Tuesday marked my 9th day living in Vernal. Tuesday seemed to be just like my other days in Vernal. Jace went to work at 8 that morning and left on a job. A job that should have brought him home late afternoon. He instead waited 6 hours out in the field for the job to even start. He called and said he would be home late that night. I fed the kids, scooted them upstairs about 8:00 , into pajama's, read books, read the Book of Mormon, Macy said the prayer, then Macy and I moved into her bedroom to read the 5th chapter of Charlotte's Web together. It was then we heard someone at the front door.
The front door gets stuck. A lot. We waited to hear Jace walk into the house. We waited to hear him knock to let us know the door was stuck or locked. We instead heard the same noise. Someone was grabbing the door handle and trying hard to open the door. I told Macy to stay there. I took myself out to the stair landing. This the view I have from there:
Thru the small window on top of the door, I saw a head. A head that did not belong to my husband. Many thoughts went thru my head. Maybe it's Paul from work. Maybe it's a neighbor. I ran downstairs to the door. I believe I would have opened the door at this point had this individual not grabbed the door handle again and forcefully try to open the door. I instead checked to make sure the door was locked and not just stuck.
I asked, " Who is it?"
He answered, "Beau."
"Beau who?"
He then gave me his last name.
"What do you want? I think you have the wrong house."
He answered with something right as my noisy heater turned on. I don't know what he said.
It was clear to me at this point I was in trouble. I ran to the kitchen, called 911 on my cell phone, and booked it back up my stairs. I could see him thru the door window. He had on a white t-shirt. He was white. He was tall. He was shivering. He was freezing. And he wanted in my house. He kept trying to open the door. I was on the phone with 911 for maybe 15 seconds when I watched my door come busting open. Wood, trim, and sheet rock went flying. I was in shock. I was screaming to the operator, "He's in my house. He's in my house."
I had no idea who was going to come thru that door. And no idea what was going to happen next. In walked a young kid dressed in prison clothes. White shirt. Black and white striped pants. I knew immediately what was going on. I knew where I had seen these clothes before. I knew this kid had to be one of the prisoners I had seen many times working at the care center less than a block from my home. I knew he had escaped earlier that day. I knew he was desperate and freezing. I knew that he knew that Jace wasn't home. I knew he was there for me.
I've never know such terror. While I feared for my safety of course, the only thought I had was, how am I going to protect my children laying in their beds from what they are about to see and hear?
I screamed at him something like, "What do you want? Please don't hurt me."
He slowly scanned my entry way with his eyes down. He then sat down on my stairs, leaned against the wall and shook. I stopped screaming. I stood frozen in the same spot at the top of the stairs. My children never made a noise. Beau never looked up at me. Not once. Never said a word. I continued to answer the operator's questions, all the while wishing I knew where Jace's pistol was and wishing I had paid better attention when he was trying to teach me how to shoot his rifle that stays in our closet. But I knew I could not leave from my spot I was standing. I didn't want him to move. I needed to know where he was. I needed him to stay away from my kids.
Beau and I stayed like that for 2 minutes before the cops got to my house. At the end, Beau, I could tell had not made up his mind whether or not he was done running. He started scooting up my stairs backwards. The cops were yelling his name. He finally stood and walked to my door. Still hidden from the cops view he reached up and grabbed a piece of splintered wood off the door jam. Then slowly walked out with his hands up. The police had their guns drawn and were yelling for Beau to get down. They continued to scream threats and profanities until Beau decided to get on the ground. They handcuffed him and hauled him to the car.
It was over.
But not really.
Statement was given to the cops.
Boxes were stacked in front of the broken door.
Mike Mosley came and collected me and the kids.
Macy cried for hours with me.
Jace said a prayer that the kids would be able to sleep that night.
The police department called hours later.
Beau's story is - He thought he was at his sister's house.
Beau was highly intoxicated. Desparate and freezing.
Jace nor I slept a wink that night.
I haven't had a good night sleep since.
I have so many unanswered questions. Questions that probably wouldn't help me sleep better at night or feel at peace again. But questions I want answered.
What we do know was answered that night was Macy's prayer. She asked twice in her prayer that night before Beau came that we would be safe and "safe and kind." It was the first thing I said to her when I climbed back up the stairs after Beau was handcuffed. I hope she remembers and takes that with her - Heavenly Father protected us that night.
