Have you ever noticed how we physically and psychologically respond to a tragic event? Or how time chaotically hits the brakes as a flood of circumstance and emotion form a category five tornado around our nervous system? It’s always easier to reflect after the storm, in an attempt to respond more intelligently to future sudden changes in our atmosphere. It’s hard to even know how much time truly passed in that moment, until we look back. The intensity of one strong storm system can damage everything in its path, but a cluster of tornadoes in the sky can feel like one continuous storm on the ground. A cluster of continuous tragedy leaves us longing for the calm we felt before the storm, if we had the pleasure of being born under sunny skies. But many of us were born in the midst of destructive winds and heavy clouds, sunny skies were replaced with high pressure systems long before our inception. True healing requires survivors of generational abuse to experience calm as we reflect on the storm, and of all the wild tales we could tell, that is truly the wildest one I have lived yet. Calm is not only foreign but debilitating until we truly become acquainted with it. We must experience the warmth of the sun or we are blind to the chaos of the storm and embedded in its destructive winds, carrying us from one cluster to the next until we are rescued and regenerated by the sun.

The difference between PTSD and cPTSD is one tragic event versus multiple tragic events that create long term stress within our memories and nervous system. This stress is embodied in our heart rate, nervous system, memories, and overall decision making. Changing the entire landscape of our mind and body to prioritize stressors over emotionally healthy autonomy and delivering us wholly into the company of those who have no interest in our well being.

Over 27 years ago I began unpacking my own experiences with predators and then immediately reached back in to assist vulnerable individuals who were trapped in abusive behavioral patterns due to their own generational trauma that affirmed this behavior as “normal” from infancy. Predator behavior, human trafficking, child abuse, and many other heinous offenses against humanity are all rooted in one common desire: control of another person. I want to begin telling you about “The Rescue” from the point when I met the person who trafficked me over two decades ago. My story explains the length of time and the overall details of how I made my rounds from runaway to trafficking survivor and why this rescue closed the loop on my own story just as much as it did for the survivor’s who bravely walked away from the only life they knew and invested in the hope of a life outside of the emotional confines and physical limitations of generational trauma.

Religious abuse is not more or less heinous than “secular” abuse. It is simply different. It escalates control by using a person’s faith and their perceived eternal future against them in order to obtain what the predator wants from that individual. Some people call these personalities “abusers,” I call them all predators. It creates complete confusion for an individual to obscure facts with actions that they themselves claim to not condone. Religious leaders are often in direct contact with vulnerable members of the community who have already suffered generational abuse, which creates an ideal landscape for exploitation. I did not grow up around religious individuals, but the abusive tactics commonly found within religious abuse resonated with principles I was used to. Hypervigilance, stolen identity, low self confidence, physical abuse, and  All of society is a target for a predator hiding behind religious talking points. 

From a survivor of this story:
“To call this “story” a “rescue” is not a dramatics. Our reality is what was rescued. And that also resulted in freedom and peace. When reality was less clear, Rona calmly repeated, “Peace of mind, body and soul can only be imagined until the magnitude of it is felt.” I heard this over and over for years. I understood the concept, but now we feel it.

In the mid-nineties I was an awkward 12-year-old on a mission for freedom from an impossible situation. That in itself is a statement that I did not realize at the time. I’ve been told that 12 is a bit young to be traveling around the country unattended. After honing in on the skills I would need to survive outside of “survival,” the time would eventually arrive when I would have to actually leave and I had no clue what that might look like. My existence inside my adopted parents home, I now realize, was rather unimaginable to the average brain with a moral temperature gauge. Due to a sudden change in circumstances, I was allowed to begin working outside of my adopted parents home the year I turned 12-years-old and a neighbor offered me a job at a restaurant two towns away from where my adopted parents lived. I knew at the time I needed more money in order to leave.

Prior to getting the job at a restaurant, I was given one other consistent freedom to go out every Saturday to a local Christian group that I became acquainted with over time. I attended the group alone and quickly became a known, awkward focus within the organization across several states. Many in the group claimed to have gained insight from my observations of spirituality and theology. I assumed they were trying to be nice to the kindergarten graduate. I did not assume they were being genuine. My lack of self confidence at the time was no match for those I would meet later on, who were not genuine and tried to exploit my ideas, thoughts, insights, and identity for their own self gratification. Initially everyone I met locally was very kind and genuine. This atmosphere was completely foreign to me. My quest to define my spirituality started very young and was an independent endeavor. My biological and adopted families are not spiritual or religious people, this chapter began independently while I still lived with my adopted parents.

