​Today’s story is gutwrenchingly awful, followed up by knowledge that is overwhelmingly powerful – just like life in action.
 
A few years ago, I got hired to go do this big death penalty murder trial in Ohio.  I arrive, knowing nothing about the case, so it’s almost like I’m a juror, a fly on the wall, just hearing this case developed with all the rest of those in the audience.  The trial was of a young African-American man, good looking kid, looked nice as could be.  The charge was murder.  Seems a college-age girl had gone missing in Columbus one weeknight after working her shift in a bar, having been given a ride home by this young man (supposedly).  He had been interviewed and said he dropped her off near her apartment and never saw her again.  Her friends knew something was up when she didn’t show up for a margarita party they had planned, and her contribution was the blender.  She had purchased a new blender for the party, each of the girls had purchased items to share, and they had planned it for a long time and they knew she would not miss it.  She had not been heard from since the night before at work.
 
They took a good bit of time developing this girl’s personality, and you really felt like you knew her.  She was very hard working, quirky, had a duct-tape wallet that she ALWAYS had with her, had a habit of wearing those panties that say “Monday,” “Tuesday,” etc. on them.  I sit there sometimes and wonder if something happened to me, what in the world would they say about who I was?  Kind of a scary thought…..
 
Anyway, this girl goes missing and months and months go by with no word, no leads of any type.  This was back before the Internet was what it is today, so her friends and family made flyers, tried to get as much publicity as they could.  All to no avail.  About nine months after her disappearance, a man is knocking on the door of a trailer out in the woods in another county of Ohio that’s about an hour and a half away from her college when he smells something terrible, something that just isn’t right.  He couldn’t find the owner of the trailer, so he calls the police, and they come and begin to search.  In the closet of this trailer is a body, fully clothed, rolled up in a rug.  She has been there almost a year and has hardly decomposed because the winter was very cold and it hadn’t gotten hot in the current summer.  Really unbelievable.
 
They begin to investigate and find that the trailer belongs to this young man or a relative of his or someone connected to him.  And that he worked with her.  And he was the one who supposedly gave her a ride home that night.  While logging the evidence at the trailer, they came upon this pottery thing in the yard where you’d burn trash or have a wiener roast or whatever, and in sifting through the ashes, they find what they believe to be fingers, or a part of a finger, or a toe, or part of a toe.  Very curious.  Her body was totally intact, no evidence even of sexual assault.  They start looking at other missing persons records and find that there was a man who had come up missing about six months prior, sort of a homeless person, but guess what?  He had last been seen with this young man.

They start a search of the yard, the whole area surrounding the trailer.  The bring in this forensic anthropologist, a woman about 75 years old, and she makes a grid in the yard of squares and begins to dig and comb through the dirt.  Before long, they have an entire body, all cut up and buried in different places, hidden randomly throughout this property.  They were able to measure the bones and pretty much identify that it was positively this homeless guy as he was almost 6’6” tall and had a previous injury that showed up in the leg bones.  This whole case was riveting, in a macabre sort of way – not that I enjoy things like this at all, but the prosecutor did a phenomenal job tying the evidence together, painting a picture of these missing ones, making them real people who had lives and loves and family and dreams. 
 
This young man had been in juvenile detention for MURDER, and while there, he got romantically involved with this Indian woman who was his guard, and they got married when he got out!   She was very traditional Indian, long black hair, braided, almost down to her rear, little beads in it.  She wasn’t there every day as they had small children, but after he was convicted, she came in to testify in the death penalty phase of the trial, talking about what a good father he was, all this junk – oh, right, great father (when he’s not off murdering people and cutting them up!)  It was truly a spectacle.
 
I tell this story to tell you this:  This forensic anthropologist gave the most incredible testimony I have ever heard.  She took those finger and toe bones, and she could tell that -even though they had been burned in this fire, buried for months – that those toes and fingers had been cut off while this man was still alive!  Yes, you know how?  She delivered the most impassioned argument for the existence of God I have ever heard – and she may have been an atheist, for all I know.  She says that the INSTANT we are hurt, the INSTANT our bodies suffer an injury, they begin to heal themselves.  The INSTANT!  That means that she could see on these burned up, chopped up bones that they had already started to heal themselves, to try to grow back over where they had been chopped off.  Isn’t that incredible?  She believed they were chopped off a couple of days before the death occurred.  Wow. 
 
