Witness to the truth
Giving voice to the voiceless, hope to the hopeless
Last updated 11/14/2016 at 4:55pm
I was born on a reservation in Arizona and I'm now in my mid-fifties. I'm pretty much a loner and stick to myself and that's the way I've been for most of my life.
One day while walking home from school when I was in second grade, I noticed a man standing at the side of the road with a burlap bag. As I was passing him, he asked me if I could help him take some trash from the back of his truck down to the basement of the Roman Catholic Church on our reservation. After we got the trash delivered to the back of the church basement, he locked the church doors and then started touching me a...
For access to this article please sign in or subscribe.