Letters from Chad

Letters to friends/family posted on behalf of Chad Daybell. All opinions are his. DMs are closed. He receives no financial compensation.

[Letters from Chad @LettersFromChad]

Letter #1

Hello, my friends! This is Chad Daybell, writing to you from my cell in Idaho's Maximum Security Institution. This is the first of several letters I will send. I want to thank everyone who sent me cards and letters while I have been incarcerated. Your kind words of support really helped me. I cherished each one!

I arrived here at the prison in June 2024, and I suppose you could say I've settled in. As for Death Row itself, I won't be sharing details about my daily schedule or information about my fellow inmates. As the newest arrival on Death Row, it isn't my place to talk about such things. It really is a different world in here, but I'm surviving, and I spend a lot of time working on my upcoming appeals.

I express my gratitude to each of you who have been part of my life. While I was in the Fremont County Jail, I spent thousands of hours in an isolation cell. I wasn't allowed to have a clock, and it often felt like time stood still. During those challenging days, I would reflect on my life, working forward from childhood to more recent years. As memories came to me, I would write down the names of the people who had been positive influences in my life. I felt strengthened as I remembered my extended family members, neighbors, co-workers, school classmates, business associates, church members, and friends I have been privileged to know. You have all enriched my life in so many ways.

I am using this method to share my story because I want you to receive it uncensored and unfiltered, directly from me. I am aware of how I have been portrayed in the media. Frankly, those portrayals of me are unrecognizable. I am not the man the media has created. I am not a cult member who should be feared. I am not a conspirator or a killer. I never have been. I am a father, a grandfather, a husband, a son, a brother, and a friend with a firm faith in the gospel of Jesus Christ.

I have recently been able to have a few in-person visits with several of my family members, and those have been wonderful. I will always be grateful for the unconditional love and support these family members have given me. When people find out that my relatives have visited me, they usually ask them, "How has he changed?"

My relatives give the same response: "He hasn't changed. He's the same Chad we always knew." People are surprised by that answer after hearing a different story for so long. I am still the quiet, gentle person you all know. I have always been a peacemaker, even now in prison. I have never caused anyone's death, and never conspired to commit such acts against anyone. I share in your sadness, pain, and grief over the deaths of Tammy, Tylee and JJ. I don't have all the answers even now, but I'm grateful a more complete story will be shared during my appeals process.

During my court trial, I followed my attorney's advice to sit quietly, not smile, and not show any emotion as evidence was presented. I know that is standard protocol for defendants in the courtroom, but I realize now that it made me appear to be cold and uncaring, which is the opposite of who I am. I assure you my heart was breaking many times throughout the trial, and there were moments I couldn't hold back the tears, especially as I saw and heard family members suffering the same feelings of anguish that I was experiencing.

A key purpose of these letters is to share with you what I had hoped would have been explained in court. I will strive to make each letter informative and worth your time. I fully realize many people will never change their negative opinion of me. In this age of social media, podcasts, and the merging of the mainstream media with law enforcement, very few defendants are portrayed in a positive way. All I can hope for is that these letters can begin to generate feelings of healing, reconciliation, and understanding.

Thanks again, my friends, for the many ways you have helped and inspired me throughout my life.

[Letters from Chad @LettersFromChad]

Letter #10 is posted. You can read it through the link below. This will be the final letter for the time being.

https://t.co/yAvZF0F13K

[Letters from Chad @LettersFromChad]

Letter #9 is up and available to read

https://t.co/rvL6QFnlRD

[Letters from Chad @LettersFromChad]

Letter #8 is posted!

https://t.co/ZODjidDloY

[Letters from Chad @LettersFromChad]

Chad's musical notes #7

In these letters I have shared a few of my encounters with spirits. However, I realize there are people who truly don't sense spirits around them. I know a man who worked in a cemetery for three decades, and he claimed he never felt any spiritual phenomenon during that time. I believe him, because we are all "wired" differently with various abilities.

I used that word "wired" because I perceive spirits as human-shaped electrical fields. When they are near me, the hair on my arms and legs stand on end. I rarely see or hear spirits. I also don't smell or taste their presence, although some people do!

The sense of touch best describes what I experience. A visit from a good spirit feels like a warm summer breeze that creates a soothing, energetic effect. Meanwhile, the presence of an evil spirit generates an icy vibration similar to a frigid winter gust that temporarily takes your breath away.

We have all been given spiritual gifts from heaven, including a sense of intuition or a "gut feeling" to help us. I think most people can recall situations when they have felt guided or warned by an unseen source. The great thing about these gifts is that they aren't "one size fits all." We each receive them in ways we can best understand them, based on our own talents. Hopefully we will use these gifts to make the world a better place.

Throughout my life I have sought to bring positive energy and healing light to the hearts of those around me. The source of this light is Jesus Christ. The Savior's atoning sacrifice has made it possible for each of us to overcome death by being resurrected someday and returning to live with our eternal family.

LDS Church President Russell M. Nelson has recently shared several messages about the Savior's Second Coming. Jesus will soon return in glory to bring peace to this troubled world. I know this event will happen and flood the earth with happiness.

This leads me to mention another song that helped strengthen me during those very rough final months in the Fremont County Jail before my court trial began. The song is "I Believe It (The Life of Jesus)" by Jon Reddick. It sums up the marvelous mission of our Savior. Please put on some headphones, sit back, and listen to this wonderful, heartfelt tribute to Jesus.

https://t.co/NAGWq7fB2P

[Letters from Chad @LettersFromChad]

Chad's bookshelf # 7

I was employed as Springville's cemetery sexton for several years before moving into the book publishing world on a full- time basis. As I mentioned in an earlier letter, our book company started off with great success. Then in 2008 the entire publishing industry began feeling the effects of the Great Recession. At our annual booksellers convention I met with other publishers, and we tried to reassure each other that our companies would survive. After all, during the Great Depression in the 1930s the citizens had turned to books as their main form of entertainment during hard times.

Well, history didn't repeat itself in this age of the internet. We were barely able to keep Spring Creek Books afloat. We did bounce back a few years later, but in the meantime it was clear I needed to find a different full-time job. In a strange twist of fate, it meant a return for me to the cemetery business. Spanish Fork's cemetery sexton was retiring, and I applied and got the job. In some ways it was surreal, because when you grow up in Springville, your main rival is Spanish Fork. But I felt welcome and I had great co-workers.

