One Iowan's quest to save victims of human trafficking

One woman was sold for sex by her mother, another by her grandfather. One woman was forced into delivering drugs, her body a bargaining chip in securing the best deal.

One woman’s nightmare began when some guys asked her to take a suggestive picture. She doesn’t remember a large swath of the following months, but her life snapped back into horrendous view when she awoke with no idea how she’d ended up in a flea-bitten hotel, naked, strapped to a bed with the glare of a handheld camera the only light in the room.

The women came from all walks of life. And whether they were born in central Iowa or moved here from far-flung places, they ended up in towns and cities with familiar names — Urbandale, West Des Moines, Ankeny.

They shared one distinctive characteristic: They’re all victims of human trafficking, a sanitized phrase that doesn’t begin to describe the horrors of what is modern slavery. Widely considered third in profit only to drugs and counterfeiting

The women’s stories converge at Dorothy’s House, a home in central Iowa refurbished, repurposed and opened by Iowa native Kellie Markey in January 2016 to serve survivors of human trafficking. It’s a place where 11 women, including those with the stories detailed above, found refuge and a second chance. 

After two years of successfully boarding women over age 18, Markey, who is one of the Register’s People to Watch in 2018, is preparing for the organization’s most important step yet. In 2018, Dorothy’s House hopes to be licensed to care for girls ages 14-17, marking the realization of a dream that Markey has had since she was shaken into action years ago by the stories she heard from girls she met while volunteering at Des Moines area shelters.

“The earlier that you can intervene in these girls’ lives, the less solidified the abnormal practices of life are,” Markey said. “At 14 years old, the behaviors that they learn to survive the horrors of this crime are a part of their existence, but chances are better for them to break free of those and live successful, happy independent lives in our community.”

For Markey, seeing Dorothy’s House fulfill its mission is the culmination of a lifetime of searching. From her earliest memories, she longed for independence and a path all her own. After a stop in corporate America at the height of the tech bubble, Markey left that all-consuming work and wandered from coast to coast, across the Atlantic Ocean and  back to central Iowa — until a house on an unassuming street called to her and she knew she'd found her passion project. 

But with all of Markey’s excitement comes uncertainly. Dorothy’s House is in the process of securing a first-of-its-kind license from the Department of Human Services, Markey said, and her model of a communal, long-term residential experience that tailors treatment to specific girl’s needs and focuses on flexibility instead of rigid therapy regimens remains untested.

Jerry Foxhoven, a friend of Dorothy’s House and a lifelong advocate for children in the justice system, helped ease the thicket of red tape Markey had been struggling to clear when he was named DHS director this summer. He said he is willing to take a chance on Markey’s model because he trusts her and because the house is designed to respond quickly to the demands of a small group of young people at any given time.

“I think it is more holistic than a lot of other programs in that it deals with everything from mental health to physical health to job training and educational goals all at the same time,” he said. “It really creates a setting that is more like a home, which can be important for victims who have never had a home. They can finally see, 'OK, this is what a normal life looks like.'”

Markey is the first to tell you she has no experience in the mental health space, but she does understand management and organization. She sees herself as the spoke in the Dorothy’s House wheel, connecting available resources to a vulnerable population of girls that desperately needs them.

“The most common girl we see in sex trafficking in central Iowa is a white girl of middle-class upbringing who is in a greater Des Moines community high school and is involved in extracurricular activities” Markey said. “For part of her life, she is in high school, walking among us, but, for the other part, she goes home at night and on the weekend to terror.”

These are our girls, Markey said. Iowa’s girls.

Willing a life

Markey has always lived life to the beat of her own drum, her sister Margaret Colwell said. Not that she was eccentric or the center of attention, but Markey saw her life unfolding in a certain way and she willed that into truth, Colwell said.

The second oldest of five children, Markey followed her older brother, Jim to Lincoln High School. But Markey decided she wanted to step out of Jim’s shadow and transferred to Dowling High School as a sophomore. Realizing the move may put a strain on family resources, she got a job at Baskin-Robbins, earning enough money to supplement her tuition and buy a car.

Markey went to Central College, where she studied communications.

“She always had high aspirations,” said her college roommate Susan Healy. “She was just this mighty force both physically and mentally. You look at her and she is this petite little thing, but, during the summer, she would work for the city of Des Moines and cut down these trees and lilac bushes and get these scratches all over her arms.

“She is just one of those people who can do literally anything she puts her mind to,” Healy said.

After a few years in Chicago, Markey took a job at eBay, where she was one of the online retail giant’s first 200 employees. She rose through the ranks quickly and became a vice president of international business development, racking up miles and passport stamps.

“I was working so much that even as I traveled the world, I lost touch with so much of it,” Markey said.

She left her job and her then-marriage, and moved to the East Coast. She started an online art business and finished sailing lessons. She “worked on her golf handicap” and invested in avocations instead of vocations.

