Rebecca St. James
Kurt Evans
her own chatroom a number of times in December 1996 and January
1997. Several of her friends and relatives were also chatting
there on a regular basis, sometimes under their real names and
sometimes under pseudonyms. Rebecca knew I recognized her,
and I thought we were becoming friends.
I'm not sure exactly what I said or did wrong, but one
day near the middle of January, all of them suddenly stopped
talking to me. When I pressed for an explanation, they either
responded with sarcastic remarks insinuating that I was a pervert
or just continued ignoring me.
This was devastating.
I left Rebecca's dad a phone message saying I wanted to
send him a letter about some things that had happened in the
chatroom and asking for his mailing address. No one returned
my call, but a disclaimer was posted at Rebecca's website saying
she never chatted unless it was announced in advance. Taking
the disclaimer at face value, I began to believe I'd been duped.
This was also very painful.
After a concert on February 13, Rebecca "confirmed" to
me in person that she'd never visited her chatroom, and once
again I took the words at face value.
In the days leading up to a March 8 concert, I exchanged
several emails with a "Liz" from the chatroom who had claimed
to be Rebecca's friend. "Liz" sent friendly replies but simply
ignored my questions about the chatroom pseudonyms I'd previously
believed were Rebecca.
After that concert Rebecca sneaked up behind me, clamped
a viselike death-grip on my left wrist, leaned slightly toward
me, and commanded me to give her love to her cousin Sue (with
whom I'd also exchanged several emails). She then retreated
toward a group of girls who I assume were her friends and gave
me a look I've described as "not spiritually mature"...
Following that experience I believed she'd been in her
chatroom after all, she didn't think I was a predator, and I
was eventually going to get an explanation for the things that
had happened. I emailed Rebecca's love to Sue, and Sue's reply
was friendly, but the explanation I hoped for never came.
Once again I began to wonder whether my experiences in
the chatroom were part of some elaborate hoax. I emailed Sam
Green--Rebecca's webmaster at the time--and basically told him
that if he didn't come clean, I was going to start posting my
experiences to usenet.
Sam didn't send an explanation, but Rebecca's chatroom
was almost immediately shut down. When it reopened several
days later, the disclaimer about her never visiting was gone.
Now for the really vile part of this story: During the
Q-and-A session of a concert on May 1, a little girl asked
Rebecca why she had a chatroom at her website. It seemed
like a very strange question for a girl that age.
Rebecca announced from the stage that she didn't "have
anything to do with" her chatroom. Then she volunteered the
URL of her website, but she seemed to be having a terrible
time remembering it.
She looked toward the merchandise table at the back of
the arena and asked hesitantly, "Is it R ... S ... James ...
dot-com?" She even put her hand above her eyes as if to shield
them from the spotlight. One problem with this is that her
eyes clearly weren't shadowed when she did so.
It was acting. Overacting. Bad acting.
Rebecca and her dad knew I was going to be there, and
the question was a plant, and the answer was a lie.
A number of people in the audience that night knew I
believed I'd met her in her chatroom, including my parents
and several friends. My parents never doubted me, but my
friend Gary apparently bought the act and hasn't trusted
my judgment since.
She went on to present the Gospel of Jesus Christ using
the same mouth and the same microphone. This makes me sick.
Ironically it was later that same night that I managed
to get her brother Ben to admit I'd correctly identified him
and his cousin Matt (Sue's brother) in Rebecca's chatroom.
But he assured me that it had been six months since Rebecca
had been there.
Remember that three months earlier Rebecca had told me
she'd *never* been there. As of November 2001, her dad was
still sticking to that story, which is absurd on its face.