I want to share a Spanish Fork ghost story, because it was a situation where I didn't see anything, but my two co-workers did! I'll call them Derik and Sam to protect their privacy. The story begins as we were filling a grave in the part of the cemetery where original settlers were buried.

As Derik and Sam waited by the grave, I drove the backhoe to our dirt pile a few hundred yards away and returned with a scoop of dirt. As I got closer, I saw Derik and Sam both backing away from the grave. Sam was nervously pointing at something, and then Derik actually hid behind Sam. Something had clearly spooked them.

I dumped the load of dirt in the grave, then turned off the backhoe and hopped out. Derik and Sam started shoveling the dirt as if nothing had happened, but then Sam asked me, "Did you see him too?"

"What do you mean?" I asked. They looked at each other in surprise. Sam stammered for a moment before walking to a spot about ten feet from the grave. He said, "There was a boy standing right here. He was watching us."

Derik added that the boy was wearing old- style clothes, and that he vanished into thin air when I got closer with the backhoe. I asked them if they could see through him, and they both shook their heads. Derik said, "I thought he was a real kid at first. He stood there for at least thirty seconds." We discussed that experience many times during the rest of the summer, and we marveled that both Derik and Sam saw the boy.

I would always write down memorable cemetery stories such as this one, and I eventually published a non-fiction book titled "One Foot in the Grave." The first version was published after I finished working for Springville City. I later updated the book with a new cover and added several of my Spanish Fork experiences. There are numerous funny stories included, along with a good description of what it is like to work in a cemetery.

Despite these occasional humorous incidents, I always took my duties as sexton very seriously. I regarded it as a sacred honor to care for the cemetery grounds, and to perform burials properly with professionalism. Most importantly, I always made sure the deceased were shown complete dignity and respect. I knew better than anyone that my employees and I were on holy ground, with friends and relatives watching us from the Other Side. I'm grateful for that unique opportunity, and for the experiences I had that made me a better person.

You can find “One Foot in the Grave” here
https://t.co/O0LABAdcw8 (paid link)

[Letters from Chad @LettersFromChad]

Letter #7

When I was Springville's cemetery sexton, most days were calm, but there were times when things got a little spooky. The most tangible ghostly experience I had happened after we buried a man named Eddie, who had been known in town as a petty thief. His burial spot wasn't far from my office, and almost immediately after his graveside service strange incidents started occurring.

For example, the morning after Eddie's burial I arrived at work and noticed the gate to the enclosure where we parked the backhoe and dump truck was swung open. This was unusual, because I always made sure the gate was locked as I departed each evening. I possibly left the gate open on accident the first time, but after the same thing happened the next two days, I strongly suspected Eddie was still picking locks and causing mischief despite being dead.

When I left for work after the third incident, I tucked a piece of plastic around the lock in a certain way so I could tell if someone touched it. I even drove back to check the lock that night after dark, and it was still fastened securely with the plastic in place. However, when I checked the gate early the next morning, it had been pushed open a few inches! The lock was undone, even though the plastic looked untouched. I wasn't amused by this ghostly prankster.

The biggest surprise came moments later when I checked the shed next to my office. The shed had a padlock that required a key I kept on my keychain. But not only was the shed unlocked, but the padlock itself was hooked on a peg above the door! By this point I wasn't scared, I was irritated. I figured Eddie was nearby, probably pleased I had noticed his handiwork. So I turned around and said, "Hey Eddie, listen to me! I'm impressed with your skills, but you're going to get me in trouble. What if someone sees the open gate and steals the backhoe? I'd get fired."

I paused for a few seconds, then added, "Eddie, you don't belong here. There's a better place for you. Look around, go toward the light, and don't come back!" He must have listened, because any problems with the locks stopped that very day.

The Springville Evergreen Cemetery has a good, positive vibe, but there were a couple of areas where negative feelings were very strong. One section caused me anxiety, although there was no logical reason for it. I sensed I was treading on someone's territory, and they were bothered I was there. I'd never shared these feelings with anyone, though, until our cemetery secretary brought me a burial order. She pointed out the location, then said, "I hate that part of the cemetery. It gives me the creeps!"

I explained to her that I felt the same way in that area. She grimaced and actually shivered from head to toe. She said, "It feels like someone is playing with my hair when I'm over there!"

But my most frightening cemetery experience happened in another area. One woman's grave was well-known for being supposedly haunted, and I avoided it. But it so happened someone died who would be buried in the plot next to the haunted grave. In order to put the new burial in the right spot, I would have to use one of our metal probing rods to push down through the soil and locate the concrete vault of the haunted grave.

I've analyzed what happened in the next few seconds a thousand times in my mind, but there is no denying that when the probing rod hit the vault, an electrical shock jolted my body. I dropped the rod and shook my arms until they stopped tingling. I wondered if I'd struck an underground power line, but it was impossible.

I grabbed the probing rod once again, and this time when I touched the vault it felt like somebody shoved me viciously in the chest. I took off running as fast as I could. I sensed an angry demon-like spirit right on my heels, and it chased me all the way to my office. I could feel the demon clawing at me. Every inch of my body was covered in goosebumps, and I was praying out loud the entire way. My office was several hundred yards from the grave, but I covered the distance in record time. I was completely terrified.

When I dug the grave with the backhoe the next day, I stayed as far from the haunted vault as I possibly could. I wasn't going to risk the chance of another violent supernatural encounter, and thankfully nothing happened.

I later read the autobiography of Heber C. Kimball, a very prominent LDS Church leader in the 1800s. He endured a demonic attack while on a church mission in England that reminded me of my own experience. He was struck with great force by some invisible power and fell senseless to the floor. Two other missionaries helped him sit on the bed, then all three of them could distinctly see evil spirits, who gnashed their teeth at them.

Heber said, "We saw the devils in legions, with their leaders, who came within a few feet of us. They came toward us like armies rushing to battle. They appeared to be men of full stature possessing every form and feature of men in the flesh, who were angry and desperate."