This young man celebrated his 21st birthday on the day the jury was deciding to give him the death penalty.  He was out in the courtroom, in the shackles and chains, dancing by the defense table in the courtroom, singing “Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me.”  It was a bizarre two weeks, I’ll tell you that.  But I have NEVER FORGOTTEN that EVIDENCE that our God is alive, He is real, He is our creator, He is our deliverer, our healer!  You think a big bang created this universe that works in sync with nature and the animals and ocean and sea creatures and humans whose bodies heal themselves?  Humans that procreate from a little gel substance that grows into children?  A big bang did that?  Don’t think so.  And frankly, these liberals that want to spout this nonsense just show their stupidity, if you ask me – sometimes the things they say make such little sense that I can’t believe they even say it out loud, but boy, a bunch of other idiots will jump right on the bandwagon with them – all in the name of “I am my own god, I don’t need someone judging me, telling me what to do.”  Sad what they are missing not knowing that God who isn’t a judge, but is a comforter, a forgiver of sins, a mercy giver….
 
I know a lot of you read my posts and don’t comment – but I would ask you today, if you believe God isn’t dead, give us a little comment on why!  My comment is:  My God isn’t dead, because He talks to me, He convicts me, He soothes me, He makes His presence known every day….

​Last week at our family reunion, people were telling stories, and I told one about one of my most memorable court stories – thought you might enjoy.  When I graduated from court reporting school, I was able to get a job with George Scott, the judge here, and he also had Calhoun and Roane Counties.  My first trial in Calhoun County with a terrible, awful case of a daddy who was a pedophile, and I believe it scarred me to this day.  Every time I would drive to Calhoun, my stomach would start to hurt and I would dread not only the drive, but the possibility of more evil taking over my day.
 
Court reporters love trials, though, so I was excited when I heard we were going to have another trial about someone who tried to burn down the State Police barracks – how exciting would this be!  There’s nothing like our system of justice, from the choosing of the jurors who will hear the case, to the tension that builds throughout a trial as all parties wonder who will come out on top.  This particular defendant’s name was Daniel Dewitt.  I’ll never forget it.  He reminded me of a cartoon character, but I can’t for the life of me come up with the name of the cartoon guy.  Anyway, we begin the trial, and the prosecution gives their opening statement:  Daniel had gotten in some trouble, had forged and uttered some checks.  And just FYI, if you’ve ever wondered, the “uttered” means he tried to use them, to pass them off as good.  Well, Daniel got to thinking about his trouble, and he decided the best way to get out of this problem he had was to burn down the State Police barracks where the checks were being held.  Get rid of the evidence, they’d have nothing to charge him with, right?
 
So he gets his plan ready, loads up his car, waits until about midnight and drives out to the barracks.  Grantsville is laid out sort of weird, and to get to almost anywhere, you have to pass through the center of town, which he does also.  He waves to the police officer sitting in his cruiser guarding the town, he proceeds out to the location, pours gasoline all around the building, breaks a window and pours some inside, climbs back out the window, makes a Molotov cocktail (pop bottle with gasoline in it and a rag you light), throws his Molotov cocktail inside, hears the whoosh of the gasoline igniting, jumps into his car and back home he goes – oh, of course, not forgetting to wave to the officer stationed in town.
 
When the State Police show up the next morning and find their barracks a little scorched but not burned down, the investigation begins. There are muddy footprints all around the barracks, tire tracks, the works.  The city officer tells them about seeing Daniel Dewitt, so off to his house they go.  They find Daniel still sleeping from his night of hard work, gas can still in the trunk, and like the nice son he was, his muddy tennis shoes were left right outside the door.
 
