Here is Larry’s Story
“I was fifteen, working as a dishwasher at a Chinese restaurant. The money I earned was partially put into savings to buy a car, and the rest was for spending. I had a few friends that I hung around with in my neighborhood. We were pretty close and stayed out of trouble, except for minor things (vandalism).
I met this girl named Shelly. She was thirteen at the time we met and had a twin sister named Tracy. They were both attractive and energetic and enjoyed the game room, as I did. There was something about being with other kids and putting quarters in old school pinball machines and video games that were much more fun than playing by yourself at home.
The more my friends and I hung out, the more I got to know Shelly. I would give her tokens to play games with me and on her own. She was a real flirt, and at the age of fifteen, I was into it.
They lived a few blocks away from the game room. I went over their place, as a friend, and met their dad. He was a hair stylist at the local mall. He was a good-looking man, trying to raise two girls on his own. They were down from Ohio, trying to make a life in Florida.
Shelly and Tracy’s room was pretty bare. They each had a mattress on the floor, no dressers or any real furniture. I just took it as they needed a place to stay and didn’t have money for furniture yet.
I must say, I was pretty slow when it came to picking up on girls signals if you know what I mean. Once, while skipping school, I went over their place. Shelly walked around in a shirt and underwear. But I didn’t make a move. Call it shy or stupid. It never dawned on me why they didn’t go to school at the time.
Once she told me her dad needed $500 to stay in Florida. Otherwise, they would have to move back to Ohio.
I convinced my grandfather (to avoid my parents from getting involved) to help me withdraw the money from my savings account.
I gave the money to Shelly, and she said her dad promised to pay it back.
Weeks went by, and she needed more money, but I couldn’t help her. I also didn’t get any of my money back.
She would tell me different excuses for why her dad couldn’t pay me back. I felt like I wouldn’t get paid, so I went to my parents. My dad wound up meeting with him, and they set up a payment plan. Her dad did start paying me back, but I only received a portion before Shelly, and I went our separate ways. My dad wound up stopping over a few more times to try and collect what he could.
One night at the game room, a van pulled up with two older teens. Much older than Shelly. She got in, and they took off. I didn’t know who they were or what was going on. Tracy hung out with us and said Shelly had been seeing these boys recently and going off with them.
A few weeks went by, and since there was no more Shelly, I stopped going to the game room. Then one day, my friend called me up to say there was an article in the newspaper about Shelly. She had been murdered.
The article said the two young men had raped her and stabbed her forty-five times. Her body was dumped in the water and found a few days later. The article said there were drugs involved.
As some time went by, we learned her dad was a cocaine user, and that was why he needed the money. He wound up taking his own life a year after his daughter was murdered.
All that was left was his daughter Tracy and her older step-daughter, who came down from Ohio to look after her.
I never knew she was into drugs and didn’t understand why. But when I look back, it all made sense. Shelly didn’t have much of a father, and her mother had already died. She was alone and wanted more action than playing video games.
Peter, several years past when I was with another friend, driving around looking for something to do. We wound up in a neighboring city, at a gas station to use the bathroom.
While we were sitting in the parking lot for a few minutes, this guy on a payphone came over and asked us for money. He said he needed to get high and needed money. His girlfriend came out of the convenience store and waked up in front of the car.
He then said to me, ‘If you give me twenty dollars, I will let you have sex with her.’
I was shocked and questioned him, ‘You’re telling me I can have sex with her for twenty dollars?’
‘Yes. I need to go pick it up, and we can come back here and use the bathroom to get high, and you can do your thing with her.’
My friend was skeptical, but his girlfriend, probably about fifteen, was scorching. I agreed. They jumped in the back, and we drove a few blocks from the gas station to a house.
The guy got out and went up to the side of the house, leaving his girlfriend in the car with us. Within a few minutes, he came back, and we drove back to the gas station.
I went into the bathroom with them, while my friend stayed in the car.
