Pete Earley - Prophet of Death: The Mormon Blood Atonement Killings

PROPHET OF DEATH

by Pete Earley

PUBLISHING HISTORY

William Morrow and Company hardcover / 1991

Replica Books / 1998

Pete Earley Inc. eBook / 2014

All rights reserved.

Copyright 1991 by Pete Earley, Inc.

Cover and book design by Evan Luzi

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from Pete Earley. For information address: Pete Earley, Inc.

http://www.peteearley.com/

v1.0

Table of Contents

The easiest thing of all is to deceive ones self; for what a man wishes he generally believes to be true.

Demosthenes, Olynthiaca

Prologue

JUST before dawn on a cool April day in 1989, a lone man climbed a hill a few miles outside Kirtland, Ohio, a village of six thousand, located directly east of Cleveland. As the morning sunshine began to filter through the branches of the apple and maple trees that towered over him, the man dropped to one knee and began to pray.

What is thy will? Jeffrey Don Lundgren asked out loud. Give me a sign. Tell me what to do.

Lundgren stared upward into the morning light. He didnt move, didnt speak. For several minutes he waited, and then he nodded his head.

I understand, he said, addressing a vision that only he could see. Thy will be done.

It was misty on the night of April 17. There was no moon. The only light outside the farmhouse that Lundgren rented came from the neglected barn out back. It was a New England-style barn, painted red. It smelled inside of hay, rabbits, chickens, oil dripping from an abandoned car. An extension cord snaked across the floor leading into a little room at the rear of the barn. The cord had been tacked up the wall of the room and stretched out into the center of the ceiling. A single, naked bulb dangled down, illuminating a hole in the rooms dirt floor. The hole had been carefully dug and was precisely six and a half feet wide and seven feet seven inches long. It was four feet deep. Underground water had seeped into it, turning the bottom into two-inch-deep mud. The water gave the brown clay walls of the pit a sheen that glistened in the overhead light.

Just before 7:30 P.M., two men could be heard talking as they walked from the Lundgren farmhouse toward the barn. One of them cried out as soon as they stepped through a door into the barn.

Ouch! What are you doing? This isnt necessary. Goddamnit!

The fifty-thousand-volt electric charge emitted by the handheld stun gun was supposed to immobilize a man for several seconds, possibly even knock him unconscious. But when it was jabbed into Dennis Averys side by the man walking beside him, it neither immobilized Avery nor knocked him down. It only stung and made him mad.

Goddamn it! Avery yelled when the gun was jabbed once again to his neck. This isnt necessary!

Four men had been hiding in the barn and when it became apparent that the stun gun wasnt working, they jumped out and grabbed Avery, forcing him down onto the floor. Avery didnt fight. He was in poor physical shape, with a watermelon belly. Even his friends regarded the forty-nine-year-old Avery as weak. His attackers, mostly men in their late twenties, were all in excellent physical condition. Within seconds, Averys mouth, feet, and hands had been bound with gray two-inch-wide duct tape. His eyes, however, had not been covered. Jeffrey Lundgren had given specific instructions about Averys eyes. I want him to see who is administering justice, Lundgren had explained to his followers. I want to look him eye to eye when I break his heart.

As he was carried from the front of the barn back into the lighted room, Averys eyes flashed with anger. It was as if he were trying to communicate: As soon as Im loose, you are going to pay for doing this to me! But the two men carrying him werent afraid. They gently slid Avery down into the pit in the floor. He fell clumsily onto his side in the mud. Without speaking, the two men dashed toward the door.

The lone light bulb served as a spotlight over the pit, casting shadows into the rooms corners. As Averys eyes adjusted to the brightness, Jeffrey Lundgren stepped forward out of the darkness. He held a .45-caliber, stainless steel, semiautomatic pistol in his right hand.

Avery managed to pull himself up so that he was sitting on his knees now. Lundgren raised his pistol. He would later recall with complete clarity void of all emotions what his thoughts were at that moment as he looked down on the bound man who had considered him to be his very best friend. Lundgren was thinking about verses from the Old Testament book of Isaiah, chapter 30.

Woe to the rebellious children, saith the Lord, that take counsel, but not of me.... You are a rebellious people, you lying children, you children who will not hear the law of the Lord.

Lundgrens right hand tightened on the .45. I had told Dennis Avery what would happen if he continued to sin, continued to deny the truth, continued to reject my teachings, but he continued to choose darkness rather than light and he had no one to blame but himself for leading himself and his family into this pit of damnation.

He slowly squeezed the trigger.

The first hollow-pointed slug smacked Averys torso and knocked him sideways; the second round hit so quickly that it almost went in the same hole even though his body was recoiling. Averys taped face hit the muddy bottom of the pit with a loud smack.

Iniquity shall be to you as a branch ready to fall, and you shall break it-you shall not spare the wicked.

It was another verse from Isaiah.

All right, everybody, come look at this, come see what death is, Jeffrey called to the others. The five men who had subdued Avery came into the room and gathered around the hole. Lundgren had warned them earlier that God would someday demand each of them to slay the wicked. They would be forced to kill dozens, possibly more.

Lundgren examined the face of each man. He was still holding his .45 pistol. The men seemed terrified, yet mesmerized by the body in the pit. He knew that most of them had doubted him, doubted that he would actually go through with it.

Okay, bring in the next one, he said. He had tasted death and was eager to continue.

Lundgrens plan was simple. Dennis Averys wife, Cheryl, forty- two, would be the next to be put into the pit and executed. While Dennis was being murdered, Cheryl and her three daughters were sitting in the Lundgren farmhouse less than fifty yards away, visiting with the wives of the men in the barn. She would be lured from the farmhouse by one of Lundgrens accomplices, who would tell her that Dennis needed help in the barn sorting through some personal belongings stored there. Once inside the barn, she would be over- powered by Lundgrens followers and bound with duct tape. Her husband had no idea that he had been sentenced to death by Lundgren, nor would Cheryl. After Lundgren executed her, the Averys daughtersTrina, fifteen, Rebecca, thirteen, and Karen, sixwould be brought into the barn and put into the pit one at a time, the oldest first. Not only would their hands, feet, and mouths be bound, but their eyes would be covered with duct tape. The scriptures, Lundgren had explained, only required that the man of the family be allowed to see his executioner.

As Jeffrey waited for his followers to bring Cheryl into the barn, he glanced down into the pit. Blood was soaking into the back of Averys plaid wool shirt. There was no sign of life. Killing him had been easy. The pistol in Jeffreys hand felt good. Jeffrey decided that he had been smart to choose the .45 automatic. He had considered using a shotgun, but had rejected the idea because of the noise. Someone driving past the farm might have heard the blast and been curious. The cracking sound of a handgun was more crisp. He had considered using a .357 Magnum or a .9 millimeter, but was afraid that neither was powerful enough. Lundgren had read stories about police officers who had shot criminals three or more times with rounds from a .357 and still not killed them. There was no reason to prolong the Averys pain. Of course, the .45 had certain disadvantages. Little Karen Avery only weighed thirty-six pounds and shooting her with the big handgun seemed a bit extreme. Only a few nights earlier, Lundgren had gone to the Averys house for dinner and had bounced Karen on his knee. While she giggled at the excitement of being tossed up and down, he had wondered if he should use a smaller caliber pistol to kill her. But Lundgren had eventually settled on the .45 on the assumption that it would be better to use too much rather than too little firepower.