S.M. and I ended our visit of Utah by driving up Highway 18 on the way to St. George. There are several memorial sites here. A women and girls and men and boys memorial site; a site farther up the forest road that lists most of the names of those murdered; and this one is the one we spent the most time at; being there was sobering.
You can feel the heaviness of the act still in this area. The disquiet was in the soft breeze as it gently pushed against the tall grasses next to the foot bridge. The smell of decay in the creek seemed appropriate. A dark thing happened here hidden by revisionist history and a cover up that tried to last for many generations.
Many thanks to the people who take care of this memorial and keep its memory alive for the emigrant’s decedents. Those decedents still visit the grave.
While He was still speaking, a crowd arrived, led by the man called Judas, one of the Twelve. He approached Jesus to kiss Him. – Luke 22:47
I sobbed for the lives of my brothers and sisters in Christ. I wept for the lives of children who were stolen away and for those who were placed in the care of other Mormon families without a thought to placing them back with their families in Arkansas. The U.S. Army rescued the children, and all but one approximately, returned to their families.
You could still feel death here.
We walked back to the car and drove away. For me, it was on my list of places to see after reading the book. For others who visit, they pay their respects to family members even to this day.