K. Hicks at Shepherd’s Hill Farm (Also known as Shepherd’s Hill Academy)

This statement was found as a comment to a blog. All rights goes to the original author known as K. Hicks.

Former “resident” here.

I’m delighted to see that this scam is being accounted for what it actually is. Bravo!

I enrolled in May of 2005 after being tricked into visiting my father, who lives in Savannah, which is about four and a half hours away. My father and my stepmom drugged my food at a restaurant and I awoke when my dad’s car hit a gravel road. My next sight was that of a homemade, dilapidated sign stating, “Shepherd’s Hill Farm Discipleship Camp”…I freaked the hell out naturally and began to dial an emergency number on my cell phone for help. As soon as my feet hit the ground, I took off towards the entrance, but was tackled by Mr. Embry himself, who weighs a hearty 240 lbs. or so and is about 6’3. My face hit the gravel violently and I began to bleed as he twisted my arms up behind me, my clothing in tatters. Again and again, “counselors” walked by, repeatedly telling me that this was a “good place” and that they “loved me” and so did “Jesus” and that I had better “calm down”. I promised to calm down and they led me into a trailer where an RN, Rebecca Bombet, was waiting to do the intake paperwork. I was informed of their procedures, especially the punishments for using “foul language”. Special meals, “swats”, and work detail. “Swats” are actually where you are bent over and spanked with a 3/4 inch wooden board with holes in it, which resembles a cricket bat. The word “LOVE” is scrawled hastily on it with black permanent marker. I digress. During intake, I learned that my parents had actually agreed to use my college trust fund to pay for this “learning experience” and that they most assuredly saved me from going directly to Hell…I can safely say that is why I am not in college today…but, whatever, I needed Jesus, right? Right?

About two months later, I attempted to escape with two fellow students. We got to the next town before local law enforcement, undoubtedly one of SHF’s staunchest allies, found us walking down a country road towards South Carolina, which is about 10 miles away from the camp. EIGHT squad cars from Lavonia, GA, Stephens County Sheriff’s Office and all camp vehicles, including Mr. Embry’s personal mini-van, which was a gift from a parent…

Mr. Embry, being an ex-cop from Schereville, Indiana, which is a suburb of Chicago, Illinois; was very much in his element when he apprehended us. He told us to drop to the ground and not to, and I quote, “fucking move”. We dropped down and were taken by the local police back to the camp, which under the waiver, we were runaways. Power of attorney is actually granted to the camp prior to admission to avoid any “incidents”. When we were hauled back, we were taken to the trailer, which from now on I will refer to as the office, which is what it served as. Me and the other two guys were told that we were in “mortal sin” and that we had turned our backs on the very people who were trying to help us. The staff got together in a huddle, so to speak, and sentencing was fast. Three weeks of orange jumpsuits (no regular clothes), two weeks of sandals (no socks or closed-toe shoes, even when we were digging with post-hole diggers and sawing trees….), and a week and a half of shackles. Only these were not your typical shackles…..they were chains with padlocks that were put firmly around our ankles and tied with a piece of twine so that we didn’t trip (we would pick up the third end between our legs). On top of that, we were given two weeks of “special meals”, which is not exactly healthy with all the work that is done. AND we had three days of shoveling horse manure when the temperatures were in the 100s with heat index…

Needless to say, I got very ill and crawled up underneath a desk in the fetal position vomitting while we watched a sermon for two hours in the classroom. I was sick for about a week after that with a major infection, again, not even remotely addressing any medical attention other than Tylenol…

I could go on for awhile, but I feel like I’d be spinning my wheels. They’ve backed me in a corner anytime I try to bring this to the attention of law enforcement, civil authorities, or local politicians. I am very familiar with the area, having actually lived there about two years later and working with a concert promotion company out of Athens. Everyone says the same thing: you can’t fix what’s broken.

Sources:

• Shepherds Hill Farm – “The Great Child Abuse Secret” (Reality is my religion blog)
• Factsheet about the facility (Fornits Wiki)