Link to the introductory warning and the cast of charactersThe timing of these events can only be answered by Mother and The Rapists. The Female Rapist’s mother has written her off as a lifelong alcoholic, according to the rapist’s stepfather in a 2022 phone call. The FemaleRapist has a daughter. Male Rapist also appears to have a child. Did they ever learn that they are not supposed to violate children?
The FemaleRapist was the older of the the RapistSiblings. She was in Courtney’s* grade, but she was older than Courtney (who skipped a grade in AZ). In the hierarchy of children, when it was me, Male Rapist, Courtney and FemaleRapist, FemaleRapist was the leader. It was because she a bully. I should have been in Kindergarten, my birthday was beyond the cutoff. Mother, in her efforts to push her children out of the nest faster, forced the school to enroll me in the higher grade. I was always small. Being the runt that smells like urine in 1980’s American public schools was a nightmare.
A fight on the elementary school playground
I experienced Female Rapist’s physical violence on the playground at Juniper Elementary*. I was on the playground with my first grade class. The playground had different areas. We were on the blacktop area near the building.
Courtney was talking to Female Rapist. Mother had sent Courtney to do her Dirty Work. Courtney told FemaleRapist that we could not “study” anymore. Courtney said our mother knew and it had to stop.
Female Rapist flashed anger and stared at me with a scowl on her face. She was a big 3rd grader to little 1st grade me. She pushed me with both arms springing out at I flew backwards, landing on my back and head. “You TOLD?!?” she screamed. “That was supposed to be A SECRET” she started towards me again.
Courtney stepped into the narrowing space between Female Rapist and me. I was still laying on the ground. I remember the feeling of hitting your head too hard. It was like when Mother would hit me in the head with her hands.
Courtney was tall for her age. Even though Female Rapist was older, Courtney went into “momma bear” mode I had not seen before. Courtney stretched tall and big, and she bellowed:
“He’s just a kid!”
Courtney*, 1984 to one of our rapists
Courtney stepped in an defended me like Mother never had. Courtney told FemaleRapist to leave me alone. Courtney did what Mother should have done. From this moment forward, Courtney was my surrogate Mother. All of 18 months older than me. Fully parentified at SEVEN YEARS OLD. Sent to do Mother’s Dirty Work. Courtney had to tell our rapists to stop us raping us.
The Race to my Father
Courtney* handled the Rapists. They may have stopped suggesting “study sessions”, which was their code for sexually assaulting Courtney (7) and me, Joseph* (6). But they were still at our house every day after school.
Mother was trying to ignore the rapes. I would not leave it alone. I was wetting the bed, and becoming very anxious to see my father. He would know what to do. We had waited for daddy to come home before. He lived apart from us from 1981 – 1984 while completing his advanced degrees. My father had his priorities wrong. You don’t leave your four children with a mentally-unwell mother in a strange city. Look at what has happened.
Sidebar: All of the first four children in our family are effed up in some major way. Two were raped. A third was sexually abused in a shed. No one knows what happened to Stefanie*, but she is mentally-unwell and physically unhealthy. Murph* started overeating at 20 which caused parts of his body to be damaged and removed before 40. Courtney soothed herself with drugs, had two kids and died. at 27. Just look at our family. Look at us.
Whoa, back to 1984.
Mother built a wall and made me pay for it
Mother was stonewalling me every day and saying that we would deal with the rapes when father came home. Father was at Arizona State University or University of Arizona getting his doctorate in his field of study. He was thousands of kilometers away. I needed my father. He *was* honest. Mother had already physically abused all of us by 1984. I did not trust her. She could tell that I did not trust her. And that made her hate me. Hate me enough to hide my rape.
It seemed like months between the rapes, Mother getting the letter from school and when Father came home. I asked my Mother every day “when is Daddy coming home”. She was “sick and tired of me asking” her that. Mother was “sick and tired” of a lot of shit back then. But she was sick and tired of me wanting to call the police or the army or whoever about The Rapists. I was six years old. I had been raped with my seven year old sister in the same repeated events. One of the rapists had attacked me at school for telling my Mother about the rapes.