I have only smoked pot and drank. But this guy pulled out a small bag, put this stuff on a spoon with some liquid, and lit it from underneath with his lighter. When it melted, he pulled out a syringe and sucked up the liquid drug. He then put a strap around his forearm, tapped his veins many times with his fingers, inserted the needle into one of his veins and pushed the syringe to inject it.
Then he did the same thing to his girlfriend. He even offered some to me, which I turned down.
When they were done, he told his girlfriend to do what she needed to do, and he walked out. She didn’t want to do anything and pleaded with me not to go on with the agreement. I insisted we do.
To spare you the details, she walked out of the bathroom several times, and her boyfriend kept sending her back in. She wanted just to perform fellatio, but I demanded more.
It was not what she had bargained for that night, and she was not a prostitute or a whore. She was a young, white girl hooked on heroin. He was also not her pimp. He was her boyfriend. But the drug was so powerfully addictive, they did what they needed to get high.
What became of her, I have no idea. But I’m sure it only got worse from there.
On my first night here with my family, I had a dream I was that girl. I dreamed of what it was like through her eyes. A young, innocent girl now held hostage and willing to do anything to get that feeling again.
The next night, I dreamed I was Shelly and experienced what she went through. I awoke the next morning and knew I had to tell you my story, Peter because others need to know.
My advice to any young teen or even adult that is contemplating using hardcore drugs, it only takes one time. That’s it. One time and you can be hooked and taken hostage. Please don’t! Don’t for Shelly and don’t for the girl in the gas station bathroom. Don’t!”
“I was fifteen, working as a dishwasher at a Chinese restaurant. The money I earned was partially put into savings to buy a car, and the rest was for spending. I had a few friends that I hung around with in my neighborhood. We were pretty close and stayed out of trouble, except for minor things (vandalism).
I met this girl named Shelly. She was thirteen at the time we met and had a twin sister named Tracy. They were both attractive and energetic and enjoyed the game room, as I did. There was something about being with other kids and putting quarters in old school pinball machines and video games that were much more fun than playing by yourself at home.
The more my friends and I hung out, the more I got to know Shelly. I would give her tokens to play games with me and on her own. She was a real flirt, and at the age of fifteen, I was into it.
They lived a few blocks away from the game room. I went over their place, as a friend, and met their dad. He was a hair stylist at the local mall. He was a good-looking man, trying to raise two girls on his own. They were down from Ohio, trying to make a life in Florida.
Shelly and Tracy’s room was pretty bare. They each had a mattress on the floor, no dressers or any real furniture. I just took it as they needed a place to stay and didn’t have money for furniture yet.
I must say, I was pretty slow when it came to picking up on girls signals if you know what I mean. Once, while skipping school, I went over their place. Shelly walked around in a shirt and underwear. But I didn’t make a move. Call it shy or stupid. It never dawned on me why they didn’t go to school at the time.
Once she told me her dad needed $500 to stay in Florida. Otherwise, they would have to move back to Ohio.
I convinced my grandfather (to avoid my parents from getting involved) to help me withdraw the money from my savings account.
I gave the money to Shelly, and she said her dad promised to pay it back.
Weeks went by, and she needed more money, but I couldn’t help her. I also didn’t get any of my money back.
She would tell me different excuses for why her dad couldn’t pay me back. I felt like I wouldn’t get paid, so I went to my parents. My dad wound up meeting with him, and they set up a payment plan. Her dad did start paying me back, but I only received a portion before Shelly, and I went our separate ways. My dad wound up stopping over a few more times to try and collect what he could.
One night at the game room, a van pulled up with two older teens. Much older than Shelly. She got in, and they took off. I didn’t know who they were or what was going on. Tracy hung out with us and said Shelly had been seeing these boys recently and going off with them.
A few weeks went by, and since there was no more Shelly, I stopped going to the game room. Then one day, my friend called me up to say there was an article in the newspaper about Shelly. She had been murdered.
The article said the two young men had raped her and stabbed her forty-five times. Her body was dumped in the water and found a few days later. The article said there were drugs involved.
As some time went by, we learned her dad was a cocaine user, and that was why he needed the money. He wound up taking his own life a year after his daughter was murdered.
