Sunday, February 6, 2022

Very seldom there is a testimony with a good outcome. This is one of them. All rights go to the author.

I escaped being gooned. This is how I did it

This is the full story of my experience. I’ll create a separate post for advice since this one is already really long.

Some info on me: I am female but I identify as a transman now and go by he/him. I was not out as trans to anyone when I was sent off. At the time I was 17 years old 5’7 and 135 lbs but I’ve always been quite strong even without exercise. I was sent away because my father was cheating on my mother and I confronted him and told her about it. He didn’t like that so he made up some bs about me being a terrible child and sent me away as revenge. He even manipulated my mother into helping him. I live in the southeastern US and I was supposed to be taken to Open Sky in Colorado by Right Direction Crisis Intervention.

I have problems sleeping so I was awake and just about to go to bed when they knocked on my door at 5:00 am. My parents were standing there along with a man and a woman. Their names were Demetrius and Sharlene. I’ll refer to them as D and S. If anyone else has had experiences with either of them please let me know in the comments. I’m curious to know how it went.

I was somewhat nervous so I wore my hiking clothes but I didn’t fight back yet. I just went along with it and got in the car with two strangers. In the back of the car I didn’t speak much, I just started planning and braided my hair up tightly so it would be out of the way.

I had already decided to stop eating and drinking by the time we got to the airport. I wanted to make sure I had a way to escape in case I was going someplace truly terrible, even if that meant dying.

D was just annoying at the Airport and joked about me getting raped while S acted like a straight-up nonce. She kept commenting on my appearance and how good I looked. And when whenever I had to use the bathroom she’d insist on staring at me until I demanded she turn around. I tried my best to ignore them both.

The flight was awful. I think it was caused by me being sleep-deprived, but I had an extremely painful headache on the flight. I was both exhausted and in pain which made me pissed off. I decided I’m not going along with this anymore. When we landed in Dallas TX and got off the plane I sat down at one of the seats at the terminal and refused to move. D and S both berated me for a while and asked the plane to wait, but I shouted for them to just leave because I wasn’t coming, so they did. S then went and rented a car. I still wouldn’t get in it so they called the cops for assistance. The police tried to convince me to get in the car but I told them politely that I’m not going. They started surrounding me. I was falling asleep because I was so exhausted, but I was suddenly awoken by D and the cops all grabbing my limbs and running off with me.

I flipped the fuck out. I was terrified. I figured that if they were so desperate to get me to this place but wouldn’t tell me what it was then I must be going somewhere truly awful. I assumed that my parents had sold to a cartel for trafficking and I knew I’d rather die than experience that.

I slammed the cops around while they were carrying me. There was one cop was holding each of my legs so I kept slamming them into each other trying to knock them over. But they still managed to get me to the car where they struggled for about 15 minutes to even get me in the door. There were six cops plus D, so I was fighting seven large men at once. I had so much adrenaline going that I was extremely strong and everything was going in slow motion. At one point I remember looking over and seeing this super buff cop holding into my forearm and somehow I was able to pull it back from him fairly easily.

I would have preferred jail, hospital, or death to what I thought was human trafficking so I kept kicking the cop that looked most annoyed in hopes that he’d either shoot me or arrest me but he wouldn’t.

They eventually got me in the car. D soon joined me in the back while S drove. I obviously was in a lot of pain so I requested D take me to the hospital. He refused. I requested he let me talk to my parents. He refused. I asked to talk to police again. He refused. I informed him that regardless of whether he currently had custody over me, it was still illegal to deny me medical treatment. He chose to ignore it but said I was a good debater…

I was even more scared at this point. I started banging on the window trying to attract attention. D told me if I banged on the window one more time he’d kill me. I absolutely could not resist and I banged on the window one last time…so he slammed my head into the door and started strangling me. He stopped eventually but only after my vision had started turning black and I’d gotten a large cut above my eye.

I never actually attacked him. I continuously tried to escape and defended myself when he attacked me for it. It wasn’t at all a fair fight. I was hungry, thirsty, sleep-deprived, and injured from the struggle with the cops. He tried to rip my hair out but the braid I’d done prevented it from even hurting. He also went for my throat again but I’d learned to keep my chin down. I managed to get a good bite on his forearm and sank my teeth into the skin until he ripped his arm away.

At some point, I determined that I was more likely to survive a car crash than a fight with this man so I tried to grab the wheel. D pulled me back and threw me on the floor. I was on my back with my knees forced up to my chest. He sat on top of me and pushed down. So the weight of my legs, his entire body weight, and the force of him pushing down were all on my chest. I couldn’t inhale fully and started to suffocate and eventually passed out. When I regained consciousness he had gotten off me but was laughing and pointing out to S that I was ‘’playing dead’’.