He added, "I learned the power of the adversary, his enmity against the servants of God, and got some understanding of the spirit world." (Source: "Life of Heber C. Kimball" by Orson F. Whitney, pages 144-145.)

Thankfully the positive cemetery experiences outnumbered the negative ones. Most graveside services carried a good feeling, and it was easy to sense that loved ones of the deceased were in attendance. These spirits were eager to welcome their friend or relative back home, and to congratulate them on a life well lived.

One tender moment for me was at the conclusion of an older woman's graveside service. She and I had been neighbors for several years, and I had sometimes assisted her with yardwork and other mundane tasks. As her family members returned to their vehicles, it felt like she came to my side. I could sense how happy she was to "graduate" and continue on with her eternal journey. A warm sensation filled my heart, and I sensed she was thanking me for the help I had given her over the years. I was filled with an assurance that we'd see each other again in a future day.

It was also at the cemetery that I got the message to begin my career as an author. Writing books was another phase of my life I had seen in the video snippets shown to me during my near-death experience at La Jolla Cove, but I hadn't been given any context of when or how this would happen. I figured it would be later in life, not while I was still in my 20s.

A big snowstorm had hit Springville overnight, so I got up early to plow the snow from the cemetery roadways. There was also a funeral coming that day, so I began shoveling a wide path across the lawn to the gravesite. Then from out of nowhere I heard Grandpa Keith's familiar voice. He simply said, "It's time to write your books."

I leaned on the snow shovel and said aloud, "That's great, but I have no idea what to write about." Almost immediately the entire plot of my first novel filled my mind. I quickly finished shoveling the path to the gravesite, then I took my lunch break and spent a few minutes jotting down a summary of the storyline. I worked on the book each night at home for the next few weeks.

When I felt satisfied the book was ready, I submitted the manuscript to Cedar Fort Publishing. I was soon offered a publishing contract. To my surprise, the novel became a regional bestseller, and I ended up publishing my first twelve books with Cedar Fort.

I was confident that my books were inspired from a heavenly source, and I knew writing them was helping fulfill my promise to Grandpa Keith. But it always helps when the adversary reinforces that you are on the right track. One night as I was falling asleep, I heard a rustling noise outside our bedroom window. As I lay there, a dozen voices suddenly shouted in unison, "We hate your books!" It was fairly loud, and I looked over at Tammy, but she hadn't awakened.

Then they repeated the phrase. I jumped out of bed and looked out the window, but no one was there. The voices were high- pitched and certainly not mortal. I knew I'd been visited by evil spirits. Even though I couldn't see them, I sensed they were milling around my yard, and I could feel their anger at me.

The LDS Church teaches that families can pray and dedicate their homes to protect against evil spirits, and we had done that when we moved in. But now I rededicated our home and expanded it to include all of our property. I asked Heavenly Father and his angels to remove these demons and stop them from returning. It was a relief to feel them depart, and we didn't have any more trouble with them after that.

Although the encounter was frightening, it actually strengthened me to know the adversary and his demons weren't pleased with the books I was writing.

[Letters from Chad @LettersFromChad]

Letter #6

My second near-death experience happened in the summer of 1993. Eight years had passed since I had jumped off the cliff at Flaming Gorge Reservoir. I was now nearly 25 years old. Tammy and I had moved to Ogden the previous year when I was hired as a copy editor for the Standard-Examiner newspaper, and we now had a one-year-old son. Ogden is about a 90-minute drive from Springville, so we felt we were on our own, but still close enough to visit our families regularly.

I really enjoyed my new job. I had been the City Editor during my senior year for BYU's Daily Universe newspaper, but going to the Standard-Examiner was a major step up. The company was a full-scale operation with a bustling newsroom and dozens of employees, and I was right on the front lines in producing the newspaper each day. This was an exciting time when computer typesetting programs were being introduced, but when I first started working there we still actually cut and pasted the newspaper together.

On the Copy Desk we would design the pages, edit the stories, write the headlines, then send the articles to the production room. If an article ended up being too long for the page, I would be called to the production room to decide which part of the story to cut out. Then with an Exacto knife we would literally cut the text to fit and paste it onto the page board.

There was a lot of stress as the daily deadline approached, with people running everywhere and shouting to each other as we all tried to do three things at once. I would be editing a last-minute article on my computer but listening for someone to shout, "Chad, get back here and cut this story!" or "That headline isn't long enough! Rewrite it!"

So the job was invigorating, and I was getting a hands-on crash course in writing, editing, and publishing. The eight-hour shifts went quickly, because we rarely had time for a break. Since I had an interest in sports, I became the main copy editor for the Sports section. I thrived in the excitement each weekend as we scrambled to get in all of the high school and college stories and scores before the deadline. On those nights I usually designed each page and wrote every headline in the section. It was high- pressure at times, but rewarding when we put together a great section.

I got along well with my colleagues, and I expected to steadily work my way up the corporate ladder and remain with the newspaper for several years. Tammy had made some good friends in Ogden, and we enjoyed exploring northern Utah together. I was focused on my career and my young family.

Then my parents invited us to join them on a vacation to San Diego, California. I had spent my first two years of life there while my father was serving in the U.S. Navy, and the area has remained a special place for our family.

One spot we liked to visit was La Jolla Cove, where we'd play on the beach and look for seashells. When we arrived on this particular day, it was low tide and a jagged rock outcropping had been exposed. I climbed out onto the outcropping looking for shells that might have gotten trapped among the rocks.

The ocean had been calm, but I suddenly looked up to see a towering wave bearing down on me. I had no way to avoid it. For a moment I considered trying to ride the wave to the beach, but I knew I would surely be sliced apart by the jagged rocks.

Over the roar of the approaching wave, I heard an audible voice shout in my ear, "Get down and cling to that rock." I grabbed hold of a nearby two-foot-wide boulder just as the monstrous wave crashed down on me. The force was incredible, and it took all of my strength to not get ripped away by the water.