Are you thinking like I’m thinking?  Case closed.  Why are we here?  Usually in the court system, if someone is guilty, they know they’re guilty, they know everyone else will know they’re guilty, they’ll just plead guilty, take a plea offer and make it quick and simple for everyone.  I’m sitting there thinking, “What in the world can his defense be?”  Comes time for Daniel’s attorney to do his opening statement, and he passes, says he’ll do it at the beginning of his case.  Never heard about that in court reporting school, never seen it done, but okay, if I was his attorney, I’d probably be passing too.  What in the world is he gonna say?
 
Well, we go through the trial, State puts on their case exactly as it was laid out in opening, time for the defense case and his attorney passes on his opening again, says he’ll just present his evidence.  First witness is Daniel’s mother.  She seems like a nice lady.  He lays a little foundation as to their background, then he gets into “Tell us about Daniel.”  She launches into a description of the best baby you’ve ever seen, slept through the night, sat up early, did all these great things, knew his letters before everyone else, talked early, up until about age three, and then she pauses and begins to look around the courtroom real dramatically and she says, “And then that’s when it happened!”  The courtroom is silent, all of us waiting on the proclamation, leaning forward to hear better.  She looks around and gets the jury’s eye, pauses some more and says very fast and loud:  “He got bit by a black widder spider and he ain’t been the same ever since!” 
 
You truly had to be there.  I can hear her voice in my mind clear as a bell 30 years later.  For some insane reason, I thought that was the funniest thing I had ever heard.  I knew how inappropriate it was to laugh, but it kept welling up.  I’m trying my best to tamp it down, my eyes are beginning to water, I am truly about to just lose it.  Sue Oshoway was the clerk there, and she and I were close friends and had about the same sense of humor.  I made the mistake of looking at her, and she was shaking, tears running down her face, trying not to laugh.  Oh my goodness, it was about like getting struck with some hilarious moment at a funeral and knowing how awful it would be to laugh or even make a sound.  The testimony has continued, but I swear, I don’t even know if I got it down, I was having so much trouble getting myself together.  I don’t want to bore you with the details, but let’s just say the debacle ended when the judge called a break because his court reporter and clerk were both hysterical.  We got a “talking to” but even being afraid of Judge Scott didn’t truly dampen the hilarity of it.
 
Daniel was found guilty after about five minutes of jury deliberation, and I have often wondered what happened to him.  Now that I’m older and more compassionate, I can imagine if that were really true, what a nightmare his mother must have lived with.  To think his reasoning ability had become so skewed must have made raising him a real chore.
 
And you wonder, how are you going to pull something spiritual out of that?  As I thought this week about telling the story, it kind of reminded me of how we do God – we come up with these absolutely idiotic schemes to get ourselves out of trouble, tell lies and sneak around to hide our sin, when all along, God knows all of it.  He not only knows what we did, he knows what our heart was feeling and thinking when we were doing it.  We may be able to hide some of our evidence from other people, but God still knows.  And how do we know He knows?  Because if you are like me, there are things that only God knows I’ve done or thought or said, no one else even knew, but God began to take me to task over those things, just like a mother would force you to see the truth of your actions.  If God is not all-knowing, all-seeing, how does He do that?  He can do that because He is everywhere, with that eye that can see even what we are on the inside.  There is no hiding from God.  We might cover up on the outside, but when the vision is pierced to our very soul, the blackness or grayness or even dinginess can be seen.  I’m so thankful for that!  God’s omnipresence has kept me from doing all kinds of bad things, and his conviction has allowed me to seek forgiveness for things I still went ahead and did – He makes me a better person!  If you don’t have a peace in your heart today, you still carry things you wish you could be forgiven for, you can!  Stop hiding and running and fighting against it – a relationship with the Lord brings a peace that cannot even be described!

Does it seem to anyone like the world is getting more evil by the minute?  I’ve been out of town all week, and I came home to a stack of newspapers and mail, and while eating breakfast this morning, I just skimmed a few days’ worth of the paper, and it was NOTHING but awful, awful, awful. “Jackson County woman arrested for sexually molesting her disabled daughter in her hospital room,” “Jackson County man arrested for drugs,” “Kanawha County parents arrested for molesting their children.”  On and on it went.   I know there may be something to the fact that we now have instant news, that sexual abuse is now reported more than it used to be, but I truly feel the absolutely evilness (if that’s a word) has multiplied in the last ten years.
 