The neighbor who offered me a job, Becca, was in her mid-thirties with 4 kids. She worked nights and offered to take me to work with her. Becca’s aunt, Sara, was the manager of the restaurant that Becca worked at. Sara treated me exceptionally well. Or so I thought at the time. We often stopped at Sara’s house on the way home from work. She is indigenous and her house was filled with handmade native art. Sara often looked at me as if I were a unique item at a flea market. Becca regularly told my adopted mom that I got off work later than I actually did. She would take me to Sara’s house after work until I obliged her offers for drinks and weed. I was often black out drunk and high in their living room late at night or at the bar inside the restaurant. I have no recollection of what happened on any of those occasions, but I do remember Becca giving me a computer one night. I went home that night and crafted a desk out of plastic containers after consulting Edwin, my favorite conspiracy theorist, and then immediately tapped into the first dial-up connection I could find and began looking up an encyclopedia of information.

I loaded the browser and began typing in my real mother’s name. That was really the purpose for everything I did. It was all to find her and to know if she was ok, if she had healed and moved forward. Looking for her became exhausting. She had one of the most common names documented in America. So I took breaks in the only way I know how to take a break, by deep diving into something else. I joined multiple forums and chat rooms that discussed search and rescue, forensics, naturopathic medicine, graphic design, photography, academic subjects, and theology. Some of the conversations I am going to share are from a theology chat room. This story spans 27 years, but it began at this moment. Right after connecting my first computer. At the time, I was scared. I didn’t know what I was going to do. But I knew I could not endure the circumstances I was living in. Anything I faced would be equal or better. I had very little ability to fathom my life ever being worse and it really wasn’t. The horrors I lived through after leaving my adopted parents home were not enjoyable but none of them came close to what I lived through in their home. I am completely void of the feeling of being “homesick.” Once I left, I never missed the family I grew up with or any of the associated memories. Even at the worst of times, I’ve maintained confidence that I made the right choice.

I entered a chat room where I joined a conversation about theology and a user began berating my input. I ignored the interaction after realizing they were not looking for communication, only confrontation. Shortly after, I received this private message from a user in the chat room:

Chmpty: He’s a Davidian
EE: What?
Chmpty: The person that was speaking to you is a Davidian, they are aggressive. Be careful.
EE: Thank you.
Chmpty: are you a member?
EE: No. I do not agree with all the beliefs or “prophets.”
Chmpty: you are free to ask me any questions.
EE: I observe more than I ask. 
Chmpty: You have a different insight. I’m anxious to hear more.
EE: Thank you. I will come back when I have time.
Chmpty: Great.

The message above was the first of many conversations between myself and a user by the name “Chmpty.” I soon began receiving messages from a few other accounts as well who claimed to be interested in my theories, notes and opinions. Most of the users were from Christian groups who primarily keep the sabbath, among other slight differences from average Protestant organizations. Keeping the sabbath meant something slightly different to each group. Some groups were very rigid about “what is allowed on the sabbath.” But overall, it is meant to be a day of rest. Chmpty continued to message me and we started to become distant friends.