Then my surroundings instantly changed, and I found myself out of my body inside a tunnel of light. It wasn't a bright white light, but more like a yellow heat lamp. It felt like I was wrapped in a warm blanket, and I felt extremely happy. I saw two men in robes standing about ten feet above me in the tunnel, and I instinctively knew them. One was my Grandpa Keith Daybell, and the other was my great-great-great grandpa Finity Daybell. They had died before I was born, but it was like reuniting with old friends.

I levitated up the tunnel to where they were, and the tunnel opened up into a room. They smiled at me, but they seemed to be in a hurry. Keith began speaking to me and gesturing with his hands. He mentioned my five children and the roles they would play in the future. It was a strange conversation, since Tammy and I only had one child at the time.

Keith also explained the tasks I needed to accomplish in my lifetime. As he talked, I saw snippets of future events on a set of screens in front of me. The rush of images was almost overwhelming. It felt like they were being downloaded into my mind. Keith asked me if I would be willing to fulfill the assignments he had outlined, and I agreed to do so.

Finity didn't speak, because he was keeping an eye on my body, which was now tumbling among the rocks. I could also see my body, but I had lost all interest in it. I was too busy enjoying this family reunion. Then I saw Finity give a nod to Keith, who made a motion with his hand. I was suddenly back in my body, which had washed closer to the beach.

I felt wrapped in a soft, protective cushion as another wave propelled me over the rocks and onto the beach. I credit this cushion for helping me escape additional serious injuries. Then the pain hit me. I looked at my hands and saw my fingertips were shredded from being ripped away from the rock. The left side of my back had large bloody gashes, and I had a deep cut on my chin. My family helped me to the car and took me to the hospital to be examined. I didn't have any broken bones, but I got a lot of stitches!

This brief adventure out of my body felt like an urgent business meeting where Grandpa Keith poured information into me, while Finity allowed the meeting to go on just long enough before I would have drowned. It seemed like there should have been an easier way, but I guess they seized the opportunity!

I was pretty banged up, so Tammy and I decided to end our trip at that point and head home. On the drive back to Ogden, I told her about what had happened with Keith and Finity. She was very intrigued and started asking many questions. As she did so, the snippet pertaining to each question would play in my mind.

I told her about the five kids, and she was happy about that. She asked when they would be born, and I explained I hadn't been given any dates, but I had seen we would have three kids in Ogden before moving back to Springville. So we estimated we had at least a few more years living in Ogden.

Once we returned home, most of the snippets were taken from my mind, and even now I only have access to them on a need-to-know basis. Tammy and I wished we'd talked more about it on the trip home and found out more. But we would have one answer soon enough. Little did we know during our trip that Tammy was already pregnant with our second child, and the third one would quickly follow!

I had seen enough in the Spirit World snippets to raise my curiosity about one future job option, but it seemed highly unlikely to happen anytime soon. During my sophomore and junior years at BYU, I had a part-time job at the Springville Evergreen Cemetery. During the school year I would attend classes in the morning and work there in the afternoons. Then I would work full-time during the summer. Over time all of my brothers also worked there, so it became a family tradition in a way.

The cemetery sexton was Denny Pickering, and he supervised all of the cemetery operations. These tasks included sprinkler repair, lawn maintenance, digging and filling graves, coordinating with mortuaries and headstone companies, and helping families purchase burial plots. I became Denny's assistant and took care of these matters when he went on vacation. In the summer, there was a five-person crew to help maintain the cemetery, but in the winter it was just the two of us. I shoveled a lot of snow!

About two years after my La Jolla Cove experience, and soon after our third child was born, my brother called to tell me Denny had announced his retirement. The city was looking for his replacement, and my brother thought I might be interested in applying for the job, since I had knowledge and experience other candidates might not have.

This would definitely be an unusual career change, but Tammy and I felt it was the right time to make a move. I interviewed for the position and was hired the next week. When things fell into place so quickly, we knew it was the right decision. So with our growing family, we moved back to Springville in late 1995.

[Letters from Chad @LettersFromChad]

Musical Notes #6

Suddenly after three years at the Standard-Examiner, I was Springville's cemetery sexton at age 27. Although I had been anticipating a transition back to my hometown after the birth of our third child, I was surprised at which job had opened up. I had been looking at jobs in Utah County related to my Communications/ Journalism degree. I had actually been offered a position on the Provo Daily Herald staff a couple of months earlier, but it didn't feel right and I turned it down. The cemetery job had been in the back of my mind, but I figured Denny Pickering wasn't going to retire anytime soon.

Denny stayed on the job during my first two weeks to overlap a bit and answer any questions I might have. It was great to reconnect with him. My brothers and I always regarded him with great respect, but also as a wise guru, because he would share various sayings and phrases about life that were equally puzzling and profound. He would often tell us, "Enjoy."

That's it. No elaboration or explanation. If we asked, "Enjoy what?" he would simply repeat "Enjoy" and walk away. I finally decided Denny meant for us to enjoy each moment and appreciate life. So, I pass on that message to you. "Enjoy."

After Denny's final two weeks, I was on my own. I tried to not feel overwhelmed at first. The Springville Evergreen Cemetery is very large with thousands of headstones. People sometimes think the sexton job is easy, but as I described in the letter, there are many responsibilities tied to the position. But I quickly adapted and enjoyed the sunshine and fresh air after sitting at a desk and staring at a computer screen for three years.

The biggest change for me was being much more aware of the otherworldly nature of the profession. When I had worked at the cemetery during college, I hadn't had my La Jolla Cove near-death experience yet. Any Spirit World interactions at the cemetery had been rare before, but now I could feel there were plenty of "friends" hanging out in the cemetery. When I was alone in the cemetery building, I often sensed visitors from the Great Beyond joining me.

On bad-weather days I would work in my office to catch up on my record-keeping, and invariably I'd soon notice the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. It was as if someone was leaning over my shoulder reading what I had written. I know these ghostly friends didn't mean any harm, and I would smile when I'd return from my lunch break to find my pen had been moved across the desk from where I'd left it. Sometimes I would arrive in the morning and see that my day planner was already turned to the correct day. That must have taken a lot of effort!

I generally sensed five male spirits hanging around me. I understood they had lived in Springville many years earlier and had been friends during their mortal lives. They considered themselves the guardians of the cemetery, and I appreciated their help. But there were days when I just had to say, "Guys, get out of here! I'm trying to get some work done!" And they would oblige.

