Mexico was the fall, when suddenly the air is filled with the smell of roasting green chili. I love Menudo which is hominy and beef or pork in a red chili broth. I also loved the fresh home-made tamales. We would stuff ourselves on them. There is just nothing like authentic Tex- Mex food made by Mexican grandmothers, it was so flavorful. (Are you hungry yet?) The Filipino culture does not include Mexican food, nor is there a single authentic Mexican food restaurant in Cebu. Deming was a half white, half Hispanic town. I would learn some Spanish and be well acquainted with the Hispanic culture. That would prove a benefit when I went to prison and found the Hispanic gangs there in prison.
We went camping when my brother and I were still little. My brother Paul is four years older than I am. I don’t know where we went camping, but it had pine trees. My brother and I went walking in the woods and we got lost. It was scary for us to be lost in the woods. How do we get out of here? A simple walk to have fun and adventure now had us afraid, because the trees all looked the same, and we could not see where to go. Would we have to be in the woods at night? I blamed my brother because he was older than me. We walked around for hours walking in circles and we finally stumbled upon a dirt road. My brother said we should walk on the road. We walked on the road and a pick- up truck came by and asked what we were doing and we said we were lost. We were excited that the truck stopped and the driver talked to us. We said our parents were camping. The man drove us to the camp site and it wasn’t that far away. When we rolled up in the truck it was still daylight but late afternoon and I was tired. I was happy to see my mom and dad, and we went running down to them. My parents talked to the man who dropped us off. My mom was happy to see us. She said she was worried about us. We were happy to be there, and I thought everyone should be happy, but my dad was mad. He got out his belt and took us in the tent and spanked us one by one with his belt. I remember that a man and woman there were upset about that and asked my mom why was he spanking us? My mom tried to come up with some explanation, but I could tell she was embarrassed by my father’s actions. My father was taking out on us his fear and frustration he had felt all day while we were missing. I see parents taking out their anger on their children, and this is a terrible mistake. The spanking made me resent my father, that’s all it accomplished. So much for camping, I just wanted to go home. At home, my father would have us go outside and pick a slender tree branch, and he would go up and cut it off and he had his “switch” they called it, to spank us. The “switch” stung when he swung it hard against our legs. We had to put our pants down and he would hit our legs and buttocks with the slender whip. Those spankings really hurt, and I would scream for him to stop. I was angry when he finished spanking me. In another outing disaster, we went with the Copelands, Ford and Golda, to a lake around Truth or Consequences New Mexico, and Ford ruined the burgers by putting lighter fluid on the coals underneath while cooking the burgers, and they tasted like gasoline. My parents told us don’t complain and eat the burgers, which I thought was just stupid. If we spoke up, it was disrespectful. Everyone ate the burgers and Ford sat there with his classic stupid grin and he also ate the disgusting burgers. I just hated stupidity like that when I was growing up. Why not just say the burgers are not edible, and go find some other food, or just don’t eat and wait. We all must save this person’s pride and eat that. I was so angry I had to eat the “gasoline” burger. Golda was a very nice person, but Ford was one of those “know it all” people when it came to the bible. He did know the bible very well, but when he preached, it was so agonizing and boring. I did my usual day-dreaming and suffering when he talked.
My piano teacher, Mrs. Morgan, called our church at Copper and Elm Street the “Ruebush church” because it was owned and ran by the Ruebush brothers. Two of the brothers, Elmer and Carlos, had married my dad’s sisters, Emma and Annie. Bill Yarborough got the bright idea he was going to take over the church, which was standard operating procedure for him, and he organized a coup. They got one of the Ruebush brothers, Shelton, who was a farmer, to go along, and my dad and some others. Bill got up during a church service and announced that the Ruebush brothers were being removed as leaders, and the men Bill had selected were taking over. He said he had the authority as an evangelist to do that. I don’t know exactly how old I was when all this happened, but I would say under 10 years old. Sitting in my pew, I could feel the tension in the church and the bad feelings, as Bill called all these men forward and anointed them or whatever it was to lead the church. I was young, and knew this wasn’t going to fly. I assume that the Ruebush brothers, owning the church, simply kicked them all out. Shelton would go back to his brothers after it was all over. My dad was out on his head for following Bill. Many of the men would light up and smoke cigarettes after church. I thought that was odd, but I was still very young, as I have said. I mentioned it to my dad, and he said he didn’t like that. My parents gossiped about church fights in our house endlessly. That was another element of religion I grew up in, and that was gossip. They also enjoyed “withdrawing” from someone, taking the verse in the bible that says withdraw from those who walk disorderly. This was a big formal affair with a letter going out or being delivered to the “offender” and a speech from the pulpit announcing the “withdrawal” of the convicted criminal. What a lucky person that was! Set free from the cult. That made them all feel good to withdraw from someone, and validate their self-righteousness.
