Survivors speak out about the abuse they endured at multiple Kentucky juvenile facilities.
Carl Sanderlin
(Green River Boys Camp 1979-1980)
"My name is Carl Sanderlin. I was in Green River Boys Camp. I was there from late 1979 to either late May or early June of 1980. I was abused from the time I set foot through the camp administration doors. Had my street clothes brutally removed, and my head shaved as well as my face. At that time as a teen, I didn't have a hair on my face, yet had to shave every day anyways. All through the intake process, I was yelled and screamed at and spit on like I was garbage. The camp counselor were consistently instigating the group members like it was all pre orchestrated. At that point, I really felt I was in a nightmare and couldn't wake up. Because, if and when I did, it all started again. When I did sleep, my eyes were closed, but I wasn't asleep. The horrible screaming and abuse started all over again. If this was treatment then I would have rather done my time in jail! Had my hands crushed by a large log in the log woods and received no medical attention. I was told to just put my hands back on the saw. The group leader, Mr. Madsen instructed the group to assist me in keeping my hands on the saw. This was a practice that followed in the months to come with no change. They wouldn't even allow me an aspirin, or anything for the pain. At one point, they wrapped my hands in gauze and put my gloves on over it and told me to carry on. It's really difficult to relive my experience at this horrible place, but it's permantly embedded in my mind. I have suffered with the pain in my hands all of my working career because of the abuse I received at Green River. To this day, I place blame on the Commonwealth of Kentucky and hold no I'll will towards my group members, knowing they were being told what to do by the staff there. I don't know if time has changed the practices used there today, but in my day, they were brutal! I know I could never go through that again, or wish the abuse on anyone! If anyone is still in a camp such as this today, I'd recommend real close scrutiny. You're kids today could be living in the same conditions."
(Green River Boys Camp 1979-1980)
"My name is Carl Sanderlin. I was in Green River Boys Camp. I was there from late 1979 to either late May or early June of 1980. I was abused from the time I set foot through the camp administration doors. Had my street clothes brutally removed, and my head shaved as well as my face. At that time as a teen, I didn't have a hair on my face, yet had to shave every day anyways. All through the intake process, I was yelled and screamed at and spit on like I was garbage. The camp counselor were consistently instigating the group members like it was all pre orchestrated. At that point, I really felt I was in a nightmare and couldn't wake up. Because, if and when I did, it all started again. When I did sleep, my eyes were closed, but I wasn't asleep. The horrible screaming and abuse started all over again. If this was treatment then I would have rather done my time in jail! Had my hands crushed by a large log in the log woods and received no medical attention. I was told to just put my hands back on the saw. The group leader, Mr. Madsen instructed the group to assist me in keeping my hands on the saw. This was a practice that followed in the months to come with no change. They wouldn't even allow me an aspirin, or anything for the pain. At one point, they wrapped my hands in gauze and put my gloves on over it and told me to carry on. It's really difficult to relive my experience at this horrible place, but it's permantly embedded in my mind. I have suffered with the pain in my hands all of my working career because of the abuse I received at Green River. To this day, I place blame on the Commonwealth of Kentucky and hold no I'll will towards my group members, knowing they were being told what to do by the staff there. I don't know if time has changed the practices used there today, but in my day, they were brutal! I know I could never go through that again, or wish the abuse on anyone! If anyone is still in a camp such as this today, I'd recommend real close scrutiny. You're kids today could be living in the same conditions."
Arlin Gilpin
(Crittendon, Lake Cumberland and Woodsbend Boys Camps) "I was in Lake Cumberland boys camp where the staff let other camp members beat the hell out of you,went to Crittendon boys camp first where a staff member beat the shit outta me with a baseball bat.Then i was sent to Woodsbend boys camp where the camp members and staff got to beat an torture the hell out of guys with the 3 years i spent in the camps the only thing i came out with was more hate an how to fight 7 or 8 guys to survive ." |
Rachel Armes-Deweese
(Ramey Estep Homes / Boot Camp) "I am female but I was in Ramey Estep formerly known as Hack I think. The place was awful. I dont even want to talk about it. I would not with any child to be put there or any of Kentucky's programs. I saw and went through so much horrible stuff in state care. Thank you for caring enough to create this page." |
Mandel Crittendon
(Green River Boys Camp)
"In 1974, I was 14 years old when I was sent to Green River Boys Camp. As soon as we arrived, A-Group came running to the car shouting "You thinking AWOL?" as they were jerking me from the vehicle. I had no clue what they were talking about, so I replied "no". To my reply, they responded with "Bullshit!"
All of this shouting continued as we were scurried to the Clothes Room, where my clothing was ripped off of me and I was issued state uniforms. Then they rushed me to the Tool Room to give me a GI haircut. They never stopped shouting "You thinking AWOL?", and "You think you're cool?", "You ain't cool!" etc. This was horrifying, but there was much worse ahead. The first night they asked me about the crimes I had committed.
Because I didn't know what they were referring to, they 'grouped' on me. Grouping is twelve to fifteen members standing around you in a circle and screaming things like "fess up" meaning to confess to something or confess that something is bothering you. Nothing was bothering me, nor did I have anything to confess. The counselor had my group take me to the shower. They forced me to scrub the floor tiles a wood handled scrub brush in each hand. As I was made to scrub using both hands, group members had their feet pressed against my behind, making sure that all my weight was pressed onto my arms. As a young boy, having never done anything like this, I could only support my weight for a few minutes & needless to say how much pain I was in at this point. When I couldn't hold myself up any longer, the group members took turns holding me up by my shirt collar, which made breathing extremely difficult. This torture went on for about two hours! I begged them to stop asking what they thought I had done. I told them I was hot and could not breathe. The Counselor then ordered the group to cool me off and they proceeded to throw buckets of cold water on me. This continued for still another hour before the Counselor told the group to ask me if Gary and I broke into a church. I answered "yes" hoping to end the torture. They had me confess to several things that I hadn"t done. At about two AM, they finally stopped, and gave me some dry clothes for bed. I believe this incident was the closest I've ever been to death. I couldn't get out of bed for two days; for them not to make me get up reveals how bad off I was.
It didn't take me long for me to figure out why Gary had lied about breaking into the places he confessed to. I learned that the purpose for grouping was to inflict enough pain on us to pressure us to confess to something we had done wrong, or something that had been done to us, even if we had to make something up. For example, grinning or smiling was a sign that we were thinking mischief? If we were caught smiling, a group member would be required to point us out, and then we were to tell the group why we smiled. We weren't allowed to say we were smiling because we were thinking of something positive, we had to say we were thinking of something negative, like "I was physically abused by my father," or "I sexually abused my sister," or something else radical. The whole process was insane. Since most boys that age don"t have experiences of this sort, we had to make up things with nothing real to confess. And then we played hell to remember the many lies because we had to exchange life stories with every group member. One around midnight, when we got out of big group (group with our Counselor; little group was having group without our Counselor), our Counselor, Mr. Courtney told us to go get Curtis in C-Group out of bed and find out why he wanted to get my brother to sell drugs for him. Curtis didn't even know my brother or me as he was from East Kentucky and we were from West Kentucky. But Gary had been caught smiling and told his group the reason he smiled was because he was feeling bad about Curtis and him going to solicit my brother to be a drug dealer. Unfortunately, Curtis was unaware of this diabolical lie.
Anyhow, we have Curtis outside in his underwear after midnight scrubbing; asking him why he hated my brother with me knowing this was all a lie. I still had to act like I was furious at Curtis and Gary for wanting my brother to do such a thing, because if I hadn't acted upset, Mr. Courtney would tell the group to find out why I didn't care about my brother. We all had made-up stories ready to use for when we were grouped on. But if we someone else used us in their story, and we didn't know how to play along, we were screwed - just like I was my first night and like Curtis was this time. Finally after two hours, Mr. Courtney let us give Curtis enough information to allow Curtis to confess. Hence, Curtis then had to explain why he wanted to make my brother a drug dealer. After about three hours, Curtis confessed that his daddy used to beat him and because of that, he was feeling bad and that made him want to get my brother to sell drugs. Then we were allowed to release Curtis. As he stood up, the skin on his knees peeled off. After three hours of torturing Curtis for this story that any sane person would know was obviously made-up, we were allowed to turn him back over to his group. Yet, it wasn't over for either of us. He then was required to confess to his group why he wanted my brother to sell drugs, and I was required to express to my group how hurt I was that Curtis and Gary wanted to use my brother like that. This is the hell we had to endure every day, even up until three AM and getting up at 5:30 to start the next day. We were always treated as a group.
If on person did wrong, we were all punished. So we were all constantly punished since things little natural things such as smiling was considered wrong doing. The staff at Green River twisted their motives by claiming that we brought punishment on each other. This obviously was not true. We quickly learned that no matter what we did, the staff will always found a reason for us to torture someone daily. Most days, several group members were tortured with tactics such as thought previously mentioned. The second time I was tortured was because I had a toothache for approximately a week. It was abscessed and I was in severe pain before they had me seen by a dentist. He gave me Penicillin for the infection and Darvocet for the pain and told me to stay inside until returning to have my tooth pulled. That night in big group our Chaplin told the group to find out why I was manipulating the group by not working. Even though I informed them that the dentist had ordered me to stay in, the Chaplin insisted that the group find out why Mandel was manipulating the group, which started them to group on me, and force me to scrub the floor. When I could endure no longer, I tossed the brushes. This was a dumb move, since I already knew what would happen if I refuse to scrub; the group stands me up, bends me over to where my hands are a few inches from the floor, and someone holds my knees while others put there weight on your back. This caused severe pain in my legs in a matter of seconds as I begged to scrub, but the group held me in this position until the staff member was convinced that I was ready to scrub again. I have had pain in my legs ever since. I don't know what happened to my legs, but the pain has never gone away. It is very difficult to sleep, even today, because the pain is worse when I lie down. My second wife talked me into seeing a doctor in 1987 to see if he could find out why my legs were always in pain. The doctor asked if I had ever injured my legs. I told him no and I couldn't bring myself to tell him what had happened at Green River.