All that was left was his daughter Tracy and her older step-daughter, who came down from Ohio to look after her.
I never knew she was into drugs and didn’t understand why. But when I look back, it all made sense. Shelly didn’t have much of a father, and her mother had already died. She was alone and wanted more action than playing video games.
Peter, several years past when I was with another friend, driving around looking for something to do. We wound up in a neighboring city, at a gas station to use the bathroom.
While we were sitting in the parking lot for a few minutes, this guy on a payphone came over and asked us for money. He said he needed to get high and needed money. His girlfriend came out of the convenience store and waked up in front of the car.
He then said to me, ‘If you give me twenty dollars, I will let you have sex with her.’
I was shocked and questioned him, ‘You’re telling me I can have sex with her for twenty dollars?’
‘Yes. I need to go pick it up, and we can come back here and use the bathroom to get high, and you can do your thing with her.’
My friend was skeptical, but his girlfriend, probably about fifteen, was scorching. I agreed. They jumped in the back, and we drove a few blocks from the gas station to a house.
The guy got out and went up to the side of the house, leaving his girlfriend in the car with us. Within a few minutes, he came back, and we drove back to the gas station.
I went into the bathroom with them, while my friend stayed in the car.
I have only smoked pot and drank. But this guy pulled out a small bag, put this stuff on a spoon with some liquid, and lit it from underneath with his lighter. When it melted, he pulled out a syringe and sucked up the liquid drug. He then put a strap around his forearm, tapped his veins many times with his fingers, inserted the needle into one of his veins and pushed the syringe to inject it.
Then he did the same thing to his girlfriend. He even offered some to me, which I turned down.
When they were done, he told his girlfriend to do what she needed to do, and he walked out. She didn’t want to do anything and pleaded with me not to go on with the agreement. I insisted we do.
To spare you the details, she walked out of the bathroom several times, and her boyfriend kept sending her back in. She wanted just to perform fellatio, but I demanded more.
It was not what she had bargained for that night, and she was not a prostitute or a whore. She was a young, white girl hooked on heroin. He was also not her pimp. He was her boyfriend. But the drug was so powerfully addictive, they did what they needed to get high.
What became of her, I have no idea. But I’m sure it only got worse from there.
On my first night here with my family, I had a dream I was that girl. I dreamed of what it was like through her eyes. A young, innocent girl now held hostage and willing to do anything to get that feeling again.
The next night, I dreamed I was Shelly and experienced what she went through. I awoke the next morning and knew I had to tell you my story, Peter because others need to know.
My advice to any young teen or even adult that is contemplating using hardcore drugs, it only takes one time. That’s it. One time and you can be hooked and taken hostage. Please don’t! Don’t for Shelly and don’t for the girl in the gas station bathroom. Don’t!”
Here is Craig's Story
"When I was sixteen, I had a part-time job washing dishes. I spent that money on my girlfriend, Jenny, and to buy marijuana. You know, when you smoke dope, you act like a dope. So, I made some pretty bad decisions while being high. One of them was my lack of attention at school. My studies were affected because I didn't study. My grades went down, and my girlfriend and I skipped a lot of school. I wound up getting her pregnant, and then things really started to get out of control. I had a tough time accepting the responsibility of being a father and started using more drugs, some serious, to escape. At eighteen, I was stealing money from my parents and friends and soon robbing others to pay for my addiction. I wasn’t there for my son or my Jenny. I dropped out of school and just became a bum with a few arrests under my belt.
Since I was an only child, my parents were devastated. They tried getting me into treatment several times, but I would always run-away part-way through. I could hear my mom crying at night and my parents fighting over how to handle me. It got so bad that I wound up hanging around a few people that were even worse for me. They would supply my habit if I did their dirty work.”
“I would rob stores and people and give them all the money. I stayed at their place, and I was told that if I ever tried to leave, they would kill my parents. This went on for over six months. I had no phone and no way to contact my parents to let them know where I was. They kept me high enough for me not to care about anything too much.”
