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Authors: Lowell Cauffiel
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the only bad news. Joey said a few days after the ceremony Pixie had miscarried. Teresa had her doubts about the pregnancy, but they didn’t concern Pixie’s ability to carry full term. She asked Joey if Pixie had seen a doctor. “No,” he said.
Had she gone to the hospital? He shook his head. “There’s things women have to take care of after a miscarriage,” Teresa said. “Joey, she wasn’t pregnant, believe me.” He looked at her innocently. My God, Teresa decided, maybe this Pixie was more clever than she thought.
A few weeks later, Teresa Boron received a call from her exsister-in-law. She worked in birth records at the Massilon Health Department. Joey had come into the office with Pixie and filed a certificate of paternity, she told Teresa. He was claiming to be the father of Dawn. That was impossible, Teresa thought. Dawn was born five months before he even dated Pixie. Her sister-in-law explained the office procedure. The paternity papers would go the capital, then the original birth certificate, with no known father, would be destroyed. It would be replaced with one listing Joel M. Good as the father. There would be no record the original had even been amended.
“I tried to talk him out of it,” the former relative told Teresa. “I told him, do you realize what you’re doing?” But Joey insisted, with Pixie standing there at his side. He planned on amending the younger daughter Shasta’s certificate in another jurisdiction as well. It wasn’t until years later that someone would put all the dates together.
Ed Sexton may have had good reason to marry off his daughter before Valentine’s Day. And Pixie Sexton may have had very good reason to find a father for her children, at least for the official paperwork.
The Sextons had been busy the morning of February 12, 1992 The wedding had taken place only hours after the Jackson Police and the Department of Human Services had accompanied Machelle Sexton to get her clothes.
The G, Is I s
J _
he Dike Anne Greene first heard about the girl named Machelle during her oldest daughter’s wedding reception on Valentine’s Day, at a restaurant called Created For You. The executive director of the Pregnancy Support Center of Stark County walked over and said, “We just placed a girl in shepherding today, but decided not to call you.” The director grinned. “We figured that even you would be too busy today.”
Anne Greene headed the non-profit organization’s shepherding program and had been on the center’s board for three years. The center gave women free pregnancy tests and counseling. The shepherding program placed troubled clients in stable homes. Anne Green found nurturing families for young women kicked out by parents or boyfriends. Some were hardly more than girls. The center was Christian and pro-life, and Anne made no apologies. Four full-time staffers and 100 volunteers didn’t fire-bomb abortion clinics or shoot abortionists. They were too busy counseling clients, finding host families, and sharing the Gospel way of life. Nor was Anne a dowdy, humorless Bible thumper with a beehive. With her wavy Irish red hair cascading to her shoulders and sparkling green eyes, the 41-year-old mother of four looked hardly thirty. Her humor was blunt, often sarcastic. Her laugh was loud and infectious.
She’d found faith through her father, a retired Baptist minister.
Support for her volunteer work came from her husband, a sales manager for a Canton container manufacturer. “A ministry of evangelism, love, non-judgemental attitude, acceptance, desire to nurture and help,” she would say of her mission.
“A
desire to show the face of Christ to those who have never seen him, and the cleansing and the peace of God. And yeah, Jesus hung out with the riffra That’s absolutely scriptural, too.” A week later, Anne met Machelle Sexton for the first time at a greenhouse in Hartville. The center had found Machelle work there
Had she gone to the hospital? He shook his head. “There’s things women have to take care of after a miscarriage,” Teresa said. “Joey, she wasn’t pregnant, believe me.” He looked at her innocently. My God, Teresa decided, maybe this Pixie was more clever than she thought.
A few weeks later, Teresa Boron received a call from her exsister-in-law. She worked in birth records at the Massilon Health Department. Joey had come into the office with Pixie and filed a certificate of paternity, she told Teresa. He was claiming to be the father of Dawn. That was impossible, Teresa thought. Dawn was born five months before he even dated Pixie. Her sister-in-law explained the office procedure. The paternity papers would go the capital, then the original birth certificate, with no known father, would be destroyed. It would be replaced with one listing Joel M. Good as the father. There would be no record the original had even been amended.
“I tried to talk him out of it,” the former relative told Teresa. “I told him, do you realize what you’re doing?” But Joey insisted, with Pixie standing there at his side. He planned on amending the younger daughter Shasta’s certificate in another jurisdiction as well. It wasn’t until years later that someone would put all the dates together.
Ed Sexton may have had good reason to marry off his daughter before Valentine’s Day. And Pixie Sexton may have had very good reason to find a father for her children, at least for the official paperwork.
The Sextons had been busy the morning of February 12, 1992 The wedding had taken place only hours after the Jackson Police and the Department of Human Services had accompanied Machelle Sexton to get her clothes.
The G, Is I s
J _
he Dike Anne Greene first heard about the girl named Machelle during her oldest daughter’s wedding reception on Valentine’s Day, at a restaurant called Created For You. The executive director of the Pregnancy Support Center of Stark County walked over and said, “We just placed a girl in shepherding today, but decided not to call you.” The director grinned. “We figured that even you would be too busy today.”
Anne Greene headed the non-profit organization’s shepherding program and had been on the center’s board for three years. The center gave women free pregnancy tests and counseling. The shepherding program placed troubled clients in stable homes. Anne Green found nurturing families for young women kicked out by parents or boyfriends. Some were hardly more than girls. The center was Christian and pro-life, and Anne made no apologies. Four full-time staffers and 100 volunteers didn’t fire-bomb abortion clinics or shoot abortionists. They were too busy counseling clients, finding host families, and sharing the Gospel way of life. Nor was Anne a dowdy, humorless Bible thumper with a beehive. With her wavy Irish red hair cascading to her shoulders and sparkling green eyes, the 41-year-old mother of four looked hardly thirty. Her humor was blunt, often sarcastic. Her laugh was loud and infectious.
She’d found faith through her father, a retired Baptist minister.
Support for her volunteer work came from her husband, a sales manager for a Canton container manufacturer. “A ministry of evangelism, love, non-judgemental attitude, acceptance, desire to nurture and help,” she would say of her mission.
“A
desire to show the face of Christ to those who have never seen him, and the cleansing and the peace of God. And yeah, Jesus hung out with the riffra That’s absolutely scriptural, too.” A week later, Anne met Machelle Sexton for the first time at a greenhouse in Hartville. The center had found Machelle work there
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