A prayer for help

As I have been thinking about this post today the song, by Alabama, keeps running through my mind. “Oh…oh… I believe there are angels among us. Sent down to us from somewhere up above. They come to you and me in our darkest hour…” Just writing the experience down even years later brings back so much disbelief. I cannot no matter what angle I look at this situation understand why the Edmond Police department would not just go look. So, I searched the words of the prophets to find peace. One talk, one phrase stood out to me in bold writing. “Then the fire of the Lord fell, and consumed them….,” (1) I loved this because it reminded me that there truly is no power on earth that can make you feel as if you have been consumed by fire. Your whole soul being lite with remembrance of him (our Father) and his power.
That’s how Dawna and I felt when we decided to go back to Oklahoma. It took a lot of faith to get onto that plane and leave the safety of my husband. Without that feeling, that burning within us that tells us we are on the right track and to push forward. Take one more step regardless of the fear echoing in your head. Without that feeling we would have never gone. But, we knew we needed to go and we knew we needed to go that weekend. Why that weekend? We didn’t know at the time.
Amazing, wonderful things happened to us while we were in Oklahoma…. I can’t wait to share that with you…. And the more experiences we had the stronger the feeling came that we were doing the right thing. However, I interpreted that feeling as, “Finally it is all going to end. They will find the children. Maybe even save some now because the psychopath will be locked up.” My interpretation was wrong and it shook me.
They didn’t even bother to go look. At the end of our trip hours before we were to load our plane home, we took our evidence down to the Edmond police department. Excitedly I explained to them what I had found. I told them the homeowner was swinging the front door wide open for them as he did for me. The two officers taking my statement down were not excited in the least. They actually refused to go. They just sat there writing down notes, looking at all the evidence I had brought to them, and listened to me. The dull bored look in their eyes draining every ounce of my enthusiasm. I cried explaining to them that it would only take them 20 minutes, the house was just a couple of blocks away. I had just flown 1,187.4 miles, crawled back through the most terrifying parts of my life, I had cobwebs all over in my hair, my clothes were filthy, and I was weeping. They sat there. My heart broke and sobbed the kind of cry that causes words to be stuck like a knot lodged in your throat…. they did nothing. And I could hardly believe what I was seeing and hearing. I was powerless to do anything. And they knew it. They just sat there.
Still determined even after I got home I followed up with the FBI in Oklahoma City. When the kind understanding FBI agent asked the Edmond police department why they didn’t go look, the cop that took my statement simply said, “She is lying about everything they had talked with my step family and didn’t believe they needed to investigate any further.” They told the FBI agent that they had gone down to the school where I had said I was enrolled and discovered there wasn’t a teacher there that knew me and there was never a little girl named Candy that was enrolled in school there at that time. (Candy was my best friend and my stepfather took her right off her front lawn.) Six months had passed I kept talking with the FBI agent. He believed me. He went to go look in the crawl space, but the homeowner would not let him in. Apparently the kids that were living there moved out because of what they knew happened there. The owner didn’t want the FBI going down because he would never be able to rent the house again rather my story was true or not. He told him maybe when he was in-between renters he would allow it. He has never contacted us again.
I literally felt like the weight of that house and all that happened there was burying me with grief. That wonderful burning feeling that I felt when we left to go there turned to self-doubt and hopelessness. I cried for those children even 30 years later, I knew them, I couldn’t help them…. I still couldn’t help them. I was a parent now and the thought of their parents not knowing what had happened to their kids for the last 30 years brought darkness all surrounded me. I felt helpless, and stuck, so much that I could not smile and laugh with my husband and children any more. All I could think of was, ‘Who else has he hurt, while I have been trying to get them to look? Who else is he going to hurt?’ So I put the Murder by 7’s video out there, said a prayer, and had to let it go. I had to allow myself to heal, continually tell myself, ‘I did all that I can do up to this point, now live in the present and do what you can do for kids now. Leave it in the Lords hands.’
My point in telling you the sadness, doubt and darkness I felt at that time is so I can honestly testify, “There will be times we feel like this, all of us. No matter who we are. But, I have found that in these times, our darkest of hours angels are working among us. We have the power to call upon them and although we may not see the results of our faith until years later. We will, I promise we all will see the results in the Lords time. At that time I had no choice but to believe that. And take life one step at a time. Sometimes one moment at a time continually praying that I could see the good around me. And I did come out of that darkness, and a year or so later I saw some of the results of our Oklahoma trip and the Murder by 7’s video. I received two anonymous folders. Someone was truly being an angel. Sent down to me from somewhere up above. They were around helping me in my darkest hours even though I couldn’t see them. I’ll tell you everything that was in those folders but first let me share my favorite.

A phone book. A listing of everyone that went to school there. It had all our names, phone numbers, and addresses. I was so shocked when I saw that I couldn’t even speak. I flipped open the pages and not only was there a Candi that went to school with me but there were two girls named candy. And my teacher still worked there as a second grade teacher. She retired the year after I had gone back to Oklahoma. The Edmond police never went down to that school.
Although it is hard for me to ask. I need your help now. I don’t have any idea why the police department just didn’t go look in that crawl space. But, the way they have treated me and who knows who else they have treated this way, is completely wrong. I promise you that if they would just go down there it would not take much effort for them to find the first bed chamber where I know my stepfather left a little boy there. I knew him, I knew all of his victims. And their faces still haunt me. Please share this video link with your friends and families, please ask them to share it. Together, I’ve been told, that we can cause enough ruckus, and apply enough pressure to get them to do their job. Please share. Here’s the phone book.

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