But there was still a stirring inside her.

The way

In 2012, she took stock of her life’s bucket list and decided to check off a hiking trip through Spain. She’d read about walking the Camino de Santiago, a 625-mile spiritual journey explored by seeking pilgrims and interested tourists for thousands of years, and always wanted to do it.

The sojourn took Markey about a month. Along the path, she met people from all over the world, each with their own reasons for walking “the way," as the Camino is colloquially known. 

Slowly, she began to realize that as she loosened her grip on the world and let go, answers to her needs materialized: The German doctor who stopped to wrap her blisters, the local woman who took her to the doctor when the foot pain became too much and the hostel owner who gave her a warm hug, right at the moment she needed it.

“You can’t imagine the amount of time that you have in your head when you are walking 20 miles a day,” Markey said. “In our world today, you never get that extra time for stillness. You never get that much time to just be inside yourself and find some peace, some moments to finally be OK with yourself.”

At the end of the trip, Markey returned to central Iowa with a new purpose.

Innocence snatched

Markey tried to get a job in philanthropy, but she lacked the experience to even get an interview.

“So I started volunteering with Youth Emergency Services and Shelter of Iowa to see if volunteering would scratch whatever itch I felt like I had,” she said.

But instead, she said her eyes were opened by the stories of innocence snatched away.

Two things struck her especially deeply: "The nature and severity of abuse against children in our community," she said, "and the rate at which girls age out of care systems at 18 without the skills to live independently."

She volunteered more of her time. She became a foster parent. But the need to give back and help these girls was overwhelming, she said.

At the time, Markey was making money flipping houses and renting out units in buildings she owned. Driving between job sites one day she passed a house with a giant sign that just had a phone number on it. 

Markey isn’t very religious, but the moment she walked in the dilapidated, old structure in the fall of 2013, it was like a “God moment.” Something fell over her, everything clicked and she knew this was Dorothy’s House, a name she selected to represent all the girls she had met who had survived sex trafficking.

Before and after pictures played in her mind. Where now there was cracked plaster, 70-year-old carpeting and peeling wallpaper, she saw brightly colored rooms, big tables with seats for everyone and warm, inviting couches.

“I was always in awe of her life experiences, but when she started to volunteer and became a foster parent, I became in awe of her generosity for the first time,” Colwell said. “And it made sense to me that Kellie would make it bigger. With everything she touches, she doesn’t do it halfway, she makes it bigger.”

Success in smiles

Markey got help renovating the house from various faith groups and community activist organizations. With many hands, the work moved quickly, but there were still moments of doubt for Markey.

“There were days that this was so big and so hard and I had no idea how I was going to solve my problem and then it wouldn’t be a day before it was solved,” she said. “It is impossible to believe that I am not supposed to be doing this when I am working against the powers that be and doing something new and different and yet everything seems so easy.”

In 2016, Dorothy’s House got 56 referrals, more than half of which were to help children under age 18, Markey said. The group had to decline those requests because they weren’t legally licensed to house minors. Every time another call came in, Markey was crushed. That was the work they were meant to be doing, she said.

“It makes me cry that it’s finally happening,” said Dorothy’s House volunteer coordinator Karen Kennedy. “To read up on the effects of what these girls go through and how they have been broken because of what has happened to them, you understand that you need to help them at an early age. It’s a life-long healing process, but those who are helped at an early age are more likely to go on to have a happy and successful life.”

Those who work with the organization say none of this would be happening without Markey. Despite many rejections, she has never been anything but positive, Kennedy said. 

Eventually, Markey hopes to open a drop-in clinic or resource center for women who aren’t ready to move in to a recovery center, but still need help. And she wants to figure out how to start a similar house for male survivors.

Markey isn’t one for reflection. It’s hard for her to remember what her life was like when it was defined by promotions and parking spots and job perks. Today, her success is measured in smiles, not stocks.

“Don’t expect you have all the answers to what’s in store for your life,” Markey said. “When you set a course for your life and don’t allow for deviation, you’ll never know what’s behind Door No. 3.

“And, for me, when I stopped planning and stopped looking so extremely far forward, that was when my life started happening.”

Kellie Markey

AGE: 52

LIVES: East side of Des Moines

EDUCATION: Bachelor's in communications from Central College, participated in the international studies and urban studies programs.

CAREER: Founder, Dorothy's House; investor and landlord, Markll Investiments Corps; vice president international, eBay. 

FAMILY: Parents, James and Iris Gorsche; older brother, Jim; younger sisters, Margaret, Theresa and Linda.

15 People to Watch in 2018: About the Series

These are central Iowans in business, arts, nonprofits, civic activism and unelected government positions who are expected to make a difference in their fields of endeavor in 2018. Readers were invited to submit nominations. Selections were made by Des Moines Register editors and reporters. Look for profiles through early January.