Читать книгу Tears of the Silenced - Misty Griffin - Страница 11

Prologue

There are moments when even to the sober eye of reason, the world of our sad humanity may assume the semblance of hell.

—Edgar Allan Poe

I trembled as I walked into the small police station. It seemed to have only two or three rooms in it. The town had fewer than two thousand residents, so I figured its size was due to a low crime rate. I walked through the front door and went over to a heavy wooden counter where a middle-aged policewoman sat at a computer. She looked up and her expression turned to surprise as she took in my appearance.

I imagined I was very different from most of the people that normally walked up to her desk. I was a young Amish woman, just a little over five feet tall, wearing an ankle-length, plain, teal-colored dress and apron. I had on knee-length black socks and black shoes, and my coat was of homemade denim with a high collar and hooks and eyes to hold the front closed. On my head, a stiff, white Amish Kapp covered nearly all my hair; it was tied in a small bow under my chin. I was shaking as I stood there, trying to get up enough courage to say something, but my mouth was so dry I could not form any words.

“Can I help you with something, honey?” the woman asked as she took off her reading glasses.

Her bright blue eyes crinkled up on the sides when she smiled. She seems like a nice lady, I thought, and I felt a little better.

“Um,” I swallowed hard. I tried to block out the mental image of being put in the Bann—shunned. “Um,” I repeated. I placed my trembling hands on the counter top.

“Yes, dear. What is it?” the woman asked.

“Um… I would like to talk to the police, please,” I said, pressing my hands down on the counter to stop them from shaking.

“Okay, in regard to what?”

I hesitated. “I need to talk to someone because the bishop of my church attacked me and is threatening to kill me, and I think he is also poisoning his wife and molesting his daughters.”

The woman raised her eyebrows in shock. After looking at me for another moment, she got up and came around the counter.

“Are you okay, honey?” she asked as she reached out to put an arm around my shoulders.

I backed up, not wanting her to touch me. I saw her nod as if she had seen this reaction before.

I was not sure I was doing the right thing. I had witnessed so much abuse and pain in my life, and I just felt I could no longer keep silent.

If an Amish man in my church confessed to rape or molestation, he would only be shunned for six weeks. Going to the police was strictly frowned on and anyone who did so was risking being placed in the Bann or would at least be permanently stigmatized as untrustworthy.

I trembled; the Bann never worked for these sort of crimes. The offenders would usually continue to offend after the dust settled or sometimes while still in the Bann. If I did not report the bishop to the authorities, I knew there would be many more victims.