My name is Mercy Robb. I am nearly 24. I have lived in the Family International all my life. I have lived a life filled with love, care, stability, superior schooling, superior training in service to mankind–a life free from violence and any and all forms of abuse.

I’m sitting here listening to the children I live with, love, care for and teach, (who happen to be my own nieces and nephews) laughing as they play in the garden with their “auntie” (one of the members of our home), as she is affectionately called. I see them run to their parents’ arms as they walk in the door telling them the events of their day. My 4-year-old nephew excitedly “reminds” his mom that he just started 1st grade. This is just another normal evening in this wonderful place I call home.

I have somewhat to say about my feelings triggered by the tragic deaths of Ricky and Angela. It was an unexpected event that had me in shock and dazed for a couple days. An act such as this goes against everything I’ve ever known in my missionary life. To even imagine such an act of violence is difficult and disturbing for me. What breaks my heart more is the way the media is taking the distortions, exaggerations, half-truths and outright lies—words from our apostates who are verbally degrading the life I live and love—and putting it out before the public as though it were well-rounded and unbiased facts and information. The reason this particularly disturbs me, which is also the reason I am compelled to write this, is because it brings back memories of a time when, as a child, I was a victim of such media slander and lies.

I was living in Argentina in 1993 when many of the same accusations and lies that are being told about us now were fed to the media by some of our antagonistic and bitter former members. They were broadcasted and the repercussions were that the authorities and police raided my home—our Family community. They entered my house at 3 a.m. on the 10th of September, and broke up my home, my family and my life. Amidst the confusion of those pre-dawn hours, they told me they just needed to take my friends and me (the other children in our community) in for questioning and we would come home that night where my parents would be waiting to receive us. (The first of many lies I was told by the police and government workers!)

I’ll never forget as I drove away on that bus with children of all ages holding my then 6-year-old sister as she wept for her mother and I tried to be strong and comfort her through my own tears. We all sang songs together until we arrived at our destination, only to be told by my “rescuers” that my mom and dad were taken to prison and we’d be spending time in our new “home” for an undetermined amount of time. (For most children it was three months, but my brother, sisters and I, thankfully, were released earlier–in two).

Our “place of refuge” was an old convent with moldy peeling walls, creepy corridors, two huge freezing rooms with no heaters for all to sleep in, and for part of the time we only had one bathroom for men, women, children, boys, and girls to use. Neither of which I could ever get used to. Never had I lived in such degrading conditions as these up until that time or since that time. We hardly had any clothes at all because we were only allowed to bring a very small bag. (They told us we’d only need enough clothing for one day). The guard who went through my bag even took my underwear, toothbrush and hairbrush out!

One day some trucks arrived with our belongings. In the trucks were huge sheets with piles of clothes inside from all the different communities in our area. (Mine was not the only home that was raided) All our belongings were dumped onto the floor where we spent the rest of the afternoon and evening sorting through piles and piles of clothing searching for our belongings. It was a sight I’ll never forget.

By the time we were there a couple of weeks we were so infested with lice. Some nights I couldn’t sleep from all the itching. I would catch them crawling all over my friend’s head or up my sweater.

Thank God kids have a knack for taking things in stride, because as I look back, I am disgusted and horrified with the environment I was placed in and the “care” I was given and can’t even believe someone would consider those “living conditions”, especially compared to the way I’ve been raised and the homes I’ve lived in my whole life.

I love my parents. I admire them for the way they raised 7 children living by faith. We’ve had a life filled with love, happy memories and best of all the richness of knowing we were doing something to help others. I wouldn’t trade my life and the happiness I’ve had in The Family for anything. I consider my Mom and Dad the greatest parents anyone could wish for. I thank God and I thank them for raising me in such a healthy, God-fearing, violence-free, loving, environment.

The thing that impacted me the most was being taken from my parent’s care and then seeing them put in prison and the experience of having to go to those horrible prisons just to see them. I had to go through awful things just to be able to see my mom and dad, but even then it was what I looked forward to all week long simply because it meant I could spend an hour (or two at most) with them. Those visits were filled with a mixture of tears and smiles as we talked about our week, prayed and tried to strengthen each other and hold on to our faith and then more tears as we were pulled away week after week once again and taken back to the reality of our grungy, freezing, living conditions. Our hearts would break again and again each time.