We were in school four hours a day, and worked another four hours of the day. I acknowledge that the teachers took no part in our torture as they seemed to be nice people. Daily, we each would retrieve a shovel, axe, and a pick from the Tool Room and then we walked about one and one half miles down River Road, where we dug up stumps. The stumps were previously dug around, causing the holes to be filled with ice and freezing cold water, since the temperature was below freezing. We stepped down into the icy water to dig up and chop the stump until it could be turned over and buried. This was my first day introduction to work at Green River. The group working beside us had a group member with a bloodied face tied to a tree. The forms of torture they had come up with were designed not to leave marks on us, although when a staff member was mad enough, marks didn't matter. On a particular day, E-Group made the mistake of permitting visitors to see some of what was really going on. As they burst through the door, Raymond Berry's shirt was torn open revealing his black and blue left side as many ribs must have been broken. At first, I was thankful that our parents saw this, but when they turned back around and I saw the horror in their eyes, I was truly sorry that they had witnessed this. Later, when Raymond went AWOL and the cops pursued him, he drove his stolen car into a river and drowned. It was common knowledge that he committed suicide since he drove the car into the river when he saw the police approaching him. He probably had no desire for further help after experiencing the help tactics of the Green River staff. At the time, I didn't feel sorry for him. I believed he was better off because he had been grouped on for weeks and death seemed so much better then the torment he would have encountered if he had been sequestered.
One person I've corresponded with has suggested that by making us participate in torturing others, we became too ashamed to talk about it. I don't know why it is so difficult for me to talk about it. I have been silent except for one incident I told my second wife in 1985 when my brother died from cancer. Afterwards, I started thinking of Larry Rittenour, another boy that went AWOL during my stay at Green River. The Superintendent had another camp member and me to torture him on the way back after he was found. The Superintendent, Mr. Thompson, instructed us to find out why Larry went AWOL. Larry responded that his sister was dying of cancer and that he wanted to see her. The pain in his eyes and his tears made it obvious that he was telling the truth, but Mr. Thompson had us to beat him all the way back to camp. After all these years, I have never gotten Larry's pain out of my mind. By 1992, I was having nightmares and flashbacks of Green River. Many children don't survive these behavior medication camps as is exposed by web sites such as ParentAdvocates.org or Coalition against Institutionalized Child Abuse. But for those of us that do survive, we never become normal mature adults, for a part of us will always be those little helpless children being tortured. Death seems our only escape...
After all these years, I still live in the reality of yesterday, and cannot understand why this country carelessly continues to allow children's lives to be permanently damaged? Mandel Crittendon"
(Green River Boys Camp)
"In 1974, I was 14 years old when I was sent to Green River Boys Camp. As soon as we arrived, A-Group came running to the car shouting "You thinking AWOL?" as they were jerking me from the vehicle. I had no clue what they were talking about, so I replied "no". To my reply, they responded with "Bullshit!"
All of this shouting continued as we were scurried to the Clothes Room, where my clothing was ripped off of me and I was issued state uniforms. Then they rushed me to the Tool Room to give me a GI haircut. They never stopped shouting "You thinking AWOL?", and "You think you're cool?", "You ain't cool!" etc. This was horrifying, but there was much worse ahead. The first night they asked me about the crimes I had committed.
Because I didn't know what they were referring to, they 'grouped' on me. Grouping is twelve to fifteen members standing around you in a circle and screaming things like "fess up" meaning to confess to something or confess that something is bothering you. Nothing was bothering me, nor did I have anything to confess. The counselor had my group take me to the shower. They forced me to scrub the floor tiles a wood handled scrub brush in each hand. As I was made to scrub using both hands, group members had their feet pressed against my behind, making sure that all my weight was pressed onto my arms. As a young boy, having never done anything like this, I could only support my weight for a few minutes & needless to say how much pain I was in at this point. When I couldn't hold myself up any longer, the group members took turns holding me up by my shirt collar, which made breathing extremely difficult. This torture went on for about two hours! I begged them to stop asking what they thought I had done. I told them I was hot and could not breathe. The Counselor then ordered the group to cool me off and they proceeded to throw buckets of cold water on me. This continued for still another hour before the Counselor told the group to ask me if Gary and I broke into a church. I answered "yes" hoping to end the torture. They had me confess to several things that I hadn"t done. At about two AM, they finally stopped, and gave me some dry clothes for bed. I believe this incident was the closest I've ever been to death. I couldn't get out of bed for two days; for them not to make me get up reveals how bad off I was.
It didn't take me long for me to figure out why Gary had lied about breaking into the places he confessed to. I learned that the purpose for grouping was to inflict enough pain on us to pressure us to confess to something we had done wrong, or something that had been done to us, even if we had to make something up. For example, grinning or smiling was a sign that we were thinking mischief? If we were caught smiling, a group member would be required to point us out, and then we were to tell the group why we smiled. We weren't allowed to say we were smiling because we were thinking of something positive, we had to say we were thinking of something negative, like "I was physically abused by my father," or "I sexually abused my sister," or something else radical. The whole process was insane. Since most boys that age don"t have experiences of this sort, we had to make up things with nothing real to confess. And then we played hell to remember the many lies because we had to exchange life stories with every group member. One around midnight, when we got out of big group (group with our Counselor; little group was having group without our Counselor), our Counselor, Mr. Courtney told us to go get Curtis in C-Group out of bed and find out why he wanted to get my brother to sell drugs for him. Curtis didn't even know my brother or me as he was from East Kentucky and we were from West Kentucky. But Gary had been caught smiling and told his group the reason he smiled was because he was feeling bad about Curtis and him going to solicit my brother to be a drug dealer. Unfortunately, Curtis was unaware of this diabolical lie.
Anyhow, we have Curtis outside in his underwear after midnight scrubbing; asking him why he hated my brother with me knowing this was all a lie. I still had to act like I was furious at Curtis and Gary for wanting my brother to do such a thing, because if I hadn't acted upset, Mr. Courtney would tell the group to find out why I didn't care about my brother. We all had made-up stories ready to use for when we were grouped on. But if we someone else used us in their story, and we didn't know how to play along, we were screwed - just like I was my first night and like Curtis was this time. Finally after two hours, Mr. Courtney let us give Curtis enough information to allow Curtis to confess. Hence, Curtis then had to explain why he wanted to make my brother a drug dealer. After about three hours, Curtis confessed that his daddy used to beat him and because of that, he was feeling bad and that made him want to get my brother to sell drugs. Then we were allowed to release Curtis. As he stood up, the skin on his knees peeled off. After three hours of torturing Curtis for this story that any sane person would know was obviously made-up, we were allowed to turn him back over to his group. Yet, it wasn't over for either of us. He then was required to confess to his group why he wanted my brother to sell drugs, and I was required to express to my group how hurt I was that Curtis and Gary wanted to use my brother like that. This is the hell we had to endure every day, even up until three AM and getting up at 5:30 to start the next day. We were always treated as a group.
If on person did wrong, we were all punished. So we were all constantly punished since things little natural things such as smiling was considered wrong doing. The staff at Green River twisted their motives by claiming that we brought punishment on each other. This obviously was not true. We quickly learned that no matter what we did, the staff will always found a reason for us to torture someone daily. Most days, several group members were tortured with tactics such as thought previously mentioned. The second time I was tortured was because I had a toothache for approximately a week. It was abscessed and I was in severe pain before they had me seen by a dentist. He gave me Penicillin for the infection and Darvocet for the pain and told me to stay inside until returning to have my tooth pulled. That night in big group our Chaplin told the group to find out why I was manipulating the group by not working. Even though I informed them that the dentist had ordered me to stay in, the Chaplin insisted that the group find out why Mandel was manipulating the group, which started them to group on me, and force me to scrub the floor. When I could endure no longer, I tossed the brushes. This was a dumb move, since I already knew what would happen if I refuse to scrub; the group stands me up, bends me over to where my hands are a few inches from the floor, and someone holds my knees while others put there weight on your back. This caused severe pain in my legs in a matter of seconds as I begged to scrub, but the group held me in this position until the staff member was convinced that I was ready to scrub again. I have had pain in my legs ever since. I don't know what happened to my legs, but the pain has never gone away. It is very difficult to sleep, even today, because the pain is worse when I lie down. My second wife talked me into seeing a doctor in 1987 to see if he could find out why my legs were always in pain. The doctor asked if I had ever injured my legs. I told him no and I couldn't bring myself to tell him what had happened at Green River.
