Chapter Five
BAU Headquarters
FBI Building
Quantico, VA
T + 13
Spencer
Spencer came striding into the conference room. "Okay, we have a map."
Blake looked up. "We do?"
He nodded. "KTRS and WOI are both stations that were grandfathered in when the FCC set the rules about station power output; they have coverage areas that span hundreds of miles." He put the map on the board. "But WCAZ is a lower power, local station with a broadcast area right in the center of the overlap of the other two."
"So he has to be in that area." She nodded.
"Exactly, somewhere in the area where Illinois, Iowa and Missouri meet."
"At least we're no longer looking at the entire country." Rossi said.
"We looked into Bryan Goodwin." Blake took over the screen. "He claims to be a Reformed Baptist preacher but much of his writing sounds almost Calvinist to me. He runs an ultra-conservative ministry, Liberty Vision, that doesn't operate churches directly but influences a large number of them. According to the Southern Poverty Law Center he only has 15,000 families directly involved with his ministry but given that the average family size is a dozen children and they count married children as part of the male partner's father's family that's easily close to 200,000 people, which is immense for a church. And that doesn't count the congregations he influences through his work."
"Southern Poverty Law?" Rossi asked. "Are they calling this a hate group?"
"Liberty Vision is on their watch list. They're vocal supporters of the militia movement and have advocated assassinations of political figures, clinic bombings and weapons hoarding."
"Oh great, what are our chances of getting his membership lists?" Morgan asked.
Blake shook her head, "Impossible without a warrant. And then we'd have to give up Susanna. If they got to her before we did we'd lose both of them."
"I tried to do a thing but it was a no-go." Garcia said. "They don't have anything related to membership on their machines."
"They probably kept it low-tech for just that reason." Spencer said. "Are any of his writings on line?"
"Tons, and there are books available and sermons on YouTube." Blake replied. "But the sermons don't have transcripts; we're going to have to go over those at human speed."
"I contacted the Journal of American Psychiatry." Spencer told them. "The only Braille subscription they sent to that area went to Redmond Greer; he had a PhD in Philosophy and taught at the Missouri University of Science and Technology in Rolla, Missouri."
Hotch checked the map. "That's not that far out of our target zone. Past tense?"
Spencer nodded. "He died in a car accident a few months after that article came out. According to the university his sister, June Greer, took all of the books and papers the University didn't archive and donated them, they don't know where. She passed away from a heart attack three months ago; there are no other family members."
"When you say they influence churches what do you mean?" Rossi asked.
"It's called steeplejacking." Blake replied. "They win over members of a church to their beliefs, usually women, who then vote each other in to the leadership. Eventually they force the pastor out and replace him with one who toes Goodwin's line."
"I can't imagine a church would just let his people show up and start preaching at them." Morgan said.
"No, they must have an excuse, an event of some kind. If we could figure it out we might be able to track event calendars and find out where they're going next."
"All right," Hotch said. "What do we need to know to get there?"
"And we're back on Coast to Coast AM, I'm Art Bell and I'm here with author Dave Rossi and Dr. Spencer Reid of the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit, still on the trail of some missing kids. So the mystery woman got back to you and provided some helpful information, right?"
"Yes, Art, she did indeed." Dave said into the microphone. "We've narrowed it down to the Illinois/Iowa/Missouri tri-state area and we have a pretty good idea of the cult her family follows. But, of course, we need more."
"Well, you two go right ahead, ask your questions. Address her directly, we know she's listening."
Spencer leaned in to the mike, "Um, hi. I'm glad we're communicating. It is that Dr. Reid by the way, um, my first question is, what is the child's new name and appearance, did they change the way he looks at all? Can he describe your appearance? Are there any articles of clothing you're required to wear, a special hat perhaps or specific colors? Can the child describe the vehicles they drive?"
"All of which would help others spot them when they're out of the house, right?" Art asked.
"Exactly," Rossi replied.
Spencer took a deep breath and continued. "Do you have any idea where you were born or where your family might have attended church before they joined this ministry or the names of any relatives you might have lost contact with when your family joined this ministry? You said you don't have access to a telephone, is there one around that the child could use? What happens when someone in the family requires medical care? Do you have any idea why you've lost your vision, how much do you have, are you capable of reading with a magnifier or very large print? You said your family manufactures something for sale; do you know how they get the raw materials? Are there any sounds or scents involved with production? Do you know if they attend a specific seasonal market to sell it?" He was running out of questions. Oddly enough he really wanted to ask her what she liked to listen to on NPR; it was his favorite station too.
"And the big ones," Rossi added. "Where are the other children and why were they taken?"
"Anything to pass on to the boy?" Art asked.
"That we all love him and want him home." Spencer replied.
"I'm sure of that. This is Art Bell on Coast to Coast AM with Author Dave Rossi and Dr Spencer Reid of the FBI still looking for missing children and we wish them all the luck in the world. Next up, John & Pauline Holeton will provide an update on their fierce battle against smart meters, smart lights, and RFID chips. Stay tuned."
This time it took five days. Five days of anxious watching and waiting. But on the fifth day the envelope arrived.
