My name is Anita. I’m 23 years old and have spent my entire life in the Family.

I’m writing this in remembrance of Angela Smith, as I knew her very well. I was shocked to hear of how her life ended, and spent many hours in grief over this tragedy. That some would try to exploit it and turn things around so that she is no longer viewed as the victim is beyond me. I would imagine such people have never lost someone they loved under such circumstances otherwise they wouldn’t respond in such a callous manner.

I first met Angela when I was around eight or nine years old. One thing that clearly impressed me about her was that whenever she had to talk to me about something I had done wrong, she managed to do it in such a sweet and even funny way that I was left with a smile on my face. As a sensitive child that usually burst into tears when corrected I really appreciated that about her.

I saw Angela again when I was 15 years old. We had just made a big move that involved leaving behind the friends I’d known for most of my life. I was shy and insecure and spent many hours missing my friends and feeling like I didn’t fit in where we now lived.

Angela was one of the few people I counted as a close friend during the two years that followed. Yes, there was an age difference, but it didn’t seem to matter. As those who knew her can testify she was very youthful in spirit and could relate to people of all ages.

My parents asked her to teach me Spanish, and for a year we had weekly lessons together. More important than the Spanish I learned, which I’ve now forgotten, were the talks that came afterwards. As we got to know each other better we shared our thoughts, ideas, and plans, like any close friends.

As I struggled to find my place and deal with the turbulent emotions that come from being a teenager I always knew that Angela was someone I could go to, to talk things out and feel loved and understood. Although I didn’t keep in close contact with her after I left home and she also moved, her death hit me very hard – not only because she was gone, but also because I can understand how she could have easily viewed Ricky as an old friend and wanted to renew acquaintance with him, much as I would imagine meeting her again were I to have had the opportunity. She was that sort of person, very loving and very positive.

When something so shocking happens people will inevitably search for a reason why and a place to put the blame. For those who don’t have all the facts it could be easy to blame Ricky’s actions on his upbringing or his time in our group. As I had a similar upbringing to Ricky, having spent the first 15 years of my life in World Services and living in many of the same countries as him, I would like to share my thoughts on the matter, to hopefully shed some light on the situation.

I have never regretted being raised in WS. In fact, in looking back, I can see how it was one of the biggest blessings in my life. I was raised in a very loving and safe environment. I had people who devoted their lives to caring for me and the other children in our community. They put a lot of time and effort into ensuring that we had the best upbringing possible. When I grew older, in addition to my scholastics, I was given two days a week of pure “vocational training” with people who were very good in their field.

I learned about secretarial work, typing, editing, layout, and computer graphics. Someone taught me sewing and I made some of my own clothes and sewed curtains for our house. I was taught a college level art course by one of our professional artists. I was interested in early learning and baby care and was given the opportunity to learn about it through hands on interaction with the babies and young children in our home. When I later felt a need to document my education I took the GED test and passed with high markings in every subject.

I also feel very happy and fulfilled in my work as an adult in the Family. I’m involved in many aspects of our work and home life: teaching the children and young people in our home, cooking and other home care, regular outreach activities, and weekly English teaching at a school for physically disabled children.

I have met Ricky on several occasions. He and his sister came to stay with us for a time when I was young. Ricky was many years older than I so consequently I didn’t get to know him very well. His sister was closer in age and soon became a very good friend. Even after Ricky returned to his parents she came to live with us for a year or so.
I never once heard her complain about her mother or have anything other than good to say about her. Usually teenagers, no matter how much they love their parents, will have a tough time getting along. She never spoke of that. Neither did she complain about her childhood or ever show any signs of the kind of discontent that I have heard he’s spoken of.

I don’t entirely understand how someone can turn from being a happy, kind and amicable person to one so filled with hatred and bitterness they would commit such an act of violence. I know there are others who have taken on this outlook, and are already attempting to use this to their advantage. However such a circle of disgruntled individuals, to my knowledge, is fairly small although vocal in their accusations.

For those tempted to listen to them and put stock in what they’re saying I would advise you to take into careful consideration the opinions and thoughts of the countless young people who have remained in the Family, as well as those of the ones who have left and successfully moved on with their lives. Only then can you make a well-rounded judgment on life within our group.