We were in school four hours a day, and worked another four hours of the day. I acknowledge that the teachers took no part in our torture as they seemed to be nice people. Daily, we each would retrieve a shovel, axe, and a pick from the Tool Room and then we walked about one and one half miles down River Road, where we dug up stumps. The stumps were previously dug around, causing the holes to be filled with ice and freezing cold water, since the temperature was below freezing. We stepped down into the icy water to dig up and chop the stump until it could be turned over and buried. This was my first day introduction to work at Green River. The group working beside us had a group member with a bloodied face tied to a tree. The forms of torture they had come up with were designed not to leave marks on us, although when a staff member was mad enough, marks didn't matter. On a particular day, E-Group made the mistake of permitting visitors to see some of what was really going on. As they burst through the door, Raymond Berry's shirt was torn open revealing his black and blue left side as many ribs must have been broken. At first, I was thankful that our parents saw this, but when they turned back around and I saw the horror in their eyes, I was truly sorry that they had witnessed this. Later, when Raymond went AWOL and the cops pursued him, he drove his stolen car into a river and drowned. It was common knowledge that he committed suicide since he drove the car into the river when he saw the police approaching him. He probably had no desire for further help after experiencing the help tactics of the Green River staff. At the time, I didn't feel sorry for him. I believed he was better off because he had been grouped on for weeks and death seemed so much better then the torment he would have encountered if he had been sequestered.
One person I've corresponded with has suggested that by making us participate in torturing others, we became too ashamed to talk about it. I don't know why it is so difficult for me to talk about it. I have been silent except for one incident I told my second wife in 1985 when my brother died from cancer. Afterwards, I started thinking of Larry Rittenour, another boy that went AWOL during my stay at Green River. The Superintendent had another camp member and me to torture him on the way back after he was found. The Superintendent, Mr. Thompson, instructed us to find out why Larry went AWOL. Larry responded that his sister was dying of cancer and that he wanted to see her. The pain in his eyes and his tears made it obvious that he was telling the truth, but Mr. Thompson had us to beat him all the way back to camp. After all these years, I have never gotten Larry's pain out of my mind. By 1992, I was having nightmares and flashbacks of Green River. Many children don't survive these behavior medication camps as is exposed by web sites such as ParentAdvocates.org or Coalition against Institutionalized Child Abuse. But for those of us that do survive, we never become normal mature adults, for a part of us will always be those little helpless children being tortured. Death seems our only escape...
After all these years, I still live in the reality of yesterday, and cannot understand why this country carelessly continues to allow children's lives to be permanently damaged? Mandel Crittendon"
Kirk Daniel
(Woodsbend Boys Camp 1979-1980)
My name is Kirk. I am a Woodsbend Boys Camp Survivor. I went to camp in October of 1979. I finally got out in July of 1980. I got sent to the camp for stealing a car. This among other things. I'll start off with what led me to this moment, and why I was in trouble to begin with. From the moment I was born, i was raised a Jehovah's Witness. I will not bore anyone with talks of religion. Everyone has their own outlook on what they believe. My point is this, I was raised with the belief that the world was going to come to an end in a battle called Armageddon. According to this religion, their closes guess was that the world would be wiped out in approximately 1975. If it didn't happen then, it would be near that date. I truly believed in what my mother told me was true. I realized that to be offered a gift of life forever on a paradise setting, it required more then just showing up at church on Sunday and claiming you believe. This is where my whole life went the wrong direction. Even though I believed the religion to be true, the older I got, I knew I didn't want to, or felt I couldn't follow the rules. If I didn't follow them to a tee, my life was as good as over. Not wanting to be a hypocrite, I told my mother that I no longer wanted to go to church. I was told as long as I lived under her roof I would comply. So I left home. To know that Armageddon was coming, and anyone not complying was as good as dead, I decided to live my life as if it were the last day of my life. It was as if I had been told that I had terminal cancer and had moments to live. I ask anyone, if you were told by you're doctor that you had weeks to live, or days, would you run you're life the same way? Would you be worried about going to school, or work? No you wouldn't! I knew I'd never live long enough to get through high school, go to college, get married, have children, buy a house, get a career, just nothing! No future, but I had today, so I set off to do my own thing, to live for the day! This led to me and my cousin living on the streets, or at friends houses for a day, etc. It also led to us stealing some cars. Stole 2 cars and drove to Kentucky, where my cousins girlfriend made a claim she was pregnant, and needed him to come down. Neither of us had a license, and no car. Got caught in both cars, only weeks apart, by the same state police officer. My cousin and I were both clean freaks, and actually washed and waxed the first car before we were caught. The owner was so happy to get his car back in perfect condition that he didn't press charges. Neither did the second owner. Both cars had been taken in Michigan. Next car we had, my cousin accidentally drove us off a cliff in eastern Kentucky, which almost killed us. We were hurt pretty bad. Now we had no car, and stole a car in Pikeville Ky. This was the first car we grabbed IN Kentucky so now they wanted to prosecute, and did. This sent me to Woodsbend and my cousin was sent to Green River. This is where our lives changed forever, and the reason for this post. From the moment I was picked up from the detention center by a staff member and two group members from Woodsbend, I was in for the time of my life! All the way to the camp, I was drilled by them, asking me questions about my crime, my life, and every time I answered, I didn't say yes sir, so my head was bounced off the back side window of the state car I was in. I was pushed and jerked on and screamed at repeatedly,not knowing who was to be called sir, or what rules I was to answer by. I had escaped from the Pikeville detention center, and so the staff member kept telling me I'll never get away from Woodsbend, no matter what I tried! In fact, later on in this saga, he pulled me out on the front porch at around one in the morning and stated, " It's just you and me now, go ahead and make a run for it." I'll get back to this later. From the moment they walked me into an office at Woodsbend, they seated me, and started asking questions. The superintendent was seated behind a large desk, and his feet were up on it, and he was leaning back looking smooth. I was flanked on either side of me by two staff members. I was asked questions. I was very nervous, and when I'd go to answer, I had a way of making a huh sound before a reply, which they obviously thought was like a laugh. At that point I was picked up and thrown into a wall, pulled up from the floor and slammed back into my seat like I was a rag doll! The superintendent, still looking cool as can be, soft spoken, never blinked, didn't twitch, still talking softly asked the question again. I guess I made the same nervous sound before answering because I was thrown into the opposite wall and slammed back into my chair again! This continued for some time. I was assigned to a group leader. At this point I'll omit names but will be brought out later, for legal purposes. I was then ran out to the tool shed where I was given army clothes to wear, my hair was cut off, and they beasted me out to the parking lot, pushing, shoving, and screaming into my ears to move around! This was my introduction to my new group of approximately 10 guys. My group was 4th meeting. It's dark out and they are shoving a guy around with his arms loaded full of cut sections of wood. He resembled a fork lift, tall, loaded down up past his face, and all but literally running with the wood and restacking it. I was screamed at and pushed to move him around!! I'm thinking, " Are you kidding me?" He's all but running, loaded down, I'm barely keeping up with him, and they want me to move him around. So in a half hearted attempt I say move around. They all grabbed hold of me and jerked me in every direction, tearing the clothes I just got, screaming directly into my ears as loud as possible. One guy yelled, move around you fucking asshole! At that point another group member pointed him out a problem which was " inconsiderate to others" and he told him to call group! I was lost on this. I felt like I was in the twilight zone for real! Later on, as time passed, I learned a lot. We were in groups of 8 to 12 members. They are you're group members, not you're friends! You are NEVER to be friends with them or you will be beat up. You had 3 steps to get in so you could go home, Life Story, Future Plans, and Groups Opinion. The staff made sure that no group member ever got friendly with one another, for good reason. As time passed, i realized that most of the staff members were all sadistic assholes that derived great pleasure in torturing juveniles! They loved it, lived for it, and needed it in their lives to feel superior and good about themselves! As long as no friendships occurred, all group members were basically the staffs patsies! The staff used all the group members to beat on each other all day long. The staff members would make up stories in their own minds regarding you, and would torture you until you confessed to what they were saying. They were crazy outlandish stories, yet, once they said you did it, didn't matter how nuts it sounded, you better fess up or you may die in one of their many ways of torture techniques. Found out later, death is not unheard of in this camp. There's still a cold case file on a guy that got hit in his head on the parking lot back in 1972. Three group members and two staff were charged, but with no convictions to date. That mans body was exhumed in 2012, to look for more evidpence of how he really died. The saga continues to this day. The many ways of torture at Woodsbend were many. It wasn't just pain. It was beyond what humans can withstand! The positions a person would be put in were beyond what the human body can do, unless you're a contortionist! Permanent damage did occur for many that were at that camp, including myself. They loved to make you scrub a parking lot. Not to clean anything, just to make you scream. They would have two guys sitting behind you on the ground, locking you're knee caps with their hands, well two others would bend you over, pushing on you're back, as two others grabbed you're arms and made you scrub with two large wooden handle scrub brushes with about an inch of bristles on them. Since I'm not one that can palm the ground, and have never been able to in life, this caused major issues! All the feeling would go out of my legs, going to sleep basically, then my ankles would buckle and fold over, then it felt like fire running up my back. It hurt so bad I'd scream and tell them stop, I can't take it anymore. They paid no attention at all. The staff and the group members would carry on, non stop, yelling and screaming at me to talk about my problem. None of the staff or group members are doctors. They have no sense of knowing when actual damage was occurring, and not a one cared. So it continued until they wanted to quit. That is why I call it torture. It caused permanent damage to my back. Not just mine either. I also ended up scrubbing the parking lot, in the snow even, for so many