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my Sarah’s birthday


Sarah’s birthday party, French Gulch, 1980. Today’s my darling Sarah’s birthday. Though she came unplanned and at a very confusing time in my young adult life (42 years ago), we were destined to be mother and daughter. I love her to infinity. Her love, wisdom and integrity challenge me to be a better person. More than any of my children, she’s taught me to listen.

Sarah’s father was/is a man of integrity. I was in a relationship with him for 3 years before Steve. During a long season of deep depression, I walked away from him—I was lost. I couldn’t fix what was broken inside me to make anything work.

In Steve’s letter he referred to Sarah as the daughter he “hated,” because she was of a “different father.” I wish I’d seen it back then. Ignorance blinds.

Shortly after we moved from French Gulch to Sacramento to join the Greens in their newly founded “Free Love Ministries,” AKA ACMTC, Jim, Lila (Deborah) and Steve insisted I give Sarah up. “It’s god’s will; we’ve got to obey god.”

The Greens had rules regarding “outside influences.” Steve said to Rick, Sarah’s dad, “she’s not your daughter any more, she’s mine,” denying him all visiting and parental rights. Rick took legal action to see his daughter, and I was coerced to let her go, because “Rick’s influence was of the world.”

One may assume Sarah was the lucky one, that she was spared the damaging effect of the Greens and Steve, and spared being married off at a young age to keep her put, to keep her under submission, as both my daughter Rebekah and the Green’s daughter Sarah were. But a daughter harshly cast off and divided from her mother is an awful thing. We don’t divorce children.

I vividly recall my last day with her, the day before her dad came to get her. When I picked her up from school that day, I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. Sitting in the back seat with Nate and Lilly, she stared out the window looking at nothing.

I didn’t understand why god was like this. It felt so wrong.

That evening Sarah made herself a bed on the floor right next to me, and I lay awake most of the night quietly crying and touching her golden head.

But the next day Rick came and got her and she was gone. 

saying goodbye


When we move to Sacramento to join the Greens, life gets uncomfortable right quickly. Not the friendly gatherings I’d hoped for. Within a few months Jim, Lila and Steve decide my daughter Sarah (then 11) has to go live with her father who the day before served me with papers for visitation rights. Steve had said to him, “You’re not her father anymore, I am.” Ricks only sin is loving his daughter. He only wants shared custody. But Rick’s influence, they say, is “worldly, and he’d spoil her, and it’d harm her and all the other children, too.” As Rick and Sarah drive away I wait to see if she’ll look back, but she doesn’t. She wraps her arms around Rick’s neck, her smile about the size of her universe. The next day Lila says to me, “You mustn’t call, nor write her, do you understand that?” I was being tested.

Weeks later at a meeting my 13-year-old daughter Iantha (now Rebekah) is put to the test. She’s close to my mom who when we move to Sacramento we think we’ll see more of. But Steve says grandma and grandpa are “of the world,” too. He tells Iantha she has to choose between living with them or us. She says she wants to live with us. But Steve says she needs her faith tested. “I want you to go live with them for a month,” he says, “and THEN, YOU decide who you want to live with. Us or them? You can’t have it both ways.” Is God really this mean?

I stand up, holding Iantha’s hand, and I say, “You can’t do this to my daughter.”

Driving home, no one says a word. Even Nate, who’s 6, is holding his tongue. Once home and the kids are in bed Steve lashes out. “Don’t you ever embarrass me like that again, do you hear?  We’re here to do God’s work, and if you don’t want to be a part of what the Lord’s doing, then you and the children can all go live with your mom and dad.” I’ve never seen him angry like this before. I was 35 years old and two months pregnant.

So Iantha goes and lives with them, and after a month calls us saying she wants to come home. To Steve her return is not evidence enough of her commitment to Jesus Christ. As soon as she returns he hands her a box, and says, “ Put the stuff your grandma bought you inside this box. We’ll take it to the post office and return it to her in the morning. I want you to write your grandmother a letter, too, and tell her you’ll never see her again.” Is God really this mean?

Iantha’ letter (#1). Found when my sister and I went through our mom and dad’s estate. Emotions turned inside out.


to me, Stacy appears “shut-in”

If you ask me, I think Stacy appears “shut-in” here, lost, intimidated. My daughter Rebekah experienced similar trauma when she was ordered by the “Generals” to testify against me. Those within ACMTC dare not to question Deborah Green, whom they believe has a direct line to god.

General Deborah,

It makes me sick to see you rip off our daughters, our sons, and how you negate the very people who care about them the most, who’ll always love them, regardless. What’s inside of you that makes you this way, that makes you want to inflict deep emotional pain?

