The congregants of Calvary Hill Christian Church gathered at the farm of Benjamin and Nora Banks for the Hallelujah Harvest Festival. Held every year on Halloween night, it was marketed as a Christian alternative to the Devil’s Night, and mostly attended by Calvary Hill members. Members who did not attend stayed hidden in their homes, lights out, in a staunch protest against Satan.
The festival itself didn’t look much different from a typical Halloween party. There were hay rides, pumpkin carving contest, bobbing for apples, candy, and even a roaring bonfire. Only the absence of costumes, contemporary praise music, and prayers offered up for the filthy sinners who were out collecting the Devil’s candy, marked the event as something other than a Halloween celebration.
Mark sat on a bench just beyond the festivities. Cheers and laughter intertwined with acoustic guitars behind him. He stared up at the brightly lit stars in the clear night sky. The aroma of barbecued foods danced upon the cool breeze as if to beckon him back to the festivities. He did not move. Only sat quietly on the bench.
For the last eight months Mark had fiercely struggled with depression. Thoughts of suicide and self-harm lingered always at the edge of his mind, but instead of asking for help, he chose to suffer silently. Depression, as he had been taught, was a mark of some grievous sin in one’s life. It was the result of a rebellion against, and mistrust of, God.
Unlike drug addiction, fornication, lying, or even murder, depression was a sin not readily forgiven by his peers. No. Depression and other mental ailments came with shame and ostracism. Rather than being ostracized by the group, he ostracized himself. A leper in a self-imposed exile.
It was well enough. He was different than his peers. Roughly hewn where they were neatly polished. Everyone at Calvary Hill appeared to have their lives together. Most were financially well off. His family was poor and relied on state programs to make ends meet.
To make up for their lack and prove their devotion to the church and its god, his parents served the church through a media ministry selling the pastor’s books and tapes in the church store every week. They were not paid for their services. It was considered their duty. Their due contribution.
Mark had been raised in Calvary Hill. When he was younger he knew all the right things to say and do to keep himself in the good graces of the pastor and the elite board of elders. He learned this from his parents. Keeping in the good graces of the right people was hardly enough, however, for he never fit in with those in his age group.
He was sixteen, helped set up sound equipment every Sunday, was active in his youth group, and tried hard to fit in, but try as he might, he just never quite fit. His mannerism had a dark edge to them. He dressed predominantly in black. His station exposed him to the brutal realities of life and it affected him. His peers had been sheltered from reality, and found Mark to be an enigma.
At home his father was a different person. Vicious. Cruel. Abusive. Mark’s oddness sent the man into a violent rage almost daily. His father’s hatred coupled with the disgust from his peers only sent Mark deeper into depression.
“Hey man, why are you all the way out here?” Nick Walsh said.
Nick Walsh was an older man who refused to act his age. He was a literal rock star in the church, known for his uplifting guitar solos, leather jacket, stylish goatee, and was adored by the young ladies. A charismatic man jazzed for Jesus.
Mark looked over as Nick sat beside him on the bench. He pushed aside some grass with the toe of his shoe before answering.
“Just looking at the stars.”
No, thought Mark.
“Yeah. I’m good.”
Well I’ve thought about slitting my wrists and seeing where that goes.
“Yeah. Just been a long day.”
“I know what you mean. Halloween is heavy, man. You can see the hold the Devil really has on people, y’know? Why don’t you come back and join us? I think Evan is going play a couple of his new worship songs before leading in some prayer. Should be rad!”
Evan was the pastor’s son. The worst of Mark’s peers. Evan was arrogant and mean spirited, talented at music, and everyone clamored for his approval because he was the pastor’s pride and joy. Mark despised Evan.
“Only if the faggot throws himself on the fire.”
Mark clapped a hand around his mouth. Did he just say that out loud? He did! He stared at Nick with wide unblinking eyes. Both of them in shock.
“Oh my god. I-I-I’m sorry! I don’t know what came over me!” Mark said, his hand still clasped over his mouth.
“Wow, man. You need to rid yourself of that spirit of jealousy.”
“And you need to stop fucking little girls.” Mark clapped his other hand over his mouth.
Nick stood. His mouth and eyes wide open. His face reddened. He ran a trembling hand through his hair and paced about. Mark dropped his hands from his mouth and lowered his eyes. He sat expecting Nick to yell, shout, something, but it never came. Instead,
“I-I gotta go. Y’know? Fuck! You’re a real piece of work!”
