By Stephen D. Bowling

It was a scary time for many in Breathitt County.  Residents locked their doors, and many kept loaded weapons nearby, just in case.  Many expected trouble and were prepared should they come.  Every white van and unknown vehicle was watched suspiciously and often followed.  Fear ruled the day.

Breathitt County and much of Eastern Kentucky worried that the devil worshippers were coming for them.  Officials cautioned the community to be aware but not worried.  Residents chose to worry anyway.  Most ignored that suggestion as a regional hysteria set in, which lasted through the summer and into the early fall of 1988. 

How such hysterias begin and what causes them has been debated since the first mass hysteria surrounded the Salem witch accusations.  In Breathitt County, the 1988 troubles most likely started with a single arrest on August 9, 1988.  Officers from the Jackson Police Department and Trooper Darren Williams of the Kentucky State Police investigated a vandalism report and damage to a grave at the Sewell Cemetery on Marcum Heights during the night of July 17. 

According to reports, the grave of William Meredith Childers, who died in 1939, was opened, and items were taken off the corpse.  Officials later admitted that vandals removed “some of the bones” from the grave.  The juvenile was taken into custody and charged with “one count of desecration of a venerated object to wit: a grave.”

Rumors spread quickly that the teen was part of a large group of residents who were part of a devil-worshipping cult.  Several other graves in the county had been damaged or “dug into” by members of the cult, according to town talk.  Many believed that an extensive satanic group from “out-of-state” had chosen Jackson because of its “666” phone designation.  Fears swirled throughout the county nearly as fast as the ever more outlandish stories.

Officials continued to investigate the case on Marcum Heights, and on August 16, three adults were arrested in connection to the case.  The Jackson Police Department told a reporter from The Jackson Times that the case was not closed and that they expected to make additional arrests.  The police department also announced that the four individuals arrested were only a part of a local group they believed to number no more than ten. 

“We have evidence linking this grave (desecrations) to the occult or devil worshippers,” a police spokesman said.  “We feel they have been playing with fire, but now the fire is quickly extinguished, and everyone can be assured that Jackson and Breathitt County is safe for adults and children.” The reassurance of the Police Department did little to settle the fears and nerves of the community.

Mayor Frankie Noble, who also happened to be the acting Chief of the Jackson Police, did his best to control the rumors and calm residents.  After further investigation, Noble admitted that officials believed there was a connection to occult activity.  Mayor Noble told the local media that the only symbol or evidence of the occult had been a five-pointed star on the floor of a trailer in Cripple Creek in South Jackson discovered during the recent arrests.  News of the symbol had spread, and by August 24, the tales included black hooded cult members who were collecting and sacrificing dogs as practice for a larger event planned for Halloween involving fair-haired children for human sacrifices.

“There is absolutely no evidence for this,” Mayor Noble said.  “There is no evidence of animal or human sacrifice.  We have found nothing like that.  There is nothing to worry about.  I can assure you, if there was, I would be the first to tell you.”

During the weeks after the arrests, thousands of calls poured into the Jackson Police Station and the Breathitt County Sheriff’s Office “to report something they had heard or to check on some rumor.” “It’s time for the rumors and fear to stop,” Noble said.  His best efforts did little to calm the fears of the community.

The arrest of three more individuals, two adults, and a juvenile, added fuel to the rumor fire.  Louise Hatmaker, the editor of The Jackson Times, printed a special article on the front page of the August 25, 1988 edition to slow the rumors.  Mayor Noble told residents that he feared publicity would cause “copy-cat” crimes and that graves might be damaged as a result.  “It is encouraging other small groups, especially juveniles, to keep the rumors flying,” Noble said.    

As feared, some vandalism did happen at Kiwanis Park, where local juveniles painted “666” and other messages on park facilities.  A frustrated Mayor told the City Council, “If we believed this was something too big for us to handle, we’d notify the public and probably call off the Honey Festival.”

Ervine Allen, the 1988 Honey Festival Chairman, addressed the rumors before the kickoff of the annual festival.  Fearing that many would stay away from the event, Allen said that he felt compelled to say, “Intelligent people, devout believers in the Almighty, should rise above the entire dark side.  Our faith should keep the dark side from endangering us.” He continued, “Everyone should enjoy the festival and not worry about the current rumors.”