It’s just obscene to think that they claimed to be saving me from abuse when in reality the only abuse I ever experienced was during those two months living in that institution. In the midst of all this emotional torture and turmoil it was infuriating to learn that all of this came about because my parents were being accused of being child abusers. It was so far from the truth, in fact the exact opposite—a blatant lie. Anyone who would have taken a look at our lives would’ve known that.

We were forced into very humiliating and degrading physical examinations. Being just a young girl, this was something that affected me greatly and changed my outlook on doctors in general, causing me to fear them rather than trust and respect them, as my parents had always taught me. It was only through the nurture and love my parents showed me that I was able to overcome this. Although in my personal case, the women did the actual physical examination, several men roamed freely in, out, and about the room and would come over to see how things were developing. I watched child after child come out of the examination rooms crying, humiliated, and I imagine feeling the same way I did. We had to take psychological tests as well and all this under extremely unfamiliar, emotionally and physically straining conditions. The result of the examinations showed no abuse or mental instability whatsoever.

I am not even going into detail about when I was sick and didn’t receive medical attention, or how they tried falsifying some of our psychological tests, the illegal blood tests that my brother and sisters and I were obligated to take. (They showed us papers with the forged signatures of our parents giving their supposed permission), seeing my dad on TV in handcuffs being shoved around by police officers or reading the lies told about him in the newspaper, or just the fact that I was lied to over and over by people I had once believed were there for my good and protection. I had many fears to overcome from my time in institutions and visiting my parents in prisons often. Everything I experienced during that time was so contrary to the life I had lived up until then and goes against everything I live today.

What I don’t get is this: In ‘93 I was supposedly the victim of abuse, but now that I’m over 21 and have decided to stay with the Family suddenly I am the abuser and find myself accused of many of the same charges my parents were accused of?? How does that work? Today I take care of children; I teach them and love them as my own. My life is lived to make sure they have every need met, mentally, physically, scholastically, socially, spiritually and emotionally. They suffer no abuse, just as I did not suffer any.

I truly believe the passage in the Bible that reads “And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God.” (Rom. 8:28) I love Jesus and I know He has always had His loving hand in my life. I am in this Family simply because I felt His call in my heart and I couldn’t say “no” to Him. I know that we all pass through difficult times in our lives, which must be overcome. I believe every human at some point in his life will suffer loss or heartbreak of some kind which—if we allow it to—can in turn help us to better understand the heart of another, as I have found to be true in my personal life. Though I wish I hadn’t had to go through those experiences when I was taken from my home and from the family I love, I believe God is a loving God and His ways are loving ways. It’s only when men forget God and turn away from him that they begin to succumb to unimaginable evils. I am thankful I have been able to move on and forgive those whom I felt wronged me.

In conclusion I just want to say this: In my life, one thing I have learned is the power that lies in the words we speak. Twelve years ago the words of hate and revenge of some vocal and embittered apostates (and the broadcasting of those words by the media) caused my life and the lives of many of my loved ones to be broken up. I ask myself today, were these same words of hate and bitterness the ones that finally drove Ricky to such evils and to the insanity of taking his own life and the life of another? Will you allow these words of hate and bitterness to spread further carrying their deadly effect with them?

I pray someone out there is truly sincerely searching for the words of truth. Please realize that through the words you allow to be published you could be the cause of more children going through the same things I had to go through. The children I live with are happy, well adjusted, intelligent, and nothing would hurt them more than to be ripped from their parents loving care, or to have to experience something like what I experienced in Argentina. If you want the truth behind the stories being flung about by a soured vocal minority, it’s not hidden. Perhaps the truth is not quite as juicy as the tales some of our apostates are telling or as good for ratings, but at least give us a fair chance to speak our piece. You have responsibility for the lives you affect through what you say or write. “For by thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned.” (Mathew 12:37 KJV)

Mercy Robb is a second-generation member of The Family International