hours that it took all the skin off my knees, which I had to go to the hospital in West Liberty for. Other forms of torture was push up position for long periods at a time. Don't let you're back start to sag or you just might get kicked in you're ribs to get you're mind right! Carrying 5 gallon buckets of water out in the air like you're an airplane. Drop some of that water, or you're arms down and you got a nice ass kicking coming. Sawing wood with cross cut saws was their favorite. One man and two man saws. First they'd take you out to log woods, where you had to cut trees down with cross cuts and axes. No chain saws for us. Gotta make you work til you puke, and well you're puking. No time outs even we'll vomiting. Keep it moving, move around, hurry up, as you're being jerked on, punched, elbowed in the face and head, screamed at, and screaming at others all day long. Had to run through lots of streams and water, where after a time of having constantly wet feet, led to my toes webbing together like a duck. Had to be taken to the hospital for that as well. Load the log truck with trees, take them back to camp, unload into piles, all done by hand, no machinery used. Then cut logs up, split and bust stumps, etc. Then, if you weren't answering the staff like they want you too, they'd CAMP ON YOU. Got the whole camp of approximately 80 people to make you saw wood. If you refused to saw, they'd hold you're hands on the saw as they rocked you're body. Sounds easy. You should try it! At times, we were made to saw wood for every hour of the day and night, other then to eat and go to the bathroom. Sometimes you got no sleep at all. I was on the saw for about 40 hours with no sleep. I had more army clothes ripped off me then I can count! The collars had heavy cord in the neck. I finally started wearing the tan pants and shirts because they tore easier without digging into my neck as much. Sometimes they'd crank up a huge fire in the fire place, load you down in 4 or 5 sets of clothing, scrubbing the floors on you're hands and knees right in front of the fire to overheat you. This would go on for hours. Some passed out from heat exhaustion. They'd throw cold water on you to bring you around and have you continue. I could go on forever on the many ways of torture. You were watched well you sat on a toilet by a fellow group member. No doors on stalls. They wanted to make sure you didn't touch yourself. Had to shave every day, even if you had not a single hair on you're face. Road side was horrible. Using two sided swing blades, we were made to knock down every weed or long grass down the whole road from the camp to route 460. If you stopped swinging, even for a moment, they would come jerk you around, same old thing. The only thing that separated the camp from say Auschwitz concentration camp is that we were fed well. Other then that, same deal. We were rushed to eat, but it was good food. Made up stories by staff included things like this. They claimed my father was going to help me escape. Biggest joke ever since my father wanted me to do the right thing. Straighten out my life. He was not a believer of the religion my mother was into, so he saw a future for me. I got grouped on for a couple of days til I couldnt handle the pain anymore and confessed a blatant lie to just get some relief! Another group member was forced to confess that he only loved his mother, and would only have sex with his mother. No one else. I knew it was a lie, but until he confessed, he was tortured. This was repeated over and over on almost everyone at some point. Certain staff members would walk in the door to start their shift, and you could see the fear in the eyes of many of the group members. Certain staff members LIVED to come to work and torture us. They loved hurting people, and they seemed to know every way there was to inflict major pain and damage! These were sick individuals and my best guess is, they are still the same sick people they were way back then, unless they got major counseling! Brain washing took place daily. It was the staffs job to make you believe they were trying to help you with problems. They used all group members to do their dirty work. They used group members as if they were extra staff members. In this way, we could not unite, or rally against staff. No friends, no unity equals no mutiny! If you had a visit from you're family, a group member had to come with you. If you tried to show you're people any damage on you, or tell them you've been abused, the visit is over instantly and you're people would be escorted off the property. All letters had to be read by staff and mailed by them so nothing could be said to no outsiders. No cameras were in place. Nothing was being video taped, so no proof could be made against these sadistic people. Here's the problem, these staff members are still walking free to this day. I know because I checked. They are all getting old, and they have beaten the system. Until now!! I plan, with the help of any willing to come forward, to prosecute these men to the fullest extent of the law! There is no statue of limitations on child abuse and torture! Therefore, I will make them pay. If no one wants to help, I'll do it alone. No child should ever have to put up with this kind of treatment! You may be embarrassed by you're past. I get it! But, to not do anything is much worse then a little embarrassment. These men, at ANY of the camps in Kentucky should be held accountable! Please help make this happen. This post is here, and others are around as well, to bring awareness to this long over due issue! These camps are still running today. They may have cameras now, and staff will have to be more careful, but I guarantee you, abuse is still taking place! I'm asking for all others to come forward, write here, get in touch, and let's go make things right! It may just save a childs life down the road."
(Woodsbend Boys Camp 1979-1980)
My name is Kirk. I am a Woodsbend Boys Camp Survivor. I went to camp in October of 1979. I finally got out in July of 1980. I got sent to the camp for stealing a car. This among other things. I'll start off with what led me to this moment, and why I was in trouble to begin with. From the moment I was born, i was raised a Jehovah's Witness. I will not bore anyone with talks of religion. Everyone has their own outlook on what they believe. My point is this, I was raised with the belief that the world was going to come to an end in a battle called Armageddon. According to this religion, their closes guess was that the world would be wiped out in approximately 1975. If it didn't happen then, it would be near that date. I truly believed in what my mother told me was true. I realized that to be offered a gift of life forever on a paradise setting, it required more then just showing up at church on Sunday and claiming you believe. This is where my whole life went the wrong direction. Even though I believed the religion to be true, the older I got, I knew I didn't want to, or felt I couldn't follow the rules. If I didn't follow them to a tee, my life was as good as over. Not wanting to be a hypocrite, I told my mother that I no longer wanted to go to church. I was told as long as I lived under her roof I would comply. So I left home. To know that Armageddon was coming, and anyone not complying was as good as dead, I decided to live my life as if it were the last day of my life. It was as if I had been told that I had terminal cancer and had moments to live. I ask anyone, if you were told by you're doctor that you had weeks to live, or days, would you run you're life the same way? Would you be worried about going to school, or work? No you wouldn't! I knew I'd never live long enough to get through high school, go to college, get married, have children, buy a house, get a career, just nothing! No future, but I had today, so I set off to do my own thing, to live for the day! This led to me and my cousin living on the streets, or at friends houses for a day, etc. It also led to us stealing some cars. Stole 2 cars and drove to Kentucky, where my cousins girlfriend made a claim she was pregnant, and needed him to come down. Neither of us had a license, and no car. Got caught in both cars, only weeks apart, by the same state police officer. My cousin and I were both clean freaks, and actually washed and waxed the first car before we were caught. The owner was so happy to get his car back in perfect condition that he didn't press charges. Neither did the second owner. Both cars had been taken in Michigan. Next car we had, my cousin accidentally drove us off a cliff in eastern Kentucky, which almost killed us. We were hurt pretty bad. Now we had no car, and stole a car in Pikeville Ky. This was the first car we grabbed IN Kentucky so now they wanted to prosecute, and did. This sent me to Woodsbend and my cousin was sent to Green River. This is where our lives changed forever, and the reason for this post. From the moment I was picked up from the detention center by a staff member and two group members from Woodsbend, I was in for the time of my life! All the way to the camp, I was drilled by them, asking me questions about my crime, my life, and every time I answered, I didn't say yes sir, so my head was bounced off the back side window of the state car I was in. I was pushed and jerked on and screamed at repeatedly,not knowing who was to be called sir, or what rules I was to answer by. I had escaped from the Pikeville detention center, and so the staff member kept telling me I'll never get away from Woodsbend, no matter what I tried! In fact, later on in this saga, he pulled me out on the front porch at around one in the morning and stated, " It's just you and me now, go ahead and make a run for it." I'll get back to this later. From the moment they walked me into an office at Woodsbend, they seated me, and started asking questions. The superintendent was seated behind a large desk, and his feet were up on it, and he was leaning back looking smooth. I was flanked on either side of me by two staff members. I was asked questions. I was very nervous, and when I'd go to answer, I had a way of making a huh sound before a reply, which they obviously thought was like a laugh. At that point I was picked up and thrown into a wall, pulled up from the floor and slammed back into my seat like I was a rag doll! The superintendent, still looking cool as can be, soft spoken, never blinked, didn't twitch, still talking softly asked the question again. I guess I made the same nervous sound before answering because I was thrown into the opposite wall and slammed back into my chair again! This continued for some time. I was assigned to a group leader. At this point I'll omit names but will be brought out later, for legal purposes. I was then ran out to the tool shed where I was given army clothes to wear, my hair was cut off, and they beasted me out to the parking lot, pushing, shoving, and screaming into my ears to move around! This was my introduction to my new group of approximately 10 guys. My group was 4th meeting. It's dark out and they are shoving a guy around with his arms loaded full of cut sections of wood. He resembled a fork lift, tall, loaded down up past his face, and all but literally running with the wood and restacking it. I was screamed at and pushed to move him around!! I'm thinking, " Are you kidding me?" He's all but running, loaded down, I'm barely keeping up with him, and they want me to move him around. So in a half hearted attempt I say move around. They all grabbed hold of me and jerked me in every direction, tearing the clothes I just got, screaming directly into my ears as loud as possible. One guy yelled, move around you fucking asshole! At that point another group member pointed him out a problem which was " inconsiderate to others" and he told him to call group! I was lost on this. I felt like I was in the twilight zone for real! Later on, as time passed, I learned a lot. We were in groups of 8 to 12 members. They are you're group members, not you're friends! You are NEVER to be friends with them or you will be beat up. You had 3 steps to get in so you could go home, Life Story, Future Plans, and Groups Opinion. The staff made sure that no group member ever got friendly with one another, for good reason. As time passed, i realized that