“One night, I was awoken by a female’s blood-curdling scream, the kind you know is horrible. I went to go find out what was going on but was confronted by one of the people keeping me captive. He pointed a gun at me and told me to go back to my room and mind my own business. As I went back to my room, the screaming kept going on, for at least ten minutes; then it was just her crying and begging for them to stop. I heard the girl cry for her mom and dad repeatedly. It was the toughest night of my life and one that would change my life.”
“As the night rolled on, her voice became quieter, and I soon fell asleep. The next morning, I walked out of my room and didn't see anybody at home. All the rooms were empty. Without giving it any thought, I went to the front door and opened it. I didn't see any vehicles in the driveway. So, I took off running, as fast as I could down the road. I saw this blue car coming up the road and ran up to the driver’s side window. The driver stopped, and I asked if he could help me.”
“He immediately said to get in, and I locked the doors. As we drove off, I ducked down so no one could see me. He told me his name was Jay and that he would help me. He lent me his phone, and I called my parents. My mom answered and immediately began bawling as soon as she heard my voice. I told her I was okay, and I would see her soon. She kept telling me how much she loved me and how excited she was that I was okay.”
“Jay took me to this private home, where I met several other people. I washed up and was given clean clothes and a nice meal. Soon, we were all in the living room, where I shared my story. I told them I would never use drugs again because I was too scared, and I was worried about my parent’s safety.”
“Jay scooted to the end of his seat and looked me in the eyes and said, ‘Craig, you and your parents are safe now. We’re here to help.’ I asked Jay who they were, and he said, “we’re good people looking to help others.’ I stayed at that house for three weeks. They helped me through the withdrawals and helped mend me back into a decent human being. My parents were brought over to see me several times, as well as my son and Jenny. On their last visit, my parents, son, and Jenny were visiting when Jay said to Jenny and me, ‘How would you both like to work for the WOE? We can provide everything you need; jobs, medical care for you, and your son; housing, education, everything.’ Jenny and I couldn't believe what we were hearing and said ‘Yes!’ immediately. My parents were so happy, they started crying because they knew we were going to be just fine.”
“I asked Jay how he could do this, and he said he was an Employee Scout for the WOE and the other people helping him were also employees. Fast forward Four plus years later, and here I am. I finished high school here, my girlfriend, Jenny, is now my wife and my son is Six and attending First grade here on property. We have our own apartment and are doing great! We are both taking college classes to earn a degree. Jenny now works in housekeeping. We both love our jobs and everything about this place.”
I asked Craig what happened with the charges from the robberies, the other people that kept him captive and that girl that he heard screaming that night.
Craig said, “They took care of the charges by saying they would take care of me. So, the state dropped all the charges. I asked about the people who kept me captive, and they said they had disappeared and were never seen again. As for the girl, they said it may have been a nightmare because no one was reported missing. I am so grateful, and so is Jenny. My son is everything to us and doesn't know about anything that happened.”
“I enjoy being a server. I get moved around every few months to a different area for a change of pace. Once I hit so many hours in college credits, I will be given time to work in other areas like engineering, which is what I’m thinking about doing as a career. Both of us work thirty hours a week and then take nine credit hours in classes. We get paid for forty hours, and all our expenses are covered. Jenny is studying to be a teacher.”
I asked Craig if there was any contract or specific time they had to stay there to repay them for the college courses or housing.
“Nope, we can leave at any time, even with the money in our pocket form our savings. But why would we want to? We love it here and plan on retiring here with a house,” he said.
Jennifer asked how his parents were doing.
“They’re doing great. In fact, we took our four anniversary days off to go visit them. They are so happy for us and come here on vacation to see us and have fun.”
“You know,” said Craig, “I love telling my story. It gives me an opportunity to tell others that there are still good people out there and they do help those in need.”
I asked Craig if he felt meeting Jay was an accident or planned.
“I was told our meeting was a coincidence,” said Craig. “Jay once told me, ‘many people want to work for the WOE, but some deserve to work for them, and some need to work for them.’”