Chmpty: How are you?
EE: I’m good. How are you?
Chmpty: You were gone for a long time.
Chmpty: Were you able to get out for the Sabbath?
EE: I’ve been working.
Chmpty: You are too young to work. How are you working? Family business?
EE: No. Restaurant.
Chmpty: I sent you a digital copy of ______. I hope you will review it. I know you do not agree with the entirety but there are many good lessons in it.
EE: I did not read it because it’s false.
Chmpty: Why are you online during school hours?
EE: I don’t go to school. I work.
Chmpty: Homeschooled?
EE: No. I don’t go to school. I never have.
Chmpty: There are people here who could help you study. If you’d like to finish your education.
EE: The last time I attended school was in kindergarten. You cannot finish what you never started. I appreciate the offers. I think it would be better if I get my GED first and then leave.
Chmpty: Do you need anything? How can I help you leave? It doesn’t sound like a good place. Do people know you are not in school?
EE: No. People think I am being sent to a private school. She has friends at the school and she sent her kids there.
Chmpty: Would you be willing to go to _____ _______ ?
EE: I can’t do that. I need to work, I don’t have the ability to stay on campus or afford the program. I have no education and likely would not pass the entrance test.
Chmpty: I don’t believe that. You have to believe you would pass. You are smart.
EE: I believe in reality.
Chmpty: You can obviously read and write. Who taught you that?
EE: I learned mostly by myself and my grandmother helped when I had questions about pronunciation or writing.
Chmpty: Can you get out alone?
EE: Sometimes. Never guaranteed. But more since my Gram passed. She can’t hide me at Gram’s now when she wants to leave for longer periods.
Chmpty: Has ____ returned?
EE: Yes. And he’s taking me to Ohio this weekend. By himself. He told her that the he’s also taking the girls but he’s not. It’s just me. He told me on the phone. There is no escaping that. She told him 3 days. I should be back Tuesday.
Chmpty: I will leave something in your name at this address.
Chmpty: Go there and let me know when you have picked it up. I will have time to talk all day tomorrow if you can get out. I’m free all week. 
EE: What?

Over time, Chmpty became a dangerous presence, in my opinion. Her intent and her growing knowledge of my actual situation could either be detrimental or a miracle. But her being a threat to me personally never crossed my mind. I was more concerned with her knowledge causing further harm if she tried to report my adopted parents. Chmpty is the first person I was ever honest with about my circumstances. Long passed were the days of my obsession with legal and medical textbooks. I knew there was not enough hard evidence of any of their crimes to bring justice, interfering would only bring more chaos.

EE: I went to the address and picked it up. Do you have time to talk?
Chmpty: I’m in Belgium for two weeks. I will get back to you.

Chmpty’s presence was fairly consistent but her whereabouts were always questionable. Spontaneous trips would often arise with the reasoning being that she was traveling to various Christian groups or helping someone in need. She had a known and respected presence within many groups all over the country. Over time she traveled the world and worked for some well known Christian public figures.

Chmpty sent me $400 and eventually explained that it was to help me with the expense it would take to leave my adopted parents house. I combined it with the money I saved over time and put it away. I intended to return the money once I was gone and could freely track the user down.

Chmpty: Are you still awake? I’m worried about you. I saw you were posting your notes earlier today. I would save that for after you leave. What if your family catches that?
EE: They don’t use the internet and likely would not care.
Chmpty: You never know who might see it. I just want you to be safe from any harassment. Do you mind sharing the rest of your notes with me in an email?
EE: I can tomorrow.
Chmpty: Are you doing ok?
EE: Yeah. Just a lot going on.
Chmpty: I’m listening.
EE: I’ll be back in a few days. My head hurts and I cannot look at the screen for very long.
Chmpty: I’m praying for you. You have to leave immediately. I’ll come and pick you up if you agree to it. Or take a bus to _____. You know we would treat you well. We just want what is best for you and being there will kill you eventually. She is not going to stop until it is too late.
EE: I’m ok, just tired. Take care.
Chmpty: Let me know how you are as soon as you can.
Chmpty: Are you ok?
EE: I’m ok. Feeling better. But there was a huge fight over _____ poisoning me and gram. My sister punched osama bin mamma and she’s been missing since. My brother is in county lockup and someone is looking for him. I have to leave soon. If you don’t hear from me I will be back after I’m settled. I found out things that changed my mind. I’m leaving sooner than I thought.
Chmpty: Where are you going?
Chmpty: please keep in touch. You are a blessing to us all. Keep the promises and seals close. You’ll know where to find us. Always in the light. Leaving my computer on.