most of the staff members were all sadistic assholes that derived great pleasure in torturing juveniles! They loved it, lived for it, and needed it in their lives to feel superior and good about themselves! As long as no friendships occurred, all group members were basically the staffs patsies! The staff used all the group members to beat on each other all day long. The staff members would make up stories in their own minds regarding you, and would torture you until you confessed to what they were saying. They were crazy outlandish stories, yet, once they said you did it, didn't matter how nuts it sounded, you better fess up or you may die in one of their many ways of torture techniques. Found out later, death is not unheard of in this camp. There's still a cold case file on a guy that got hit in his head on the parking lot back in 1972. Three group members and two staff were charged, but with no convictions to date. That mans body was exhumed in 2012, to look for more evidpence of how he really died. The saga continues to this day. The many ways of torture at Woodsbend were many. It wasn't just pain. It was beyond what humans can withstand! The positions a person would be put in were beyond what the human body can do, unless you're a contortionist! Permanent damage did occur for many that were at that camp, including myself. They loved to make you scrub a parking lot. Not to clean anything, just to make you scream. They would have two guys sitting behind you on the ground, locking you're knee caps with their hands, well two others would bend you over, pushing on you're back, as two others grabbed you're arms and made you scrub with two large wooden handle scrub brushes with about an inch of bristles on them. Since I'm not one that can palm the ground, and have never been able to in life, this caused major issues! All the feeling would go out of my legs, going to sleep basically, then my ankles would buckle and fold over, then it felt like fire running up my back. It hurt so bad I'd scream and tell them stop, I can't take it anymore. They paid no attention at all. The staff and the group members would carry on, non stop, yelling and screaming at me to talk about my problem. None of the staff or group members are doctors. They have no sense of knowing when actual damage was occurring, and not a one cared. So it continued until they wanted to quit. That is why I call it torture. It caused permanent damage to my back. Not just mine either. I also ended up scrubbing the parking lot, in the snow even, for so many hours that it took all the skin off my knees, which I had to go to the hospital in West Liberty for. Other forms of torture was push up position for long periods at a time. Don't let you're back start to sag or you just might get kicked in you're ribs to get you're mind right! Carrying 5 gallon buckets of water out in the air like you're an airplane. Drop some of that water, or you're arms down and you got a nice ass kicking coming. Sawing wood with cross cut saws was their favorite. One man and two man saws. First they'd take you out to log woods, where you had to cut trees down with cross cuts and axes. No chain saws for us. Gotta make you work til you puke, and well you're puking. No time outs even we'll vomiting. Keep it moving, move around, hurry up, as you're being jerked on, punched, elbowed in the face and head, screamed at, and screaming at others all day long. Had to run through lots of streams and water, where after a time of having constantly wet feet, led to my toes webbing together like a duck. Had to be taken to the hospital for that as well. Load the log truck with trees, take them back to camp, unload into piles, all done by hand, no machinery used. Then cut logs up, split and bust stumps, etc. Then, if you weren't answering the staff like they want you too, they'd CAMP ON YOU. Got the whole camp of approximately 80 people to make you saw wood. If you refused to saw, they'd hold you're hands on the saw as they rocked you're body. Sounds easy. You should try it! At times, we were made to saw wood for every hour of the day and night, other then to eat and go to the bathroom. Sometimes you got no sleep at all. I was on the saw for about 40 hours with no sleep. I had more army clothes ripped off me then I can count! The collars had heavy cord in the neck. I finally started wearing the tan pants and shirts because they tore easier without digging into my neck as much. Sometimes they'd crank up a huge fire in the fire place, load you down in 4 or 5 sets of clothing, scrubbing the floors on you're hands and knees right in front of the fire to overheat you. This would go on for hours. Some passed out from heat exhaustion. They'd throw cold water on you to bring you around and have you continue. I could go on forever on the many ways of torture. You were watched well you sat on a toilet by a fellow group member. No doors on stalls. They wanted to make sure you didn't touch yourself. Had to shave every day, even if you had not a single hair on you're face. Road side was horrible. Using two sided swing blades, we were made to knock down every weed or long grass down the whole road from the camp to route 460. If you stopped swinging, even for a moment, they would come jerk you around, same old thing. The only thing that separated the camp from say Auschwitz concentration camp is that we were fed well. Other then that, same deal. We were rushed to eat, but it was good food. Made up stories by staff included things like this. They claimed my father was going to help me escape. Biggest joke ever since my father wanted me to do the right thing. Straighten out my life. He was not a believer of the religion my mother was into, so he saw a future for me. I got grouped on for a couple of days til I couldnt handle the pain anymore and confessed a blatant lie to just get some relief! Another group member was forced to confess that he only loved his mother, and would only have sex with his mother. No one else. I knew it was a lie, but until he confessed, he was tortured. This was repeated over and over on almost everyone at some point. Certain staff members would walk in the door to start their shift, and you could see the fear in the eyes of many of the group members. Certain staff members LIVED to come to work and torture us. They loved hurting people, and they seemed to know every way there was to inflict major pain and damage! These were sick individuals and my best guess is, they are still the same sick people they were way back then, unless they got major counseling! Brain washing took place daily. It was the staffs job to make you believe they were trying to help you with problems. They used all group members to do their dirty work. They used group members as if they were extra staff members. In this way, we could not unite, or rally against staff. No friends, no unity equals no mutiny! If you had a visit from you're family, a group member had to come with you. If you tried to show you're people any damage on you, or tell them you've been abused, the visit is over instantly and you're people would be escorted off the property. All letters had to be read by staff and mailed by them so nothing could be said to no outsiders. No cameras were in place. Nothing was being video taped, so no proof could be made against these sadistic people. Here's the problem, these staff members are still walking free to this day. I know because I checked. They are all getting old, and they have beaten the system. Until now!! I plan, with the help of any willing to come forward, to prosecute these men to the fullest extent of the law! There is no statue of limitations on child abuse and torture! Therefore, I will make them pay. If no one wants to help, I'll do it alone. No child should ever have to put up with this kind of treatment! You may be embarrassed by you're past. I get it! But, to not do anything is much worse then a little embarrassment. These men, at ANY of the camps in Kentucky should be held accountable! Please help make this happen. This post is here, and others are around as well, to bring awareness to this long over due issue! These camps are still running today. They may have cameras now, and staff will have to be more careful, but I guarantee you, abuse is still taking place! I'm asking for all others to come forward, write here, get in touch, and let's go make things right! It may just save a childs life down the road."
James Cowles
(WoodsBend Boys Camp) "I know stayed there 4 years till i was 18 a lot i don't want to remember went though a lot of shit there!!!!" Ruben Ray Clark
(Ramey Estep Home) "June 20 1996 i was sent to the Ramey Estep home. I stayed there until i was 18. I was thirteen coming in. That place crippled me an it only did more damage than success. They would work us to death, slam us like grown men, choke us, we built the softball fields the ponds the creeks, the hollers, we did that and they didnt pay a penny to get it done. Hell i was one of the many who built the school. It is nothing but a money scheme for the employees and case workers. Granted their is good case workers who believe in helping the situation of troubled kids but since J.C BLANTON was no longer program director that place went to hell an i pray for every child that gets placed there. The best thing that happened to me there was going to the public schools and playing football. An if i could sue there ass for pain and suffering emotional distress and child abuse i would. An my name is RUBEN RAY CLARK i was in 1st meet 2nd meet and C group. Please dont send any kid there if u love them" |
Former Resident
(Ramey Estep Home) "You wake up at an unannounced time, eat breakfast then work doing slave labor like moving piles of bricks 20 ft. Over half of the day then moving them back in the exact same spot the second half. Smashing rocks with sledge hammers all day long. Picking weeds from the garden so the place looks nice when visitors come they make you ware entirely different clothes when visitors are around. They degrade the kids tell them they are nothing, a menace to society. One week I got sick and had a temperature of 104.9 but was still forced to "work". They say there is counseling and treatment there but I don't recall any of that. You are set in groups of 3 and you cannot move more than 10 feet without your pair. Even in the showers and bathrooms your pair follows. You are forced to scream at other peers when they don't abide by bogus rules. They have couches in the cottages but you are only along to sit on the floor unless visitors are there. You don't know what time day or date it is not do you know when you will ever get out up until the last day. Something as simple as a cuss word will set you back several months perhaps even start the program over. I don't know what it's like now but this is what it was like for me in 2006. Everything we need was only to make the public perceive it was a good place. If it was your birthday they would present you with a cake and then the staff would eat it in front of you and you weren't allowed to have it. This place is a joke every day I was there I prayed to god they would just send me to jail so the torment would end. I think only the positive comments are kept on the website and negative comments are discarded ." |
Another Former Resident
( Ramey Estep Home)
"Have no idea how Ramey home is now, it's been 12 years since my time there, however in 2001/2002 religion was definitely forced on every peer, many different religions ( Baptist, Catholic, Episcopalian, holy roller, ect)...but not only was attendance mandatory,participation in all church happenings(prayer,singing, Christmas plays, ect..) was also mandatory. We attended church twice EVERY Sunday...we were punished and told we were being inconsiderate if we refused to participate or pray!! I lived it first hand!! I am a firm believer in God, however I watched a mentally undeveloped(she had the mental awareness of an 8-9 year old) ATHEISTS peer (her family were also atheist, so she had been raised with these beliefs her entire 13 years) repeatedly be punished n on few occasion ending with her being physically restrained by several large staff members not because she was disruptful or a harm to herself or others, but because she was DEFIANT and would not bow her head and PRAY with her group."