My very first trial as a court reporter was when I was 19 years old, fresh-faced, relatively unscathed by the world’s ugliness, and I was so excited to have a trial, an actual real (not practice!) trial with a real jury and judge and everything!  My excitement quickly waned when I realized what I was in for.  This trial was in Calhoun County, and it was the sexual assault of three little girls (the youngest ten months old) by their father.  These children, when rescued, ate out of bowls on the floor like a dog, were barely dressed, filthy beyond description, living in squalor, could hardly communicate other than by grunts.  By the time of the trial, after their rescue, they were the most adorable blonde-haired little angels you ever saw.  Their foster parents had loved them and taught them and given them a chance.  See, they grew up in pain, in unspeakable abuse, that went so far as to witnessing their father having carnal relations with the dog, as well as with their ten-month-old sister. 
 
As the horror began to unfold, I realized that there was an evil present in the soul of man that was incomprehensible, truly unfathomable.  It did not jade me, keep me from KNOWING that there are good people out there, people who love each other and uplift each other, but it did open my eyes to the fact that not everyone lived like I did.  I will never, as long as I live, forget the sight of the state trooper carrying in the oldest little girl, who was five by that time, to testify against her daddy.  She would not let loose of this trooper’s neck, and he had to hold her on his lap in the witness stand.  See, he was the one who came and took her out of her nightmare, and she equated him with her salvation.  He was her rock, her safety blanket as she walked down this terrifying journey.  She would not turn her face away from his neck, and they allowed her to testify that way.  It was hard on me, as the reporter, as she barely spoke her answers, but she would not bring her eyes to land upon her abuser, the man who gave her life and then proceeded to destroy her bit by bit.
 
Sometimes I wonder why God allows so much evil – I really do.  That’s probably the only thing that I ever question about the sovereignty of God, the “Why do you let all this go on?”  God’s ways are higher than my ways, and I accept that, but sometimes I sure wish I had His power to just go in and zap some of those nasty hands and mouths and evildoers that will harm children.  That said, there is a group in Jackson County that is working extremely hard to make a difference, and they need our help.  The group is CASA, Court Appointed Special Advocates.  These CASA workers are all volunteers – what they do is become the eyes and ears of the Court on behalf of the child.  For instance, a child gets removed from their home and is put into foster care and the judge has to make the decision of whether to allow them to return home, to be placed with grandma, to be adopted out, whatever.  Those decisions are extremely difficult, with tons of factors to be considered.
 
The CASA worker is authorized to speak to the child’s teacher, their counselors, their social worker, the child themselves, and investigate the situation.  They are not the DHHR worker – they are an aid to the CPS team.  If our CPS workers put in 24 hours a day, they could not accomplish all that needs done, so the CASA workers are there to assist.  They are unpaid, independent people who are willing to give of their time to make sure the child has what it needs for its best chance at success.  I particularly remember one case where a CASA worker made the difference between a very bad outcome and a great outcome.  The parents had lost custody of their children for sexual abuse, and the father’s parents had acquired custody, promising that they would keep the children away from their son to protect them.  They were swearing in court that they had done so, but the CASA worker had interviewed the children, gotten to know them well enough that they shared their heart and lives with her, and she ascertained that grandma was not only allowing her son to see his children, but she was leaving them ALONE WITH HIM! 
 
How would the judge know these things if someone had not investigated thoroughly, something that takes a lot of time and investment?  Our CASA in Jackson County has been on its last legs financially since it began.  These volunteers take their time to try to help the children, and that leaves very little time to beg for money.  Tom and I got the CASA started here but then had to back away from it because he appoints the workers.  However, we are always aware of its shaky financial condition.  The money CASA gets is usually grant-related, but it never covers the costs.  The needs are really quite minimal – background check fees, training materials – nothing extravagant or wasteful.  The directors and volunteers give and give and give, not only of their time, but their resources, even though they aren’t supposed to.  

If you would like to help, donate to the Jackson County CASA fund, or become a volunteer!  Or begin to pray for God's protection for these children.  We can always do something!  With God, nothing is impossible!