We played football in the street where we lived, there was not that much traffic and when a car did come by, we just stopped playing till it passed by. I loved football. We would watch the ball games on television, and my father didn’t object to that, he enjoyed them also. Our favorite team was the Dallas Cowboys and it was a family tradition to watch them on Thanksgiving Day. My grandfather and grandmother, and Aunt Coonie, which was her nickname for her real name which was Cloma, would come over and eat every Thanksgiving. My mom and dad cooked a big thanksgiving dinner every Thanksgiving Day. My mother made a cornbread dressing that I still think is the best. Those times were the best, with the security and familiarity of family. I was happy in those times. We always watched the Cowboys games on Sundays. The half time shows were simple then, not like the big Hollywood productions of today. Today, comedy has become crudeness, singing has become seduction, and acting has become advocating abomination. My aunt Coonie was a little special, and she lived with my grandparents all her life until they put her in the nursing home. My grandmother and aunt Coonie were in the same room at the nursing home, and we often went to visit them. I appreciated being young when I saw the old folks in the nursing home. I didn’t want to think about getting that old. One day we went to visit and my grandmother was asleep, but I think my father realized it was more than sleep, and the nurses came and closed the curtain around her bed. My grandmother was dead. They did not tell us she was dead, my father just said for us to leave with him. I found out later she had died. It was the only time I saw my grandfather cry when she died. They had been married something like 75 years, I don’t remember exactly. My grandfather was 19 and she was 14 when they got married. My grandfather was a joker at times, and he would tease my grandmother about the time they hung her brother for cattle rustling. She would get mad at him for that, and when she got mad, he laughed. I wanted to join the football team, but my father thought the risk of getting injured was too high, and it was part of his whole thing about not joining in with the world. There were parties after games and he felt like the influences would be bad for us. The ball team traveled out of town, and my father said I would miss church. I think that his whole policy about activities had a lot to do with my not getting social skills and maturing. I played football with some of the players on the team in games in fields, and they said I should join the team. I would have to answer that my dad would not let me. I withdrew more and more into my own world. I didn’t have feeling for people, and I had big resentments towards some teachers and classmates. I had a hatred growing in me. My mother also had a period that she went through where she was not okay emotionally. She had gotten an obsession with her health, and she read medical books. She seemed to be diagnosing herself with a new disease all the time. My father was left to run the business on his own a lot, and he was getting tired and was stressed. We took flowers to the local mortuaries frequently, and I saw many dead people in their coffins. I was curious about the dead people, and would always look at them for a while. I imagined what their life had been like. My mother dropped out for a while. I don’t remember how long, but she was not helping him much. Their relationship was probably a lot worse than they let us know. I had anger at my mother, because I thought she wasn’t stepping up for us. I think we had been spoiled by her while growing up, and then she just wasn’t there for us. My father just naturally was not a person that physically showed love, and I think my grandfather was like that a lot, and it was too late when he realized it. Our family was fractured in four different directions, my brother was just taking care of his business, and was the one who had it together the most of all of us. I think we were all in our own separate worlds. There were episodes of outbursts of anger, and sometimes it was physical. I wasn’t close to my brother, my mother, or my father. I was agnostic and I just wasn’t buying all I had heard at home and in church. In church, we sang a song that said, “Why did Jesus die for such a worm as I?” Well, I was not a worm. I didn’t think people should be called worms, and it did not make sense to me. There was another song that said, “I’d rather be just a poor beggar, and live in a shack by the road than to own all earth’s diamonds and gold” I thought that was ridiculous. I did think there was something out there, a God, but I also thought that maybe the best theory is that He just got sick of everyone and took off, and left us to destroy ourselves. I felt like Jesus had happened, and God had created the world, but I didn’t see any evidence at all that He was still around involved with people. If there was a God, I didn’t like Him. I didn’t like what He did in the Old Testament, and the New Testament was just a bunch of mumbo jumbo to me. All the religious words were just ink on the page to me. Words like “righteousness.” The psalms were just poems or whatever, and it did not connect with me at all. I did not care about shepherds lying down in green pastures, I was not a shepherd, and didn’t intend to ever be one. 
I would realize early on that my father was a strict Christian. I would lament that I had not been born into a nice pagan family. For me, church was something to be endured. I daydreamed in church, and I daydreamed in school. I can’t even remember what I daydreamed about today, but David was not present. I was escaping what I felt was drudgery, and daydreaming took me away from somewhere I didn’t want to be. It could well be this set the foundation for my later drug and alcohol abuse as getting high took me somewhere else.
We get high because we want to change how we feel.