( Ramey Estep Home)
"Have no idea how Ramey home is now, it's been 12 years since my time there, however in 2001/2002 religion was definitely forced on every peer, many different religions ( Baptist, Catholic, Episcopalian, holy roller, ect)...but not only was attendance mandatory,participation in all church happenings(prayer,singing, Christmas plays, ect..) was also mandatory. We attended church twice EVERY Sunday...we were punished and told we were being inconsiderate if we refused to participate or pray!! I lived it first hand!! I am a firm believer in God, however I watched a mentally undeveloped(she had the mental awareness of an 8-9 year old) ATHEISTS peer (her family were also atheist, so she had been raised with these beliefs her entire 13 years) repeatedly be punished n on few occasion ending with her being physically restrained by several large staff members not because she was disruptful or a harm to herself or others, but because she was DEFIANT and would not bow her head and PRAY with her group."
Danny Edward Taylor (Green River Boys Camp) "I was in Green River,the movement to expose what happened is gaining ground.Please check this out,it fucked thousands of lives up and aided the prison system by trying to make monsters out of us.I'm the Danny Edward Taylor who wrote the letter in one of the posts. (Link To Post Mentioned) Green River gave me PTSD and robbed me of what my life might have been.When I left I remember looking back out the car window heartbroken cause I knew what was happening to those I was leaving behind.Finally the truth is coming out.It's a good thing,but the memories are flooding back and it's almost unbearable." |
Bobby Perry
(Green Rivers Boy Camp)
"My name is Bobby. I was convicted of truancy and theft by unlawful taking. I was 13 years old and I had never spent a night away from my mom.I wasnt a Angel but if I had known what the next 2 years where going to be like I would have went crazy before I got to Green River Boys Camp (G.b.c.). I have dreamed of my first night there a thousand times. My social picked me up at my house and told my mom where I would be.They described G.b.c. like it was a camp for boy's to show boys certain life skills and that it was a six month program. My beautiful mother. God bless her soul in heaven thought I was going to a summer camp. Little did we know that six months would turn into 19 months 14 days and 8 hours.See I remember all this because I was tortured and brain washed and had been told that I couldnt communicate with another soul. And its never stopped. Today im a middle aged man Thats very unsocial and diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder. Being brainwashed that your anti social causes tremendous stress and pain Im sure G.b.c didnt have any problem turning me into what I still am today I was 13 years old. By the time I got out I was a 15 year old non caring, broke down, mean little prick. I was a small boy when I walked into g.b.c. I weighed 98 pounds soaking wet Now I dont want to go into great detail until I talk to a counselor but heres a overview. For my first months I was restrained on my back by ten to twelve group members screaming and pinching and punching me in my testicles over and over. But what was worse than anything was the constant hard rubbing pressure on your chest and shoulders. Mine was so bad it would leak and drain right through the 5 or 6 layers of cotton pads they taped over the huge friction burns so no body would notice the blood and puss seeping through your army shirt with a white tee under that. I was only a baby fuckin 13 man. Sorry but im still mad as hell. Anyway I had to scrub up oil spots in the lot while being screamed at and they would step on my hands so i couldn't stop. Now remember this STAFF would be right there directing the whole thing.to this day I cant cry. I did so much that I think I spent all of them up.I was restrained in a 8 man shower room. One of staffs zombies said i was dick gazing and he told me im point you out a sex problem and I need to bring it up tonight in big group. Oh shit now they done it, now there going to say im queer. What am i going to say now. Man there going to torture me until I go along with them and still get tortured. Sure enough here they come. They already interrogated for 3 hrs. Already and I was so beat up that would scream for my mom anytime somebody touched me. Anyway here they come,10 boys and a staff member I wont name now at 2 in the morning in late December cold cold with snow in the mountains. They picked up my mattress and drug me and my warm bed outside. I had a army field jacket and pajamas and my broges (boots). They drug me down the hill to the wood house and they put me on a crosscut saw and worked my ass for god only knows how long because I had already went to a place where I could not feel the pain and couldn't hear that scary screaming. To this day I go nuts when someone is Screaming or loud yelling. This is the first time I told this story in a long time so I think im done now. I'm going to try and sleep. So if anyone has a story to tell about abuse and torture in juvenile detention please get with us. Bobby Perry 4-6-17"
(Green Rivers Boy Camp)
"My name is Bobby. I was convicted of truancy and theft by unlawful taking. I was 13 years old and I had never spent a night away from my mom.I wasnt a Angel but if I had known what the next 2 years where going to be like I would have went crazy before I got to Green River Boys Camp (G.b.c.). I have dreamed of my first night there a thousand times. My social picked me up at my house and told my mom where I would be.They described G.b.c. like it was a camp for boy's to show boys certain life skills and that it was a six month program. My beautiful mother. God bless her soul in heaven thought I was going to a summer camp. Little did we know that six months would turn into 19 months 14 days and 8 hours.See I remember all this because I was tortured and brain washed and had been told that I couldnt communicate with another soul. And its never stopped. Today im a middle aged man Thats very unsocial and diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder. Being brainwashed that your anti social causes tremendous stress and pain Im sure G.b.c didnt have any problem turning me into what I still am today I was 13 years old. By the time I got out I was a 15 year old non caring, broke down, mean little prick. I was a small boy when I walked into g.b.c. I weighed 98 pounds soaking wet Now I dont want to go into great detail until I talk to a counselor but heres a overview. For my first months I was restrained on my back by ten to twelve group members screaming and pinching and punching me in my testicles over and over. But what was worse than anything was the constant hard rubbing pressure on your chest and shoulders. Mine was so bad it would leak and drain right through the 5 or 6 layers of cotton pads they taped over the huge friction burns so no body would notice the blood and puss seeping through your army shirt with a white tee under that. I was only a baby fuckin 13 man. Sorry but im still mad as hell. Anyway I had to scrub up oil spots in the lot while being screamed at and they would step on my hands so i couldn't stop. Now remember this STAFF would be right there directing the whole thing.to this day I cant cry. I did so much that I think I spent all of them up.I was restrained in a 8 man shower room. One of staffs zombies said i was dick gazing and he told me im point you out a sex problem and I need to bring it up tonight in big group. Oh shit now they done it, now there going to say im queer. What am i going to say now. Man there going to torture me until I go along with them and still get tortured. Sure enough here they come. They already interrogated for 3 hrs. Already and I was so beat up that would scream for my mom anytime somebody touched me. Anyway here they come,10 boys and a staff member I wont name now at 2 in the morning in late December cold cold with snow in the mountains. They picked up my mattress and drug me and my warm bed outside. I had a army field jacket and pajamas and my broges (boots). They drug me down the hill to the wood house and they put me on a crosscut saw and worked my ass for god only knows how long because I had already went to a place where I could not feel the pain and couldn't hear that scary screaming. To this day I go nuts when someone is Screaming or loud yelling. This is the first time I told this story in a long time so I think im done now. I'm going to try and sleep. So if anyone has a story to tell about abuse and torture in juvenile detention please get with us. Bobby Perry 4-6-17"
Huburt Charles Tanner
(Ramey Estep Home)
"I was in Ramey Estep back in 2003, due to not being a religious person. (holy roller step mom had connections with the Boyd Co. court system and Judge Davis) I won't go into the full story but I did suffer tons of abuse there that no 14 year old kid deserves. I'm going to highlight some abuse instead of telling a long story.
1. Forced Medication I was forced to take Medication that I refused to take so the CCW Mr.Stapleton would hold my head back and force my mouth open with his hand and put the pills in my mouth and make me swallow.
2. Intense Labor throughout my entire stay, We once dug a big hole in the ground all day long, when the hole was finished they made us fill it back in so the whole ordeal was pointless.
3. The CCW will convince the rest of the group to bully you and talk down to you just to see if you would break.
4. I was forced to sit facing the wall with my legs crossed for most of the day, I went to stand up because my legs was hurting, once I stood up to relive the pain, a CCW by the name of Brandon Hill punched me in the back of the neck and pushed me down and told me to "stay the fuck down".
5. CCW forced me to pee while he watched.
6. Forced to go to church All of that plus more abuse with in the first month I was there before Ramey INC. Moved us all out to Hack Estep in Rush, ky. Pretty Much the whole time out there was nothing but mental abuse a bullying from staff and slave labor. And I saw the other people that was in the same boat as me go through the same type of abuse. I'm a strong believer that these types of group homes needs to be regulated more but that's not going to happen anytime soon, these people can can away with all the abuse and escape justice."
(Ramey Estep Home)
"I was in Ramey Estep back in 2003, due to not being a religious person. (holy roller step mom had connections with the Boyd Co. court system and Judge Davis) I won't go into the full story but I did suffer tons of abuse there that no 14 year old kid deserves. I'm going to highlight some abuse instead of telling a long story.
