Longform

The Fight of Their Lives

Page 11 of 23

But Scott refused to take drugs unless Tracy took them with him; he was afraid the doctors would try to poison him. So for the next several weeks, Tracy, wearing white cotton as Scott ordered, was given a placebo while her husband took his medication.

Scott's condition stabilized, but the doctors warned that the drugs were not a cure. Their useful effects would last only as long as he continued taking the medicine.

Tracy wasn't about to wait around to find out how long Scott would do that. She filed for divorce, giving Scott most of their real estate properties. She just wanted out.

While at Porter, Scott lost his wife--but he found God with a vengeance. He was going to round up disciples of his own, he told Tracy. It would take him a few years, but when he had all twelve it would be time for Armegeddon.

Busy planning the end of the world, Scott still had time for Tracy. He wrote her more letters. "Please let me fix breakfast...Please let me kill ever [sic] frog that gets near you!" he wrote in one.

"Roses are red, violets are blue, you're so delicious, I want to chew on you," he wrote in another.

The letters were full of spelling mistakes and desperate promises. "I'm never going to threat anyone and especial you ever ever again...I'm sorry I've been so mean and have tried to brake you down to my level...I hope you'll introduce me as your best friend AND husband again... My heart is hurting so bad and I know I have hurt your's so much more over so long. Please let me be the doctor operate on yours to make it well for the rest of your life."

Then the letters got more threatening, Tracy later testified. They were destined to be together, Scott vowed in one, even if it meant dying together "like Romeo and Juliet." God had given him permission to punish her and make her repent.

After Scott was released from Porter and moved in with his parents, he again broke into Tracy's house. This time he left candy--Tracy had a sweet tooth--along with a note that read, "I'm waiting for you, my sweet thing."

A few weeks later Scott walked into the house and told Tracy he'd sign the divorce papers without a fight--God had told him she'd never go through with it.

Scott and God apparently had their signals crossed. Tracy filed the papers and the divorce was finalized the following spring, with Scott ordered to pay $650 in monthly child support. Instead, he stopped working, claiming he had injured a shoulder, and signed his property over to his parents.

At the time she filed for divorce, Tracy had estimated the couple was worth several million dollars. Now she had to declare bankruptcy; her children qualified for the school's free-lunch program.

But Scott was concerned with babies other than his own: God wanted him to stop abortions, he announced.

The Planned Parenthood clinic at 20th and Vine became his favorite local target. Alongside "disciples" like Clifton Powell, whom he let live in a house "owned" by his parents, and Leon "Joe" Gonzales, a convicted armed robber, Scott would stand at the clinic entrance and scream hellfire and damnation at patients and staff alike.

Sometimes he'd put up visiting anti-abortion crusaders, such as Texan Daniel Raymond Ware, a member of the Pro-Life Action Network who'd been arrested for possession of firearms, theft, larceny, DUI and trespassing and was currently wanted by the police. Sometimes Scott was the one traveling to protests across the country, networking with others in the anti-abortion movement.

Several area clergymen began getting strange letters from him, in which Scott would identify himself as the second witness--the first is Jesus--and warn them to prepare for the end of the world. In one missive, he warned a minister not to give away "the secret" at an upcoming service because a mysterious "they" would be watching and the time was not yet ripe.

In August 1991, Scott drove his van onto the lawn of one of his tenants, Michael Munson, who lived in the house with his wheelchair-bound wife. Although Scott had once told Munson God said he could live there rent-free, now Scott wanted to collect.

When Munson said he didn't have the money, Scott spit on him and began hitting the much smaller man and kicking him after he fell to the ground. When the police arrived, Scott, who had been raving a moment before, suddenly became calm as church air, politely cooperating with the officers as they arrested him for felony assault.

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Steve Jackson