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Order in the house
Ex-FLDS member Dan Fischer began The Diversity Foundation, an agency to aid the boys after they began the exodus from their communities. Since then, financial aid has come from various sources. Deseret Industries and Washington County Protestant churches have donated clothing and furnishings. Wells Fargo Bank accepts donations to an account set up for the boys. In April 2007, a lawsuit filed against Jeffs three years earlier by five lost boys resulted in a settlement of $50,000 over five years to help the outcast teens complete their education. The money comes from the United Effort Plan Trust, the FLDS Church’s financial arm.

The house residents have plenty of people to look after them and keep them on task. Mary Anne Holstrum supervises the house from about 6 a.m. to noon; she says that one of her morning jobs is making sure that the boys who have construction jobs leave for work on time. She has left a copy of Escape, the recent best-selling memoir by ex-FLDS wife Carolyn Jessop, on the living room table. There is a long wait list for the book at the St. George Public Library, Holstrum says.

The house runs communally. A job board in the main-floor kitchen shows that Tuesday is “deep clean” day. Holstrum apologizes for the work not getting done the day before. But, there’s no dust or dirt on the hardwood floors, only a few dishes in the sink and the windows and mirrors are spotless.

Originally a home for senior citizens, the house has eight bedrooms, two baths, a kitchenette in the basement and a pool table. The boys have helped with the renovations.

At midday, a couple of boys saunter into the kitchen to make themselves lunch. The house grows more lively throughout the afternoon. Benward, who lives more than 100 miles north in Panguitch, is a sort of house mother/social worker. She spends two days a week at the house and often stays overnight. On this day, Benward arrives with Matt Bauer who lives at the house and supervises it full time. A couple of boys walk into the kitchen and wolf down some fast food at the kitchen table. Benward walks from room to room, texting messages on her phone, with Pepe the dog following at her heels. Hyrum offers to drive Holstrum home in Benward’s car. It seems all teenager boys like to take advantage of an opportunity to drive.

A little smart, a little rebellious
Benward feels deeply protective of the teens at the home. She spends much of her time enrolling those under 18 in public school and helping connect them up with Medicaid for medical and dental care. The kids are bright but often delayed socially, she says. They tend to have difficulty making decisions when they first arrive, probably due to the strong authoritarian nature of the FLDS culture, she says. “I really think the ones that were a little bit smart and a little bit rebellious were the ones who left. If you see them here, they were probably too smart for the community they came from.”

Free of their strict upbringing, the boys enjoy the same things as most kids their age do. They like earning and spending their own money—and money management is taught at the house. The boys have normal questions about the opposite sex, and Benward is not timid about answering them.

“I’m completely honest with them about sexually transmitted diseases and try to answer their questions about sex honestly,” she says. The conservative community of St. George might find that candor objectionable, but Benward says, “I personally don’t care. These boys have been sheltered all their lives, and they need the facts. My reaction to anyone who objects is ‘Any time you want to come here and see what we’re doing, come on over.’”

There have been amusing conversations at the house about evolution and the existence of dinosaurs. FLDS culture teaches strict creationism. “I’ve asked [the boys] how they can believe in Jesus, or Santa Claus, when there’s no physical evidence for them, but why they can’t believe in dinosaurs when we do have physical evidence,” Benward says. Her comment provokes immediate discussion in the kitchen among a few of the boys. One says he believes in Santa Claus but not dinosaurs. Another believes that fossilized dinosaur bones found in the Utah desert were placed there by humans. And, in what seems to come out of left field, one boy says landings on the moon have been faked, too.

When living in Hildale and Colorado City, most of the boys were shuttled into construction and other trades. At the house off Bluff, “most of them want a high school diploma,” Benward says. “It’s become kind of a competition for them to see who can do things, like who gets the first GED. It’s been exciting to see them realize what that piece of paper can do for them.”

It’s hardly perfect at the house, and there have been problems along the way. Some do not adjust well, some have gotten into legal trouble and several have moved from the area. According to Benward’s accounting, about 30 of the boys she is familiar with have enrolled in college with the help of financial aid. “I think they’ll get their education and accomplish wonderful things,” she says.

And there is always room at the house for those who simply need a family.

After several years, the house off of Bluff still mostly operates as a word-of-mouth community. Some who moved through the house and live on their own show up occasionally to help the younger boys. Sometimes, a new person in search of food, or a place to sleep, floats in for a while. Benward and supervisor Baur say all are welcome.

“Even if they come by just to shoot some pool or shoot the breeze, it keeps off them the street and out of trouble,” Benward says. At least for now, this is their family. They’ll move on from here and more will move in. “They have been transient, but their relationships aren’t transient, their relationships are forever.” tttt