A few years ago, Rick Astley release a gospel album titled "50." (Yes, the "Together Forever" singer from the 1980s who is now well-known for the "Rick Roll" internet phenomenon.) The album is fun and joyful, especially the song "Angels On My Side."

Rick sings, "I got angels, you got angels, everybody got their angels on their side. Everything's gonna be all right."

I dedicate the song to my cemetery friends from thirty years ago who watched over me, and also to my current friends who I sense are helping me and protecting me now. Yes Rick, everything's gonna be all right.

https://t.co/3lBrUre0NR

[Letters from Chad @LettersFromChad]

Bookshelf #6

The late 1980s and through the 1990s were a unique time, when truths about the Spirit World were being revealed from seemingly every direction. The Berlin Wall came down, and the rapid changes in the Soviet Union brought feelings of hope and peace as we headed toward the new millennium. A spiritual awakening emerged across the world as these life-changing events unfolded.

Angels were a major topic of conversation on daily talk shows, and TV programs such as "Touched By An Angel" were very popular. Meanwhile, dozens of books about angels and visits from the Other Side filled the nation's bestseller lists. Many of these books were written by LDS Church members who either shared their own personal experiences, or who compiled the experiences of others. Here are some of the more notable spiritual books written by LDS authors during that time:

Embraced by the Light by Betty Eadie, I Stand All Amazed by Elane Durham, The Message by Lance Richardson, I Saw Heaven by Lawrence Tooley, The Beyond the Veil series by Lee Nelson, Coming from the Light by Sarah Hinze, Echoes of Eternity by Arvin Gibson, The Life Before by Brent L. Top

After my second near-death experience, I devoured these books and many others like them. I felt I had discovered a group of people who could relate to what I'd been through. Each one of these books is excellent, covering heavenly topics from different angles but with the same general theme of a vast world beyond this one.

I later had the privilege of getting to know and work on books with Lee Nelson and Sarah Hinze. They are among the best people I've been associated with. Lee is a good-hearted, down-to-earth cowboy, and Sarah is a sweet, kind, thoughtful person. She’s a true angel herself!

[Letters from Chad @LettersFromChad]

Bookshelf #5

In the 1970s, several scientists and researchers began to study modern-day reports of near-death experiences, or NDEs. Dr. Raymond Moody’s book “Life After Life” compiled several of these accounts and brought NDEs to the attention of the general public.

At around the same time, Dr. George Ritchie wrote a fascinating first-person account of his death, his journey into another realm, and then his return to his body. The book is “Return from Tomorrow” and has sold millions of copies worldwide. These books and others like them have helped people believe in an afterlife where we will reunite with our deceased family members, friends, and even pets.

I recently became aware of an NDE that happened to Jeremy Renner, the famous actor who plays the character Hawkeye in the Marvel Avengers movies. As you likely know, Renner was involved in a devastating accident on New Year’s Day 2023 when he attempted to stop a snowplow from hitting his nephew. Renner suffered severe injuries, with more than 30 broken bones. His recovery took many months, including having to learn how to walk again. He has written a book titled, “My Next Breath” about his ordeal. Renner also shared his story on an episode of Kelly Ripa‘s “Let’s Talk” podcast. He explained to her that during his accident, he felt his spirit leave his body. He said, “it’s a wonderful, wonderful relief to be removed from your body. It’s the most exhilarating peace you could ever feel.” He added, “it’s the highest adrenaline rush, but the peace that comes with it it’s magnificent. It’s so magical.”

Renner didn’t really want to return to his body, and he was actually a bit angry about it. He saw his damaged legs and thought, “yeah that’s gonna hurt later.”

Renner was only in the afterlife for a few minutes, but the experience was a great confirmation to him about what is really important in life. He says the experience taught him to repel the things he had given so much value to before, and that he now sees as having zero value. He said he now invests his energy into love and his relationships with others.

These books I’ve mentioned, as well as movies such as “Ghost” and “The Sixth Sense” have helped to make your near-death experiences and the reality of an afterlife an accepted part of American culture.

[Letters from Chad @LettersFromChad]

Letter #5

I’m eager to explain the events of 2019 to you, but it is very important that I first build a solid foundation of facts. Once these facts and my religious beliefs are properly explained, the events of 2019 will finally make sense.

During my court trial, I was bothered at how simple, well-known beliefs were twisted by the State into sinister, frightening ideas that the State repurposed, claiming these ideas were the catalyst for terrible crimes I did not commit.

Time after time. It was the State who defined what my religious beliefs are, not the witness on the stand. As I read through the trial transcript, it is even more obvious on paper. The State repeatedly made inaccurate statements in the form of questions, and the witnesses would get into a rhythm of saying “Yes”, or “Correct” many times in a row without hesitation.

The result was a distortion of my beliefs and I think an incomplete picture or half-story of what the witnesses actually heard or saw. And unfortunately, my lawyer failed to fill in those blanks on cross-examination.

So I feel it is best to begin by sharing with you my near-death experiences, which have had very significant impacts on my life. There have been four times in my life when I’ve actually died and my spirit has gone into another realm before returning to my body.

The LDS church teaches that a human being consists of two parts, a spirit body and a physical body. The spirit body resides inside the physical body and gives it life. When we die, the spirit and the body separate from each other. The spirit continues to live and goes into the Spirit World while the body ceases to function. For example, picture your spirit as your hand and your body as a glove. The glove is just a covering, and it can’t move without your hand inside it.

A near-death experience, or NDE, is like when the hand is briefly removed from the glove and then put back inside. NDEs can be found in historical records dating back thousands of years among all races, nations, and religions. They have been part of LDS lore since the church was founded, and NDEs were regularly printed in the church‘s newspapers and magazines.

Many NDEs indicate, as LDS doctrine confirms, that before we were born, we lived as part of a heavenly family. We were eager for the chance to come to earth and receive a physical body. We understood it would be a challenging experience, but that our time on earth would help us grow emotionally and spiritually. We all helped write our own life-plan or blueprint for what we would accomplish during our lives, who we would interact with, and when our life would end. Most NDEs occur when someone dies, but it isn’t their time to go. They are sent back into their body to complete their life mission.