Henry had drawn a picture of a woman in a long dress with blue flowers who looked to have some kind of wimple or veil over her hair. "Why didn't he draw her hair?" Will asked.
Spencer carefully shifted the paper and noticed the layer of wax. "He did." He said. "He used white."
"What's wrong with her eyes?" JJ asked.
Henry had colored them in a combination of lavender and pink, with blue centers overlaid with white. "I'm not sure." Spencer said, "Hang on." He turned to the letter.
Dr. Reid –
Oh, you have no idea how wonderful it is to hear from you again. I am honestly still amazed that someone is out there talking to me.
Henry's new name is Joshua Holman. Father insists we all use that, of course, but my room is well away from the family spaces which gives me the privacy to remind Henry of his real name and his home and the family who loves him, so he won't forget. According to him they did change his hair. He says they rubbed some smelly stuff in it and then they cut it. It does feel very short to me, quite bristly on the top of his head. He said his hair used to be his mommy's color but now it's not. I assume that means it was dyed as well. He also said that mine is white and that my eyes are pink and purple. I had no idea, no one ever told me before.
My mother and sisters make all of our clothing and shirts for the boys. I don't know where Mother gets the rest of it. We all have to wear jumpers over pettiblouses, two layers for modesty, with our skirts to our ankles and our sleeves to our wrists and collars to the base of our necks. I can tell you mine are made out of something soft and there's what feels like lace on the edges. We also have to cover our hair per 1st Cor. 11:3-16. I keep mine bundled back in one of these soft bag things my sister Mary made for me since it's never been cut and tends to get in the way. I do let my bangs out since she said that looks best. Henry says he'll draw a picture of me so you can get an idea. According to Henry my family drives three white vans, one is for people, one is for stuff and one is for boxes. I've never been out to that part of the property.
I was born on August 25th, 1986 right here in this house as have all my brothers and sisters that came after me. Not a one of us has any form of government ID, Father considers it against his faith, we are not to be rendered unto Caesar. I have no idea what minister my family followed before this one, they've followed Pastor Goodwin since before I was born. We don't see any other family members; Father stopped speaking to all of them when I was very small. I'm hoping there are still some out there who can look after my younger siblings once all this is over, and maybe help me learn my way around the world. I admit I have no idea where I will go or what I will do when that time comes, but I am curious enough about the world to be brave. Besides, the need of a child to be with his parents must come before my own fear.
None of us have ever been to a doctor. Mother does what she can with the herbs from her garden and her sewing kit. I cannot see and I become sunsick very easily and my siblings say I scare their friends when they look at me. I cannot read text unless it is so magnified as to be illegible. I've never been able to see more than light and colors and movement. When I was young a woman who worked with our home school collective came to the house and taught me how to read Braille and navigate with a cane, but she left within the year. After that I studied with my siblings as best I could and then when they stopped school I continued to read everything they brought me, I assume from the collective library. Unfortunately I'm the eldest of seventeen and with this many children in the house navigating without assistance is a hazard and my brothers and sisters don't have the time so I tend to stay in my room. One missed toy on the stairs and I'm a goner. Sometimes I do wonder what a doctor would make of me but we are not allowed to be touched other than by our spouses or parents so I may never know.
I know the manufacturing process involves a high sort of whining sound, much like mosquitoes, and a chunking sound and it fits into small, square cartons that are very heavy and don't break when you knock them over. The whole business smells like the air after a thunderstorm. The only annual gathering my family attends is some big gathering every year on Pastor Goodwin's ranch, but that's not until the summer. I've never been allowed to go, there's too much sun for me.
I have no idea why my family has done this, or where any other boys are, Henry is the only one who has come to us. He was brought here by men whose voices I recognized, Jed, Tom and Prov. I don't know their last names but I know they attended Pastor Goodwin's summer camp at the same time as my brother Michael. Unless, of course, you are referring to my brothers and sisters. At the moment, based on the sounds and scents, my older sisters are cooking supper, my older brothers are either tending to the farm animals or down in the cellar, and the little ones, those under twelve, are outside having a snowball fight, Henry included.
I don't know if this is good but he seems to be settling in nicely. He's been coming to me for bible memorization, something I find abhorrent but I'd rather than turn him over to one of my older siblings, none of whom have any patience. Besides, it gives him an excuse to visit, yesterday we listened to a bit of La Boehme while he drew this picture. He and my brothers his age look to be getting along famously, although he seems quite gentle compared to them which I find charming. I believe it to be a sign of loving, respectful parenting as most families I know are just the opposite, mine included. He's quite bright, and is learning his letters and numbers quickly, although I'm rather dreading what might happen when questions of science and history come up. I've tried to emphasize the need to play along and make Father happy, while not letting anyone know his true thought and feelings. In essence I've been teaching him to dissemble, for which I apologize, but to keep him from the horrific ritual of the strap I'd gladly teach him anything.
I do hope you find us soon, as I have 17 stamps left. Henry thinks very highly of you, he told me all about your trip to see the dinosaur remains. Would it be wrong to hope that we could continue our conversation once Henry is safe?
Good luck to you
SH