But when the weekend would come, this place was pretty cool for a kid. We lived near the Brazos river, there were woods and hills right by our house, so you could explore and play and exist in your own little world where you were safe. I wasn't able to read yet but I could fight off bad guys, make magic spells with mud, and discover long lost treasures at this place.
I was about 5 years old when we lived in Kopperl TX. I remember all of my solo adventuring, I remember that being the Christmas someone in my family decided to start getting me Elvis memorabilia, my babysitter that lived next door made me try beets, being in awe of the kid down the road and his amazing toy collection, and that this was the place where the devil would come and steal my childhood from me.
This was the time and place where a darkness that would cover me for most of my life, first put it's midnight veil over my mind and soul.
Across the road from our house was a hill with a large rock on top of it. At 5 years old this hill was a mountain ripe for exploration and discovery. The big rock at the top served as a peak that was the finish line for my epic voyages. The rock represented a place where my imagination would tell me that there was treasure buried underneath it. That rock and treasure was protected by wild beasts that I had to evade or destroy along the way.
On the occasion that my brother, who is 5 years older than me, would join me on the quest, I would be elated! He was the coolest guy I knew and stronger than anyone. (Besides my dad of course) We could go out there for hours and avoid doing chores at home as long we kept ourselves busy playing and out of sight. So when other child friends or relatives came to visit, that is where we took them.
That big hill with the rock on top would be the place of many of my adventures. Then it became the place I first remember my uncle molesting me.
My uncle was older than my brother by about 4 or 5 years. So I guess he had to be about 14 or 15 at the time. We all headed over to the hill for some adventure and fun. When we reached the top, my uncle being the oldest came up with different missions for each of us. He sent my brother off on some pretend task and said I could help him. I was excited to be on the team of the oldest kid there! We meandered around in the woods a bit, my brother separating from us more by the minute. I guess once he figured we were sufficiently alone, he asked if wanted to try something, that feels good. I was 5 years old, so of course I said I did.
He said that I can't tell anyone about it. He said that I would get in trouble, he wouldn't be my friend anymore, that he would pretend it didn't happen. I still had no idea what was happening, so I promised not to say a word.
That is when he put his hand on over my zipper and rubbed the area. He asked if it felt good. I said I don't know. He took it further. He unbuttoned and unzipped my pants, pulling them down. He knelt in front of me and fondled me, continuing to ask if it felt good. He put my penis in hands then his mouth. I was mortified and just stood there. I remember shaking a little and feeling dizzy like I was going to fall over. The magic forest of my pretend adventures dissolved into a cold and hard real world where imagination no longer existed.
After what seemed like him fondling me forever, he unbuttoned, unzipped, and exposed himself to me. He was erect. He asked if I wanted to touch it. He told me one day mine would be bigger and could be hard like his was. When I didn't reach out on my own, he grabbed my hand and put it on his penis. He moved it in a masturbation motion and said that I was making him feel good. Then he told me to open my mouth....
In one experience that probably lasted a total of 10 minutes, my soul was dead.
No hero swooped in to save me. This was a dark secret that I believed I would be in big trouble for exposing. My play area was now the site of confusion and pain. I hurt and I was more alone than ever before. I would never be the same and I would struggle with the torment and anger from this for years.
There were many other times besides this one. If he could find a way to lure me away from a group or if he was asked to babysit, the nightmare would happen over and over. At some point, it just stopped.
My child brain was unprepared to process any of this. The rest of my childhood was no picnic either. Constantly moving around from one trash heap to the next, parents with a strong discipline hand, and a new sister gave me ample things to try figuring out.
I know my parents loved me. I never have any doubt about that. I didn't then and I don't now. But, 30 years ago they were different people. Both of them from poor and hard childhoods. Both of them having things to deal with themselves. But like I said, they had a strong hand when it came to discipline. Our home was in no short supply of spankings with a hand or a belt, short tempers, and walking on egg shells. For me, they weren't the kind of people you could turn to with hard questions because there was always an underlying fear of getting in trouble. So most of this stuff was internalized, suppressed, or forgotten to the best of my ability.