That same week my adopted sister returned. One of the reasons I’d never fully committed to leaving my adopted parents home was because my adopted mother had cancer and every year that she made it was an alleged miracle. She battled each day, or appeared to. When my sister returned, the truth about my adopted mother’s poorly stitched lies began to unravel. My adopted sister told me that my adopted mother did not have cancer and that her last doctor visit was 15 years prior. The entire story was false. And I was livid. Everyone was well aware of the false story but chose to go along with it. Everyone. Each suspicious idea that came to mind about my situation was verified at that moment and my reality was no longer a theatrical presentation for my adopted mother’s entertainment. The pure agony that she inflicted on others just to feel something could no longer reach my empathetic pathways. At the time, my adopted siblings and I were financially supporting the household after an embezzlement scheme ended my adopted father’s 26 year employment at a large corporation. Immediate razor wire was installed around the borders of my existence once I knew I was lied to. Even though I was well aware that my adopted mother frequently lied. Typically, logic tells us not to trust a known liar. But what if that person embeds you into their lies and conditions you to protect the lies? Well, that creates a very different landscape where logic ceases to exist purely for survival. I affirmed at that moment that I was not “delayed,” and that keeping me locked away from education and society was to protect her own sins, not to protect my self image, as my adopted mother claimed. That moment provided a view that is typically only seen from mountain tops. It was suddenly realized that I most certainly had the upper hand. Control is more effective if no one is battling for it, and I suddenly realized they were not war heroes. Many things in my mind from domestic abuse to rape instantly became clear and I could finally feel the keys to freedom that were always in my hands. These were no longer curiosities or suspicions but rather confirmed facts in my mind. 

It wasn’t long before I was ready, with a backpack and my computer, to exit the premises for good. The money I saved was gone. It vanished. I assume my adopted mother found it. I used the tips I made that week at the restaurant to leave. I had exactly $172.16 and no one could stop me, the only difference was that I now realized that. With or without the proper resources, I was determined at this point to leave immediately. Anyone who has hidden and abused a child is not going to file a missing person report or try to draw too much attention to their child’s absence. Getting that child to recognize that they are abused is a completely different battle. I knew the lack of control would become too much and the games would ensue. I was 12-years-old and facing six years of impending hell to endure if I didn’t play my cards right and stay hidden from their reach until I turned 18-years-old. I used their temporary shock to get as far away as possible.

EE: I’m in _____
Chmpty: I’m so glad to hear from you!!! I’ve been checking daily. 
EE: I have a place to stay. Got a job right away. I’ve been here a few weeks. Just finished setting everything up. No car yet. A little numb.
Chmpty: Will you need protection? Are you staying alone?
EE: I’ll be ok. No one knows where I am for now.
Chmpty: Are you close to us? In the same state at least?

My actual location remained a mystery for quite a while, but eventually my safety was compromised and guess who was standing by waiting to lend a hand? Yes, Chmpty. I met with Chmpty and also met her husband and children. They were young at the time. Her youngest daughter was 4-years-old. Chmpty was 20 years older than me. I met her group several times prior to allowing her to help me leave where I was living at the time.

Once Chmpty had me alone in her home, it immediately felt like she had been waiting for this moment. I knew very quickly that I made the wrong choice. Even though at the time, there didn’t appear to be many choices. She began making sexual advances towards me in a ploy to make it appear to be a mutual relationship. I was still a minor child on the run at the time and she was happy to hide me out. An overwhelming effort went into making me comfortable.  Chmpty often tried to reassure me of my strengths, offer positive words, or give me gifts and money. All while rooting the positive words and encouragement in statements that made my worth embedded in my faith and my attachment to her group, of which she would then use against me to also create fear and dependence. When I lived with Chmpty, she became a completely different person than the individual I spoke to online for over a year. Her messages always became more consistent when other users in the chat were speaking with me more. She regularly appeared jealous of anyone else interacting with me. But these are not behaviors I recognized at the time. She messaged a variety of “love bombing” messages on a regular basis..

By the time Chmpty began making her real intentions clear, I was already highly confused. After 12 years of hell and escaping spur of the moment, and then trying to hide, it had taken a toll and there was very little energy left to sort out this new chapter of confusion I was presented with. Chmpty did not relent in her pursuit to make me her traveling lesbian child bride, while also staunchly opposing homosexuality. She loved to travel to different sabbath keeping groups and use me as a pawn for both her ego and self gratification. To her peers, she was doing the most by rescuing an abused child. No one knew the reality of her predatory nature, at least not within the group she was a member of. Even still, my subconscious thinks about the money and gifts and wants to repay it all. That’s how this works. The situation ends, the lasting psychological effects live on. Child abuse, psychological abuse, sexual abuse.. It’s all lined with a lasting change to your identity that every survivor has to battle daily to regain. I did repay some of it when I was younger, before I decided that my identity and her freedom was payment enough.

Several other groups attempted to make contact with me in a variety of odd ways after I ran away. Some of them were more persistent than others. All of them lived “off the grid” on rural properties, some with no addresses. They lived off the land, mostly in campers and tents. Many of the groups try to avoid using social security numbers or any forms of official identification. I started to become concerned with being kidnapped by one of the groups but I was hesitant to remove myself for many reasons. The larger threat was being found by my family, and these folks did have a practically untraceable lifestyle.