My first near-death experience was rather short, but it’s had a profound effect on me. It was August 1985, and I just turned 17. I was at Flaming Gorge Reservoir in Northern Utah as part of a church youth group that included several of my friends. We had started the day by leaping into the reservoir from cliff ledges along the lake shore that were about 20 feet high.

That was fun, but then we noticed a 60 foot high cliff that jetted out over the water. It looked like a natural diving board. We saw someone jump off it, and soon we were scrambling up the hillside to reach it. Once we got up there and saw how high it truly was, we were intimidated, but we were also stupid teenagers!

My friends convinced me I should jump first. I shook off my nervousness and gazed down at the water below me. Finally, I pushed off with my right foot and began my descent. I remember thinking, “This is taking a really long time.”

When I eventually hit the water, it felt like I had slammed into concrete. A shock went through my entire body, and I saw a flash of white light. I felt an audible pop at the base of my skull and I thought, “Oh no! I broke my neck!” I also wondered if I’d cut open my forehead, because there was a brief searing pain above my eyes.

I quickly realized something even more alarming had happened. My spirit was partly out of my body! The best way to describe it is my physical body went deeper into the water than my spirit did. This caused my spirit to pop out through my head, but with my spirit’s knees stuck in my skull. In other words, for some reason I didn’t make it all the way out of my body. It was more like three-fourths out.

During those few moments, I was in another dimension. I saw an endless white plane in all directions, and I heard a deep rich melody that sounded like a synthesizer. AsI pondered the music later, it was very similar to a song called “1984“ that opens Van Halen’s “1984” album. The song is an instrumental that is just over a minute long, and it definitely has the same uplifting, rich heavenly sound that I heard while out of my body.

I noticed the pain was gone that I had initially experienced. There was a soothing warmth surrounding me, and I saw little pellets of light and energy rushing toward me from all directions. These pellets were absorbed by my spirit, and I felt wonderful, even euphoric, and at complete peace.

However, my physical body soon started to float toward the surface. My spirit quickly reversed course through my head and was sucked back into place.

I instantly felt chilled and somewhat paralyzed. I must’ve taken a while getting to the surface, because one of my friends who had been standing on the shore had jumped into the water to rescue me. He grabbed hold of me and towed me the water’s edge. All I said to him was, “Something snapped when I hit the surface. I’m done for the day.”

After I returned home from Flaming Gorge, my entire body was sore for a week. I felt off-kilter, like my body and spirit were disjointed. Sometimes my right eye would go blind, but if I hit the side of my head with my palm, I could see again.

On the other hand, I was spiritually changed. I’d glimpsed another dimension and it had felt like home. I still lived a normal life, graduating from Springville High and then completing my freshman year at BYU Provo. Then during my LDS mission, certain spiritual gifts increased. I was better able to receive promptings and impressions that helped keep me out of danger.

As I mentioned earlier, I have died four times. I will describe the second incident in the next letter. It happened while I was on vacation with my family in San Diego, California. I was struck by a large wave at La Jolla Cove and was knocked completely out of my body this time. I really needed to stay out of the water.

[Letters from Chad @LettersFromChad]

Musical Notes #5

All major religions believe in a divine being, a higher power, or a Heavenly Father. The LDS church takes that concept to the next level by teaching that we are all part of an eternal family, and we are the literal spirit children of heavenly parents.

I hope that idea is comforting to you. We have a set of loving parents watching over us, cheering us on and assisting us during our earthly journey. There are times when we feel alone, of course, but be assured our heavenly family members are always nearby.

The LDS doctrine of a heavenly mother was first taught by the prophet Joseph Smith. A woman named Zina D. Young, who would later serve as the LDS church’s General Relief Society president, was deeply saddened by the death of her mother. Zina spoke to Joseph about her intense grief and asked him, “Will I know my mother as my mother when I get over to the other side?” Joseph responded, “Certainly you will. More than that, you will meet and become acquainted with your eternal mother, the wife of your father in heaven.”

Among the people that Joseph taught this doctrine to was Eliza R. Snow. She was well-known for her poetry. She had published many poems prior to her baptism into the church in 1835, and she wrote more throughout her life.

Eliza wrote a poem about this topic of heavenly parents in 1845 titled, “My Father in Heaven”. The poem was soon transformed into the hymn, “O My Father” and was included in the 1851 LDS hymnbook. In 1855, the Deseret News reported it was Brigham Young‘s favorite hymn.

The hymn has been sung by LDS congregations ever since, but the powerful lyrics are often taken for granted. They cover the entire LDS plan of salvation, such as our pre-mortal spirit life, the veil of forgetfulness, when we come to earth, the purpose of life and the return after death to our loving heavenly parents.

Here are the hymns four verses:

1. O my Father, thou that dwellest
In the high and glorious place,
When shall I regain thy presence
And again behold thy face?
In thy holy habitation,
Did my spirit once reside?
In my first primeval childhood
Was I nurtured near thy side?
2. For a wise and glorious purpose
Thou hast placed me here on earth
And withheld the recollection
Of my former friends and birth;
Yet ofttimes a secret something
Whispered, “You’re a stranger here,”
And I felt that I had wandered
From a more exalted sphere.

3. I had learned to call thee Father,
Thru thy Spirit from on high,
But, until the key of knowledge
Was restored, I knew not why.
In the heav’ns are parents single?
No, the thought makes reason stare!
Truth is reason; truth eternal
Tells me I’ve a mother there.

4. When I leave this frail existence,
When I lay this mortal by,
Father, Mother, may I meet you
In your royal courts on high?
Then, at length, when I’ve completed
All you sent me forth to do,
With your mutual approbation
Let me come and dwell with you.

It is truly a tender poem, expressing the longing we feel to be embraced again by our heavenly parents. I hope we can follow their example. We are here on earth to build each other up, help each other along, and be a positive influence regardless of our current earthly situation. Money, fame, and power don’t matter. Charity, love, and kindness are the keys to joy and happiness in this life and in the world to come.

[Letters from Chad @LettersFromChad]

Bookshelf #4

I have had a lot of heroes in my life, often from the world of sports. I've always been a fan of BYU's basketball and football teams, and I was in my early teens when the Cougars were really hitting their stride.