It wouldn't be until years later when I was 11 years old, I had the courage and clarity to say anything about it. I was talking with a friend that told me something like that happened to her. She was telling me it was hard and she had to go to counseling. When she was talking all of the darkness rose back up in me. All of the pain and torment I had worked hard to put to sleep came raging back. I told her it had happened to me too. I told her what happened, when it started, and where. She told me that I had to tell an adult and I had to do it NOW.
I walked into the living room of my aunts house where my dad and I were living temporarily. No one else was there and he was watching TV. I sat down on couch next to the chair where he was sitting and told him I had to tell him something. He can see on my face it wasn't going to be easy for me so he turned off the TV, and turned to give me his full attention.
"Remember when we used to live in Kopperl, and Neal would come visit a lot..."
The story poured out and I could see him absorbing my pain while also feeling his own. I could see his own confusion, concern, anger, and sadness all over his face, even though he was trying to be strong for me.
He made some calls to family that needed to be in the loop. His mom, my mom, my aunt. He needed to send out a warning about this guy that still freely moved around the family and kids. He needed some guidance on what to do next and how to handle it I am sure.
Not too long after talking to my dad he took me to a child therapist who I had to tell the story to. Then I had to go over to some county building and write out the story out in affidavit format. It was painful reliving it but now that I knew what had happened was wrong and bad, and that my uncle was the worst kind of bad guy, I had hope that something was about to be done about it.
Nothing was ever done about it.
You see, Texas will hunt you down for years and years for bounced checks, traffic tickets, or fishing without a licence, but when it comes to molestation and rape of children, there are limits to how long the state will give a shit. Since I was molested by a master manipulator and strong predator, I had waited too long to say anything. I think they told me I should have said something when it happened. Because at 5 years old, of course I should have had the wherewithal and foresight to understand what was happening and statute of limitations policy for my state.
Nothing would be done about it.
I think my mom confronted him about it. He denied it. He was exiled from our immediate family but the world kept turning and plenty of my extended family chose to believe him and let him continue to lurk.
My parents sought no other means of justice for me.
This was just going to be my issue to deal with from then on. We would not bring it up or address it anymore. Until the pain from this and other elements of my broken childhood came to an exploding head during my teen years. I was a nervous, neurotic, pain stricken teen and I just let it explode out of me. I was a hard kid to deal with and I didn't even care much about myself. This is a recipe for disaster. The whole time I was acting out in school, at home, in public or wherever, I was looked at as a discipline problem. I was grounded, scolded, lectured, hit, punched, kicked out, and made to feel like a general piece of shit because I couldn't seem to get my act together.
I was never treated for my trauma.
Years passed by. The memories lingered in dreams but seemed to subside during the waking hours. I just had pain in me with no outlet. No where for it to go but deeper and deeper inside of me. When it would get to be too much I would explode or worse...implode.
Not 3 or 4 years later I was headed home from a day out on my bike around our small town. As I turned the corner on Robertson Lane and my house came into a view I saw a strange truck parked in the little lot next to our house, and a new person helping my step dad unload a trailer. As I got closer, it was him...the devil had come back. This time he had been invited.
A rush of pain and hatred covered me. My soul cried but my mind and body remained resolute to show no fear and no signs of the damage he had caused.
As if nothing had ever happened, I was informed he would be working for my step dad. He had actually moved to our little town for the job. (I would find out later that my stepdad had no idea of what he had done or that anyone else knew about it. He was pissed and assured he would have put a bullet in his brain had he known.)
He was here. He was invited. He wasn't leaving.
A new blow stuck me down when I realized what this meant. It meant no one believed me.
It was a mystery to my parents and other authority figures why as a teen I liked heavy metal music, that I wanted to be drunk all the time, why I would try drugs, and why I had no self-esteem.
Dysfunction, abuse, horror, and darkness are all par for the course in my lineage. I would be hard put to find a family member older than me that didn't endure all of those things themselves. Our normal was super fucked up. Poverty, religion, and pain were staples.