I was afraid of my teachers in elementary school, and I had no idea how to have any kind of relationship with them. My third-grade teacher thumped me on the head one time with her hand, startling me when I was sitting there day dreaming and she humiliated me in class. She said my father gave her permission to hit me and I hated her. I put a thumbtack in her seat one time and a few had seen me do it. She sat on it and she jumped up and she was hot mad. Nobody told on me and it told me that they didn’t like her either. She looked straight at me, and I returned a blank stare. In the fourth grade, I met my best friend for life Brady, and from that time on, we were always together at school. My father took us to church every time the doors opened; on Sunday, Sunday evening, and Wed evening, but my mom would get out of going to the wed. service sometimes by saying she didn’t feel well, but I knew she was just getting out of going to church. Growing up, I never got to see the ending of the Wizard of Oz, because church started before the movie ended. They replayed that movie I think every year, and every year I didn’t get to see the ending. Much later as an adult, I rented the movie just to see the ending. The church service was always the same, three songs, prayer, and the sermon and invitation song. On Sunday morning, they had communion. They had communion in individual cups in these communion sets, but other Churches of Christ said that the communion had to be shared from one cup. The Churches of Christ claimed to be the true church of Jesus, yet they had many divisions in that denomination. It was an egocentric theology that replaced Jesus with their denomination. In their eyes, they are the Way, the Truth and the Life. They said that they were not a denomination, they were the only true church on the earth. They were legalistic to a fault, and they didn’t have activities much other than an ice cream night occasionally. I did not see God in the religion I was being raised in. When they said over and over, just about every time the church opened, that we were the only true church. I found it hard to believe that the church I was sitting in and the few churches scattered around the USA in our fellowship were the only true church of Jesus Christ in the entire world. They did have their champions though, preachers who travelled and they called them “walking bibles” It’s true they knew the bible, but evangelism was confined to the four walls of the church, preaching mostly to the saved, except during the summer “meetings” when members of the church would bring a few visitors. Evangelist “circuit riders “would come through, and the church would get energized to some degree, and then the preacher would leave after the final Sunday morning service, and when we met that night on Sunday night, the attendance was back to what it was before the “meeting” and everyone could feel the let-down. I could feel it. It’s back to the same old same old. I felt sorry for them, and sorry for me. 
I was “roughhousing” with my brother in church, and my father took me outside and applied the belt outside the church. It hurt very much when the belt would come down on my legs and I screamed. Then he hurried me back into church still crying, telling me he was going to spank me again if I didn’t be quiet, so I tried to muffle my crying as best I could, as he dragged me by the arm down the isles in front of the whole church. Some of the people were laughing at my predicament, I was humiliated again, and I was angry again. There was a time much later when he went to spank me with one of these slender branches, and I screamed and begged for mercy, and I pleaded so fervently, that my father had mercy, and did not spank me. I think maybe that he never spanked me again after that, but I had endured many spankings prior to that. I was deaf in my right ear due to my mother having German measles when she carried me. If the fetus gets rubella during the first 12 weeks of pregnancy, the baby will likely be born with many problems. The most common are eye problems, hearing problems and heart damage, and developmental problems. I looked all this up much later in life. I did have developmental problems, and I feel like there should have been some follow up with me. Knowledge of this added to my resentments that I collected growing up. At times, I simply didn’t hear what my father said to me. He had told me not to go down the street to the neighbor’s house, and I didn’t recall that he told me that, or I forgot, and I got one of those spankings for that. I was resentful for getting spanked, and I felt like I wasn’t given a chance. My father would travel and take us with him when he did some preaching in the summer months, at these Churches of Christ that were in our fellowship. Later in my teens, my brother and I traveled and did some preaching, but I was very frustrated at how the churches resisted anything that would bring in people and have a much better ministry to people. They took turns speaking in our churches, and did not believe in the pastor system as they called it. They said the office of pastor was not in the bible. They said an evangelist should establish a church and then move on, and the elders speak or people they pick to speak. What they ended up doing was what I called the “every man system”, where all the men took turns speaking. They would have terrible speakers because of this every man system. Some of these speakers would get up and give the same sermon over and over. I remember brother Foy Yarbrough, one of Bill’s brothers who lived in Sweetwater, Texas, would visit from time to time and they always called on him. He always got up with his thin frame and coke bottle glasses that he wore, and his Holy Bible which he just held and never opened, with no preparation, no new study, and start with Genesis and ramble through the bible and say about the same thing every time he got up, a disjointed, rambling, unorganized car-wreck of a talk that tormented me to watch. It made me angry when a farmer got up to speak, and it was so bad, and I was ashamed if there happened to be a visitor. I thought how stupid it was and don’t they have any sense? The singing was also terrible if there were not enough people there. The bad singing irritated me so much. They did not allow any musical instruments to be played in church.  Part of my day dreaming was about the day I could escape and get away. I also didn’t like how they do something I see others do on Facebook and that is blame the world for their failures in evangelism. Blaming others is not a solution.