1. Forced Medication I was forced to take Medication that I refused to take so the CCW Mr.Stapleton would hold my head back and force my mouth open with his hand and put the pills in my mouth and make me swallow.
2. Intense Labor throughout my entire stay, We once dug a big hole in the ground all day long, when the hole was finished they made us fill it back in so the whole ordeal was pointless.
3. The CCW will convince the rest of the group to bully you and talk down to you just to see if you would break.
4. I was forced to sit facing the wall with my legs crossed for most of the day, I went to stand up because my legs was hurting, once I stood up to relive the pain, a CCW by the name of Brandon Hill punched me in the back of the neck and pushed me down and told me to "stay the fuck down".
5. CCW forced me to pee while he watched.
6. Forced to go to church All of that plus more abuse with in the first month I was there before Ramey INC. Moved us all out to Hack Estep in Rush, ky. Pretty Much the whole time out there was nothing but mental abuse a bullying from staff and slave labor. And I saw the other people that was in the same boat as me go through the same type of abuse. I'm a strong believer that these types of group homes needs to be regulated more but that's not going to happen anytime soon, these people can can away with all the abuse and escape justice."
Johnny
(Danville Youth Development Center)
"I was beginning to believe that i was the only survivor left from that era. I was at Danville Youth Development Center (DYDC) Herrington Unit (1979) completed my "steps"..life story...future plans..groups opinion..staffs opinion...set free..."fronted" thru the system...got sent back in 1980..Voc-Ed Unit...lil tougher than herrington unit...13 boys..holding me down on the floor...yelling...slick spittin on me...i busted one guy in the mouth because he was in my face..spittin on me..supposedly unintentional...thats why i got slammed to the floor to begin with...ok...im getting emotionally upset thinkin about it....from 79-80...still have "frozen anger".... needless to say...i got "grouped on" for 3 f**kin days...and i was put in the hole...aka security room....those 3 days...all because a group member..ricky haskins...from louisville ky..pointed me out a inconsiderate to self problem for biting my nails...which i didnt do...i was scratching my chin...he only say my reflection in the glass door...after all that sh*t...the group finally comes to grips with reality...or they knew they wouldnt break me...and started questioning haskins...til he said he "thought" thats what i was doin....that was the key that unlocked my door...man...they took my mat....couldnt lay down...i was in there to work on why i couldnt accept my problems....every 15 min..they looked in on me...kicked the door..bullsh*t.....but..i was taken to my group leaders office....and he congratulated me on standing up for myself...which if id just said i did it...id got rec restrictions for a wk..but nope....this guy had it in for me...and this is what u had to deal with when it came to groups opinion...whether he thinks your ready for the next step....to getting out....yeah...poor system..in 2002...somewhere around there...i was in the danville area...i looked up my group leaders number...called him!...Charles Milburn...i loved that guy...he told me hed love to see me...but he was terribly sick...maybe some other day..i called about a month later..no answer....i left msg....got a msg back next day that he passed...i cried...he told me he was sorry how the state ran that place..he said they were wrong...but he never did us wrong...he was a precious soul...Charles Milburn...smoked those "NOW" Cigarettes...hope somebody knew him if u read this...share memories...:i didnt mean to babble on...i just hope if your young...behave yourself..because....your never too young to get locked up...Peace & Love..Johnny"
(Danville Youth Development Center)
"I was beginning to believe that i was the only survivor left from that era. I was at Danville Youth Development Center (DYDC) Herrington Unit (1979) completed my "steps"..life story...future plans..groups opinion..staffs opinion...set free..."fronted" thru the system...got sent back in 1980..Voc-Ed Unit...lil tougher than herrington unit...13 boys..holding me down on the floor...yelling...slick spittin on me...i busted one guy in the mouth because he was in my face..spittin on me..supposedly unintentional...thats why i got slammed to the floor to begin with...ok...im getting emotionally upset thinkin about it....from 79-80...still have "frozen anger".... needless to say...i got "grouped on" for 3 f**kin days...and i was put in the hole...aka security room....those 3 days...all because a group member..ricky haskins...from louisville ky..pointed me out a inconsiderate to self problem for biting my nails...which i didnt do...i was scratching my chin...he only say my reflection in the glass door...after all that sh*t...the group finally comes to grips with reality...or they knew they wouldnt break me...and started questioning haskins...til he said he "thought" thats what i was doin....that was the key that unlocked my door...man...they took my mat....couldnt lay down...i was in there to work on why i couldnt accept my problems....every 15 min..they looked in on me...kicked the door..bullsh*t.....but..i was taken to my group leaders office....and he congratulated me on standing up for myself...which if id just said i did it...id got rec restrictions for a wk..but nope....this guy had it in for me...and this is what u had to deal with when it came to groups opinion...whether he thinks your ready for the next step....to getting out....yeah...poor system..in 2002...somewhere around there...i was in the danville area...i looked up my group leaders number...called him!...Charles Milburn...i loved that guy...he told me hed love to see me...but he was terribly sick...maybe some other day..i called about a month later..no answer....i left msg....got a msg back next day that he passed...i cried...he told me he was sorry how the state ran that place..he said they were wrong...but he never did us wrong...he was a precious soul...Charles Milburn...smoked those "NOW" Cigarettes...hope somebody knew him if u read this...share memories...:i didnt mean to babble on...i just hope if your young...behave yourself..because....your never too young to get locked up...Peace & Love..Johnny"
Steve Chambers
(Woodsbend Boys Camp)
My Woodsbend Story by Steve Chambers
Begins a couple years before I actually got there. I was being taken to court by my Dad for the charge of being incorrigible. So since they felt that I didn't need to be locked up, I was placed in foster care, where I befriended a young boy. I believe he may have been 12 or 13 years old, he got attached quickly.
I went to the store one day and told him we could hang when I got back. When I returned from the store I couldn't find him. When I did find him it was to late, he had hung himself from the rafters. At that point they moved me to a boys group home where I met a girl that was in the girls group home, right next door. And, as hungry for love as I was at that time in my life, I fell in love quickly.
She had the bright idea one day, since our group homes were located close to her moms work, we should sneak her moms car out of the parking garage since she had a key. Bad idea, unfortunately I was driving when we were involved in an accident which resulted in major damage to moms car as well as multiple other vehicles. So the first time I met her mom was in the police station. Needless to say, she wanted me prosecuted. But when told the only way to do that is prosecute her daughter as well, she dropped it. Shortly after this incident she moved home with her mom and dad and I moved in with a friend and his mom, which was about 15 to 20 miles away from each other.
Along about this same time, she told me she thought she might be pregnant with our child. So of course, now all I can think is how to get us together so we could have a family. One night, she talked me into hitch hiking to her parents house to see her. Promised to wait up. So I rolled a couple joints, put a pint Makers Mark in my pocket, and started to hitch hike. By the time I got there, I guess she was tired of waiting and fell asleep. Well, not being one to give up, I started trying to find a way in. Didn't take long, kitchen window was unlocked. So, as I am standing on an outside faucet, unloading kitchen sink of dishes, so I could sneak in quietly, the spicket broke, spraying water everywhere and making so much noise, all I could think was I need to find the shut off. But before I could, I heard someone, got scared, locked myself in basement bathroom. When her dad got the door partially open, her mom saw me and said my name, to which her dad responded to me, if I tried to get out either through window or door, I would be shot. When the police got there, I tried to explain that I wasn't breaking in, that my girlfriend lived there with her parents and was pregnant with my child. The captain of the police force offered, maybe if I told dad he was about to lock up future son-n-law, maybe he would change his mind. So I did. He said he didn't believe me and when he asked her, she was so scared of him, she lied. So now I am in panic mode, trying to think of a way we can be together.
At the time, my dad live in El Paso, Texas. He told me he couldn't help me get there, but would help if I could get us there. So the only plan I could come up with was to steal my friends stereo and sell it for travel money. But as plans like this deserve to end up, I was caught with in a matter of less than two hours, walking down the road with my girlfriend and speaker wires hanging out of my back pocket. Needless to say, we were both taken to the juvenile detention center. When we went to court, I made a deal with them, that if they let her go, I would take responsibility because she had nothing to do with it.
I was first sent to Central Kentucky Reception Center. It was like a mini prison, complete with razor wire and clanging doors locking behind you. After about 3 month, I was told I was too physically abusive to be there and they were sending me to Woodsbend. When I got there I remember thinking, this can't be to bad. Little did I know the torture that awaited me.
I was told it was designed to be a six month program. I came up about 2 weeks short of being there a year. During this time I was subject to being held upside down in a SEPTIC tank, to scrub it clean...while I vomited uncontrollably. Water was withheld from us in the heat of the day while we were made to bale hay, also while tobacco farm working in or out of the barns or the tree nursery. We were only allowed to drink when the men in charge felt we could. Usually at the point of pure exhaustion and dehydration or passing out, then it was poured on us. Only to make us get up and continue work.
We had to hold logs up for long periods of time, rain or shine. We were made to stand on the side of a mountain in the rain, holding up a log, knees locked and group members hanging onto your arms until they felt like they were coming out of the socket. And when we started sliding down the hill we are told it's your fault that your sliding
We were made to cut trees with a dully rusty crosscut saw, getting no where and tired, and all group members were forced to grab our body, arms legs, torso and keep us moving to get to a point where the counselors felt satisfied and released us.
