Authors: Elissa Wall
When the night of hurried preparations was over, the wedding day arrived. Dressed in a wedding gown, with my hair done up, I sat on my mother’s bed totally exhausted.
“I know how hard this is for you, but I want you to feel beautiful,” Kassandra said, placing a small box in my hands. Through the clear plastic top, I could see a delicate tiara like the ones we’d admired during past shopping trips to St. George. Over the months that Kassandra and I had been together, we’d spent countless hours in prom-dress shops fawning over fancy gowns we knew we could never wear and dreaming up elaborate scenarios we knew would never happen as we tried on sparkly tiaras. Now my sister was giving me this beautiful representation of our shared fantasy. But while I loved the thought behind it, it only emphasized how far I was from my daydreams.
My sister and mother served as crutches, one on each side, as I descended the stairs of Fred Jessop’s home. When I got downstairs, though, they sent me back up to change into an everyday dress so as not to attract attention to what we were about to do. Mom could barely steady me as I clutched her hand tightly and we stepped out to meet our waiting vehicles. Three vehicles were lined up in front of Uncle Fred’s house that morning. Instinctively I followed Mom into the backseat of Uncle Fred’s big Chevy Suburban and numbly fastened my seat belt when someone yelled out to me, “No, Elissa, you’re riding with Allen.”
I was crushed. I couldn’t imagine driving with him and his family. All along, my mother had been by my side as my anchor, and I needed her desperately. This would be my fate for the rest of my life, wanting the comfort of home but being forced to be with a stranger.
In an attempt at chivalry, Allen tried to carry my bag, but I was rude to him, even in front of his parents. I knew my behavior was inappropriate and mean, but I didn’t know how to act. I wanted to keep sweet and be happy, but something in me just knew this was all wrong. Nothing had prepared me for the huge step I was being asked to take, and I was a child in pain, lashing out in the only way I knew how. It probably wasn’t easy for Allen either. I’d done little to hide my loathing for him. He, too, was being robbed of his perfect wedding, and neither of us had any power to halt the train.
After the three cars carrying the wedding party left Uncle Fred’s home, we briefly stopped at Uncle Rulon’s compound in Hildale, where several cars joined our caravan heading out of town. We followed closely behind the vehicle carrying Uncle Warren and his father. My sister Rachel and a few of Uncle Rulon’s other wives were with them; they had been asked to accompany their husband to tend to his ongoing needs. Sitting in the passenger seat next to Allen that morning, I felt like we were on the road for hours and hours, even though it was only a few.
Not wanting to even look at Allen, I stared at the car that contained Lily and Nancy. Mom and the mothers of the other girls getting married that day were in Uncle Fred’s Suburban. We were supposed to consider ourselves lucky that Uncle Warren had allowed all of the brides’ mothers to come along. With the recent scrutiny from law enforcement, many of the brides were forbidden to have even one family member present at the union, and usually it was only the father.
As we rode along the interstate, I took in the open expanses of the Utah horizon. It should have dawned on me that many aspects of the religion were based on revoking the rights of women. If a girl speaks her mind, get her married. Once she’s married, get her pregnant. Once she has children, she’s in for life—it’s almost impossible for any FLDS woman to take her children if she leaves, and no mother wants to leave her children behind. At the time, I was still too young and blind to see the pattern. All I could think was that this land and these people were my home, but for me—and for most FLDS women—there is an unspoken yet enormous sense of entrapment. On the one hand, the landscape seemed to never end; on the other, all I could see were the walls closing in around me.
I wondered what Nancy and Lily were thinking. Lily seemed to be keeping sweet. From what I could tell Nancy was playing the role of the ideal FLDS bride, relishing every moment since the announcement was made. She saw it not as a sentence but as the beginning of our true path to heaven, our path by our husbands’ side. As I looked at their car, I was furious with myself for not being able to enjoy this occasion. Carrying out the prophet’s will was supposed to fill my heart with the love of God. My stepsisters looked happy, and I, in turn, felt robbed of the joy I had always planned to have on my wedding day.
