Read Online Doc: The Rape of the Town of Lovell by Ron Franscell, Jack Olsen - Free Book Online Page A
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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lined the walkway from Main Street; they were grown in homes and hot houses and replaced by the women of the stake. The broad green lawn was hidden under an inch or two of gray snow, and the weeping birch at the west end was droopy and denuded.
The bishop smiled and said, "We're here because we need to know where you guys stand on this. Tell ya the truth, neither one of you kids seemed very contrite. Scott, you're seminary president and everybody looks up to you." He quoted one of the seminary teachers to the effect that an example had to be made.
As she listened, Minda thought of three other couples who'd recently been forced to marry. They'd all had big happy weddings and nice honeymoons and their pictures in the Chronicle —and not one couple had been admonished by the church. She was too shocked to protest when Brownie J. Brown announced that he was convening a bishop's court.
All Minda remembered about the trial was that the two of them were put on indefinite probation, one step short of disfellowship. "We were ordered to attend all church functions, keep up our tithing, show contrition and repent. They told us we darn had to straighten up. We couldn't hold any office or teach any classes, something we'd both always done. Scott was mad. He went to church a couple times and stopped. We'd already been following all the steps to forgiveness, the way you're supposed to. We'd gotten married to make things right, and then they gave us a bishop's court, just because it was Scott and me."
The demoralized seniors returned to high school. "Our friends didn't know us anymore," Minda recalled bitterly. "That's the way Lovell is. We ended up with the rejects, the kids who use bad tanguage and party all the time. They invited us to a kegger out in the hills. Golly, it was such a sad thing to see our new friends drunk, slobbering, mumbling to themselves. Scott and I decided not to try the beer. It would have been a first for both of us."
The two young Brinkerhoffs were only a credit or two away from graduation, and they asked the principal if they could attend class an hour a day to enable Scott to earn money and Minda to run their home. The answer was no. Nine weeks before graduation, they dropped out. "We realized later," Minda said ruefully, "how stupid it was. It was kids saying, 'We'll show you.' But nobody gave a dang. We only hurt ourselves."
Every month she visited the clinic. Dr. Story tried to counsel her and always inquired about her sex life. Scott gave her a hickey on her breast and the doctor demanded to know how she got it. "Oh," she said, "I must've bumped into something." He palpated the discolored area and told her to be more careful.
She wondered why he always put her in the stirrups and examined her "down there." Her mother explained that it was his old thoroughness. He complimented the middle child on how pretty she looked, and sometimes complained that it was unfair for so much of the world's beauty to be allotted to a single family.
The visits began to take more and more of her time. There were days when she reached the clinic at 1 :30 or 2 p.m . and didn't get away till the office closed at 5:30. She would sit in the waiting room for ages before the nurse escorted her to the examining room and told her to strip and get on the table. An hour or so later Dr. Story would come in and ask her to scoot down so that two or three inches of her rear end protruded over the end. Then he would poke and probe.
Sometimes he interrupted himself to see another patient. When he returned, he always seemed energetic and ready for action. Sooner or later he would complain, "I can't get it in far enough," and ask if he could "dilate" her to make it easier to insert the speculum. It didn't occur to her to say no. He was the doctor.
She came to know every inch of his ceiling. A sheet was drawn tightly across her knees and kept her from seeing what he was doing. She didn't want to know anyway. As he manipulated the
The bishop smiled and said, "We're here because we need to know where you guys stand on this. Tell ya the truth, neither one of you kids seemed very contrite. Scott, you're seminary president and everybody looks up to you." He quoted one of the seminary teachers to the effect that an example had to be made.
As she listened, Minda thought of three other couples who'd recently been forced to marry. They'd all had big happy weddings and nice honeymoons and their pictures in the Chronicle —and not one couple had been admonished by the church. She was too shocked to protest when Brownie J. Brown announced that he was convening a bishop's court.
All Minda remembered about the trial was that the two of them were put on indefinite probation, one step short of disfellowship. "We were ordered to attend all church functions, keep up our tithing, show contrition and repent. They told us we darn had to straighten up. We couldn't hold any office or teach any classes, something we'd both always done. Scott was mad. He went to church a couple times and stopped. We'd already been following all the steps to forgiveness, the way you're supposed to. We'd gotten married to make things right, and then they gave us a bishop's court, just because it was Scott and me."
The demoralized seniors returned to high school. "Our friends didn't know us anymore," Minda recalled bitterly. "That's the way Lovell is. We ended up with the rejects, the kids who use bad tanguage and party all the time. They invited us to a kegger out in the hills. Golly, it was such a sad thing to see our new friends drunk, slobbering, mumbling to themselves. Scott and I decided not to try the beer. It would have been a first for both of us."
The two young Brinkerhoffs were only a credit or two away from graduation, and they asked the principal if they could attend class an hour a day to enable Scott to earn money and Minda to run their home. The answer was no. Nine weeks before graduation, they dropped out. "We realized later," Minda said ruefully, "how stupid it was. It was kids saying, 'We'll show you.' But nobody gave a dang. We only hurt ourselves."
Every month she visited the clinic. Dr. Story tried to counsel her and always inquired about her sex life. Scott gave her a hickey on her breast and the doctor demanded to know how she got it. "Oh," she said, "I must've bumped into something." He palpated the discolored area and told her to be more careful.
She wondered why he always put her in the stirrups and examined her "down there." Her mother explained that it was his old thoroughness. He complimented the middle child on how pretty she looked, and sometimes complained that it was unfair for so much of the world's beauty to be allotted to a single family.
The visits began to take more and more of her time. There were days when she reached the clinic at 1 :30 or 2 p.m . and didn't get away till the office closed at 5:30. She would sit in the waiting room for ages before the nurse escorted her to the examining room and told her to strip and get on the table. An hour or so later Dr. Story would come in and ask her to scoot down so that two or three inches of her rear end protruded over the end. Then he would poke and probe.
Sometimes he interrupted himself to see another patient. When he returned, he always seemed energetic and ready for action. Sooner or later he would complain, "I can't get it in far enough," and ask if he could "dilate" her to make it easier to insert the speculum. It didn't occur to her to say no. He was the doctor.
She came to know every inch of his ceiling. A sheet was drawn tightly across her knees and kept her from seeing what he was doing. She didn't want to know anyway. As he manipulated the
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