Read Online Doc: The Rape of the Town of Lovell by Ron Franscell, Jack Olsen - Free Book Online
Authors: Ron Franscell, Jack Olsen
Tags: Psychology, Health; Fitness & Dieting, True Crime, Biographies & Memoirs, Mental Illness, Psychology & Counseling, Pathologies, Medical Books
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her father's face showed that he believed. "Well," he said, "what do you want to do about it?"
She knew he wasn't referring to abortion. No former LDS bishop would consider such an offense against the Heavenly Father.
The three McArthurs met with Scott. Her parents proposed giving Minda money so she could give birth outside the range of Lovell's jungle drums. "You can go to your uncle's in Texas," Arden said. "That'll give you time to think, to get a little older."
Scott said, "As long as Minda carries my baby, she's not going anywhere without me."
Her dad asked Scott if he intended to tell his folks.
"I just can't," he said.
Dean McArthur said he would handle that chore, and he did.
At school the next morning, Scott reported that his parents believed he'd been seduced by "that McArthur girl." It was the only explanation the Brinkerhoffs could accept. Their son was still president of the seminary and a shining example for the other Mormon boys. A boy that pure couldn't be blamed for anything. ,
Minda kept going to class but frequently had to slip into the girls' room to compose herself. Her family was supportive. Sometimes Scott, as manly and strong as he was, cried along with her. To people who ranked immorality just short of murder, the situation seemed hopeless.
Scott filled her in on developments at the Brinkerhoff bungalow on Nevada Avenue. For the first three days after they found out about the pregnancy, he said, his parents refused to speak to him. On the fourth, there were cookies on the table when he came home from school, with "Scott" written in icing. He ate them in his room.
Next came a painful family, meeting. Scott said that his mother insisted that he verify the pregnancy because "Minda might be trying to trap you into marriage."
Minda dried her tears and drove up the hill to Dr. Story's new clinic. With her own mother in the room as usual, she underwent her first pelvic examination. It was quick and painless. The family doctor told her she was two months gone.
Years later, she remembered every detail of the events that followed. "We asked our bishop, Brownie J. Brown, to marry us. The LDS church doesn't have a paid clergy. Our high priests can be anything from day laborers to bank presidents. Bishop Brown was a farmer, a school board member, a nice man. He said he'd be glad to officiate. But Scott and I made one mistake. We didn't cry or act ashamed. Shoot, we were all cried out."
A shotgun wedding was arranged by the unfriendly families. After intense negotiations, the date was set: Friday, January 23, 1976. Territorial problems were headed off by scheduling the ceremony in the home of a relative who lived midway between the McArthurs and the Brinkerhoffs. It was agreed that no one but family members would be invited, and publicity would be minimal. "They're treating it more like a spy plot than a wedding," Minda complained to Scott. "The only feeling I have is dread."
On the day of the wedding, a classmate said. "Aren't you getting married tonight? What on earth are you doing at school?"
Minda said, "What should I be doing?"
"You should be home getting ready."
"Oh?"
"Minda, you only get married once!"
The wedding was an ordeal. All four parents looked ashamed. The grandparents stared into space. The little kids paraded in and out of the bathroom and were told to shush. Bishop Brown sounded like a funeral director. The cake was too small. There were no wedding checks or jokes or toasts, no conviviality, nothing to remember with pleasure or joy.
Minda's father took her aside and promised that it would be different when she and Scott were remarried in the temple at Idaho Falls. He said, "We'll have a great big cake, and we'll take pictures and everything. We'll do it up like we should have tonight." Then he cried.
The next day Brownie J. Brown summoned the newlyweds to his office in the big Mormon church that dominated the center of town like a set piece. Even in the dead of winter, flowers
She knew he wasn't referring to abortion. No former LDS bishop would consider such an offense against the Heavenly Father.
The three McArthurs met with Scott. Her parents proposed giving Minda money so she could give birth outside the range of Lovell's jungle drums. "You can go to your uncle's in Texas," Arden said. "That'll give you time to think, to get a little older."
Scott said, "As long as Minda carries my baby, she's not going anywhere without me."
Her dad asked Scott if he intended to tell his folks.
"I just can't," he said.
Dean McArthur said he would handle that chore, and he did.
At school the next morning, Scott reported that his parents believed he'd been seduced by "that McArthur girl." It was the only explanation the Brinkerhoffs could accept. Their son was still president of the seminary and a shining example for the other Mormon boys. A boy that pure couldn't be blamed for anything. ,
Minda kept going to class but frequently had to slip into the girls' room to compose herself. Her family was supportive. Sometimes Scott, as manly and strong as he was, cried along with her. To people who ranked immorality just short of murder, the situation seemed hopeless.
Scott filled her in on developments at the Brinkerhoff bungalow on Nevada Avenue. For the first three days after they found out about the pregnancy, he said, his parents refused to speak to him. On the fourth, there were cookies on the table when he came home from school, with "Scott" written in icing. He ate them in his room.
Next came a painful family, meeting. Scott said that his mother insisted that he verify the pregnancy because "Minda might be trying to trap you into marriage."
Minda dried her tears and drove up the hill to Dr. Story's new clinic. With her own mother in the room as usual, she underwent her first pelvic examination. It was quick and painless. The family doctor told her she was two months gone.
Years later, she remembered every detail of the events that followed. "We asked our bishop, Brownie J. Brown, to marry us. The LDS church doesn't have a paid clergy. Our high priests can be anything from day laborers to bank presidents. Bishop Brown was a farmer, a school board member, a nice man. He said he'd be glad to officiate. But Scott and I made one mistake. We didn't cry or act ashamed. Shoot, we were all cried out."
A shotgun wedding was arranged by the unfriendly families. After intense negotiations, the date was set: Friday, January 23, 1976. Territorial problems were headed off by scheduling the ceremony in the home of a relative who lived midway between the McArthurs and the Brinkerhoffs. It was agreed that no one but family members would be invited, and publicity would be minimal. "They're treating it more like a spy plot than a wedding," Minda complained to Scott. "The only feeling I have is dread."
On the day of the wedding, a classmate said. "Aren't you getting married tonight? What on earth are you doing at school?"
Minda said, "What should I be doing?"
"You should be home getting ready."
"Oh?"
"Minda, you only get married once!"
The wedding was an ordeal. All four parents looked ashamed. The grandparents stared into space. The little kids paraded in and out of the bathroom and were told to shush. Bishop Brown sounded like a funeral director. The cake was too small. There were no wedding checks or jokes or toasts, no conviviality, nothing to remember with pleasure or joy.
Minda's father took her aside and promised that it would be different when she and Scott were remarried in the temple at Idaho Falls. He said, "We'll have a great big cake, and we'll take pictures and everything. We'll do it up like we should have tonight." Then he cried.
The next day Brownie J. Brown summoned the newlyweds to his office in the big Mormon church that dominated the center of town like a set piece. Even in the dead of winter, flowers
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