On one trip, we went to Durango Colorado, and that had an impact on me. It was a different Church of Christ than the one I had grown up in. There were more young people and they seemed enthusiastic about church. The speaker for that evening was very good, and it was easy to listen to him, and he was intelligent! I felt like I could get interested in this church. I found out soon that they were big on the book of revelation, and a couple of their leaders had written books on it. They had built bomb shelters on their properties and were all waiting for some disaster event. This was back in the 70’s, I wonder what they all think now. Young people had not entered college because it was useless, women were not having babies, and the end of the world was coming. We stayed at one home and they had a cow and some goats and chickens and were trying to live off the land as much as they could. It was a nice setting up in the hills of Colorado, there were pine trees and I thought the people were interesting. Truman Mickey gave me a pill bottle with cracked corn in it, and on the label, it read “for David and his corny jokes” I did always have a sense of humor in all this, and I liked it when I found somebody else who liked to joke. I practiced doing the voices of famous people like Nixon and Billy Graham, and got pretty good at it. I would entertain people with my impressions of people. Looking back, I think I used humor as a coping mechanism. Despite the humor though, something dark was growing inside of me.
The family had a teen girl staying with them, and the family was in a program where they took youth in their homes, maybe a foster care program. I hit it off with the girl. I was 17 at the time. We were always talking together. When my family was going to leave the next day back to New Mexico, she and I went on a walk at night to a bridge over a small river. We were out there a long time. I wanted to kiss her, but I was too shy. When we got back home, she wrote me a couple times, but one letter was about an LSD trip and it didn’t make much sense to me. I don’t know how much someone can love someone given our age and the time together, but I cared about her. I wondered where she went, and I was concerned about her, and then the days went by, and I forgot about her. In writing this book, writing about her now, I am remembering how I felt, it was something I had forgotten about. I pray for her, that Lori found the Lord. I knew she had grown up in a different life than mine. Despite our problems, I did have a family, and I knew that she did not have a family. She made me appreciate my family more, at least for a little while. After we got back home, a short time later, the inner voice that I talk about in this book, told me to walk off into the desert. I walked off into the desert without telling anyone. The voice had started talking to me after I had started studying various things in the occult, mostly what they call black magic.
Matthew 24:26 “Wherefore if they shall say unto you, Behold, he is in the desert; go not forth: behold, he is in the secret chambers; believe it not.”
As I got away from town, there were farm houses and rural houses. All kinds of people live out farther away from populated areas. I had no food, and I drank water from irrigation canals. It was hot in the day and I stayed in the shade of mesquite bushes, and walked at night. It was cold at night. I lost a good bit of weight. I guess I just wanted to see what that was like. I talked to desert spirits out there. Whether it’s true or not, my experience has been that there are different kinds of spirits that live in different places. There are sea spirits and desert spirits. There are wood spirits, and spirits that inhabit rivers. There are spirits that inhabit animals. There are spirits that seem to be good, or teaching, but now as I walk in the Spirit of God, I can see that those spirits were evil, even though I didn’t recognize it back then. These spirits are very powerful in presenting another gospel. As I wrote this book, I found some of these spirits returning and I had to wrestle with them. It is not a physical struggle, it is a struggle about thoughts and ideas. At the farthest end of the dark world are people who knowingly talk to demons and are aware that they are not good angels. They are not deceived. They know what they are doing and whom it is they are in contact with. They simply hate God, and desire to be used by dark forces against God. That sounds insane, but it is true. Most people are deceived by the demons and believe what they are in contact with is something good. The struggle and emotional tension I felt going back into my memories and writing this book was far more intense than I imagined it would be. The dark side does not want me to continue in what I am doing here, which is not hard to understand. There is a term “familiar spirits” and these spirits can become “friends” with people and there is a familiarity between the demons and the person they are in contact with. There is a conversation. The demons have names and they have a personality. They possess a wide range of strength and capabilities varying from “weak” to “strong.” There is a lot of focus by people on demons doing things in our physical world such as assisting this new crop of magicians in our time, that do things that magicians of another time could not do. While demons can manipulate physical matter, their main activity is in the thought world. They are the ones that have dreamed up so many of the religions that came about in the 1800’s and 1900’s.
Galatians 1:8 “But though we, or an angel from heaven, preach any other gospel unto you than that which we have preached unto you, let him be accursed.”
Demons work a lot in the religious arena, and what they do there is put people in bondage. Demons are aided in that a great many people do not read the bible, and if they do, they have not obtained the humble and contrite spirit that is needed to receive what is in the bible. They remain proud in the flesh and are deceived. They simply have put on religious clothes and proceed into bondage.
2 Corinthians 11:14 “And no marvel; for Satan, himself is transformed into an angel of light”
1 Tim 4:1 “Now the Spirit speaketh expressly, that in the latter times some shall depart from the faith, giving heed to seducing spirits, and doctrines of devils.”