Chmpty took me to California for a religious conference that was being hosted at a resort in the mountains. People often traveled from all over, even internationally, to attend these conferences. I met a man there that people called “Job.” Everyone claimed he was a kind and compassionate individual who was quiet but highly intelligent. Many people seemed captivated by his presence. We were at a religious conference and people seemed hopeful that Job would chat or host a group discussion with a small group of us, but I was not open to the idea. Halfway through the conference I was having a nightly chat with a conference leader from Yugoslavia when a thin man, with a long beard and glasses approached us. He was introduced as “Job,” he had spotted us and joined our conversation. Job could sense I was not as pliable as he hoped. I was not receptive to his opinions or beliefs. I’m not sure what time our conversation ended that night, but I’ll never forget waking up in Northern California with an entirely different group the next day. I had no idea where I was or what happened. A child was with us the night before and she was very sick. I had no phone or any way to contact anyone. After quietly searching the entire farm where I woke up, I realized the child, Aster, was also gone. This was a huge problem. Within their groups, medical issues were handled independently through natural remedies rather than doctors and modern science. Seasonal allergies to cancer. It was all treated with a strict raw vegan diet, herbs, and hydrotherapy. I knew if Aster was truly sick that she would be at risk. I wasn’t sure what might happen to her or where she was. I was looking after her at the conference and never got a clear explanation about who her parents were, but after spending days with me uninterrupted, I had a feeling Aster was on her own.

On the large Northern California farm there were a few other people I met but couldn’t be sure if they were there willingly, brainwashing can be difficult to immediately sort out. I continued observing until I could figure out what to do. The more I asked, the less I was able to be around other people. I was clearly there for one reason and I quickly had a feeling Chmpty was somehow involved. Job’s group was even more rigid in their practices than what I was used to. Overall, within these groups, a major emphasis is put on specific things. Health (diet,) apparel, behavior, and prophecy. They followed strict, mostly vegan diets. Apparel depended on the specific group, some were far more strict about “what is accepted.” A major emphasis was put on prophecy more so than the rest of the Bible, which builds an element of fear. And behavior is perhaps the biggest topic, given the vast amount of forbidden behaviors. Outside of the specific forbidden behaviors there was an overwhelming need for control of behavior, starting with their children. They found it to be imperative to control a child early on, before the child could be corrupted by their own “sinful will” and society. This often included tactics like refusing to comfort a child if they were upset, denying them education, emotional and physical abuse, conditioning a child to believe they are not deserving of anything, refusing medical treatment, insisting that everyone must ignore their feelings and emotions because “feelings cannot be trusted.” There was a high expectation to ignore “self.” Your feelings and emotions were labeled as an undeserving reflection of your own selfishness, the ultimate sin. This trains people to not reflect on their own emotions and in turn makes them reliant on the feelings and emotions of others, an ideal landscape for those looking to manipulate and take advantage of innocent bystanders for their own pleasure. The people who fell victim to this mentality are not the type of people you may think they are. Generational trauma can exhibit itself in a variety of ways and that does not speak to who we are as people at our core.

Chmpty’s presence in my life did not end in Northern California, or anytime soon after. She eventually appeared in Northern California and I did not question it at the time. I did go back home with Chmpty, several states away from where we were in California at the time. There were multiple attempts to leave without success. I was not a member of her group or interested in staying there after I turned 18-years-old, but her presence became a continuation of the mental conditioning I was used to in my adopted parents home. Human trafficking is ultimately about control and traffickers are not who you think they are. Most people think of dark, scary villains. The reality is that they are charming, manipulative, initially kind, observant, resourceful, but highly pathetic. Fighting against trafficking requires endurance, not a lack of fear. Survivors turned predator hunters have already been through the worst and know they can walk back into the fire with the realization that there is nothing to fear about pathetic individuals.

