Vernon Howell (aka David Koresh): Infamous Adventist : Leader of Branch Davidian Cult
[Fifth in series of Adventist Celebrities and Me... because so many SDAs claim I wasn't ever really an SDA but someone on the periphery of the church.]
When the whole Waco standoff fiasco was still in progress-- ATF versus The Branch Davidian compound-- I got a call from a Las Vegas radio station and was told I was on live. [Fifth in series of Adventist Celebrities and Me... because so many SDAs claim I wasn't ever really an SDA but someone on the periphery of the church.]
I could hear the snickers and the blaring rock music in the background. The disk jockey asked,
"We saw your comments in USA Today and wanted to know, what it was like to have grown up with David Koresh?"
I made a fool of myself, having been caught off guard by the slick talk show host. I told them that I had a crush on him in the second grade--which touched off peels of smirky laughter. But truly at that time, Vernon's fifth-grade shyness and curly head was just adorable! The DJ asked me all about Adventism (you could hear the sarcasm in his voice and the suppressed laughter). Back then, I was a true blue Adventist and tried to explain to him all about the importance of the Sabbath. To him and probably all his listeners that afternoon, I was a joke.
My connections with Vernon Howell had been more than just attending Dallas Junior Academy. Many of Vernon's friends were my friends. (Which made it very shocking as he cried out their names when he was on national live radio from the compound.)After elementary school, he went out of my radar screen until he wandered down to Keene, Texas where the Adventists college was and I heard occasionally about him.
Then suddenly he reappeared into my life:
He sheetrocked the house my dad was building for my mother in Alvarado, Texas, right outside Keene--which took weeks as it was a huge house! At that time I was a bit frightened of Vernon because rumors were that he smoked marijuana and was getting weird. Yet, he was extremely polite and several times encouraged me to hear what "God was telling him."
One afternoon, as I was descending the staircase, he plead with me just to give him a few minutes to explain something God had told him about the last days. It was an extremely important prophecy. So I sat on the staircase and pretended to listen. He took a carpenters pencil (you know those flat ones) and traced out an elaborate timeline on the raw sheetrock. I sat there staring through him and his word's for what seemed like an hour. If I had known what was going to happen in a few years, I might have paid more attention.
If anyone out there is interested in any Branch Davidian memorabilia, that piece of sheetrock was papered over and is still hanging in our foyer. My guess is that under the wallpaper his prophetic timelines is still there.
When the compound went up in flames, I was sitting watching and praying. What a tragic end to that curly headed little boy I knew in elementary school. How could anyone become that self-deceived?