The Bible mentions in 2 Samuel 14:20 that God has given angels the knowledge about “all things that are on the earth.” The fallen angels are the same spirits that have communicated with the American Indians, and appeared to them, and are the basis of many of their beliefs, and the basis of many beliefs among many peoples on the earth, such as the Druids, Shamanism and many others. These many spirits led mankind to have religions that worship many “gods” and these “gods” are these many spirits. The worship of ancestors is influenced by these spirits masquerading as dead relatives. Eventually I had to come back from the desert. My parents were real upset at me for taking off and not telling them. My parents thought I had run off with the girl. Maybe it was in my mind to walk to Colorado. I never heard from her or saw her after that. Our Churches of Christ did not believe in using instrumental music, they didn’t believe in the pastor system, a paid pastor. Women should have long hair and men short hair, and women should not wear pants. Boys and girls should not swim in the same swimming pool together. Women were to not speak in the assembly of the church. I admire to this day their willingness to adhere to scripture, but I think they have not allowed the reality of the Holy Spirit to be in their lives as it can be. What I remember them teaching is that the Holy Spirit is NOT active today. They didn’t believe in using Sunday school classes for children. Everyone should meet in one room. It’s not that what they did was bad, but they like others, made laws where there are none, and they were plenty puffed up about being “right”. We missed the Holy Spirit, and a relationship with God, and that God really loved us. I truly never ever got the idea that God loved me as I was growing up. A loving God was something I had no clue about. Maybe you are reading this, and you have never really felt that God loves you. You have read it in the bible, and you have heard it, but you have not felt it in your soul. I can only tell you what worked for me. I truly felt the love of God come in my life, when I started helping the children in extreme poverty where I now live. It is a love that has grown over these 8 plus years where I have been doing the same thing over and over. I thought God had rules, and if I followed the rules, I went to heaven. I did not even know I could ask God to help me follow the rules. There was too much emphasis on works, and the beliefs of the church, and it created a self -righteousness. I don’t think they intended for that to happen, nor realize it had happened to them. I remember one time an older woman with her friends around her at church was talking about her encounter in the grocery store. She said a lady asked her “are you Church of Christ?” and she had replied “yes”. She was now in church boasting to her friends about it. She gushed “well I must be doing something right” and they all giggled and made those odd, self-righteous laughs. I could sense that something was off about that. I felt a strong dislike for the woman who had been talking. I saw things like that my whole life growing up, where they patted themselves on the back for being “Church of Christ” I grew up in one of the several branches that spun off from the original movement. I decided I would go and have fun (sin) for a while and then come back to church. If I had known where the road of sin would take me, I would not have traveled that road. I’m not sure my father knew how to love, but I think he figured it out later and had regrets. I think some of the distancing happened when we got spankings, and I think they were too severe, and they caused me to resent my father. I think he disciplined us in anger, and it was left at that. I feared my father more than I respected him.
Ephesians 6:4 “Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord.”
We can’t blame our parents or others for things we did or do now. If we blame others, we will never get well. I was responsible for a lot of my thinking and direction. I withdrew into my own world. I would work hard at the last moment and get passing grades. I always did just the minimum I needed to do to just get by. A math teacher told my father that “David is very smart, because he knows just how much to do to just get by.”
We did not have a television for a few years after I was born, but my father gave in and bought one, because he felt he would rather control it at home than have us watching it somewhere else, and I think he wanted to get one as well. We watched the news, sports, and some shows that were popular back then. I remember seeing the Kennedy assassination on television in 1963. For most baby boomers, there are two dates that stick out in their minds—November 22, 1963 and September 11, 2001. Both moments of unbelievable national tragedy. But maybe 11/22/63 was a little tougher because all Americans knew the man. He barely won the 1960 election—although the following year over 60% of Americans said they voted for him—but he brought something special to the White House—a beautiful young family, laughter, culture and class. Whatever you feel about Kennedy, the rest of the world saw this man who represented the United States of America and what they felt was simple—hope. It seems like everyone that was alive then remembers where they were when they got the news that JFK was dead.
The very word ‘secrecy’ is repugnant in a free and open society; and we are as a people inherently and historically opposed to secret societies, to secret oaths, and to secret proceedings…JFK.
JFK’s words sound prophetic in today’s world. A world in crisis, economically, ecologically and ethically. Wars are justified to the people with flagrant lies, huge corporate networks influence whole countries, banks and the higher class can get away with almost anything, profits are more important than people or ethics, and the press is controlled by just a few… In this world, maybe it doesn’t seem so far-fetched that secret, corrupt societies want to keep the people ignorant and divided while they can profit from the poor. I was 5 years old when JFK died. I remember my parents being upset by the news, and I was affected also. It was an invasion of sorts, all was not well in the world. Camelot had been destroyed. It was telling me that somewhere in the world, it wasn’t like at our house. We grew up mostly ignorant of the violence of the sixties, or the rock bands, or the cultural upheaval. All we knew about was our little small town, and our life there which didn’t have any of those things. In college, my girlfriend would comment that it seemed like I missed something growing up because of my reaction to songs from the sixties and other things. I had never heard them or not much. I grew up with Walter Cronkite and the news, The Beverly Hillbillies, Get Smart, Andy Griffith and all those old shows. We were glued to the television for the Apollo moon missions. Our parents let us stay up all night with them and watch. Television had a different morality then. The comedy was clean with shows like Red Skelton and Bob Hope. Family shows taught a moral about being honest, and doing the right thing.  