My stepdad was the first example of normal, structure, and wanting better that I ever had. Being oblivious to these things is the standard way of dealing for most of my family.
The work relationship didn't last with this guy. Though, for the time he was there, I was expected to be around him. He was left alone with me, he was treated like...family.
He was treated so kindly, that I had a hard time understanding where I even fit in. Was I just looked at as a liar? Did I not even matter? Was everything somehow my fault? What was wrong with me?
I hurt.
I fought hard to fix myself. I put myself in therapy as long as I could afford it. But I went through a lot of dark years that started when I was a teenager. They wouldn't let up for years and years. I wouldn't even begin to find happiness until I moved away from my family to Austin as an adult. Things got darker for awhile. I was a fat drunk that showed no concern for others and honestly didn't care if I died. I even tried to help that happen in 2007.
I was the hurt, I was the abused, I was the victim and I was forgotten.
He was the predator, he was the evil, he is the pedophile and he still walks around free today. I have even heard that he has continued his campaign of horror on children and that is why I am writing this. Because the law does not protect anyone, and we cannot take the law into our own hands, all I can think to do is put this out there. A warning. A detailed account of a real life demon walking among us, destroying lives in his wake.
I have made it abundantly clear to my family that if I find out he is anywhere near my nieces or nephews, consequences be damned, there will be violence. I have been more outspoken about this as I have gotten better, and I think whether they believe it happened to me or not, they know that they will also suffer my wrath should I found out they dismiss my warnings.
My life was almost ruined by this man. But I am intrepid. I crawled myself out of the depths of the hell that was my childhood and I am stronger for it today. I have left behind my heritage of a white trash existence, and I am starting a new legacy and example for my nieces, nephews, and my own children when they come along. I am at peace but I am also wrath, should it be called for. I am strong and it is my duty to stand strong for others that cannot.
Writing this, publishing it, sharing it, is not easy. As I wrote this I could feel that darkness surround me. My eyes are burning, I have started shaking at points, and more than once thought about retreating.
The reason I am writing this is because I recently heard that he has not stopped. I think it is safe to say that he most likely will never stop. Just like his father, my biological grandfather, who died in prison for a long life of the rape and abuse of children. He died during his second term in prison. He was convicted of this stuff before, but of course, he was let out. When he got out, he did it again, went back and finally Satan took him home.
There are no heroes for us. Laws, culture, and society do not put a value on standing up for victims. Hashtags are little relief for the pain. Changes in the laws, reaction to the stories, and support for the victims need to be a priority. However right now we are much more worried about who can get married and abortion and taxes than the lives of people being destroyed by disgusting animals that prey on the weak.
I can tell you this about him:
He lives in Oklahoma somewhere.
His name is Ronnie Neal Wilson
He is on Facebook.
He lives a normal life.
He has never suffered any consequence for his action.
He is a predator. He is a pedophile. He is human garbage that will likely continue to hurt kids.
There is nothing I can do to him legally. I cannot sue him, he cannot go to jail for what he did to me, and I don't know anyone personally he is currently hurting to have them come forward.
Vengeance is not worth me losing my life and what I have worked for. He is not a threat to those closest to me but he is a threat. There is a whole side of my family I do not even come close to interacting with and they allow him to thrive and supply him with a fresh batch of victims all the time. So I think the only thing I can do is put his name out there in the open. I may catch some heat for that but someone has to do something and it has to start somewhere.
So feel free to share this. Sharing this puts a spot light on one predator. Maybe it will give the strength to other victims to the same. What happens in the dark will be brought to the light.
My pain is dealt with and I do not need nor want sympathy. I am a shining example of perseverance, that things can get better, and pain can give you strength. My life is good now. What I want is visibility of these of these atrocities against children. Some kids will not be so lucky as I was though. Some kids will feel the hurt and be crushed under it's weight. The cycle will continue for some. The darkness will grow.
Because sometimes, there are no heroes.
I pray this fiend in human form will be caught and punished. Times have changed, even in Texas.
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