Finally, the news came that Daddy passed his classes and was coming home with his PhD. We made a sign that said “Welcome Home Doctor Daddy” to hang in the window. I took no joy or pleasure in making that sign. I wanted to call the police, or the army or whoever you call when a child is irreparably damaged.
Father came home, he loved the sign. Everyone was so happy to see him, except Mother. Time was up. I did not wait long.
Daddy is home, time to tell
Father came into the house with his luggage. He went into the primary bedroom on the first floor. I was in the front room with the rest of the family. I asked Mother if we could “please let’s tell Daddy about Female Rapist and Male Rapist” now.
Mother shushed me and pulled me through the dining room into the kitchen. She said “we need to let your father settle in, let’s give it a few days”.
I was not having this. I had waited long enough. I had not slept well since Female Rapist attacked me at school. I was wetting the bed. I was getting in trouble for wetting the bed.
Mother could see the determination on my face. She knew what I was going to so. I made my move to go past my mother to my father. Mother, 31, pushed me, 6, as hard as she could. I fell on the ground. She turned and ran to Father.
I was just steps behind, dazed from the physicality of Mother’s push. Mother was demanding that Father “tell Joseph about Santa Claus now. He is selfish, selfish, SELFISH”.
When Mother wanted to make a lie true, she would repeat it three times, each time more exclaimed than their previous. This would become a theme of my life for the next 13 years.
Father didn’t know what was happening. Mother repeated “tell Joseph about Santa Claus now. He is selfish, selfish, SELFISH”. Father pulled me into his lap with a small laugh or sigh, and then told me the real meaning of Christmas. He is like Stefanie; he never questions Mother’s authority. Instead of telling my father that I had been violated by two Rapists, he told me why I couldn’t ask for any big presents going forward.
Mother glared at me while father told me about Christmas. Mother had her arms folded tightly across her chest. Her eyes were happy. She had won the race.
Father, Woolworth’s and Chanel Number Five: Six year old Joseph learns about adult Christmas
Father was telling me about the adult parts of Christmas while Mother was celebrating. She had bought more time. Father was doing what he did. He was like a train. A train can only go down a path that the engineer chooses. Mother knows exactly how to use LDS Mormon teachings, Brigham Young University Social Work and her lies to get Father to choose whatever track she wanted him to go down.
When Father finished telling me about Christmas, I ran an hid under my bed. My Father used to love to tell this story. He thought it was so funny that I hid under my bed for hours. He genuinely would laugh when he told this story. If he hasn’t put two-and-two together yet, he is a monster just like Mother.
I stayed under my bed for hours, in my six-year-old mind. I don’t recall exactly how long I was under my bed. I was sobbing little six year old tears, under my urine-smelling bed in the tiny room downstairs. Mother had moved our rooms around.
Sidebar: Why didn’t Father ask more questions about that? If this was December 1984, and he had moved us into the house in October 1984, why did Mother swap two of the rooms? Did Father ever ask about that? No. He was the Trolley. Mother is at the switch. Mother decided. Father did not question her authority.
Father coaxed me out from under the bed. We had a small trip to make together. It was rare to get Daddy alone. We drove a few blocks to the shopping plaza in our neighborhood. There was an IGA, a T-Shirt Printing Store, Woolworth’s and the bank. Typical US strip mall in 1984. It was packed with Holiday shoppers. We went to Woolworth’s.
Mormon Lesson of shame instead of help for CSA Trauma
My father told me that because I was so selfish, I had the opportunity to learn a lesson in the style of LDS Mormon. We were going to take the family money that was budgeted for my Christmas presents and buy something special for Mother. This would make up for how selfish and horrible I had been while Father was away in Arizona.
My six year old mind went into a very adult mode, standing in the Woolworth’s. I saw that my mother had turned on me like she turned on so many people before. I was only six, and mother had filled most of my life and my memories at that point. I had seen her turn on people before. I realized that she had discarded me just like she made Father trash his own sister.
I thought “Joseph, if you don’t tell Father right now, you will never have a chance to tell him the truth, tell him”. I went with the feeling and looked up at my dad, tears in my eyes. I was so scared.