Although I didn’t know it when we set out, the plan was to drive to Caliente, Nevada, just across the state line. One of the FLDS men, Merrill Jessop, owned a motel there. In the past, weddings had been performed more in the open, at least by FLDS standards, either at the prophet’s compound in Salt Lake City or at his compound in Hildale, with friends and family allowed to attend. But by this time, all underaged marriages occurred in secret. The young girls were driven to remote locations outside of the jurisdictions of Utah and Arizona, in order to evade the law. We went to Nevada, where the laws were not so strict. There was to be no proof of the ceremony, no unnecessary witnesses, and absolutely no photographs or paperwork. In the past, the tradition was to obtain state-approved marriage licenses when they were legally possible, but with Rulon and Warren’s frequent predictions that the end of the world was coming any day, there was no need. Besides, some FLDS spiritual unions were unlawful in the states’ eyes, and there could be no marriage licenses. All that mattered was the prophet’s fulfillment of the law of God.
Sad thoughts permeated my mind and put me in a somber daze. We’d been traveling north along I-15 for about an hour when our convoy pulled into a gas station in Cedar City, Utah. My hand was already on the door handle before we even slowed to a stop, and I leapt from the white Ford van as soon as Allen put it into park. Mom must have seen me through the window of Uncle Fred’s Suburban and hurried after me into the restroom.
“Mom, I can’t do this!” I cried.
“Yes, you can. Yes, you can,” she assured me, brushing the tears from my cheeks.
“I can’t even look at the guy, let alone touch him.”
“It will all come in time,” she told me. “This is what we are told to do, so we have to live with it.” Of course, she was trying to console me, but it was exactly what I did not want to hear.
Mom walked me back to the van where Allen and his family were waiting. I was nauseated and retreated into my thoughts. I felt so empty, as if there was nothing left to feel. Over the course of the previous night, all the rage and resentment inside me had given way to pain and sorrow, and now even those emotions were gone. I had fought my fight and lost. Despite how nice Allen’s parents were being, and how excited his two mothers were as they sat side by side in the rear of the van chatting, it was hard for me to respond to them. Clearly the two women had spent time primping that morning. Since women and girls of the FLDS must adhere to such strict dress codes, there is little differentiation in style between formal and casual wear; most of the differences come from the fabrics used. Dresses for special occasions were often made of silks, satins, and fine materials. It was obvious Allen’s mothers were draped in their best.
We’d traveled nearly 140 miles when a sign announced our arrival in Caliente, Nevada. I had no reaction. I just understood. It was like arriving in hell; my fate awaited me in this dust bowl whose name fittingly translates to “hot” in English.
T
he Hot Springs Motel was a seedy structure tucked into the side of a patchy, grass-and-dirt hill on Nevada State Road 93, hugging the highway just as it wound into Caliente. My heart sank as I surveyed the old white stucco building, with its garish green metal roof and a small sign that read
OFFICE
. Allen and his parents had been talking about how some of the rooms had hot tubs. Normally, a luxury like that would have piqued my interest, but today it was the farthest thing from my mind. I couldn’t believe that they could be enjoying pleasant small talk while I was about to experience the most catastrophic event in my life. Slowly, I exited the car and awaited instruction. I had heard that some of Merrill Jessop’s wives worked at the motel and stayed there full-time, but that day Merrill had sent one of his sons just to make sure that everything ran smoothly. We weren’t to stay long; it seemed that they wanted us to get in and get out.
Some FLDS people came out to greet the prophet and our caravan. We were told to change clothes for the ceremonies in one of the motel rooms on the second floor. Instinct told me to run, but where? I stood frozen, not even realizing that Lily was right next to me, gathering me up to follow her and the other women inside. She knew I was suffering. Although she was only a few months older than I was, she possessed a composure I couldn’t muster under the circumstances. While Lily didn’t hate her husband-to-be like I hated mine, she, too, seemed to have second thoughts. Still, she had the physical and emotional resolve to guide me up the stairs alongside her. Holding my wedding dress with shaky hands, I looked into the whitewashed room and was repulsed. This was never how I’d imagined the scene of my wedding.
Tossing my things onto the bed with the ugly, multicolored bedspread, I burst into tears. Lily pulled me into a hug and promised that everything would be okay. She and another of my stepsisters helped get me into my wedding dress and put me together.