Mark watched as Nick stomped off to his car and peel away from the farm. Others, also, had seen the spectacle. Watched Nick storm off from some unheard argument and speed away. Figures silhouetted against the back drop of the bonfire turned their attention to Mark.
“Damn.” Mark said.
Strangely, he didn’t regret what he said. Only that he had said it out loud. What had come over him? To speak so frankly to a superior in the church? It felt…good.
He returned to his stargazing feeling lighter than he had in a long time. He’d eventually have to apologize, especially after his parents found out and his father beat the shit out of him, but for now he felt invigorated.
“What did you do, freak?”
Ashley, with her BFF Kristin hanging on her arm, walked over and stood in front of Mark. Her weight shifted on one hip and a fire burned in her eyes.
“Jesus, what are you talking about?” Mark felt a fire in his own belly. He wanted nothing more than to be left to his thoughts; to enjoy the little peace he had finally found. However, something else played in his chest. A strength and fearlessness bubbled inside him. His normally withdrawn and quiet self was missing -replaced by a bold and brash new self. A self that would not be pushed around.
“Don’t play stupid. We saw you talking with Nick. Then he just takes off! What did you say to him?”
The nasally condescension in her voice made Mark’s head ache. He stared long and hard at her.
“I said, ‘what did you say to him,’ freak!” Ashley repeated.
“Fuck off and die, you two faced little bitch!” The words rolled out of Mark’s mouth. He heard them, but it was if someone else was speaking them. Never would he have spoken to Ashley in such a hard way. Her father had a lot of influence. Upsetting her, and thus him, could bring a lot of trouble his way, but he couldn’t help himself. The words just spilled out.
Ashley and Kristen both gasped. They looked at him with the same stupid expression Nick had when Mark snapped at him.
“You want to know what I told him?” Mark said. “I told him he needed to stop fucking little girls. He can’t pay for all your abortions.”
“H-h-how do you know about that?”
“The same way I know he and Kristen and Michelle have been fucking.”
“No! Ashley, h-he’s lying!” Kristen said.
“Kristen! How could you?” Tears rolled down Ashley’s face. She ran off into the cornfield. Kristen following closely behind.
It was true? It was all true, but how did Mark know that? His head spun replaying his conversation with Nick and the girls. He had accidently revealed their terrible secrets. Secrets he shouldn’t have known, but somehow did.
He stood up and paced around the bench. All of the scorn he had received by his peers, by members of his church, by his own parents for not being the perfect Christian suddenly didn’t matter. He felt as if a heavy shackle had been removed from his neck. His suspicions that there was something terribly wrong about all of them had been vindicated.
The music and chatter of the festivities grew louder as he made his way toward the table of food. He was suddenly hungry. The barbecued chicken, macaroni, and plethora of deserts called irresistibly to him. He grabbed a plate piled it high with food.
Mark sat at an empty table with his plate. Looked around. His parents were nowhere to be found. Probably on a hay ride with the pastor and his wife. They were no different than anyone else who attended Calvary Hill, quick to lick the boots of the pastor and his inner circle.
The music ended to a thunderous applause. Evan waved off the applause, feigned humility, and reminded everyone he only played for Jesus. Applause erupted once more. Evan set down his guitar and promised to return for another set after he ate.
He mingled about the crowd while Mark ate. He could overhear Evan’s adoring fans fawn over his god-given gifts and talents; how they assured him Jesus would use him to further the Kingdom of Heaven. Several pointed out in jest that they were wearing their official Calvary Hill shoes – the same shoes Evan and his father wore.
Mark crinkled his nose in disgust. Had it not been for his parents he would have left Calvary Hill long ago. The church felt dirty despite its wholesome appearance.
“Hey Mark! Glad to see you, brother! Great night, right?” Evan sat down with a plate of food across from Mark.
Mark looked up, nodded, and swallowed a last bite of pumpkin pie.
“Hey, have you seen Ashley?”
“She’s fourteen, dude.”
“I didn’t ask how old she was. Just if you’ve seen her or not.”
“You’re nineteen, dude.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Evan laughed uncomfortably. “She’s a friend. We were going to hang out. Go over some passages. We’ve been going through Romans. It’s a hardcore book, y’know?”