We had verbal torture and physical pain in our ears and body, when other group members where forced to scream, yell and beat on you, until you admitted that the lie about you that the counselors had made up was infact true. Even if it was having sex with your own parent.
We had mental torture of being told know one cared about what was happening to us and that there was no end to any of it.
We had to scrub the asphalt parking lot with hand held brushes for hours. The brush bristles would wear to nothing and they would give you another to continue. Hands and knees were blistered and bloody and they didn't care. If you got tired...group members were forced to grab your hands and continue to make you scrub while other group members held your knees to the asphalt and others held your back down, not allowing you to get up. They did this knowing that if they didn't, they would be the next one on the asphalt scrubbing till they bled. Inflicting the pain and torture on other group members was a mental torture in itself.
My time and the effects of my stay at Woodsbend have been buried so deep that I didn't even realize how many negative ways they manifested themselves in me...I've had serious issues with people raising their voice to me in any form of anger. That's just one of many ways. I have such serious anger issues that any physical confrontation I've ever gotten into has resulted in jail time. People who truly know me, know that I've spent a large portion of my life looking backward trying to discover the root of the problem.
Until recently, I was always unsuccessful in my attempts. Then I saw a picture of Woodsbend that looked like it was completely destroyed. That started my search. I ran across a former group members story and recognized his name, Arlin Gilpin. No sooner had I posted, and a response was coming through. At first I didn't recognize the name, but he said he remembered me and he remembered everything. The first time we talked (on the phone) for about 4 or 5 hours. Immediately, I started to realize how much stuff I had buried and how many ways, that place has been a constant nightmare, everyday of my life. The things that happened to me, I truly believe are still happening today.
These people need to be held accountable. None of us are angels by no means. We committed crimes that got us sent there. But we were still children!! I think we deserve some justice and more to the point, we need to ensure that it stops and can never happen to another child.
As for the specific means of torture used, I will leave that to Kirk Daniel, to explain more detailed. After all, he's proven to me he does remember everything. The details are still needed to make our point heard loud and clear.
As a footnote, when I was released, I picked up where I had left off. Trying to find my former girlfriend. When I turned 18, I hitch hiked from Mannassas, VA to Louisville, Kentucky to find her. It took me a couple weeks but I found her and she wouldn't even talk to me. Not that I blame her, just look back at our story. So when she told me, by way of someone else actually doing the talking, that she wanted nothing to do with me, all I could do is honour her wish and walk away.
Can't help but blame Woodsbend for that too. I'm hoping that all of this might finally help me begin to heal. I know my torturers, whether held accountable, in this life or the next, we can't allow even one more child to be a Victim of Kentucky Camps.
Steve Chambers
In Woodsbend Boys Camp '79 - '80
A Victim NO MORE!!
Begins a couple years before I actually got there. I was being taken to court by my Dad for the charge of being incorrigible. So since they felt that I didn't need to be locked up, I was placed in foster care, where I befriended a young boy. I believe he may have been 12 or 13 years old, he got attached quickly.
I went to the store one day and told him we could hang when I got back. When I returned from the store I couldn't find him. When I did find him it was to late, he had hung himself from the rafters. At that point they moved me to a boys group home where I met a girl that was in the girls group home, right next door. And, as hungry for love as I was at that time in my life, I fell in love quickly.
She had the bright idea one day, since our group homes were located close to her moms work, we should sneak her moms car out of the parking garage since she had a key. Bad idea, unfortunately I was driving when we were involved in an accident which resulted in major damage to moms car as well as multiple other vehicles. So the first time I met her mom was in the police station. Needless to say, she wanted me prosecuted. But when told the only way to do that is prosecute her daughter as well, she dropped it. Shortly after this incident she moved home with her mom and dad and I moved in with a friend and his mom, which was about 15 to 20 miles away from each other.
Along about this same time, she told me she thought she might be pregnant with our child. So of course, now all I can think is how to get us together so we could have a family. One night, she talked me into hitch hiking to her parents house to see her. Promised to wait up. So I rolled a couple joints, put a pint Makers Mark in my pocket, and started to hitch hike. By the time I got there, I guess she was tired of waiting and fell asleep. Well, not being one to give up, I started trying to find a way in. Didn't take long, kitchen window was unlocked. So, as I am standing on an outside faucet, unloading kitchen sink of dishes, so I could sneak in quietly, the spicket broke, spraying water everywhere and making so much noise, all I could think was I need to find the shut off. But before I could, I heard someone, got scared, locked myself in basement bathroom. When her dad got the door partially open, her mom saw me and said my name, to which her dad responded to me, if I tried to get out either through window or door, I would be shot. When the police got there, I tried to explain that I wasn't breaking in, that my girlfriend lived there with her parents and was pregnant with my child. The captain of the police force offered, maybe if I told dad he was about to lock up future son-n-law, maybe he would change his mind. So I did. He said he didn't believe me and when he asked her, she was so scared of him, she lied. So now I am in panic mode, trying to think of a way we can be together.
At the time, my dad live in El Paso, Texas. He told me he couldn't help me get there, but would help if I could get us there. So the only plan I could come up with was to steal my friends stereo and sell it for travel money. But as plans like this deserve to end up, I was caught with in a matter of less than two hours, walking down the road with my girlfriend and speaker wires hanging out of my back pocket. Needless to say, we were both taken to the juvenile detention center. When we went to court, I made a deal with them, that if they let her go, I would take responsibility because she had nothing to do with it.
I was first sent to Central Kentucky Reception Center. It was like a mini prison, complete with razor wire and clanging doors locking behind you. After about 3 month, I was told I was too physically abusive to be there and they were sending me to Woodsbend. When I got there I remember thinking, this can't be to bad. Little did I know the torture that awaited me.
I was told it was designed to be a six month program. I came up about 2 weeks short of being there a year. During this time I was subject to being held upside down in a SEPTIC tank, to scrub it clean...while I vomited uncontrollably. Water was withheld from us in the heat of the day while we were made to bale hay, also while tobacco farm working in or out of the barns or the tree nursery. We were only allowed to drink when the men in charge felt we could. Usually at the point of pure exhaustion and dehydration or passing out, then it was poured on us. Only to make us get up and continue work.
We had to hold logs up for long periods of time, rain or shine. We were made to stand on the side of a mountain in the rain, holding up a log, knees locked and group members hanging onto your arms until they felt like they were coming out of the socket. And when we started sliding down the hill we are told it's your fault that your sliding
We were made to cut trees with a dully rusty crosscut saw, getting no where and tired, and all group members were forced to grab our body, arms legs, torso and keep us moving to get to a point where the counselors felt satisfied and released us.
We had verbal torture and physical pain in our ears and body, when other group members where forced to scream, yell and beat on you, until you admitted that the lie about you that the counselors had made up was infact true. Even if it was having sex with your own parent.
We had mental torture of being told know one cared about what was happening to us and that there was no end to any of it.
We had to scrub the asphalt parking lot with hand held brushes for hours. The brush bristles would wear to nothing and they would give you another to continue. Hands and knees were blistered and bloody and they didn't care. If you got tired...group members were forced to grab your hands and continue to make you scrub while other group members held your knees to the asphalt and others held your back down, not allowing you to get up. They did this knowing that if they didn't, they would be the next one on the asphalt scrubbing till they bled. Inflicting the pain and torture on other group members was a mental torture in itself.
My time and the effects of my stay at Woodsbend have been buried so deep that I didn't even realize how many negative ways they manifested themselves in me...I've had serious issues with people raising their voice to me in any form of anger. That's just one of many ways. I have such serious anger issues that any physical confrontation I've ever gotten into has resulted in jail time. People who truly know me, know that I've spent a large portion of my life looking backward trying to discover the root of the problem.
Until recently, I was always unsuccessful in my attempts. Then I saw a picture of Woodsbend that looked like it was completely destroyed. That started my search. I ran across a former group members story and recognized his name, Arlin Gilpin. No sooner had I posted, and a response was coming through. At first I didn't recognize the name, but he said he remembered me and he remembered everything. The first time we talked (on the phone) for about 4 or 5 hours. Immediately, I started to realize how much stuff I had buried and how many ways, that place has been a constant nightmare, everyday of my life. The things that happened to me, I truly believe are still happening today.
These people need to be held accountable. None of us are angels by no means. We committed crimes that got us sent there. But we were still children!! I think we deserve some justice and more to the point, we need to ensure that it stops and can never happen to another child.
As for the specific means of torture used, I will leave that to Kirk Daniel, to explain more detailed. After all, he's proven to me he does remember everything. The details are still needed to make our point heard loud and clear.
As a footnote, when I was released, I picked up where I had left off. Trying to find my former girlfriend. When I turned 18, I hitch hiked from Mannassas, VA to Louisville, Kentucky to find her. It took me a couple weeks but I found her and she wouldn't even talk to me. Not that I blame her, just look back at our story. So when she told me, by way of someone else actually doing the talking, that she wanted nothing to do with me, all I could do is honour her wish and walk away.
Can't help but blame Woodsbend for that too. I'm hoping that all of this might finally help me begin to heal. I know my torturers, whether held accountable, in this life or the next, we can't allow even one more child to be a Victim of Kentucky Camps.
Steve Chambers
In Woodsbend Boys Camp '79 - '80
A Victim NO MORE!!