“You know, girls, I really can’t do this,” I announced, as Lily pinned the dainty silver tiara Kassandra had given me in my hair. I’d always imagined that my wedding day would be magical, and I would be wearing a crown just like the princesses of the fairy tales I’d read as a child, but as Lily affixed the tiara to my hair, I felt nothing like a princess about to live happily ever after. “I can’t go through with this,” I uttered, tempted to rip the tiara from my head.
Nancy was disgusted with my continued disrespect. “I can’t believe that you’re turning down the prophet and defying God’s will in your life. I just can’t believe you’re not being obedient,” she said to me.
For a moment her words took me aback and made me think, “You know, she’s right.” I was defying what they told me to do, but I was also tired of her criticism.
“Just because I care about my life doesn’t mean I’m turning down the prophet,” I replied coldly.
“Okay, I’ll tell them that,” she shot back over her shoulder before marching out of the room and down the stairs.
Lily and I exchanged looks and tried to comfort each other. In an attempt to make me laugh, she said, “There’s a back door. We could just, like, run.”
For that brief moment, we sat suspended in thought, each wondering if we could really pull off an escape.
“Well,” she said reluctantly, “we better get down there. They’re waiting for us.”
Standing in the doorway, I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself in the white shoes that my sister had bought. Allen was standing at the foot of the stairs when I finally peered out of the room to answer the repeated calls to hurry down. At that moment, all I could think was “Please, just die.” He reached out for my hand, but I couldn’t bring myself to touch him.
“Oh, Lesie, you’re beautiful!” Mom exclaimed, trying to be positive. This line, spoken by so many mothers to their daughters on countless wedding days throughout history, did nothing to comfort me or bring a smile to my face. Like Allen’s mothers, mine had selected her finest dress and my favorite of hers—a gorgeous pale blue silk. Kassandra had styled Mom’s long brown waves for the occasion, and even through my tears I could see that she looked lovely.
In a daze, I trailed the group to a covered patio off the main office, where I waited for my ceremony to begin. I was relieved that I didn’t have to go first. My eyes scanned the space around me, falling inevitably on Allen. He tried talking to me, but I kept my lips firmly sealed.
“Mom,” I urged again, “this is going to be the biggest mistake of my life. I can feel it and I know it.” I didn’t care that my sister Rachel was standing right there next to Mom. It pained me to see the two women with their bright smiles, even though I knew my mother’s was fabricated.
“Just be strong,” Mom said. “The Lord knows what he’s doing.” As Mom and Rachel exchanged pleasantries, I wondered what was going on behind the doors of the small side building where one couple had been taken. My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the voice of Uncle Rulon’s son Nephi summoning me: “They’re ready for you,” he said. “They’re waiting.”
I froze and he promptly asked, “Are you coming?”
The wobbly feeling I always got when I’d been summoned to Uncle Warren’s office at Alta Academy suddenly returned tenfold, and I could barely make my legs work. The headache I had been nursing for days from all my crying grew more intense with every heavy step I took.
The building where the ceremony was to take place was set off from the rest of the motel. It had been cleared of its bed, and a few rows of chairs had been arranged for the weddings. I could almost feel my mother, worried that I might try to run, hovering right behind me as I tried to maneuver the gravelly terrain in my high heels and long, encumbering dress.
I paused in the threshold of the room to see what awaited me. Tears streamed from my eyes as I took in its tacky pink motif. It felt foreboding and grim. A thin layer of dirt covered the bottom edges of the walls, and every corner seemed to hide unfamiliar shadows. There were three short rows of seats for the wedding, two rows with three seats each and one with two. The two seats at the front were for Allen and me. My mother sat in the middle row alone with Allen’s two mothers and his father directly behind her. Her face didn’t offer me much comfort, but I was glad that she was there.
The prophet was at the center of the room, sitting in a big La-Z-Boy like the one Uncle Fred had in his living room. Uncle Rulon had the two next most powerful FLDS men on either side of him. Uncle Fred, serving as my father, sat to his left. Uncle Warren was on his right, signifying his role as Uncle Rulon’s right-hand man.