States brace for trouble as infighting embroils polygamist haven

By Mark Thiessen The Associated Press

HILDALE, Utah (AP) Bishop Fred Jessop is missing. The Barlow boys are in hiding. And Warren Jeffs, the town prophet, is dispatching rivals left and right while holed up in his fort-like compound, protected by a cadre of armed guards nicknamed "The God Squad" by Utah's attorney general. While it may sound like the plot to an old Western, these are the actual and leading characters in a drama playing out in the twin border communities of Hildale, Utah, and Colorado City, Ariz., the epicenter of the polygamist movement in America. The stakes are high if it turns out this is a power struggle for control of the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, the polygamist breakaway sect of the larger Mormon church. The man who leads the church also controls its million-dollar plus bank account. Some fear blood could be spilled by the split between prophet Warren Jeffs and the Barlows, the sons of the towns' founder. Others hope that townswomen forced into plural marriages when they were teenagers will use the distraction to escape the nation's largest polygamist enclave and take their children to safety. The area of Short Creek later renamed Hildale and Colorado City was founded in 1935 by John Y. Barlow, father of the eight Barlow bothers, including Dan and Louis. Polygamy could long be practiced there because the communities were far from the reach of state seats of government. It's nearly eight hours to Phoenix, six to Salt Lake City. Polygamy was among the central teachings of Mormon church founder Joseph Smith. But the practice was abandoned by the church more than a century ago as the Utah territory sought statehood. But fundamentalist church members broke with the church instead of giving up the practice. The men of the church, they are taught, must have at least three wives to ascend to heaven. Many go above and beyond the call. It was thought that one former prophet had anywhere between 35 to 75 wives. The women are there simply to give birth, including one who alone gave her husband 14 children. The Utah and Arizona constitutions ban plural marriage, and a 113-year-old U.S. Supreme Court ruling holds that the First Amendment does not apply to polygamy. A Utah civil rights lawyer last week filed a lawsuit in federal court challenging the law, citing the U.S. Supreme Court's ruling last year that overturned a Texas sodomy law on privacy grounds. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints now excommunicates those who advocate polygamy, but it's believed that thousands of Utah's 2.2 million residents continue the practice. Throughout the West, there are believed to be about 30,000 practitioners, and 100,000 nationwide. The root of the Hildale/Colorado City dispute started 16 months ago after the death of church president and recognized prophet Rulon Jeffs, who was in his early 90s. Jeffs hand-picked his son, Warren, to succeed him as president and prophet, leapfrogging the much-beloved 93-year-old Fred Jessop, the church's bishop. Choosing the younger Jeffs stupefied many church members and observers, who expected Louis Barlow, at 80 the oldest son of town founder John Barlow, would have been the next leader. Polygamists need flow charts to graph family trees, but only a short twig was needed to connect Fred Jessop to his nephew, Louis Barlow. Warren Jeffs' plan to solidify power has been ongoing for more than a year and resulted in the excommunication of numerous men even four of his brothers who could pose a threat to power, said Utah Attorney General Mark Shurtleff. Shurtleff has investigators in the community working with counterparts from Arizona and the federal government, but they don't know how many men have been banished in the last year. Yet unlike others who've were kicked out before Warren Jeffs took power, the men recently banished are openly talking with Shurtleff's men in southern Utah. "The more I hear about Warren Jeffs," Shurtleff says before pausing, "'evil dictator' the moniker applies." Jeffs' other actions in the last year have also flummoxed observers. He has indiscriminately taken men's wives and children and assigned them to other men in town. The women and children are considered church property, and have no say to whom they are assigned. One day last summer, the prophet decided that townspeople no longer should attend church services, and the expansive meeting hall has sat empty since. The prophet not only dictates the lives of church members, but also has a direct hand in their pocketbooks. Jeffs reportedly told elders male church members above the age of 18 to pay an additional $500 a month above their normal 10 percent tithing, said town historian and former church member Ben Bistine, 68. Jeffs also directed that ownership of all businesses in the two towns estimated at about 100 be turned over to The Corporation of the Presidency, which is comprised of Jeffs and his two most trusted advisers. It's not known how many complied, but Bistine said Jeffs excommunicated two of his brothers for refusing to turn over their convenience store. R. Scott Berry, the church's attorney, said Jeffs would not speak to The Associated Press because interviews are not in his job description as spiritual leader. The church also owns most of the land in town. Ownership is vested through its United Effort Plan, and the church allows members to live on the land and make improvements to homes they will never own. The church doesn't encourage home improvements because unfinished houses are taxed at lower rates, leaving parts of town in squalor. Some houses appear to be in a perpetual state of construction, others have lean-to shanties tacked onto existing trailer homes. Still others were planned but never built. A large supply of poured foundations protrude from the red clay, but have sat idle for years. Not long ago, Jeffs issued another edict to the flock: no talking to outsiders, whom sect members routinely shun anyway. It's clear that visitors are not welcome to either community, both of which are at least 10 miles from the nearest other town. Local men in pickup trucks follow strangers and communicate their movements to others by radio. Store clerks, often young women wearing pioneer gingham dresses and elaborately braided hair, are friendly to similarly dressed women, many of them pregnant, buying 50-pound bags of potatoes and cereal in bulk supplies. They're friendly to each other, but tightlipped to strangers. Three daily newspapers