The time table is not important here. The names of the school’s staff and ah so called counselors will time date my 8 months in that hell hole.
It all started on a beautiful sunny day in August. I got home, had some grub, but here came this couple of guys from some place in Utah that had been recommended by Cuzzin Bud for gifted students.
So the whiffed me off in this little car. About Roy Utah, I puked, so bad they had to stop the car. I nearly bolted right then, but was tied up, and thrown back in the car. At that point, I knew this was not a good thing.
The first thing I was exposed to, was having to get in these red jump suits, and do this detail called time reduction. Who knows why someone makes a teen stand for the equivalent of 250 hours, with only 3, 5, minute breaks? No water, no potty break. This dude by the name of Frank Purvis, who was more like a pervert than anything was the guard. They called them Primary Therapists, guards is a better description. By the time 22:00 hours rolled around, sleep was a gift, escape and the only healing a kid got there.
The next morning was a school day. In came another PT, by the name of Ron Garrett, who woke you up, got you to some sort of food.
At the time , Provo Canyon School was a Boys only school. I guess now they let both genders in. However the exposure to anything female was shall we say, both suggestive and just plain wrong. The female teachers of 2, one, Barbara Graves, and another teacher in training, by the name of Mary Ellen Lewis, yes that Lewis, whose distant relative is C.S. Lewis of Chronicles of Narnia fame.
Both Ms, Graves and Lewis, wore skirts that were so short, that if they farted you could not help but see butt. And if you got a stiffy, which most teen boys get regular, you were given needle shots of salt peter, and put on what was called the PLAN. In a 5 X 5 room, with little air, no food and again no potty. POW’s in WWII were treated better.
I was there long enough to use what few brains I had to get my butt outta there. Progression was getting to where I got some privileges, to where I got to go out on the campus. Guess construction for girls had begun. One construction worker, had a good ole CB in his pickup. I got ahold of it, got in touch with a few RoadCommanders Association members there in nearby Orem, who relayed the intel to Mom & Dad who got me outta there. Shortly after I was enlisted in the USMC which saved my life. Had it not been for the Corps, I don’t think I could have held onto any sanity.
Today, I still have bad dreams equal to any a Vietnam vet has from that conflict.
There’s a gal that got out of there by the name of Angela Smith, who I hope wins the fight. If she does, it will set the stage so that others like me can file similar suits.
I have seen the promos on YouTube for PCS, and conveniently the comments have been closed.
There is much more I could say. But if you have a disturbed child, stay away from enrolling them in PCS of Utah or any of their affiliated programs.
As for Cuzzin Bud, again he was misinformed of the school’s operation, had he known I would never had been there.
If any of you have youth that was enrolled in PCS, and wish to join the class action suit being prepped by Knytes of Anarchy attorney’s or wish to contribute funds for our case, please contact me at; knytesofanarcy@yahoo.com .
L8R
Quote of the day:
My problem lies in reconciling my gross habits with my net income. - Errol Flynn
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