So there you are, running your own farm out in the sticks someplace – no one around for miles. You have lots of privacy and lots of beds. Like most of us dream about, you start taking in young girls, no questions asked. They want to stay with you, you let them. I mean, who would turn away the potential of a house full of teen age girls who haven’t told anyone where they are?<\/p>\n
\n“My house is a safe house for teenage girls. I love them. I care for them. My home is open to them, always. I had two girls staying with me over the weekend, both 17, one of whom has been like a daughter to me for years. Tonight one of my daughters asked whether two more of her friends could drive her home and spend the night. I said sure, absolutely.” – quote in context<\/a><\/i><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n
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Oh wait – you mean their parents might actually care that they ran away?<\/p>\n
\n“About an hour after they arrived, two police cars showed up– way out here in the sticks. The police came to the door and said the two girls were runaways. I had to turn them over to the cops. They are both beautiful black girls. One is in foster care. One is adopted. The police chewed me out and told me harboring runaways is a felony. But they told me they believed I didn’t know the girls were runaways. I didn’t.” – quote in context<\/a><\/i><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n
Oh, the horror! Of course if those same girls had run away and then been left in the hands of some backwoods farm hand because that person promised they were “safe” these same crazies would have blamed that on the cops too. <\/p>\n
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