I did not have any one thing I was interested in enough that it would inspire me to study and try to attain it. All along the way growing up, I developed a self-talk. I felt like I was having a dialogue with someone who was me, but usually this person inside me saw things in a negative way. In the 8th grade I got “swats”, which is when you go to the principal’s office and bend over and the teacher hits you in the butt with a paddle. I got the punishment because I passed a note to another student that had in it obscenities and sexual language, it was a cartoon joke I made. I thought that the punishment exceeded the crime by quite a bit. It just made me more angry, resentful, and fearful of teachers and official types of people. I had fantasies about getting revenge on people like my 8th grade teacher. I would dream up how I would burn their house down and things like that. I was not forgiving anyone. I didn’t act on those ideas until later in life. I didn’t have any goals for my future. I was in the chess club and I found that interesting. A few times I played several players all at once, walking around the tables and moving the pieces without much time to think. I beat them all, but for the really good players, I had to play them one on one. I wanted to go play in chess tournaments, but my father didn’t let me do it and I really resented that. He said I would miss church. I could have gone to play in competitions that gave you international ranking and there were money prizes. No, I would not have been a world chess champion, but it was another positive experience missed. I hated the church, I resented my father, and my inner world became angrier and darker.
I thought about doing bank robberies and robbing armored cars as early as the 6th grade. I got the idea that I was going to go and steal a lot of money, and so school was useless for me. I was going to beat the system. I thought about how to do the robberies without killing anyone, because I didn’t want to kill anyone. In the sixth grade, I drew various things on paper that were occult symbols without knowing what they were, and I had never seen them. Later, I would realize I had drawn these occult symbols with no knowledge of them. I had an inner dialog going on with something inside me early on in my life. This inner voice hated God. I thought God was unreasonable, and too demanding. I didn’t like that God wanted worship. That just did not make any sense to me, and how were we going to spend all eternity worshiping God? Surely there had to be something to do. I thought God was many of things He was telling us not to be. God said for us not to kill, but He could kill. I talked at God, and I said, “Why do you demand worship?” “Why can’t you just leave us alone?” I resented God.
The bible says don’t rely on our own thinking
Ephesians 2:2-3 “And you hath he quickened, who were dead in trespasses and sins; Wherein in time past ye walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now worketh in the children of disobedience: Among whom also we all had our conversation in times past in the lusts of our flesh, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of the mind; and were by nature the children of wrath, even as others.”
I was embarrassed when my father always prayed in restaurants. I wanted to crawl under the table. My father read the bible to us at least at one meal a day at our house. We always sat down together as a family to eat, and that is good. He would pull out that worn bible of his, his bibles were always worn out, and had markings in them on all the pages where he made little cross references. I sat quietly and ate, but I didn’t hear what he was reading. When I did read the bible, it mostly made no sense to me.
In junior high school, I didn’t adjust to any social things, or relationships. I had one best friend, and we were both anti-social. We spent some of our time just mocking students and teachers. He would later commit suicide at age 19. I blamed myself in part for his suicide. I was not a good friend to him later when we went to separate colleges. I let him down, and I think that was important to him. Part of not adjusting was because of my father’s strict rules, and I would also say unreasonable rules. We could not go to movies, join any sports, the boy scouts etc. I missed out on experiences that would have taught me how to have relationships with people in the world. Along the way, I developed a resentment for people. I was bullied some in school, and teachers did things to humiliate us in front of other students. I also started to be racist, and this racism would grow in the future. I read all the WWII books from the town library, and books about Adolf Hitler. I thought I found the answer in the religion of the Aryan Race, a religion of hatred. I also developed a fascination with fire. I set some places on fire for no reason at all. I set a church on fire, and I felt bad later after I saw the damage. I wondered why I did that. I also set fire to a meeting place like the rotary club, but that was not the name of it. I didn’t know why I did it. I dropped out in the 10th grade, I was suffering depression, and stressed over some classes like algebra and chemistry. I was behind in these topics and my algebra teacher who was also the basketball coach, was another one of these small-town jocks. I didn’t want to be bullied and humiliated in algebra class. I really needed some tutoring, but I also didn’t have communication skills. I was shy and fearful of authority figures and I did not know how to ask for help. P.E. classes had been going downhill for me. They were doing gymnastics and I was not athletic in that way. I thought they pushed people to do things they should not have to do if they don’t want to, and the Hispanic gym teacher made fun of me in front of the others and I hated him, and I thought about killing him. I was picked on a few times, coke thrown in my face and kicked below the belt and things like that. I was a coward and didn’t fight back. I hated myself for that, and I hated the people who had done mean things to me. After I dropped out of high school, I worked in my parent’s business. My brother fared better in our lives, and he concentrated on his studies and graduated high school valedictorian. I told him how smart he was and he said that I was smarter than him, and he didn’t know why I didn’t apply myself. I think he saw college as his escape from our family and church, and he set his mind to get to college and get away. He did that, and was successful in college with high marks again in engineering and was offered scholarships to MIT and other top schools.