“Dad, I need to tell you what happened while you were gone…”
“Shhhh”, Father shushed me. “Whatever happened with your Mother had been decided, it is best to leave it alone.”
I was six years old. I had been raped repeatedly by a bully and their sibling. It was Christmas. My Father was telling me that Mother was right, and he did not want to be involved.
What a terrible Father.
We took the present money and purchased a gift set with a tiny bottle of Chanel Number Five. Mother really wanted that perfume. She may still wear it. It smells like Mother to me now. It smells like hidden child abuse.
WHAM! bed wetting slumber party
Christmas came and went. The Rapists were still coming to our house. Father was living with us now. Mother had to keep me and Courtney* quiet.
Stefanie* could provide clarity on these events if she was properly deposed by the correct authorities. Mother had several methods she employed to control and silence me and Courtney. The cornerstone for mother was hiding the Child Sex Abuses. Mother received her Bachelor’s degree in “Social Work” from Brigham Young University (BYU). Mother knew how to control the narrative and isolate the children so we could not discuss the Child Sexual Abuse (CSA).
Father moved in to the CSA house in Reading*
Father was living with us now. Father was an early riser. This was the first year in his three-plus decades at the same job that he recently retired from. He loved to get to the office early. 1980’s hustle culture was pervasive in every sector of employment. First to the office, last to leave were the winners. It was awful for all the children of parents trying to win the 1980’s Rat Race.
My Father had a sparkling new PhD and some things to prove about himself. He was up by 5am most days. He left the house by 6:15am. Hindsight, Mother may have set the expectation for Mark to be out of the house before the younger children were awake. I do not remember seeing him in the mornings. I was six.
Trigger Warning: physical child abuse
Mother could yell at us and hit us starting around 6:30am most days. Any mention of the CSA resulted in a beating. It was instant and Mother went for the head. It was similar to how a bad person might train their dog to stop doing something. She Pavlov-ed me into shutting up about the CSA. She was scary during this time. Her face was scary to six-year-old me. When she screamed at me, her face would twist like a horror-movie creature I saw at the movie rental / comic book store.
Sidebar: I was a little Latter Day Saint (LDS) Mormon kid. Raised in the Mormon corridor and sheltered from most evil things by my grandparents and Auntie in Arizona. Sheltered from normal things by the LDS Mormon church and my parents orthodox interpretations of the church’s teachings. Remember, mother was an LDS Mormon Boarding School graduate and BYU graduate.
She hit with her right hand, holding my skinny arm with her left hand. She wanted the blows to land where she was aiming. She usually didn’t go for the face, she went for the sides and top of my head. She went for my back and the tops of my arms. During the winter she went for my bottom and my thighs. Mother hit me where the bruises would not show. Sometimes she messed up and would leave visible marks.
Bed wetting, trying to sleep dry
Another reason Mother wanted Father out of the house before Murph* and I woke up is because we were wetting the bed. I was six and had been a “dry sleeper” for some time. Murph was four and should have been a dry sleeper? Mother tried to conceal this fact from my Father. She forgot about weekends.
I remember when Father found out I was wetting the bed again. I was in that little room, in my urine-soaked pajamas. It was winter, it was cold. All of my bedclothes were soaked in smell urine. Father was asking Mother “why is my son wetting the bed again”. He was not happy. It seemed more like concern, but perhaps he had real anxiety behind it. Father came home to a different house in December than he had left in October.
Mother lied and said “it is hereditary, my brothers both wet the bed.”. This was the first of many lies that Mother told to hide the CSA. She may have not known that Murph had been molested as well. *Note: During a 2021 phone call, Mother’s brother told me that he was not a bed-wetter. My children did not wet the bed. Father should have asked more questions. Maybe he did and could share that information now.
Mother continually lied that this was hereditary from her side of the family. She always specified that it did not affect the girls; she and her little sister did not wet the bed. Mother tried dehydrating me. I remember being so thirsty all the time. It was public, embarrassing and psychologically traumatizing: “Joseph, do not drink too much water, you’ll wet the bed.” Stefanie would giggle as was expected of her. Mother would smile at her wittiness.
