It appeared as though Uncle Warren had been preparing himself to fill this role for years. He was not Uncle Rulon’s oldest or youngest son, but he had worked hard to position himself as his father’s natural successor. Even as a teenager, long before Rulon was prophet, Warren had opted out of playing with the other kids, instead going out of his way to spend time with his father, which was considered a very honorable thing to do. When he became principal at Alta Academy, he would counsel with his father closely, and their relationship evolved from there with Warren becoming Rulon’s eager right hand, the son who could always help the prophet get things done.
Being the head of Alta Academy, Warren led us to see him as a figurehead, and by the time of the stroke, people already knew that if they couldn’t approach Rulon, Warren would be the next person to talk to. Out of respect for his role as the prophet’s son, the people blindly listened to and obeyed Warren. All of the faithful trusted him and believed that he was merely speaking on behalf of his father, our prophet and God. No one would dare to suspect otherwise, and Warren used that confidence to his advantage as he began manipulating us and making it impossible for us to see the rise of a new and unforgiving power.
Before the mid-1980s, authority in the FLDS had been divided between the prophet and a priesthood council, but a disagreement over who had the authority to arrange marriages had put an end to this shared hierarchy, ceding all power in the church to the prophet. The dispute came about because a number of council members had been arranging marriages at the same time—sometimes unwittingly promising the same young woman to more than one man based on claims of revelation.
Leroy Johnson, the prophet at the time, balked and said that was not acceptable, insisting that all marriages should be arranged by him. The council members objected. Ultimately Uncle Roy won the argument and assumed sole authority over the priesthood and placement marriages. It was a historic event in our church and marked the beginning of the doctrine of one man rule.
Dismayed, some council members who favored a more traditional leadership structure left the FLDS to form their own church that came to be known as the Centennial Group. For church members, this was a pivotal period and resulted in what has come to be known as “the split.” Those who left our church to form the new group were deemed apostates and were no longer considered “worthy” by the FLDS. Uncle Rulon and members of his inner circle strongly discouraged even casual contact with members of that sect, which established itself about a mile from the Crik.
The danger of course with the post-split power structure was that all control over the FLDS people resided with the prophet. This did not prove to be a major issue during the waning years of Uncle Roy’s life, but with Rulon and Warren at the helm it held a great many risks.
I want to be the humble servant of the prophet.
—FLDS PRAYER
In the fall of 1998 our family was still living on Claybourne Avenue and, much to my surprise and everyone else’s, Mother Audrey returned home. Her youngest daughter, Lydia, had been married not long before, and with no more children at home, Mother Audrey strengthened her friendship with Mother Laura, who was now in her mid-twenties and raising her young son. The two women had bonded from the beginning and had grown closer in our absence. But the house that Mother Audrey returned to was not the one that she had left the previous year. All of a sudden, it seemed Laura had become Dad’s favored companion. It was Laura accompanying Dad to the supermarket. It was Laura scrutinizing the other mother’s shopping lists about whether certain items were truly necessary.
Just as Mother Audrey had struggled with the addition of Dad’s second wife, now Mom had a hard time coping with Laura’s presence. This is one of the natural drawbacks to a plural marriage. The husband experiences pride and excitement with a new wife in the house hold, but for the women already there, resentment and jealousy sets in. Making matters worse for my mother was that the old wounds between her and Audrey had yet to heal. Once again, Mom found herself on the outside, with the blame for the family’s domestic troubles laid at her feet. No one was completely innocent, but no one was willing to accept responsibility for the problems that continued to plague our home.
While my mother got the brunt of it, everyone pointed fingers. To me the other two mothers were ganging up on my siblings and me. When a problem arose in the house, Dad was quick to side with one of the other mothers, dismissing the children’s version and agreeing that punishment was in order. From my perspective, it seemed that to Dad, Audrey, and Laura, Mom’s kids could do no right. My brothers had taken to escaping the tension with forbidden trips to the local arcade and Toys “R” Us, where they met friends and played video games. Meanwhile, my sister Teressa began standing up to Dad and his other wives and advocating for our mother just as Craig had, a rebellion that landed her on the dark side of Dad’s anger.
Terrified of losing the family he loved for a second time, my father only grew more paranoid as Teressa and my brothers stretched their teenage wings and became more openly confrontational. Though they were merely acting like normal teenagers, they were seen as defiant and Dad suffered great anxiety over how their behavior would affect his priesthood standing. As sad as it was, it was clear to us all that Dad was coming apart as he fought to rein in his wives and children according to the priesthood’s design.
Thinking back on his battle to control our family, I have wondered if Dad’s own difficult childhood had left him emotionally unequipped to handle his twenty-four kids and three wives. When he was just a small boy, his mother had abandoned his family; the way Grandpa Wall told it, she just didn’t want to be married anymore. Unable to care for his two young children and continue to earn a living, Grandpa Wall had no choice but to send Dad and his sister to live with relatives. In time, a different arrangement needed to be made and Dad ended up on a working farm for orphans in Utah. Because Grandpa Wall was away working in the coal mines, it took a while for him to realize that the farmer was harsh on the children, including my father. When Grandpa finally learned what was going on, he promptly moved Dad back with him. Over the years, they moved around a lot and ended up in Utah, where Grandpa eventually remarried. But problems in the home forced Dad to move out when he was sixteen. Still, he completed his high school education. After graduation, Dad joined the National Guard and received training in combat engineering. He served as a reservist for eight years. Later, his discipline and desire for education helped him earn advanced degrees.
Dad desired order and wanted his boys to be good priesthood men; however, as my brothers grew into teenagers, it became impossible to form them into the proper FLDS mold. Faithful boys were expected to serve their fathers in a humble manner, greeting them by saying things like “I am here to do your will. What do you want me to do? I want to be the humble servant of the prophet” and to constantly express their “undying love and loyalty” to the prophet and priesthood. But my brothers listened to a deep inner voice telling them that this type of behavior just wasn’t right. As hard as Dad tried through example and scripture, his sons struggled to live the principles of our strict faith.
The fact that Teressa—not just my brothers—was now openly dissenting only added to the friction. While I’m sure it broke her heart to be at odds with Dad, the situation became so unbearable that she began to sneak out of the house to escape conflict, if only for a few hours. I’d always looked up to Teressa and admired her strong and stubborn personality. She wasn’t afraid to display those attributes and do what she felt was right. To exhibit this type of attitude and behavior was bold, as it was not acceptable for FLDS women to have a voice or a say in their own destiny. Despite these social pressures, she never hesitated to speak her mind, much to my father’s great