“You going to rape her again?” The words were quiet. Slipped out unconsciously. Mark had no idea where the question came from.
“Slip another little somethin’-somethin’ in her drink? Rock her world while she lays there paralyzed and barely conscious?”
“Woah dude. Keep your voice down. I don’t know where you’re getting this stuff, but it ain’t true. Did Ashley tell you this?”
“How could she? She could barely remember where she lived. Didn’t remember getting home the next day. Figured she just had too much to drink, and was so glad that a gentleman like you were there to look after her. Well enough she can’t remember. She might tell everyone about the micro-prick you used to assault her with.”
“N-not cool.” Evan was sweating bullets. Stammering. “W-what is your problem? You can’t say shit like that.”
“You can’t do things like that. But who the fuck am I going to tell? Either no one would believe it, or they’re in on it. Your dad keep the video? Still passing them around the good ol’ boys club?”
“Shut your damn mouth. If you tell anyone, er, if you keep spreading these rumors I’ll end you!”
“She’s in the cornfield having a crisis of faith.”
Evan stood up and walked towards the cornfield surrounding the farm. He bumped past a group of adoring fans, excused himself, and broke out into a run.
A blood curdling scream cut through the crowd. A swarm of people surrounded the source of the screams and hysterical sobbing. It was a woman. Mark joined the crowd craning his neck to see what happened.
Mariam Walsh lay in a heap on the ground sobbing. She was holding out her smart phone babbling incoherently.
“What happened?” Some asked.
“Nick was in an accident. It’s serious.” Some else said.
A murmur rumbled through the crowd as they stood and watched her. A few minutes passed before two of the church elders helped gather her to her feet. Her wailing stretched across the farm. The crowd parted as the elders led Miriam away promising to see her safely to the hospital.
A red truck packed with hay and people pulled up as the elders took Miriam away. An elder standing by rushed over to help the pastor and his wife out of the truck. The elder began to explain, but was cut off by the pastor who had received the call moments before Miriam.
The pastor made his way to the stage to address the crowd.
“Everyone. Everyone. Please gather round.” The pastor ran a worried hand through his salt and pepper beard. His eyes held the weight of responsibility for tending to his flock. One of his favorites, and thus one of the congregations’ favorites, had suffered. “Everyone. We’re going to take a moment to offer up our prayers on behalf of the Walsh’s. Nick was in a terrible accident. Doctors are not sure if he’s going to make it. So we’re going to seek after the Lord for we know our God is mighty, and can see Nick through.”
The crowd was silent. Eyes glistened and tears fell. Men, who knew godly men can’t cry, stood with mouths agape in disbelief. They had only just seen Nick an hour ago. Laughed with him. Joked with him. Sang songs with him.
A vision played through Mark’s head.
Nick sped down the road. Screaming and slamming his fist on the dashboard. He’d been caught. He was terrified his wife and the rest of the church would find out. He was scared that the pastor would get caught for the role he played.
He cursed Mark for confronting him. Considered getting rid of Mark – keep him quiet permanently. No matter how hard he thought, he couldn’t figure a way to get rid of Mark without it leading back to him and the church.
There was no hope for him. No options. He careened off the road, sped through a barren field. The speedometer rose. Sixty. Sixty-five. Seventy. Seventy-five. Eighty. Eighty-three. His car stopped suddenly, crumpling and ripping itself apart, against an old tree.
Glass and shrapnel ripped through his body as if he were made thin paper. The airbag deployed at incredible speed shattering his jaw and nose. It wasn’t enough to stop his unrestrained body from being thrown through the windshield. He landed several feet away impaled by one of the tree’s roots.
His body trembled. The blood flow slowed by the root impaled through his stomach. A van pulled up behind him. A man called out to Nick, but Nick couldn’t comprehend the man’s words.
Mark snapped back into the moment. Heads were bowed, hands were clasped, and the pastor pleaded for Nick’s recovery. Mark looked through the crowd. His parents had placed themselves at the front of the group.
Some of the younger girls had fallen to their knees and sobbed into their hands. Amen’s and Yes Lord’s passed through the crowd. Some of the more spiritual stood with hands outstretched towards the pastor as if sending out their portion of the Holy Spirit to strengthen the pastor’s prayers.
Kristen had rejoined the crowd. With her eyes she shot daggers at Mark who stood outside the prayer group. She didn’t need to say what was on her mind, she blamed Mark for Nick’s accident, and to an extent she was right.