Urine alarm was a 1980’s torture device
I kept wetting the bed. Mother bought mattress protectors for the boys beds. She was washing our sheets every day. It was cold, and sometimes our warm quilts would also be wet with urine. Mother would not wash the quilts every day. The boys room smelled of urine. Some public bathrooms that are not well-maintained are an instant trigger that transports me to the house where the CSA took place. My parents house. Where we should have been the most safe.
Mother’s next move was to purchase a urine alarm. Mother put this on my skinny little body. It was a thick moisture-sensor pad that went into my underpants. The pad felt cold on my private area. The pad had wires connected to it. These wires were connected to a plastic blue box. The box had a speaker in it. The box was powered by batteries. Once the pad sensed moisture a loud alarm would sound. This would wake me up as my already-released urine soaked my bedclothes. My parents would come running in, yelling at me to wake up. Yelling at me for wetting the bed. Yelling at each other for not know what to do. Yelling in the middle of the night.
Mother knew what to do. She should have called the police on The Rapists.
Ok, now that I have relived the trauma of the Urine Alarm, let me tell you about the slumber party with The Rapist.
WHAM!
Female Rapist was in Courtney’s class and she still came to our house after school every day with her brother, Male Rapist. Mother was most likely getting paid a small sum to be the after school babysitter by The Rapist’s parents. The Rapist’s Mother, who refuses to speak with me, could clear up this part of the CSA timeline. Mother had to keep up the illusion that nothing happened. So, The Rapists were part of our lives.
Courtney’s birthday is right after Christmas. January 1985 was right after the CSA was discovered and concealed by Mother. WHAM! was huge at this time. their album “Make It Big” was a smash hit, riding on the wave of singles like “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go“, “Freedom” and “Careless Whisper“. Stefanie* and Courtney loved WHAM!
Courtney had a slumber party for her birthday. The Female Rapist was there. Mother got a 2-for-1 pizza deal for the girls that came to the slumber party. I remember asking Mother if Female Rapist was going to stay the night. I am fairly certain that Female Rapist did not spend the night. But she was there at Courtney’s birthday party.
Mother rented a VHS videocassette of WHAM music videos. I was not allowed in the basement where the party was, but I wanted to see the music videos. I remember seeing part of the Careless Whisper video. This video is a trigger of those “soap operas” that Female Rapist would arrange with Male Rapist, Courtney, me in my old bedroom. “Careless Whisper” in any form is not allowed inside of my ‘Pink Floydian’ wall.
Leaving Reading and the CSA House
We moved from Reading* to Springfield* in 1986. Springfield was not far from Reading. This move dumbfounded my father because Mother had talked so much about the great schools in Reading. The schools in Springfield were not as good. Mother dismissed this by saying that we would live closer to our Church. Father would have done anything to be closer to god. So we moved to Springfield.
The Rapists lived in the same house in Reading* until ~1989*. They moved to a new house. I remember that the house had a pond. Mother told me that we were going to see their new house. I asked her if the Rapists were going to be there. Mother arranged so that Female Rapist would not be there. Male Rapist was there. He and Murph were playing together.
I have no clue why Mother took me and Murph back to visit with one of The Rapists after they had moved. Only Mother and The Rapists’ parents can answer those questions.
I was looking forward to leaving that house in Reading. Mother was beating the memories of the child sexual abuse from my head. I would not have to see Female Rapist and Male Rapist anymore. Soon I would be made new.
The Hope of being washed clean by Baptism
I was going to turn 8 years old during the summer of 1986. In the corporation of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, turning eight-years-old is a big deal. You could now be baptized. I had been taught from the age of 0 to prepare for Baptism. I would be made clean and perfect again. The CSA that I endured would be taken away from me.
Immersion is symbolic of the death of a person’s sinful life and the rebirth into a spiritual life, dedicated to the service of God and His children. It is also symbolic of death and resurrection.
Romans 6: 3-6
I could not wait for my rapes to be washed away. Mother told me that I would feel better once I was baptized. I would stop wetting the bed. I wouldn’t be afraid of the basement, or any dark. I would be able to sleep again. Mother would stop hitting me because I would be such a good boy.
Continue reading: The Baptism Did Not Work
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Mormon Cover Up 
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