To someone who grew up without debilitating conditioning, these behaviors might be obvious to see as heinous. To me? At that time? It was just another chapter in a book that was methodically outlining generational cause and effect. And I knew all too well how to keep it moving. After living through a variety of trauma on fairly complex levels, denying myself basic rights was more comfortable than accepting my humanity. It made sense to the parts of me that endured an overwhelming loss of self, but I also knew that this was not my fate, to just accept this line of thinking as fact when it is obviously well marinated in coercive control. I never became a member of these groups, I was more so the random parentless child that just kept showing up. Small, “conservative” groups across the country naively let me into their inner circles, thinking I’d one day become a part of their twisted ideations. There were some amazing people in these groups that I will never regret meeting, most of them left about 10 years ago and went their separate ways. But Job managed to convince a few to stay, and he collected new members every so often.

The night before my mysterious respawn to Northern California was the last time I physically saw Aster. For several years the hunt for Aster felt silent. I mean that. You could feel the silence. I continued keeping in touch with people who left groups that were once in contact with Job’s group. Through that, I continually got closer, albeit far too slowly. Even the people who still were in contact with Job didn’t have any idea what his location was and he had no digital footprint. When social media became more common, a young woman reached out to me claiming to be a survivor of a group who was in contact with Job. “Hello, my name is Kayla. I’m from ______. Can we chat about something?” She agreed to meet with me and share her story as well as Job’s current location. We agreed to meet at a park in her local area. When she arrived, a flood of memories came with her. Everything in that moment made sense. I was anonymous to her until this moment. Kayla was one of the people who I regularly noticed showing up in the same places I was at, all over the country. And I could see the guilt seeping through her soul the moment she focused in on my face, she knew. She knew what she did to me and many others. I did not say a word about it. I had no need to. Kayla looked like she ignited into flames of overwhelming regret and appeared to want nothing more than to stop, drop, and roll out of that park. But she didn’t. She awaited whatever was coming to her in the name of making her wrongs right for other survivors. I let it go. I pretended to not know her, in an effort to let her meet me as she was in that moment, free from the control of others and her own mind.

I began tracking Job’s new residence and over time I found ways to get closer to people around him. Two people voluntarily embedded themselves within his group and we were able to assist several individuals in leaving. To my surprise, Job eventually evolved. He began using the World Wide Web and I found his activity on an online forum and a social media app. I knew the account I found was Job. I sent a short message from a fake account and I waited a whole 6 minutes before he responded,

Job: Hello. Do I know you?
EE: I don’t think so. But I’m interested in purchasing vitamins.
Job: Great. How can I help you?

Job was selling vitamins online in mass under a newly rebranded image. Through this connection I was able to have someone meet with him for vitamins while another individual waited close by and  followed him home. Over the years, Job moved around and I lost track of him several times, usually after he lost more members the remaining group would move to a new area. Before this interaction I began to realize that either he had two locations, or Aster was no longer with us. The person who met him for vitamins was able to eventually follow him home to a new secondary address. Determination never waive red, I would find Aster even if she was no longer alive. Her ultimate fate would not slow my persistence to find her.

After reviewing the data I found associated with Job’s new address and image, I stared blankly at my computer screen, frozen in time. It’s difficult to process the trajectory of the hunted becoming the hunter. I looked up through my living room window and the sun was coming up over the mountains. I grabbed my keys, got in the car and headed to the kitchen an hour early to prepare for the weekend. Luckily there was work to pour every ounce of my nervous energy into. There was a mountain of tasks ahead of a weekend full of private events I was hired to cater. The buzzing of my phone in my pocket made it unbearable to stay focused. Without looking, I knew it was him. 

Years had passed and I was fully engaged in operation “give it all I got.” After I obtained Job’s new address, I set up multiple paths to the ultimate goal by setting up a vitamin pickup, engaging him from a burner account that appeared to be a runaway teen, recruited dedicated and educated spies to perform ops and plant seeds of deprogramming in their group. Over the years, a small dedicated team formed out of sheer passion to free Aster and many others. People who are now affectionately named Red, Macon, Dyno, Max, Alloy, and Sturgeon. Given the things we have accomplished, it is hard to call our team “small.” Together, we have created ripples in time that will be felt long after we are gone.