At the conclusion of the prayer Mark shuffled away from the crowd. He considered walking the five miles home, but instead stopped at the bench where he had began the night battling his depression. A darkness loomed over him.
He felt he needed to do something, but what? He wasn’t sure how much of the blame he ought to shoulder. He didn’t intend to say any of the things that came out his mouth. It just happened, and now Nick was dead.
He hated that church, but he also loved it. It was what he had known all his life. He had been friends with many of these people up until recently. He didn’t wish them harm.
Music played behind him as the worship team gathered to offer up continued songs and prayers for Nick. Mark looked back and could see Evan leading the team. Another vision played in his head.
“What did you tell him, bitch?” Evan smacked Ashley across the face knocking her to the ground. He kicked the downed girl in the ribs. “Are you telling people I raped you?”
“N-no. Evan, please! I’d never say that!”
Evan balled up his fist and slammed it into Ashley’s face. “Mark seems to be under the impression that I raped you! What did you tell him?”
“Nothing! E-Evan, I-I-I s-s-swear! He’s lying!”
“Lying?” He hit her again. “How does he know I took you out drinking?”
Again and again Evan slammed his fist into Ashley’s face until she lay still and trembling. He took a moment to catch his breath before wrapping his hands around the girl’s throat. “Bitch! If you ever tell anyone anything, I’ll fucking kill you!”
Evan punctuated every word striking the back of her head against the ground. He stood up and kicked her hard in the groin.
“You better go home! If I see you again tonight, I’ll kill you. If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill your whole fucking family. Starting with your little sister. And I’ll have fun with her before I end her life. Stupid whore.”
He spit on her and walked out of the cornfield leaving the girl writing in the dirt.
“Holy shit!” Mark said.
Mark got up and ran into the cornfield. Thick green stalks slapped at his face and pulled at his clothes. He fell into a small clearing where Ashley lay a bloody mess on the ground.
“O shit! O shit! O shit! Ashley! Are you okay?”
The girl didn’t respond. He crawled over to her and gently shook the young girl. Her breath was slow and raspy.
“C’mon. Stay with me. Fucking dammit! What the hell is wrong with this place?” Mark pulled out his phone. There was no signal. He needed to get help, but didn’t know who he could turn to.
He ran out of the field and towards the farmhouse. There had to be a phone inside he could use. Luke and Josh stood outside the door leading inside.
“Hey, Mark. Where you going.” Luke said.
“Bathroom.” Mark lied.
“You think you can give us a minute before you go in?”
“Can we talk later?”
“Well, it’s kinda important. Evan and Kristen say you’ve been spreading rumors.”
“And Kristen says you were arguing with Nick before he took off.” Luke continued.
Mark tried to push passed the two, but Josh took Mark’s arm in an iron grip with his meaty hand. Josh held him in place as Luke continued.
“So, it looks like you caused a death, freak. Maybe you should confess to everyone you lied, and ask for forgiveness. I’m sure if you promise to turn from your lying ways, everyone will forgive you. Well, except for Miriam. She’s probably going to hate you forever.”
“Let me go you inbred dick!” Mark slammed his knee into Josh’s groin and pulled free. “You’re both in on it? What the fuck is wrong with this sick place?”
Mark took several steps back from Luke and Josh.
“Hey!” Luke pulled a pocket knife from his back pocket and snapped it open. “We’re trying to give you an out!”
Mark spun on his heels and ran towards the cornfield. He could hear Luke helping Josh to his feet before they joined in pursuit.
Mark wasn’t an athletic kid, but he was fast and nimble. He tore through the cornfield hoping to lose his pursuers. He tripped over a soft patch of dirt, rolled through the fall, and was back on his feet in an instant.
He could hear the rustling of stalks as Luke and Josh made their way after him. His heart pounded in his chest. Of all the supernatural abilities to have, knowing secrets wasn’t at the top of his list. He’d rather have heat vision, or super strength to put these two down.
They had been best friends when they were little. Josh, Luke, Mark, and Evan. They were inseparable. As they had gotten older, and involved in the politics of the church, everything changed. Mark had drifted from the group unable -and unwilling- to compete.
A filthy secret flowed through the church. A boys’ club armed with complacent women enabling violence, rape, and exploitation. God was little more than a cover for something wicked and controlling.
