Tiffanie's Sentencing

Tiffanie Irwin was sentenced on Dec. 19, 2016, to 12 years in state prison. In her remarks after my statement, she berated District Attorney Scott McNamara and Judge Michael Dwyer, accusing them of being unfair and partial. This led to her demand to be permitted to withdraw her plead and receive a fair trial. Judge Dwyer meticulously examined her understanding of what accepting the plea had meant, and, satisfied with her comprehension of what she had done, he refused her "request," adding, "I think you’ve demonstrated to everybody that your statement of remorse is just that: a statement. There’s no feeling attached to it. That’s my opinion.”

The impacts of this crime are many, broad, and far-reaching.  The wrongdoing was not isolated to October 11-12, 2015, nor was it limited to only Luke’s family members. In fact, my experience convinces me that the culpability lies far more heavily with the Irwin family as the leaders of Word of Life Christian Church, since the crime was a result of their teachings.

My nightmare began on October 12, 2015. That evening I learned that my brother, Lucas Benjamin, was dead. As the hours passed, I began to understand that my initial thoughts of there having been some horrible accident were utterly incorrect. More and more details emerged. My brothers, Lucas and Christopher, had been brutally beaten—Luke so severely that he died. My father, step-mother, and step-sister were in jail. I gave statements and answered questions, spending over 14 hours with investigators, who gave thorough attention to learning the truth of this case, ensuring that justice could be served the best way possible. Yet Tiffanie, the leader of the group, remained free. And all I could think regarding this group was, “What have they done?!”

I’d been a big sister for nearly 20 years, but suddenly a new responsibility was added to my role. I had to sign my baby brother’s death certificate. I also worked with the victim’s advocate to fill out paperwork, which named Luke as the victim of a violent crime with his parents identified as the suspects. How angry and disgusted I was as I sat in the funeral home tending to this task! I knew this was not the fault of Luke’s parents. The real blame lay with Tiffanie. I had personal experience, which convinced me of that. Allow me to give an example.

In the spring of 2014, I was instructed to give a large sum of money to the church, under threat that serious physical harm or even death would come to someone very close to me if I did not obey. The demand was presented as though God Himself were speaking to me personally, but I was failing to hear or heed His command. Therefore, Tiffanie and Joseph took it upon themselves to enforce what they felt God was speaking. I was terrified. I did not have much money to my name, but I did have many people who were very close to me. I was a mother, a daughter, a wife… a sister.  How would I obey God? How could I obey the command delivered through Tiffanie and Joseph? Traci Irwin was also fully aware of the demand, and she even informed me that she knew how I could funnel money without my husband’s knowledge. I was willing to do whatever it would take to obey God and prevent injury or death to my loved ones.  After several weeks of inner torment and anguish, it came to my attention that Joseph and Tiffanie had grossly mistreated another member. It was then that I realized we needed to leave Word of Life. I never did hand over the money. And—wonder of wonders—serious physical harm and death came to my brothers.

I am left to agonize over this for the rest of my life. The sharp wondering comes and goes as does the guilt accompanying the thought, “If I gave the money, then Luke might still be here;” there is the pondering whether Tiffanie had in mind my failure to comply with her demands and her failure to maintain control of me when she declared repeatedly from the pulpit that Luke would die.

The last time I saw Luke was August 9, 2015—the day he attended church with me. That day was a first and last. It was the first time I’d had the opportunity to interact with Luke in a year, since I had resigned my membership at Word of Life Church in July 2014. Luke had been very brave to come to church with me, and I know he got in trouble for doing so. After I left Word of Life, current members were forbidden to have contact with me—and that included my own family. This was nothing new though. It was standard operating procedure for this high-demand authoritarian group to shun anyone who left the congregation. Luke had said he may want to stay with me for a few days following that Sunday service he attended with me and asked me if he could. Despite the repeated invitation and assurance that he was welcome to stay, he chose to return home. That afternoon was the last time I saw my Lukey.

Now I am left wondering if I should have urged him to talk, or at least followed up with him; I am left regretting not trying to convince him to leave Word of Life right away. But, knowing Luke, even if I had pressed him, I am quite sure that he would have chosen to stay with his family, so he could try to get them all to leave. He had seen on that one Sunday that my immediate family and a couple others were ok after leaving. Luke realized the phobia the Irwins taught, that all hell would break loose in someone’s life if they left, was invalid.

I am also faced with the reality that Lukey was following my lead. He and Christopher wanted to leave like I did. Luke took the first steps, to see where I had gone, to see if it was ok. Then he went back for the rest of our family. Christopher decided to follow; he started looking outside the iron walls of the authoritarian structure at Word of Life. I got out, unharmed physically. They tried to follow me and suffered horribly for it. The only solace I have is that I am not God. I do not get to choose who will go and who will stay, who will be martyred and who will continue to fight here. Luke’s frank courageous heart and buoyant spirit triumphed over pain.

Without a doubt, Tiffanie had absolute authority over the disorderly rage that ended with Luke’s death. I spent several years under her personal control. What she did between October 11-12, 2015, has given new meaning to the expression “even the devil comes as an angel of light.” I am disgusted that I ever considered Tiffanie to be my pastor, my spiritual leader. After being taught to entrust myself to her leadership, and knowing the atrocities she has overseen and directed, I find it very difficult to trust any leadership.

Tiffanie stole my family from me. I have lost much because of her. My baby brother is dead at the hands of the people I trusted most. My family is scattered, divided. As a mother, I grieve the loss of my children’s uncle Luke. My 9 year old daughter has confided to me that she regrets not having gotten to know Uncle Luke better. I grieve the separation of my children from their Uncle Chris and Aunt Grace. I grieve the loss of my children’s grandfather—there is so much that my father could patiently teach them, so much that he would introduce them to and inspire them to learn and love, so much of his kind, gentle nature which they need, but they will barely get to experience. I know what my children are missing even if they do not. As a sister, I grieve the loss of my brother. Lukey made me a card for my 35th birthday. It is filled with teasing. It’s great! …And I would have loved to see what he would have done to me for my 40th birthday. But that will have to be left to my own imagination. I grieve the pain that each of my siblings has been forced to endure. As a daughter, I grieve the loss of my dad and the pain and turmoil that has been laid on his back. I grieve the dreams and goals and accomplishments that have vanished… but are replaced by heavy, acrid smoke.

 Anger rises with a chokehold

clutching my trembling frame,

smothering my soul with thick, black smoke.

Caustic.

Sorrow rushes with murky raging floods,

a tsunami consuming me in anguish and confusion.

Destructive.

Questions churn violently in a cloud of ash overhead:

“How?” “Why?”

Abrasive. Toxic.

Desperate, my eyes search for a glimpse of beauty to rise from these ashes,

and once more, I see Lukey’s lightning bolt

in the midst of the volcanic storm.

I remember my promise to my baby brother, to my hero.

“I will be your thunder.”