 When my brother left for college, I drifted into a deeper depression than I had experienced before. I talked to demons and worked at invoking them. We didn’t have the internet then thankfully, and my access to occult books was limited. I studied John Dee and others such as Helena Blavatsky over the years. John Dee was another brilliant mind held captive by the devil. John Dee was an influential Renaissance figure and he was Queen Elizabeth’s scientific advisor. In later life, he became disillusioned with pure science and started experimenting with occult techniques of the day. One of his big things was communicating with angels, which I believe he did do, but he didn’t realize that they were demons. I studied the Maya Indians and other esoteric literature. I hesitate to put this in my book, as there are always the curious cats who want to see about it. Maybe where I ended up should alert you to the risk of such an undertaking. If you allow demons in, or communicate with them, be advised that they can destroy your life straight away. Depression came on my life around fourteen, and it was getting worse. I discovered girlie magazines and managed to get playboys and penthouse magazines. I also got hustler which was a sicker magazine. I was already addicted to porn. I got good at shoplifting and would steal the magazines. We had a large area for the family business of selling trees and plants and we had greenhouses also. I stashed my porn collection in a back building. My father allowed no dating, and I didn’t get the experiences to learn about the other sex. I believe the porn did warp my ideas about women. I thought about how I would like to be in the porn business making films and selling them. I thought that would be a great life. I will say here that the porn out there has gotten a lot sicker over the years. I thought I was evil inside and that is who I really was. It was a secret thought life that I had. It turns out that I was right, we are all evil inside. (My inner voice told me to break all the Ten Commandments, this is something demons would tell you to do)  The world thinking is that “I am not such a bad person, I don’t steal or murder people, I’m not a dope dealer, and I am a pretty good person.” That is a lie. The bible says the heart is desperately wicked and who can know it. That means my heart and your heart.
Jeremiah 17:9 “The heart is more deceitful than all else and is desperately sick; Who can understand it?
Matthew 15:19 “For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, fornications, thefts, false witness, slanders.”
Only the truth can tear away the deception, but we must receive the truth. Self-deception is like an onion, and we peel off many layers of self-deception to arrive at the truth in the core of our being. It is part of changing our lives to do a personal inventory. We do a thorough spiritual and moral inventory under the lens of honesty. Oh, how hard it is for us to get honest. We justify ourselves in our deception. If we are deceived, we do not know that we are deceived, and therein is the great dilemma. For many people, their vain pride will not allow them to admit they have been deceived, and they hang on foolishly to their own doom. We also have a big forgetter, and we forget and repeat behaviors that offend God. When I surrendered to God on the Eastside of Seattle in my apartment in Bellevue, I soon asked afterwards, “How can I love God?” I knew that I did not love God and I told Him that. I said, “God I do not love you, will you help me so that I can love you?” Today I love God more than any person or thing and I know that He loves me to. I found the love of God in the children here where I am. One of the reasons that I work for them, is it was they who saved me first. Isn’t that how God works? God first loved us when we were yet sinners and we were opposed to Him. Instead of destroying us, He reached down from heaven and He saved us. If I ever should sit and think about the past, and where I am today, I always get emotional. I escaped death and hell fire by the grace of God. There is nothing else I can do while I remain on this earth than to serve God who saved me, and point the way to salvation to others whose images are weak and wandering, stumbling in the darkness.