Job never directly manipulated me in the same ways he did to so many others. I only suffered being in his presence for a short time. But the fact that he had manipulated so many others was in itself a manipulation of my emotions and overall fear of what he might do. This was a man with no country. No laws. And given my own mysterious disappearance to Northern California and the sexual abuse I endured there, for years I harbored plenty of fear and reasons to not know what he was capable of. Still operating in partial survival mode, it would take time to see my former abusers as the weak individuals they were. I continued chatting with him while simultaneously embedding someone in their group who could quietly plant seeds of deprogramming, one by one, until we finally reached Aster. The day that Job’s secretary left the compound was a monumental moment in the span of this hunt. She is the only person who had access to Aster in recent years and knew of her current condition. We spent eleven hours on the phone recounting her experience and Aster’s reality. I held back a range of feelings as she began to tell me the details of what they endured and what was currently happening to Aster. She began to tell me about psychological conditioning that worsened over time. The tactics were always laced with misplaced biblical quotes or spiritual anecdotes. Their connection to society diminished as control increased. And Aster, well, she became Job’s wife. Hidden at Job’s private property with nothing but a outdoor shed. No bathroom, electricity, water, and many times no food. Job was a terrible gardener and his group suffered the consequences. The immediate remedy to that situation at the time, several years ago, was to infiltrate their group with an incredible spy gardener. To both feed and free the people.

His secretary shared her own statement of this experience:
“Job took me in from a horrifying family life. I was young and became reliant on him. He made sure I was safe, loved, comfortable, and well taken care of, in the beginning. Job began to believe he was not a prophet, but an entirely new important figure to the future. I think he lost sight of his mortality in the last five years of his life. I couldn’t see that at the time and I trusted his words and began helping him look for young teens who might need assistance in leaving a bad home life. I believed Job was dedicated to helping. He claimed that we needed to live at a different residence than the compound, to have a home life as he got older. It seemed to make sense until Aster turned 18. She was treated as a daughter when I was present but after her 18th birthday, Job began treating Aster as a wife without any communication about it. As I began to question it more, he claimed I was needed at the compound and I began living there full time and only spending time with Job when he was at the compound or traveling.

My responsibility to the survivors of his abuse is something I will always carry. I helped build and nurture the horrors. With grace, God help us to right the wrongs of generational abuses. We become slaves to the injustice that fatally wounds our souls. I struggle to explain it, even still.”

It was obvious that the information from Job’s secretary was the last battle, he was done. The compound was abandoned but we had already established a plan with Aster before his secretary left the compound. She still had limited access to Aster and was able to convince her to leave based on medical needs and Aster’s new child. The few involved counted down the days until they became hours. We played chess with facts nightly and observed the possible risks for hours on end, reconstructing the plan over and over.  Local authorities showed no interest in our claims about Job. Making a plan is great, just don’t expect it to actually go that way. And be ready when it doesn’t.

The plan was to have someone meet with Job at a certain day and time to pick up vitamins, luring him away from home long enough to free Aster and her baby. The source completed multiple vitamin pickups on the same day and time for months prior.  

The night of the rescue everyone was officially in place. A team of 6 men and two women silently surrounded the property where Job and Aster lived. Three vehicles were parked nearby and ready to flee immediately, for safety or once they had Aster and her baby. They conducted surveillance through the night as we continued to coordinate details for the following day.

The next morning I woke up to an alarming text that said “reroute.” Shit. Something didn’t go as planned. At 6:00 AM we had a pre-arranged recap before the day started. During that call I was informed that another young girl was on the property and appeared to arrive around 4:45 AM. No one knew who she was and there wasn’t time to find out. None of the survivors from the compound were aware of who she was either. On a complete guess, I shared with my team that I felt the new girl would follow Aster off the property when the time came. The only glitch, with a new person on the property, would Job still make the vitamin pickup? Or would he opt for staying close to home? The ground team reported on the rest of their surveillance throughout the night and we took a vote. Given the facts, what do we do? What is everyone on the ground comfortable doing? Do we press forward and act as if this never happened and hope for the best? Or do we regroup and return on another day? Aster was waiting and knew this was the date we pre-arranged while Job’s secretary was still inside. We unanimously voted yes and quickly ended the call. By 11:00 AM I was notified that Job canceled the vitamin delivery.

