The Deadliest Con Game In The World

The following in an excerpt from the “The Clearstone Project”, a novel by Julius Hannon.

Sitting back comfortably behind his sprawling desk, James Whitmore smugly boasted, “The feds have just ranked the Helping Hand Society’s family-planning clinics as the best in the country.”

Glaring at him, Brad Prescott asked from the chair in front of the desk, “Are the workers in those places aware that they’re involved in this thing to keep the black population at, er, a manageable level?”

“No, not a one of them,” he came back . “They have no idea that something like the Clearstone Project is underway. As far as any of them know, they’re just providing, uh, family-planning services for women and girls.”

He then went on to give a rather long spiel about how loyal and dedicated all of the clinic employees were and about the “terrific team of doctors” that worked in the facilities around the country. However, there was one thing that he failed to reveal to Prescott. He said nothing about a significant incident involving the clinics that occurred a little over three months ago, in early December, 1994.

At that time, five black women suddenly resigned from their positions as caseworkers in one of the Helping Hand Society’s family-planning clinics in Los Angeles, and blew the whistle on the large charitable organization.

Within hours after the women quit their jobs, they held an impromptu news conference in order to tell their story to reporters from the “Big 3” TV networks, the Global News Network (GNN) and several local newspapers.

Speaking for the other four, one of the women told the news people that the manner in which the Helping Hand Society was conducting its family-planning services was “criminal.”

Standing before the group of reporters, she said, “The only thing our bosses wanted us to do was encourage pregnant black women and girls to have abortions and to get their tubes tied. And every time one of us failed to get one or both of those things done, we either got written up or berated in some way or the other.

“And that’s why we walked off our jobs,” she went on. “We got sick and tired of railroading impoverished black women and girls with limited educations into having abortions and undergoing sterilization.”

The reporters listened intently to what the woman said but that was all they did. That night, neither the “Big 3”, nor GNN, broadcast anything about the walk offs and the account given -- and on the following day, no mention of the incident was made in any of the local newspapers.

Three days later, the women called the news departments of each of the TV networks as well as the city desks of the newspapers and received what was essentially the same response from each of those outlets. They were told, in so many words, while their story was “very interesting” it was “not really newsworthy.”

Two months went by and the women finally got a taker. In February, 1995, the editor of a Christian-oriented news magazine that had a circulation of about 100,000 personally interviewed the five and published a full account of the meeting in the March issue of the periodical.

During the interview, one of the women, a 37-year-old mother of two named Inez Dixon, gave an illustration of the way the caseworkers handled the women and girls who visited the family-planning clinics.

She shared that just before she walked off her job she interviewed a 17-year-old black girl named LaQuanda Williams.

After ascertaining that the teenager was unmarried and already had three children, Dixon asked her if she was expecting again.

Looking ashamed, LaQuanda answered, “Yeah, I’m pregnant … and that’s why I’m here. The lady at the welfare office told me that this is where I can get some information about pre-natal care.”

“How far along are you?” inquired Dixon.

“About four months.”

“Where’s the father?”

“He’s around.”

“Is he the father of your three children?”

“No.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“About a month ago.”

“Did he break up with you?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” replied LaQuanda sadly. “Every time I call his house, he’s not there. And he never calls me back.”

“Do you love him?”

“I don’t know about that but I like him a lot.”

“So, I guess you wish he was still coming around.”

“Yeah, sorta,” she responded, her eyes moistening.

Leaning towards the girl, Dixon said in a soothing tone, “Let’s talk woman to woman.”

“Okay, sure,” she answered, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

“To be honest, LaQuanda,” continued Dixon, “your man broke up with you because you already have three children and you got pregnant again.”

“Yeah, I thought about that.”

“And do you know what’s going to happen?”

“What?”

Dixon sighed and said, “You’re going to keep right on giving men your love, and they’re going to keep right on walking out on you.”

The young woman did not respond. She just sat there gazing sadly down at the floor.

Dixon reached over and held her hand.

“LaQuanda,” she said softly, “what you need to do is end this pregnancy.”

“You mean like get an abortion?” she blurted out, looking astonished.

“Yes.”

Oh, no, I can’t do that,” she moaned. “I don’t believe in abortion. If I do that, I’ll be killing an innocent little baby.”

“Well, let me put it this way,” said the caseworker. “If you have another baby, it’s going to show the man who just broke up with you, and all the others in your neighborhood, that you’re easy and don’t have any pride in yourself.”

“But I’m not that way.”

“I know you’re not, LaQuanda, but if you have another baby, that’s what all the men are going to think.”

“But it’s like I just said. If I get an abortion, I’ll be killing my child.”

“No you won’t,” countered Dixon. “It’s not a child until it leaves your body.”

Looking skeptical, LaQuanda asked, “Do you have any children?”

“Yes, I have two. A boy and a girl.”

“Then you know all about how they kick and move around while they’re still inside you.”

“Of course I do, but that doesn’t really mean anything. God doesn’t give it a soul until it’s born.”

“How do you know that?”

“I know because my husband is a minister.”

As LaQuanda sat there eyeing her with a look of disbelief, Dixon continued. “And here’s another thing my husband taught me. No where in the Bible does it say that it’s a sin for a woman to end her pregnancy.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Well, it’s true,” added Dixon. “This thing about abortion being a sin is a big lie that racist white people are spreading. They don’t want black women to end their pregnancies because they want all of us to have a lot of children. That way, there will always be always be plenty of black people to do the kind of work that they don’t want to be bothered with.”

As LaQuanda sat there trying to stop a fresh flow of tears, Dixon asked, “Do you want to spend the rest of your life alone? You know, without a man.”

“No, I don’t want that to happen.”

“Well, it will if you have another baby. A lot of men will take a woman with three kids but four is too many.”

“But I don’t have the money to pay for an abortion.”

Dixon gestured towards the ceiling. “Our medical facilities are right upstairs on the third floor. And the doctors and nurses up there will do every thing you need for free. Do you want to go up and talk to them?”

“Uh, no, not today. I want to go home and think about it.”

“If you do that, LaQuanda, you won’t come back. And that means you’ll have that baby and end up being alone for the rest of your life.”

“But won’t it take a long time? You know, the abortion.”

“No, you’ll be out in no time. And when it’s over, we’ll give you a ride home and some new toys for your children.”

“Well, uh, I have to call my sister and tell her I’m going to be late. She’s watching my kids for me.”

“Sure, honey,” cooed Dixon, rising from her seat. “You can do that upstairs.”

“I’m a little scared,” muttered LaQuanda, shakily getting to her feet.

“Don’t worry, dear,” consoled the caseworker, draping her arm around the young woman’s shoulders. “Everything is going to be just fine. We have the best family-planning clinics in America.”