Mark could hear the two stumble and fall in the field as he increased the distance between them, but he knew he couldn’t run forever. When found the edge of the farm, he would have to look for a place to hide.
Only the rustling of stalks of corn roared in his ears. The chatter and music of the festivities were far behind him. He know longer heard his pursuers. Only when he stepped out of the cornfield and on to the paved road did he stop to catch his breath.
His phone buzzed quietly in his pocket. He had a signal! He pulled out the phone and dialed 9-1-1.
“9-1-1 what is the nature of your emergency?” The voice on the other end said.
“Y-yes. There was a girl, Ashley…” Mark panted hard trying to catch his breath. “She was attacked. I-I don’t know if she’s gonna make it.”
“Where are you, sir?”
“I’m at the edge of the farm where it happen. I found her, but I was being chased by the attacker’s friends.”
“Is this the farm off Grangeville?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“We already received a call. Police and paramedics are on their way.”
“Really? Her attacker was Evan Glenn!”
“Evan Glenn? Sir, we have the name Mark Buckley as the suspect. Evan Glenn made the call. There are several witnesses. Including the victim. May I have your name, sir?”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”
Mark hung up the phone and sprinted into an adjacent field. He walked for hours taking fields and unlit back roads home. Red and blue lights flashed from his street. He peered down the street and saw three Hanford PD patrol cruisers outside his home.
He wandered the streets far from his house trying to figure out what to do. Another vision played through his head.
Luke and Josh ran up to the congregation engaged in prayer and song.
“It’s Ashley! Come help! Mark attacked her!” Luke shouted over the music.
The music slowed to a halt. Evan dropped his guitar and ran towards the field.
“He beat her half to death! We tried to stop him, but he ran off!” Josh said.
“I knew there was something up with him. He’s been acting weird all night! We should have thrown him out a long time ago!” Kristin said from the crowd.
Gasps and murmurs rolled through the congregation as Evan carried the girl’s broken body towards the stage. He set her down gently. The crowd gathered around to get a closer look. Her eyes were swollen shut. Blood crusted about her face.
Pastor Glenn knelt down before her.
“Who did this to you?”
Through uncontrollable sobs and shakes Ashley replied, “Mark.”
Evan stepped into the clearing where Ashley sat propped up on her arm. Her head was buried in her hand. She looked towards the sound of Evan stepping through the cornstalks.
“Please! Evan! No more. I’m going!”
“Shut up! Just listen whore. When you’re asked who did this, your going to tell everyone it was Mark. You understand me you little bitch? I swear, if you don’t follow along, I’ll kill your little sister in front of you. Got that?”
Ashley wept. Her body shook with fear. She nodded.
Mark wasn’t going to get any help. Not from the police. Not from his parents. Not from anyone in his church. If the police found him, he was going to be locked up for a long time.
He slipped back into the shadows. If he was going to get out of this, he would need to find proof of the video Evan and his dad had made of Ashley’s rape.
It was 10:30 p.m. There was a good chance that the church would still be at the Hallelujah Harvest Festival holding an impromptu service for Nick and Ashley. Mark would break into Glenn’s home and find the video.
The pastor’s home was only a ten minute walk away from Mark’s house. The large brick home was tucked away in the corner of a quiet neighborhood. The trick-or-treaters had long since returned home with their families to enjoy a late night of candy consumption before going to bed.
Mark scaled the fence behind the house and made his way to the sliding glass door. It was unlocked! He slipped in closing the door behind him. Inside was a gaudy collection of floral print and country farm living – a wholesome choice in Christian interior design.
He had been in their home before, as a guest of Evan, and was still familiar with the place. He rummaged through Evan’s room. Then he went to the pastor’s room. He found nothing. No computers, cell phones, or tablets.
Walking down the hall and came across one room he was never allowed in. The pastor’s study. He tried the door. It was locked.
“Fuck it.” Mark said and kicked the door. After two well placed kicks he was in.
A bare bulb hung from the ceiling in the center of the room. The rug had been pulled up leaving only a concrete slab behind. The walls were made of white washed cinderblock. A length of chain, ending in two sets of shackles, had been bolted into the cement floor. On the far side of the wall a statue sat on a wooden altar surrounded by candles.