Danny Ainge led the basketball team to the NCAA Elite 8, and the Quarterback Factory kept churning out superstars such as Jim McMahon and Steve Young, who would both lead NFL teams to Super Bowl victories.

But my ultimate hero is Joseph Smith (after Jesus, of course). When Joseph was an obscure teenage farmboy, an angel appeared to him and told him his name would be known for good and evil among all nations. Persecution intensified against him and his family, and it never let up the rest of his life.

Supposed friends repeatedly betrayed him, and he endured dozens of arrests on false charges, spending many months in dark, damp, squalid jails. Yet he somehow maintained a positive attitude and accomplished incredible feats. He translated the Book of Mormon from ancient records and founded The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He revealed many profound eternal truths and designed new cities, yet made time to raise a good family and care for his Church members.

Sadly, his persecutors finally succeeded in their goal when Joseph was brutally murdered at age 38 by an angry mob that stormed the jail in Carthage, Illinois.

The Church has published a four-volume history titled "Saints", and the first volume covers the life of Joseph Smith. The book reads like a novel, but it is all true. If you want to read about a great American hero, give "Saints: Volume 1" a try. You'll also gain an appreciation for the Pioneers who later crossed the Plains and established Salt Lake City in the middle of a wilderness.

https://t.co/tcgraI7tyG

[Letters from Chad @LettersFromChad]

Music Notes #4

When I was an LDS missionary in the late 1980s, we weren't allowed to own electronics, especially radios. According to the missionary handbook, popular music could potentially drive away the Spirit. That might be true, but in the big cities of northern New Jersey, missionaries didn't need a radio. We were literally surrounded by every type of music.

As we walked along the main boulevards, the traffic would cruise past us at a decent speed. But it felt like we were listening to one continuous radio broadcast, because every vehicle was blasting the same station. Over and over we heard, "Broadcasting from the top of the Empire State Building, you're listening to Z100." Sometimes it seemed like Z100 had captured 100 percent of the listening audience!

About two weeks after I arrived in New Jersey, and shortly after my humbling experience described in the letter, Elder Hansen and I were invited to attend a wedding. It was for a couple that Elder Hansen had known earlier in his mission, and would take place in Jersey City. President Workman granted us permission to attend, as long as church members gave us a ride to and from the wedding.

I was excited, because I hadn't yet been able to see the Manhattan skyline up close. Elder Hansen said we would be a few blocks from the Hudson River with a nice view of the Twin Towers.

Elder Hansen had arranged for a young couple from the Jersey City ward to pick us up outside our Paterson apartment. My eyes nearly popped out of my head as a very fancy sports car pulled to a stop in front of us. Elder Hansen smiled at me and said, "Climb on in!"

We are both tall, so it was a tight squeeze for us in the small backseat, but we were soon zooming down the freeway, and I was eagerly soaking in the sights. I enjoyed seeing Giants Stadium for the first time, and I listened in as Elder Hansen chatted with the man who was driving.

Then as we got closer to Jersey City, the woman in the passenger seat said, "Sorry to interrupt, but I love this song!"

She turned up the volume on the car's excellent sound system, and I recognized the voice of Whitney Houston, who had dominated the airwaves throughout 1986 and 1987. But this song was new to me after having been sequestered in the Missionary Training Center throughout the summer.

The woman began dancing happily in her seat and started singing along animatedly. It was quite a show! Then when she reached the chorus, a lasting memory was imprinted into my brain.

"I get so emotional, baby, every time I think of you.

I get so emotional, baby, ain't it shocking what love can do!"

At that moment I caught a good glimpse of the tops of some Manhattan skyscrapers, including the Empire State Building. Suddenly I was the one getting "so emotional." It was the equivalent of a spiritual experience as we entered Jersey City, where I would be transferred a couple of months later. In this city I would later meet amazing people and witness literal healing miracles. But in that instant, I just basked in the wonderful realization that it was possible to have fun, joyful experiences on a mission, and throughout our lives.

So whether you like the song or not, I consider Whitney Houston's "So Emotional" to be a sacred hymn. I don't expect it to be included in the new LDS Hymnbook, but it would certainly add some life to our sacrament meetings!

By the way, if you happen to cross paths with some LDS missionaries, please give them a smile and a wave. It just might be what they need! You'll make their day.

https://t.co/tU9EvcF8SE

[Letters from Chad @LettersFromChad]

Letter #4

This letter begins with a key event in my life that occurred in 1987, early in my LDS mission to New Jersey. I was part of the first group of Spanish-speaking missionaries called to the New Jersey Morristown Mission. We would be sharing the gospel message in some rough urban areas where LDS missionaries had rarely ventured before.

My mission began with nine weeks of training in the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, after which our group of six missionaries flew to Newark International Airport. We soon met our mission leaders, Dan and Barbara Workman. We immediately felt their love and concern for us, which continued throughout my life. (Thank you, Sister Workman, for your recent letter I received here in prison. Even now, you show such Christlike support and care for your missionaries. I'm grateful for you.)

The next morning, President Workman introduced me to my first companion, Elder Hansen, who would function as my "trainer" during my first couple months in New Jersey. (All male LDS missionaries use the title of "Elder", while female missionaries go by "Sister".) Elder Hansen was a confident Californian who spoke fluent Spanish, while I was a timid teenager from a small town in Utah. He was the right companion to help me cope with the culture shock I was experiencing.

Our proselytizing area was the industrial city of Paterson, and I soon learned the citizens weren't always friendly. As Elder Hansen and I walked through the city on the way to an appointment, I waved to a man sitting on a porch step. About 15 seconds later a couple of apples came whizzing past our heads. Then a block later I waved to two young boys, and they both threw a glass bottle at me. I decided waving to people might not be the safest thing to do.

To reach our appointment, we had to walk through one of the city's most dangerous areas. Ahead of us, a gang of teenagers was taking up the whole sidewalk. I was praying hard for protection, and somehow we made it around them with only a few snide comments. (I didn't wave.)