As I was starting to get weaker and closer to death I’d stop trying to brute force the escape and asked to stop and go to the bathroom. We stopped at a gas station where I didn’t try to directly call for help because no one was really close by, but I did fake faint right on the gas station floor. D scared away anyone who tried to help and demanded no one call an ambulance. He and S literally dragged my limp body back to the car and for some reason, absolutely no one thought that was suspicious enough to call the police.

D put me back on the floor of the car but a few minutes later started to act strangely nice again and told me I could sit on the seat. I tried to sit up but realized my neck muscles were so broken I couldn’t lift my head to sit up. My entire body felt broken and useless. It was at that point I realized brute-forcing my way out of this wasn’t going to work.

So I talked. I asked D many questions. We talked about religion and death. He told me all about how evolution wasn’t real and talked about god. I told him he’d already lost because I’d be dead soon and that I was not afraid. Take my body but you can’t take me alive.

I asked him about his childhood and family life. He said he had children my age. He also said he’d done bad things when he was younger and that he used to beat women. When I asked about his childhood he literally started crying and said he wished he’d had more time with his parents. So I asked if they were dead. He looked at me dead serious and said “No.” I was absolutely bewildered by how stupid of a person I was interacting with. If your parents are still alive just go visit them…

About an hour after the first rest stop I asked to use the bathroom again. At this rest stop, I was determined to ask for help. After I got inside I collapsed on the floor against one of the walls and refused to move. A few people came inside and I begged them to call the cops. All of them including an army soldier ignored me. D wasn’t able to just grab me and put me back in the car because we were in public. Infection and likely sepsis from my bite on his arm had turned the whole thing red and puffy. He noticed it but was too dumb to realize what was wrong with him. D didn't know what to do so he called his manager and asked her. I yelled at them that I wanted to talk to police. She said in a cocky tone that he could call the police because they’d just put me back in the car. So D called the police.

And unsurprisingly they didn’t put me back in the car, they called an ambulance because I was dying. D and S followed the ambulance until we got to the hospital. They tried to come get me but were kicked out by cops and told their papers weren’t valid there (this was still in Texas). I was treated at the hospital and then taken by CPS who screamed at my parents for doing this to me. My mom was forced to drive all the way over to come get me and I was allowed to go back home.

Back at home, I was starting to fully feel my injuries. Every muscle in my body was wrecked. It was so painful. I bent down to pick up my cat one time and just collapsed on the floor and had to drag myself upstairs. It took almost a month to fully recover. Even after I was physically recovered I was still in shock for a few weeks after. I was scared they’d come back to kill me. So I had a manic episode in which I completed the last goal I had on my list which was creating an animation. I worked on it for days straight until I would collapse from exhaustion. I barely ate anything. I was so happy when I finished it so that I could be at peace when they came back to kill me.

But they never did. (I asked my parents and they told me I was kicked out from Open Sky and banned from Right Direction.) After that the happiness and mania quickly faded because now I would have to live with the trauma. Since then my anxiety and depression has gotten much worse and I developed an eating disorder and PTSD. I had one PTSD episode where a man told to move to a different seat at an event and I got triggered and came so close to trying to kill a man over a stupid chair.

When I point out to my parents that most of my mental health problems from this even. They tell me to get over it because it wasn’t that bad… my relationship with them was pretty much ruined by this.

But despite the trauma it’s caused me I have no regrets and I fully believe I would have been more traumatized had I actually gotten to Open Sky and been trapped there for months.

Thank you for reading. I know this post was really long. I’m happy to answer any questions in the comments.

The original testimony on Reddit

Thursday, October 24, 2019

Abducted from a hotel

This testimony was found on Reddit. All rights goes to the author known as Meeeesta. We can only imagine how traumatic it can be to have two strangers entering your room armed with taser etc.

Not sure if this will be as crazy as the other stories in this sub but I have been to 3 different facilities in my year 17. It started on August 10th, I had some minor substance problems. Smoking weed a few times a day, branching out to lsd, cocaine and of course vaped like a madman.

I was up visiting a college, UMaine to be exact, and my parents were planning on sending me to a boarding school for my senior year of high school after struggling to accept that I’m a daily substance user. I was incredibly depressed at the time though it was impossible to tell considering I was always pumped full of smokable dopamine. Sober moments were the worst. Being left alone to my own thoughts was probably the most terrifying thing for me. Constantly would think about the mistakes I’ve made in my short time on earth. Theft, meaningless relationships, bad grades, and how I was affecting my family.

Ok anyways, It was August 10th 2018, and was up visiting colleges. I was substance-less because I don’t have my drivers license and couldn’t pick anything up before we left. This probably affected my mental state because when I got an invite from a friend who was only a 35 minute drive away I freaked out. I was so happy because he just happened to be in Maine and said he had an ounce on him. I asked my dad and immediately was shut down because he knows my friends are all heavy smokers. After a lot of arguing I said fk it and got out of the car and just started walking. Well that turned into a lot more walking than I expected. With nothing but flip flops I ended up walking 22 miles in 18 hours with tons of breaks and stops at restaurants to ask for tap water (I had no money on me).