The statue was humanoid in shape. Two horns, like that of a gazelle, protruded over a single eye on the otherwise featureless face. Its arms were unnaturally long ending in alien hands. One arm was positioned over the idol’s heart while the other was held outstretched towards heaven.
It was adorned in a robe reminiscent to that of Jesus. The thing itself seemed to be a mockery of Christ. Four tentacles slipped out from beneath the robes and wrapped around the altar. A shiver rode the length of Mark’s spine as he stared at the thing.
A small desk with a laptop computer sat in the corner of the room alongside a video camera and a tray of pills. He walked over to the laptop and swiped a finger over the mouse pad. It powered to life. On the screen was a paused video. The frame showed an unconscious and naked Ashley chained to the floor. Evan crouched behind her, holding her head up for the camera by her hair. He, too, was nude. A wicked grin cut across his face.
He sat down and saved the file to the desktop before opening his email on the internet browser and sending the file to himself. He found everything he needed. All he had to do was get out.
He hesitated when he saw the thumb drive sticking out of the laptop’s USB port. He opened the drive on the computer and found several videos. He selected one, opened, and gasp at what played.
It was Rose, Nick and Miriam’s ten year old daughter. She was unconscious and chained to the floor. Pastor Glenn was having his way with her as Nick and Miriam laughed and talked in the background of the video.
The pastor was chanting in a language Mark didn’t recognize. The camera panned up to the altar. The idol was cast in the soft glow of lit candles. The girl’s clothes were folded and neatly placed at the feet of the thing.
Mark stopped the video. He couldn’t stomach it. The complacency of Rose’s parents, the sadistic glee in the pastor’s face as he chanted, the idol – the thing staring over it all. He pulled out the thumb drive and pocketed it.
He closed the door to the study as best he could despite the damage, and slipped out the back. He kept close to the shadows intending not to be caught by the police, or anyone from his church.
Another twenty minute walk brought him to Jack’s house. Jack was a longtime friend from school. If anyone could help him it would be Jack. He knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again. Still no answer.
Mark walked around to the back of Jack’s house and knocked at his window. Still no answer. He took the thumb drive from his pocket and set it on Jack’s window sill and left.
He walked down Eleventh Avenue. The stars had hidden themselves behind a thick blanket of heavy black clouds. A chill breeze nipped at his bones. Icy rain fell from the sky piercing into his skin. He could see his breath before him.
The hours flew by, already it was three in the morning. It had to be safe to go home now. He’d sneak in, sleep in the crawl space under his bed, and show his parents the video in the morning. They’d have to help him then.
No patrols car remained on his street. Only his parents’ car sat in the driveway. It was safe.
He slipped quietly through the front door. The lights were out throughout the house. His parents must have finally gone to bed. He walked down the hall, past the bathroom, and into his bedroom. He flicked on the lights and was startled to find Evan, the pastor, and Luke sitting on his bed.
His mother’s lifeless body laid at the foot of his bed. She had been stabbed multiple times. Blood pooled all around her.
“O-officer,” the pastor began, “Mark’s parents called us. Said he had returned home. Was talking crazy. When we got here, he had stabbed his parents to death. He attacked us and we had no choice.”
The three laughed. Their eyes never left Mark.
“Hope you don’t mind. We decided to wait for you after the police left.” Evan said.
A sharp pain cut into Mark’s lower back. A thick meaty hand grabbed him around the throat and spun him around. It was Josh wielding a kitchen knife. The blade sunk deep into Mark’s belly. Josh let go of the knife and spun Mark back to face the three on his bed.
Evan leapt off the bed, pulled the knife from his belly, and stabbed him in the eye. Then in the neck. Then in the face. In the chest. Over and over Evan stabbed Mark as everyone in the room cackled and cheered him on.
He sunk to the floor. The world spun and darkened. The last thing Mark saw were those damn Calvary Hill shoes being kicked in his face.
“A police raid of the Calvary Hill Christian Church pastor’s home came a week after his son killed a member of their congregation in self defense. Evidence discovered indicates self defense may not have been the case at all.
“Three hard drives were recovered revealing a dark and twisted underbelly of the church as video found suggests the pastor, his family, and many officials in the church had been conducting occult and ritualistic sexual abuse on children.
“The discovery came after a friend of the young man who had been killed by Evan Glenn discovered a thumb drive left at his window containing disturbing videos of the occult practice.
“More at eleven.
This is Julia Faye with Action 55 News.”