commentary by Patrick H. Moore
A new and particularly bizarre child abuse case out of Oklahoma City adds a new element of theater to this heinous occupation. It seems that Geneva Robinson, a 49 year old grandmother, is accused of abusing a 7-year-old girl by dressing up as a witch, hanging her from her armpits in the garage and beating her with a horsewhip.
This is so weird that one is initially tempted to reject the report as not credible. In fact, several of Geneva’s neighbors say the charges are preposterous. After careful scrutiny, however, the evidence suggests that, indeed, the child was abused in the manner described above with lots of other nasty added ingredients.
First, let’s look at the evidence against Geneva and then we’ll examine statements made by her supporters.
According to Joleen Chaney of News9 the abuse first came to light when Geneva took the 9-year-old victim to the hospital “to be admitted,” because “she could not control her anymore.”
According to the police, the signs of abuse were the following:
1. The child was malnourished and very thin.
2. Her armpits were bruised with evidence of small cuts.
3. She had scratches and whelps (welts?) on her face.
4. There was scarring on the back of her neck
5. Whelps (welts?) and bruises were discovered along her jawline; and
6. Skin was peeling off the child’s infected ankles
The above was enough for the hospital staff to suspect child abuse and they called the Department of Human Services (DHS). The hospital reports that the little girl told them Robinson “would dress up as a witch, wearing a green mask, and would take her out to the garage, bind her up at night and make her sleep on a pair of jeans, because she was in trouble.”
The child explained that the witch was named Nelda and the marks under her arms were the 
result of Nelda taking a pink dog leash and hanging her from the ceiling of the garage by looping the leash under her arms. Then Geneva would hit her with an orange and black whip and would also take a wand knife and “put it to her neck”.
Who does Geneva think she is? Gilles de Rais?
The psychological torture Geneva allegedly foisted upon the child is just as hideous as the physical abuse. The victim said that Geneva told her “the creatures in the attic were going to come and get her at tonight.” She also talked about being burned with fire.
Geneva’s neighbors simply are not buying the alleged victim’s claims and state that Geneva “is good to the four children in her care.”
Ed Mazza of the Huffington Post writes:
“If it wasn’t serious, it would be laughable,” neighbor Tracie Spillman told NewsChannel 4. “I can’t believe it. I just think that’s not true.”
“I don’t believe it at all,” neighbor George Finley told the station. “She’s too nice and takes care of those kids.”
Based on what the police found when they went to Geneva’s house, there appears to be considerable validity to the victim child’s story, especially when you combine their discoveries with the physical signs of child abuse noted by the hospital staff.
Pretty flowers sway in the wind outside an Oklahoma City home, but police said inside was an ugly nightmare. …there were four children living inside the home, ranging in age from five to eight years old.
When the police searched Geneva’s garage they found the following inculpatory items, most of which seem to jibe with the child’s story:
1. A pink dog leash connected to a black dog leash attached to the garage door railings that stretched across the ceiling with the garage door in closed position
2. A horse whip
3. A dagger
4. A witch’s hat and a black wig
5. A costume with a hooded cloak and red eyes
To add fuel to the fire, one of the other children living in the house reported to officials that Geneva cut his finger with a pair of scissors and threatened to amputate it. A third child said the victim was forced to eat different food alone in the garage.
The four children have all been taken into protective custody. Robinson was charged with child abuse and released on bond.
* * * * *
So friends, you are of course free to decide for yourself if you think Geneva was truly taking part in The Theater of Cruelty.
For my part, learning about Geneva’s cruel antics reminds me of the time back in the summer of ’68 when I was fortunate enough to escape from a “witch” who nearly had me in her clutches. Permit me to set the scene:
I’m living in Beach Haven on Long Beach Island down on the shore in Jersey, a fair distance south of Asbury Part. I have a tough but satisfying job working in a bakery. Full-time, $1.25 an hour; I’m raking it in. It was actually pretty satisfying work and I was learning the rudiments of a useful trade.
My only problem was I hadn’t found a place to live, had very little money and was sleeping on a piece of plywood in back of the bakery. No one seemed to mind; after all, it was summertime down on the shore 46 years ago, and folks were perhaps more easygoing then than they are today.
But I wanted a room and had my feelers out. One night after work when I’m hanging out near the beach with “all the young dudes”, a middle-aged woman comes peddling up on her old-fashioned bicycle complete with a basket in front. She was a dead ringer for the Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz. All she needed was a witch’s hat. So we get to talking (this was before I had learned that some people are better off avoided) and when I tell her I have a day job she says that an ambitious fellow like me should moonlight, get a graveyard shift job on the weekends, bring in a little extra money.
How could I argue with that? She tells me where to apply and I’m hired instantly. Summer jobs on The Island were easy to come by.
She had also told me she had a room for rent and that I should come on by. So with some reservations, I do – I’m feeling pretty good, two jobs, a few coins rattling in my jeans.
She lives in what is best described as an old dilapidated ship captain’s house complete with eaves, gables, lightning rods and a weather vane.
I knock on the door and she’s waiting for me. Of course she was… We sit down in an antiquated parlor like something out of an Edgar Allan Poe story, complete with an ornate ship in a bottle crazily askew on the mantlepiece. We talk or rather she’s talks and I listen. She babbles on about ambition and how I shouldn’t hang out with “all the young dudes” and after a while she fetches me a tureen of turkey neck soup. OhMyGod it was nasty! I try to choke some down.
I’m at a terrible disadvantage because even though I was a rebellious kid, I still had that (un)natural tendency to be respectful to adults. Occasionally, she licks her upper and lower lips – old and pinched though they were – with a kind of gleeful gusto. I realize she is literally licking her chops. I sense that this is all part of 
the bewitching process and that if I don’t get out of Dodge very soon I will be lost forever and no one will ever see me again.
My heart is beginning to pound and I realize that I may have to catch her off guard by throwing the soup in her face and make a run for it. She says, “In just a minute I will take you 
to your room.” I’m sure my face must have been ghastly but if she noticed, she didn’t let on. Instead, she remembered that she might have left something burning on the stove and told me not to go anywhere and that she’d be right back.
She was barely through the door when the angel’s wings sprouted between my shoulder blades. I had never flown before but there’s a first time for most everything. Never did sleeping on a piece of plywood feel so good.