I knew the police had it in for me, no way my dad was going to legitimately let me walk all the way to my friends house. So yep, cops caught up with my location eventually and despite my valiant efforts I couldn’t outrun them all. One of them ended up stepping on my flip flop, breaking it, and adding to my myriad amount of blisters from walking with flip flops. I got taken to a psych ward immediately after for “suicidal tendencies” which isn’t even true, my dad probably said that.

Well I was in the ward for 5 days, till August 15th to be exact, and I didn’t get through the program in 5 days that would be really impressive. Instead my parents decided to pull me, I was ecstatic because August 15th actually doubles as my day of birth! I had some chick-fil-a as my first meal out and couldn’t have been happier. We went into our hotel room and I got my phone back. I began texting all of my friends that were worried about me going missing for 5 days. I told them all is well, BIG mistake. 10 minutes after getting my phone my dad leaves the room for what seems like an extreme amount of time.

I look up and bang 2 massive guys are entering my hotel room. So many thoughts rush through my head, my first instinct was that I’m being taken away, I had a feeling but didn’t think they would do this to me ON MY BIRTHDAY! Immediately I clutch my phone tightly and grab the lamp to my left. HELP HELP IM BEING KIDNAPPED, I shouted over and over, people were knocking on the door trying to find out what was going on as I wrestle these behemoths. I ended up destroying as much property as possible over these guys besides the tv, fucking monsters they were, glass bottles didn’t even phase them. Eventually a lady keys the door open to see fat albert sitting on my arm as I continue to clutch my phone. “CALL THE COPS” I tell her knowing it’s a futile effort, I was not going to make this easy, that was my philosophy. Eventually the bigger guy put my arm in such a painful hold I couldn’t bear the pain any more. Thinking back I should’ve let him break my arm. I coughed up my phone and agreed to work with them when the 2nd guy pulled a taser out saying they don’t want to cause any more commotion. I got into the car and willingly flew 5 hours out to Utah.

My parents had sent me to a Wilderness Therapy program on my birthday. Yep, this is my life now I thought as the workers take all of my belongings and zip them up into bags, giving me some used and some new clothes that I would be wearing for the next 60 something days. I’m going to stop this here but if anyone wants to hear about how my wilderness went / how I’m doing today I will make another post.


My story [long] (Reddit Troubled Teen Message board)

Sunday, February 18, 2018

Being transported to Majestic Ranch Academy

December 4, 1995 - First Encounter

Today I was going home. That is what I thought when I had awoken that December morning in Gresham, Oregon. A month had passed since my entry into Pioneer Trails Treatment facility. I had completed the 30 day drug rehab program that I had been sent to by my parents in Washington. The staff all congratulated me as I got closer to my departure from the treatment facility. I felt proud and encouraged that I had completed the program and was finally going to be going home. But that is not what happened that day. I didn’t go home. I went to hell. A day that was supposed to be marked by change and hope for sobriety was instead made into a real nightmare I could not wake up from. The nightmare continued for the next seven months, a horror story so inhumane, most shy away from the sadistic details that are my memories. A sexually abusive, mentally and psychologically deranged owner of multiple boys’ behavior modification camps held captive over a hundred plus boys, me included. That day marked the last day I felt any security, the last day I would be allowed to hope or even smile. That day turned into one I would never forget.
Dan Peart, The Majestic Ranch for Boys:

The Untold Story of a WWASP Survivor

My hands were sweaty as I maneuvered my wrists painfully behind my back. The handcuffs were tight around my wrists, digging painfully into my skin. I was seated in the backseat of an 1998 Oldsmobile Delta that held the distinct smell of vomit and urine, nauseating and burning my eyes as it smothered the air around me. In front of me sat Dan Peart, the man that I would grow to hate, the man who would change the rest of my life. In the driver’s seat sat the inbreed sexual predator I knew as Rick. Rick, I would learn, took part in raping, molesting and sexually assaulting over half of the boys at Majestic Ranch for boys. This “school” that claimed to be a paradise for children ages 9-18 was instead an imprisonment camp geared towards hopeless parents and troubled youth. The directors as well as all the staff employed at Majestic Ranch for boys (formerly Old West Academy) had knowledge and in some cases participated in the various abuses upon the trouble teens made to live there from months and often years. Moreover, not only did the founder of this particular “boarding school” or “behavior modification” facility know about these grievances towards the youth at Majestic, Dan Peart, Owner, endorsed and encouraged them as well. He showed his dedication to his money making scheme and his loyalty to his affiliates like Robert Lichfield (Proprietor/Founder WWASP) by instigating the most heinous sexual and physical abuses, molestation, brain washing and overall manipulation of every child to endure a stint at the Majestic Ranch for Boys. Not only did he instigate it and condone all the abuses towards the young victims, he thoroughly enjoyed it. As of today, Dan Peart and his affiliates have served no jail time for any of the crimes they committed towards their victims. Most recently, Mr. Peart has been applying for Permits within the state of Montana, where he and his wife own a hotel, that will permit the transformation of said hotel into what he is hoping will be the opening of yet another one of his torture camps.