Word of the fear and worries in Breathitt County grew across the region.  The rumored arrest of more than 30 members of a cult in the mountains only heightened the anxiety.  Phones started to ring at police stations around the mountain counties.  According to Steve Robrahn, a report for the Associated Press, police officials in more than twenty-five Kentucky counties fielded calls caused by rumors.  Robrahn identified mostly mountain counties but noted that the rumors had spread as far north as Nicholas County and as far west as Madison County.

Mayor Noble told Robrahn that every store in Jackson had sold out of guns.  “It got wild here,” Noble said.  “You could have brought a bunch of guns in here and made a fortune.”

Police officials reported major concerns and acts of vandalism in 14 counties, including a church desecration in Estill County.  In Hazard, a scared store clerk called the Jackson Police Department to report that 20 black dresses had been purchased to be taken to Breathitt County.  The clerk feared it was for use in “more devil rituals.” 

Into this volatile mix of rumor and fear drove a vacuum cleaner salesman.  The “white panel van” the salesman used to haul his offerings attracted the attention of the nervous in at least five counties.  Residents of Lee, Owsley, Wolfe, Jackson, and Breathitt Counties reported the driver as a man “about 30 years old, driving slow, and pulling into and out of people’s driveways.” The man later reported that he had been stopped and questioned by police in “seven counties and three times in Breathitt alone.”

To add more fuel to the flames, strange vehicles were seen on several Breathitt roads, driving slowly and occasionally stopping to take pictures of random houses, barns, and views.  The men and women never stopped to explain what they were doing.  Many thought they were connected to the occultists and were probably looking for victims.

And then it all ended as suddenly as it began.

With some residual fear, most parents sent their students back to school in mid-August.  Breathitt County Schools reported a “slightly higher than normal” absence rate but noted that attendance had improved each day.  No children were abducted from their bus stops, and none went missing.  Life returned to a cautious “normal.”

There were other distractions, too, that helped the panic pass.  Breathitt High School football started. The Bobcats struggled early but finished strong by winning four of their last five games. Other attention shifted to the movie crews, production vehicles, and celebrities that filled the streets of Jackson.  The excitement associated with the presence of Patrick Swayze, Helen Hunt, Charles Napier, and others visiting Jackson took the town by storm. 

Then there was the anticipated start of the UK Basketball season.  The excitement was short-lived, however. Eddie Sutton’s Wildcats basketball team went 13-19 in the season, and the discovery of $1,000 in cash spilling out of a package intended for Chris Mills changed UK basketball forever.

Closer to home, the investigation into the actual facts surrounding the satanic scare answered all of the questions caused by the rumors.  Officials determined that the twenty black dresses purchased in Hazard were used by the lighting department for Lorimar Films.  The dresses were cut into pieces and used as light baffles in Breathitt and Perry Counties while filming scenes for “Next of Kin.” The only cult connection was the following that developed around the film after its 1989 release.  It was learned that the slow drivers taking pictures across the county were site location crews from the production company looking for places to use as sets and backdrops for the film.

The analysis determined that the site of the “numerous dog sacrifices” and the “red substance” used to draw the pentagram in the trailer in South Jackson did not contain blood, human or otherwise.  Tests proved it was house paint.  The mysterious man in the white van was only selling Kirby vacuum cleaners in an attempt to make a living.

On October 12, 1988, the Breathitt County Grand Jury heard testimony from law enforcement officers about the alleged desecration of the grave on Marcum Heights.  After some deliberation, the Grand Jury returned indictments against five of the accused, charging them with one count each of “unlawfully and intentionally excavating the grave of William M. Childers and disinterring the human remains therefrom for the purpose of exploiting same.”

Over the next few months, the cases were each resolved in various ways.  Some charges were dismissed, and others were reduced, resulting in plea bargains. The items taken from the grave were returned, and the grave was repaired, but the occasional rumor of more activity continued for some time. 

Ultimately, the Breathitt County hysteria was only a small part of a larger national trend.  Fear of the occult was spurred by episodes of Sally Jessy Raphael and Geraldo Rivera focusing on devil worship and other practices.  A national conference convened in Louisville, Kentucky. Police officials from across the nation attended to learn about the growing trend, but the rumors slowly ended. Those few months, commonly referred to as the “Satanic Panic,” slowly passed into memory. 

The events of the fall of 1988 are nearly forgotten in the history of the county.  Most cannot remember the names and details of this strange episode in Jackson’s past or the panic’s influence on the state-wide fears.  Few area residents can recall what happened, but most of that generation can describe in great detail how scared they were.

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© 2024 Stephen D. Bowling