We finally reached our destination and knocked on the door several times, but no one answered. I suddenly felt exasperated and overwhelmed, and it must have shown on my face. Elder Hansen stuck his index finger in my chest, pushed me against the wall and said, "Don't start having doubts, man. You know this is the true church, and that Joseph Smith was a prophet. Are you going to let a bunch of losers on the street corner change your mind? I thought you were bigger than that."

Then he started walking back to the street. I was humbled and humiliated, but I caught up with him. We didn't say a word to each other, but he had made a good point. An image of the apostle Peter denying Jesus Christ came into my mind, and I suddenly felt very ashamed.

When we reached our apartment, I went into our tiny bathroom and said a fervent prayer to Heavenly Father, apologizing for my weaknesses. Then I gave thanks for the Prophet Joseph Smith, and suddenly my mind opened up. It felt like I was actually witnessing the First Vision, when Joseph as a 14-year-old boy saw and talked with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I felt the Spirit of God burning within me, and I knew without a doubt this event had really happened. That day I had experienced fear, exasperation, and even doubt, but then I received an outpouring of truth and comfort.

We had a bold, powerful group of missionaries, and we accomplished much good in that area. Elder Hansen and I eventually became close friends, and after our missions we stayed in touch. He later moved to Colorado where he became a successful businessman, and he and his wife raised a beautiful family.

Why did I share that experience with you? Because from that day on I have been completely devoted to the LDS Church. I have served in many different callings, including being part of four different bishoprics. During that time I was asked to assist with several church disciplinary councils that were held for members who wanted to clear up misdeeds in their lives.

These meetings usually began with some awkward feelings, but I was amazed to watch loving church leaders turn the meetings into positive, spiritual experiences. Expressions of support would be given, tears would be shed, and the person would feel a sense of relief, like a great burden had been lifted. It was inspiring to watch a humble church leader help a person who felt desolate and alone regain hope and faith through the atonement of Jesus Christ.

With that background, it is true I am currently excommunicated from the LDS Church. Sadly, I didn't receive an opportunity to have a compassionate church leader hear my side of the story. I would have happily welcomed a visit from my church leaders during my four years in the Fremont County Jail, but no one ever came. Instead, I learned I had been excommunicated through the mail, more than a month after the disciplinary council had taken place.

At the jail, the deputies would put any mail addressed to me in a big manila envelope, which was held until my attorney's next visit. He and I would then sort through the mail together. When he visited me in September 2020, we emptied the manila envelope, and among the letters were two envelopes from my LDS Church stake president, my local leader. I'd had a good relationship with him over the years, and I initially expected these envelopes to contain letters of kindness, support, and encouragement.

However, I opened the first envelope and read a printed form letter informing me a disciplinary council would be held regarding my church membership. It felt like an arrow had pierced my heart. I took a deep breath and opened the second envelope. This letter said the council had been held, and I had been excommunicated for apostasy. The letter stated I had 30 days to appeal the decision, but by that time the deadline had already passed, since the jail had been holding my mail.

I have still never found out what evidence was presented in the disciplinary council, or who testified against me. The Church scriptures known as the Doctrine and Covenants explains excommunication procedures in depth. Section 102 verse 18 reads, "In all cases the accuser and the accused shall have a privilege of speaking for themselves before the council." That obviously didn't happen in my situation. I would love to know what transpired in the meeting, but the Church has resisted my efforts to obtain the records.

I readily admit I have many flaws and weaknesses that I am striving to overcome, but I am not guilty of the great sins attributed to me. The thought of associating with apostate groups or teaching false doctrine is absurd to me. Please at least let me know the specific doctrines I was supposedly teaching. Who are my accusers? When and where did I say these things?

So for these reasons I still consider myself an active member of the LDS Church. My excommunication process didn't follow scriptural guidelines, and apparently no effort was made to verify I had received the notification letters. At the very least, I deserved a chance to talk to a church leader in person and answer any accusations of misconduct.

I have never felt a decrease in my priesthood power, or a loss of the influence of the Holy Ghost. I have actually felt an increase in those areas, which has been a great comfort and blessing as I deal with my current circumstances. I fully support the LDS Church's First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. I follow their teachings, and I am working out my own salvation through the power and grace of the atonement of Jesus Christ, my Savior.

In conclusion, let me return to Elder Hansen, my first missionary companion. When he heard the news that Tammy had passed away, he canceled his busy schedule and rushed from Colorado to Springville in time for her viewing and funeral. When I saw him walk into the viewing room, my heart filled with gratitude and appreciation for this great man. As he came through the viewing line, we embraced, and I knew one of my true brothers in Christ was there to support me. We took a few moments to catch up, and he humbly told me he was serving as an LDS stake president. I wish he had been mine.

[Letters from Chad @LettersFromChad]

Bookshelf #3

Members of the LDS Church seek to find their ancestors because we believe that if people don’t learn about the gospel of Jesus Christ in this life, they will have the opportunity to do so in the Spirit World after they die. We believe they will be able to reunite with their loved ones there and live as families in heaven. That’s why the LDS Church builds beautiful temples across the world, so gospel ordinances can be performed in behalf of our ancestors.

Throughout the 1990s, that was a key focus for us and our extended family members. We completed the temple work for hundreds of ancestors over a period of years. Then later on we discovered that a woman named Rachel Marlar had been overlooked in our records. Several years had passed since the temple work had been done for Rachel's parents and siblings, and we sensed she was very anxious to join her family in Paradise. We submitted Rachel’s name for temple work, and when family members performed ordinances in Rachel’s behalf, they could feel her presence in the temple, as if she was watching them take place.

The unusual part came two days later when Rachel appeared to Tammy’s grandma Lucille. Rachel stood at the end of Lucille’s bed as a spirit dressed in white, and she told Lucille how grateful she was that she could now join her family in Paradise. One interesting fact is that soon after Rachel visited Lucille, we found an actual photo of her taken in the 1800s. Lucille saw the photo and verified that the woman in the photo was the same woman who had appeared to her in her bedroom.

That is why when I wrote “Chasing Paradise”, the main family has the last name of Marlar, and why Lucille plays a key role. As I wrote the novel, it evolved into a full-blown adventure that takes place both on Earth and in the Spirit World as a young woman seeks to reunite with her family in Paradise.