Kidnapped….what else would it be called?

We arrived at the airport in Oregon where I made my last dashing attempt at escape from these men I saw only as kidnappers. I had never seen them in my life, nor had I had a conversation with either of my parents telling me I would not be coming home. Quickly breaking free, I ran up to the nearest security officer I could spot, begging him please to help me escape these maniac kidnappers that had taken me from the treatment facility only hours before. To my relief the officer then turned to Dan Peart and placed handcuffs on him, placing him under arrest. If I only knew now that this would be the only time in the next nearly 20 years he would be in cuffs I suppose I would have tried a little harder to dramatize and delay boarding the airplane.
But this was all too bittersweet as Dan Peart provided custody paperwork to the security officer that implied his legal ownership over me. The officer looked down at me with pity yet began reaching for his ring of keys. Many kids had come through hollering the same spiel as I had, screaming my unlawful detention by these kidnappers. Custody paperwork and “transport men”, as they were referred to, were coming through airports and train stations toting a single paper that decided our fate. These Men, sometimes retired police offers and military personnel were showing up in the middle of the night, stealing young children from their warm American beds. A single signature of consent concluded the custody paperwork of both my parents. Their signatures were on the “contract” that placed their parental rights into the sole custody of a child abuser and sexual predator, Dan Peart.

In hindsight, I think many of us WWASP victims of Majestic Ranch would have taken any opportunity to impose justice on him via hand grenade, sawed off shotgun or simply use his own tactics of starvation and neglect to eliminate him. If we had known there would never be any justice for us. If I had known, or my parents had known maybe then things could be different. But the World Wide Web and Google didn’t exist yet so this couldn’t truly be foreseen. But now? Nearly 20 years later…and nothing? What happened to our justice system…who forfeited my rights and the other nearly 20,000 youth who have gone through these WWASP camps? As it were, at 15 I had no one that would help me, nowhere to go. My parents had already been successfully convinced of the saving graces that Dan Peart promised to deliver. A completely conformed youth when I came out, as their Old West Academy website so broadly GUARANTEE’s. I guess hindsight is not that great when you’re looking down twenty years of successful manipution and abuse, facing countless victim allegations and have yet to spend a day in jail. Understandably, we are unable to see the future or change the past, but we are able to look at the atrocities of both and find truth and knowledge in what we can prevent. Prevention can begin today, at any moment as we sit here and are aware of what is going on in the rural areas throughout this country…as we stand by and parents continue to send their “troubled youth” to camps like Majestic Ranch (still open and actively enrolling students) allowing perverts like Dan Peart to have complete and uninhibited access to your child.

Lesson One in Behavior Modification

I watched the snow fall sideways outside that dusty Oldsmobile window. I yearned for any clue or inclination of where I was being taken to and for how long. Every question I asked was answered with the same response. I was told we were heading to the airport to pick up another boy like me. An “out of control” adolescent that would soon know the true meaning of Behavior Modification, as I surely would. After hours of travel we had finally arrived at Majestic Ranch for boys located in Randolph, Utah approximately 150 miles from Salt Lake City. Again, my instincts were to fight or run away from these goons that thought they were going to confine me in a camp that I had not consented to. My attempt at an altercation led to my first punishment while at Majestic Ranch. I spent that first night being punished through what was called consequence continuum, a part of their behavior modification practices. Blackened toes hung over the 2'x3' milk crate I warily stood on. Besides the jet lag, sleep deprivation and ever increasing hunger, I had been standing on this milk crate for nearly two hours commencing my first punishment. My shoes and socks had been taken from me as part of my punishment as well. Thin clothing hung off my body wet and turning to hard packs of ice, white snow continued to fall around me. Cold stung my red nose, while dropping temperatures nearly -20 degrees began to rattle my body in painful spasms. I stayed on that milk crate for another three hours, my muscles literally frozen in painful contraction. Dan Peart, apparently satisfied with my punishment, brought me into House 2, where I would stay for the next six months. After such a brutally exhausting day that ended with five hours frozen on a milk crate you would think that I would have went right to sleep. That was not the case for me. I spent that first night emotionally broken, blindsided by the sudden change in my parents decision to not let me come home and instead begin entry into this boys camp without a word of warning.

The original testimony (ireport CNN)