Next steps could only be determined with a clear understanding of what we were up against in the moment. Many plans were made, but we had no idea which path we would ultimately have to take. I felt that less was more in this moment and opted to distract Job. On the far back side of his property is where Job had a garden, dried herbs, bottled tinctures, and crafted weapons. He also had a bunker next to the garden, completely on the other side of the property from where the shed was. Three members of our team were lining the back side of Job’s property as a precaution. I had one of them send up a drone and wave goodbye to it, I wasn’t sure how this would go. The drone entered Job’s property, flying quite low below the tree line. They flew the drone all the way to the doorway of Job’s shed. Once it got his attention, he was quickly on his feet. The drone pilot then backed away and flew towards the bunker. Job followed the drone, distantly and cautiously. A member of our team moved in close enough to signal to Aster that they were present. The rest would now be up to Aster to walk off the property and towards the help that was waiting for her. Everything she needed to do was pre-arranged with vague details we knew we could deliver on that would allow Aster to know it was us and where to go once we arrived. Including the drone, albeit I did not intend on flying a drone into Job’s shed. Was Aster committed to genuinely stepping off that property? There was no way to truly know, but we would be there if she did. Two female team members waited with a white 4-door car in the meetup location adjacent to Job’s property, but well hidden. The team members who were lining the back side of the property moved to the front side of the property. Once Job was out of view, we kept the radios silent for emergencies and waited.. After 10 minutes passed, excitement turned to concern and then disappointment. I could see Job go into his bunker from the surveillance cameras we put in place for this operation. I notified the team that he was in the bunker, alone. Aster and the unknown girl were nowhere in sight from my view. A large hill on the edge of Job’s property largely blocked their  view of the property from the road. And my view was limited to the surveillance we could safely and legally install. Job had the entire property blanketed with weapons and traps.

16 minutes later the silent airwaves became active with relief, concern, and hushed excitement. 

Red: Aster is visible over the hill, walking toward the road.

Red: Baby is present. No unknown girl.

Red: Where is Job?

Max: Exiting the bunker.

EE: Everyone, focus.

Red: How close is Aster?

EE: Aster has not cleared the hill.

Red: Direction for Job?

Max: Next to bunker facing the drone. Looks perplexed. No movement.

EE: Unknown girl?

Max: No sighting yet.

EE: Everyone clear out. Job is headed your way. Red stays.

Max: Heard.

EE: No one steps on to the property. For any reason. Clear?

Max: Heard.

EE: Job is approaching the front of the property. I think he can see Aster.

EE: Coach her. She needs to step off the property.

Max: Job is inside the shed.

Red: Aster appears hesitant. Keeps looking back.

EE: Red, talk to her. Keep her focused on you. Eyes straight ahead.

EE: Red, tell her she is holding the promises and that she is strong enough to keep them on her own.

In the distance, one solo gunshot could be heard and will likely forever echo in my mind. After a long pause, I heard Red yelling, “Aster! We’re here.” Aster responded with her voice shaking as she looked back toward the shed yelling with an intensity I will never forget, “Job.” As Aster stood at the edge of the property, Red responded to her, “Aster. Take just a few steps. I can’t do anything until you walk on to the road. We’re here, we are not leaving you. Aster, you are holding the promises. You are stronger than you know. Strong enough to keep every promise.”

We could not be sure if it was a warning shot, but everyone immediately felt that the gunshot we heard was the end of Job’s existence.

With complete fear and a flood of tears, Aster took four more steps and as she walked out onto the road she began to collapse. Red immediately took the baby as another team member assisted Aster over to a vehicle that was waiting for her and Red.

The audio line we used for communication became silent. All the way to the local medical center where Aster and her baby were treated for immediate health concerns due to poor nutrition and isolation from basic needs. Job did take his life when he walked back into the shed. That singular gunshot ended a moment in time that separated Aster and I just long enough to dismantle a larger mindset that was spread out amongst many groups.

When I looked up to view the surveillance cameras one last time, there was movement in the woods. Local law enforcement was clearing out, and there she was. The unknown girl managed to hide from law enforcement and the unfolding chaos. Exhaustion turned to panic as I fumbled around my desk contacting every person I had on the ground. One of my sources made their way back to the property and through the wooded area behind Job’s property. And much to our surprise, the unknown girl was a woman I’d spent two decades looking for without success. When my source asked her who she is, she responded, “I am Aster’s mother.” It quickly became clear that we were not the only renegades who showed up that day with a mission to save Aster. 

My computer desk doesn’t look or feel the same ever since. My phone feels different. Every interaction with a survivor now comes with a mountain of knowledge that was garnered through this two decade hunt. How I view my existence shifted. Everything changed. As I felt these ripples in time changing everything around me the moment Aster was safe.