for sale at the Sinclair gas station are about the only link to the outside world. There's no cellular phone service, and members are not allowed to have televisions, radios or computers. About the only form of advanced technology allowed are caller ID systems for telephones so residents can see if an outsider is calling. Many say that's why it took so long for word of Jeffs' earlier directives to reach the outside. But then came the dedication of the museum, and the first hint that trouble was brewing with the Barlows. Last July, 71-year-old Mayor Dan Barlow, a brother to Louis, dedicated with unaccustomed fanfare a museum and monument in the center of Colorado City, commemorating the community's most infamous page in the history books. Arizona officials vowed in 1953 to put an end to the illegal polygamist community then known as Short Creek. Police raided town, hauled polygamist men away and rounded up more than 200 children and sent them to foster homes. However, public outrage turned against the state when photographs and newsreels showed crying children being ripped from the arms of their mothers. No polygamist was ever convicted, and soon after the public relations debacle, townspeople returned home to resume their lifestyles for nearly a half-century, until the state of Utah began to recently turn up the heat. Within a month of its opening and without explanation, Jeffs closed the Short Creek Schoolhouse Museum and Heritage Park. But it fared better than the monument. Jeffs ordered young men to obliterate it because his name did not appear on the inscription, Bistine said. Sometime in the last month, Fred Jessop disappeared. The admired church bishop was one of the town's original residents and held considerable power. Another relative wonders if that wasn't his undoing. "He's very respected, and because of that, he is a huge threat to Warren Jeffs," said Flora Jessop, Fred's niece who left Colorado City and is now an anti-polygamy advocate. "By him siding with the Barlows, it takes a lot of control out of Warren Jeffs' hands." She said it's out of character for her uncle to leave and not contact the family, adding she wouldn't be surprised to find he's dead. "Whether or not it's by natural causes is the next question," she said. "We are concerned as anybody about where he might be and what condition he may be in," Shurtleff said. Berry, the church attorney, said Jessop simply resigned as bishop, and if Shurtleff can't find him, it's probably Shurtleff's own fault. "When the attorney general starts marching around, saying 'I can't find people in Colorado City,' no one should be surprised by this because of the climate of fear the attorney general has created," Berry said. "Today, polygamists should be in hiding, hiding in fear because the attorney general is out to get them." Division within the church hierarchy came to a head Jan. 10 when Jeffs excommunicated about 20 men during a public meeting, stripping them of their wives, children, property and positions in the church. Among them were Colorado City Mayor Dan Barlow and three of his brothers including Louis Barlow. Jeffs also banished his four brothers that same day. This, Flora Jessop says, could have only happened if Fred Jessop was out of the picture. If there is a power struggle, most of the town including an estimated 4,000 Barlows would not follow Warren Jeffs. "The reality is ... they would follow Uncle Fred," she said. This, Berry admitted, was what made the outside world sit up and take notice of what was happening in the close-knit communities tucked into a nook of a 1,000-foot vermillion cliff. "Basically, like all churches, this church made some adjustments inside," he said. "For some reason, it's caught the attention of the world." After the Barlow brothers were excommunicated, nearby daily newspapers reported they were believed to have been huddled in a St. George hotel room, with some people speculating they were planning a challenge to Jeffs. Then, three days after the banishment, an unsigned letter appeared in about 450 mailboxes in the two towns. The author told of his vision from God that said Louis Barlow is the true church prophet. This document prompted fears that tensions would escalate, possible even with bloodshed. But apparently the Barlows were not the authors. Shurtleff said his investigator has been in touch with the Barlows, and they are trying to get back in Warren Jeffs' good graces. "Everyone is busily trying to write their letters of repentance to try to get back in, to get their wives and children and priesthoods back," Shurtleff said of what he called a futile effort and a ploy by Jeffs to string the men along. "When they realize that's not going to happen, you'll have more people who are very, very angry," he said. Whether violence follows depends on whether the men can restrain themselves. Shurtleff said if there is any good news it's that the church does not seem to have a stockpile of weapons hoarded in a cave outside town as once thought, even though the walled compounds surrounding many homes radiates a seige-like mentality. The largest of these belongs to Jeffs, who has an 8-foot cinder block wall surrounding his hilltop compound, which consists of at least seven buildings, including one that resembles a motel. "No trespassing" signs dot the compound wall, which has no visible doorways, only electronic driveway gates. Less than a block away, horses and a cow graze on a small farm in the middle of town. Jeffs also surrounds himself with about a dozen armed bodyguards, says Shurtleff, who calls them "The God Squad." Berry denies the guards are armed. If there is violence or more men are excommunicated, organizations like Help the Child Brides in nearby St. George, Utah, are ready to help those escaping the polygamist lifestyle. Group leader Bob Curran spent much of last week scrambling to set up a contingency plan to help runaways. He disdains the church's alleged practice of marrying underage girls to old men, adding that the FLDS "makes the Taliban look like a benevolent society." Two 16-year-old girls who ran away after the mass excommunication a week ago have been spirited away by rescue workers to Phoenix, and a third girl left Saturday for a St. George shelter under a court order of protection from her father. Officials from local sheriff's offices and the states of Utah and Arizona are conferring on rescue plans for what could be a mass exodus.

The Associated Press Originally published Sunday January 18, 2004

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