My grandfather died in 1975, He was 95 years old. He was born in 1880. There were photos of them in wagon trains in the old west. He was most likely as much as half Indian, but he didn’t like to talk about that. He was a Texas Ranger and sheriff. He would get saved in his 60’s. He said things as he saw them, and people were offended. I remember in church, when they were having one of their church fights, he told the man speaking to “shut up and sit down” and I liked that. He saved his money all his life and had money to give to the children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. I was closer to my grandfather than all the other grandchildren I think. My grandfather would like to come to our house, and see what’s going on with my dad’s business. He would take us places. He liked a joke. He was always a very stable and steady example in my life. We looked up to him. My brother and I would go to his house when we were little and watch cartoons every Saturday morning and eat doughnuts. It was a big treat for us. We enjoyed time like that because we were on schedules of school and working in my dad’s business after school. We worked in the business from childhood to high school age. I did enjoy the plants and I still do to this day. My grandfather died of cancer in the hospital in El Paso Texas. We were all there holding vigil at the hospital and I remember I went to his room, and several of my relatives were there crying, and it appeared my grandfather had just died, and I turned around and left the room. The scene was too overwhelming for me. They sang a nice acapella song called Peace in the Valley at the funeral, an old gospel hymn. It touched me a lot, because it fit my grandfather. I wish now I had asked him about his life and history. It would have been awesome I am sure. The time he was born into, before the car and he would live to see the moon shots. His life covered such a span of American history, but I didn’t think of things like that. I grieved my Grandfathers passing alone in my bed at night. Like most of my life, I lived it alone with my emotions and feelings. I think being alone so much, is why I handled being locked up in a cell in solitary confinement so well. I have seen that kind of isolation break men down. (God is a God of community the demons seek to isolate people so that they can control the input)  
When I summoned the devil. I didn’t realize it then, but maybe the devil came, or demons came. If you think about it, the best way for the devil to work is for you to not know about it. I think that the demons did come into my mind or body or I was mentally ill, but demons can produce mental illness. By the time I was seventeen, my depression was always present. I mostly just thought about leaving home and getting away. I stole a car when I was fourteen or fifteen, because I just wanted to get away. (Demons cause restlessness) It started raining on the interstate, and I had never driven a car much at all, and I was nervous driving because I could not see very far. They picked me up an hour away in Lordsburg New Mexico. I spotted the patrol car and pulled over to the side of the road, but it was too late, he had seen me. I had wanted to get away at night, but I was seen and the car reported, so I was easy to pick up. I wanted to get to California. Thinking back, I can see how badly that could have gone had I made it to California. I would have been eaten alive and spit out as a young runaway in California. I think it’s one of those times looking back, where God intervened on my behalf. I had to wait in the police station while my parents came to pick me up along with my brother. I felt bad I had caused them shame. They took me home and we had the family session, but it didn’t go anywhere. I was too far gone, too withdrawn. I just decided I would wait it out till I’m eighteen. I felt bad for my parents in a way, but I had let my resentments get too big. There was the time that I thought about killing my parents. I had put guns in the yard and was going to shoot them while they were sleeping. I don’t think I was really going to do it, but acting like I was, it was something I felt I needed to do. I could have snapped and done it, but I don’t think I was that far gone. I got as far as pointing a rifle at them in their sleep, and then I put the rifle down, I was not going to do it. Looking back, I think I felt trapped. I didn’t think of pleasant things or getting interested in life. I was depressed I am sure, and needed help. I was mostly running, and the time I spent until I went to prison was just confusion, running away, and being mentally unwell.  
Around the 9th grade, my best friend and I started doing burglaries in town. We broke into homes and stole valuables. We did it for adventure as much as anything. We met at night one time to leave a large knife outside a coach’s window at his house. The idea was to shake him up a little that someone was prowling around on his property late at night while he and his family slept. We did not like him, because we saw him as a jerk. We laughed about what his reaction would be when he found the knife. There was a back house at an upper-class home that I wanted to burglarize, only the owner would be in the front house. I jumped the fence and was working on the door, when I heard a sound and the sound of a dog. I left my tools and ran straight for the fence and went over it just in time as the dog was coming up behind me and the Doberman jumped against the cinder block fence that was about 8 foot tall. I turned and ran into the alley right behind the property, and I had a decision to make, which way would I run? To head in the direction of my house, I needed to run across several hundred yards of open space and through the Courthouse grounds. If I got to the Courthouse, I would probably be home free. I ran straight for the court house. It was a big chance as patrol cars would be answering the call of a burglary in progress and could likely come up the main road by the courthouse and see me before I got there. I reached the Court House and the park next to it. I could kneel there in the bushes and hide. I waited a bit and then ran across one more road into an alley that led to my house just three blocks away. I ran down the alley and made it home.
I burglarized one wealthy home twice. On the return visit, I noticed some machine that looked like an answering machine, but when I came into the room, a red light had come on it. I was thinking this is a motion detector, and I made a quick dash to a couple rooms to see if any easy valuables were around, and I went to the big picture window a couple times looking out. I was nervous. I saw a police car barrel down the road in front of the window and brake to turn into the driveway to the house. I broke out the window, hopped through it and took off running for the back fence. It was a large yard and it was a 30-yard dash over there to the block fence.
I hit the fence running and went over the top and ran across to my car waiting in an apt. complex across the street. I got in my car and just sat to see if any more patrol cars were right behind that one. I decided again that waiting around was a bad Idea, and I drove off towards our house at the speed limit. I had gotten away again from a close call. We burglarized the home of a relative of mine and we left the coral jewelry behind because I knew they were all into that in a big way, and I didn’t want to upset them that badly. We just took some other stuff and left. They were heard saying later how thankful they were that we didn’t take the coral jewelry and wondered why not. I liked the excitement of doing burglaries. It brought higher levels of emotion than living normally. It was a type of escape for me.
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