About a day's drive from there. But the actual Fred-led family took regular visits there.
For reasons of personal safety I won't specify further. There is no one in that entire town unaware of how bad it got for me. I've only ever been in very brief contact with a couple of my ex-schoolmates there, who were profusely apologetic at any role they played to contribute to my virtual banishment, but that was over 20 years ago now, and I've burned all bridges back for good reasons.
The face to face "meeting" with Fred Phelps and family was one sick puppy of a hate-fest directed personally at me. Shirley was there, and for some reason I remember her clearly leading the weird "go to hell faggot" chant the whole entire family parroted as Fred was screaming in my face.
But it was just the beginning of the hatemongering his relatives stirred for me thereafter. "Faggot" replaced my name. I did not spend one more day at school I didn't come home with new bruises. But after houndingly plying their hateful trade for months thereafter, a death trap was set for me by my father.
I'm intentionally sketchy on many of the details till some autobiographical information I'm working on is completed and copyrighted.
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