Your own daughter couldn’t stand you.

I was there when she ran away the first time. You and Jim were scheduled to fly to the Philippines, and you missed your flight, because Sarah ran away the morning of. When you found her, you and Jim took her to the Philippines the next week, and you made her stay there for 6 months after you returned. You were going to “teach her a lesson.”

Rebekah and Nate were there when she tried to kill herself the first time. When she ingested a bottle of aspirin, or Tylenol.

Like Rebekah, you married her off to a man >10 years older than she, Mike Brandon, AKA Peter Royce, AKA Peter Green, one of your top diehards. But that marriage didn’t work, did it? It didn’t keep her put.

I’m glad she’s free of you. I liked Sarah, thought she was a beautiful and smart girl, though definitely troubled inside. She had a good heart.

I’m glad she’s no longer livng under your dark cloud, your “covering.” I’m sad, though, for her children she left behind, and for her loss regarding them. I hope she has some sense of peace now.

So Deborah, what’s inside you that needs to control other people’s lives like this, other people’s loved ones, inflicting such lasting emotional pain?

Rebekah, Abe and Kay, former ACMTC members


Deborah’s “20 million dollar lie” letter, part 1

Twenty Million Dollar Lie Part 1

Below are excerpts from “TWENTY MILLION DOLLAR LIE EXPOSED,” part one, written by “general” Deborah, but signed by my daughter Rebekah.  The original copy is 5 pages of small font type, and so I’ve edited it to reduce size. Like “general” Deborah’s prophesies, this letter drags out to great length, is redundant, and full of vindictive lies. No way am I going to type all of it. But I will copy and paste the whole thing.

Deborah wrote this letter and then ordered my daughter Rebekah to sign it. That’s the way she plays.

I am writing, not as a member of Free Love Ministries, but as the daughter of the claimant in the $20 million lawsuit against Free Love Ministries.”

“My mother claimed that F.L.M. forced her to live like an animal for several months during which time they inflicted (according to her own imagination) punishments upon her. My mother claimed that they brain washed her. When she tried to stop the divorce and disannul (sic) it, her case lost in the courts.” (I never tried to annul it—the evidence of proof is on her, and there is none.)

“I am personally angered at my mother’s lying accusations and the stupidity of the courts and the public to buy her twenty million dollar lie.

“During her pregnancy with me, she was shacking up with a heroin addict who overdosed himself before I was born, she said he ‘got off on pregnant women.’ The tragic truth is: my mother forced me to live like an animal for many years from my birth up until she pursued her wanton and careless lifestyle, living a life of drugs, crime, promiscuity, group orgies, weird satanic religious rituals. She always had time for her countless lovers, her adventures into the dark regions of Satanic demon worship, and her drugs—but not her children. She was a full blown drug addict . I was left to be anyones’ prey during the group sex my mother was so fond of participating in. 

“When my mother was participating in her group sex orgies, she would often times allow me to be used and passed around. I was forced to participate in their weird and perverted religious activities, which were a mixture of Indian religion, demonic necromancy (communication with the dead) and sex and drug idolatry. When she gave birth to my sister, Sarah, they dedicated her to a demon and cooked her after birth. A portion of the afterbirth was also kept in a leather pouch as a ‘charm.’

“She was fond of photographing her daughters naked, and sent nude photos of us to the Generals Green who were living in Kentucky. My mother practiced using all kinds of herbs and was even able to give herself an abortion with black cohosh, she was proud of her results. My mother lived with me, my sister and two men as her lovers. She also enjoyed lesbian affairs.

“She never stops to consider the YEARS OF ANGUISH, PAIN AND SORROW SHE CAUSED TO BE CARVED INTO MY TENDER CHILD’S HEART.”  Whenever we did have food, my mother would mix in large amounts of marijuana so that everyone could continue to get “high.”

“During the times we lived in the town of French Gulch, the fornication flings of my mother were done when my stepfather was gone. My mother frequently dug our food out of dumpsters because she had to spend any money on marijuana. 

“Generals James and Lila Green began to visit us, driving 3 hours one way to bringing us groceries and money. We loved their visits as children because they would bring us food. My sister, Lillian almost died at the age of one month because of my mother’s neglect. 


Deborah Green wrote this letter then ordered my daughter Rebekah to sign it in front of a notrary. She ordered her to LIE IN THE NAME OF HER GOD.

Compare this letter with Steve’s confession letter, written in his own pen.



to a New Year


Something about posting Steve’s letter leaves me feeling a little taller today, feeling enabled, or empowered in some way to go forward with this blog.



Me, Nate, Sarah and Rebekah. New Years, 2012