This year marks the 20th anniversary of Rick and Marcella Pitts' release from prison, following an appellate court's finding of "gross prosecutorial misconduct" in their case and those of five others.

The Pitts' story -- perhaps the best-known "molestation ring" of the era -- is but one of many such cases from 1982-85, a time when 46 people were arrested and charged with taking part in crimes involving children, often their own. No physical evidence supported any of the charges, all of which were based on the testimony of the children. Social workers improperly interrogated the alleged victims, according to ultimate court rulings. Of the 27 actual convictions from that period, 24 have been reversed. Two people died in prison.

In observance of the 20-year anniversary of their release, a commemoration that coincides with the retirement of Kern County District Attorney Ed Jagels, who has served seven four-year terms in office, Rick Pitts, Marcella Pitts and daughter Carol Pitts (who was 11 when her parents were arrested) reflected on what the ordeal meant for their family.

I don't blame anyone who served on my jury back in the 1980s, because they only saw what the D.A.'s office, the social workers and the judge wanted seen. What the jurors in that infamous child molestation case didn't see was the lie detector tests my wife and I passed. They weren't allowed in court. The medical exams on other children showed no physical evidence. They didn't hear about Deputy District Attorney Andrew Gindes throwing things against the wall and slamming out of room when he didn't get right answers. Then the boys had to go home and go to bed hungry if they didn't say what dad and stepmom wanted.

You all didn't hear the D.A.'s investigator tell us (exact words), "We know this didn't happen, but we have to go on what we have."

Our case should have boiled down to the bitter custody battle involving my wife's boys from her previous marriage.

Juror Mary K. Stanley wrote a letter to the editor last year ("Sad day for justice," Oct. 4, 2009) in which she mentioned seeing "spontaneous, bone-chilling demonstrations of fear when they recognized their abusers." I'm guessing she was referring to my niece. I would like to know who instilled that fear in her, because that baby begged and cried to move to Oklahoma when we moved. She was right there when we got out, as all of our children were, and was returned to our custody as soon as we got out. Our children still don't function well. They've turned to alcohol and drugs to cope. But I've never lost any friends, because anyone who knew me personally knew better.

I went right back to work for my same employer. Our children were and still are our lives, but how do we help them? You all don't have to see them when they're crying and talking suicide. You also didn't see the D.A.'s investigators threatening our friends who were going to testify for us. They would have their children taken also and be up there with us.

I figured by now someone would have come forward with the real truth before dying; the closest analogy was at the Bakersfield premiere of the documentary "Witch Hunt," when a woman stood up and said her dad sent her down there to apologize to everyone on stage. She told us her dad wouldn't go along with them on all those cases and was transferred.

I just hope your family -- no other family -- has to go through what ours and many others went through. Our parents lost everything they had -- over a half-million dollars in property and assets. Our children lost their innocence and are scarred for life at the hands of Kern County justice.

We know the real truth, and I can sure go to sleep at night with a clear conscience. Can the people who put us through this? How?

Rick Pitts, 57, who retired in 2001, lives in the small Oklahoma town of Bennington and runs Tooties Saloon with his wife.

It's about time Ed Jagels moved on and let someone else run the show. He has cost Kern County more money than most of us will ever make in a lifetime.

He sent many innocent people to prison. I know this because I spent six years, five months and one day in prison. He was the real criminal back then. Making up lies, tearing good families apart, destroying the lives of innocent children. Statistics show Kern County put more people behind bars per capita than all but one county in the state. How many of them were innocent? And how many of them were the children of the innocent people he sent to prison?

Now he accepts that mistakes were made in our cases. This man has never said he was sorry, nor has he offered any one of us any help with our children. I could go on but I won't. I do know one thing's for sure: In the end we all have the same judge.

I do hope he doesn't think he did a good job. He sure doesn't deserve a gold watch.

Marcella Pitts, who turns 55 in July, has six children, 12 grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.

I am one of the so-called "victims" of the famous child molestation cases from the 1980s, and I just want to set the record straight.

I am one of the kids who actually testified for the defense of my father, Ricky Pitts, and the others accused in his case. I was a strong, smart kid and I knew I had never been molested. I didn't know that parents actually did such horrible things to children, until that courtroom experience. My dad was arrested in front of me and I was questioned for hours. I said no, no, no to all their questions and, yes, I know what a vagina is, and I know what a penis is. Blah, blah, blah.

The district attorney in Kern County did not seek justice, or the truth. Laws did not apply to him. He had no integrity, no morals and no backbone. The prosecutors in that case were liars, plotters, schemers and master manipulators, especially of children. They knew exactly what they were doing. They bribed, threatened, made false promises, harassed and lied to children to win their cases. They are the ones who are child abusers. They knowingly destroyed people's lives and didn't care at all.

I got on the stand to tell the truth and save my dad. When the prosector turned everything I had said during our interviews around to make me look like a liar, I realized my life would never be the same. Truth doesn't matter. My dad still went to prison. I left feeling like a failure and I had no voice.

I grew to be a teenager who turned to sadness, to anger and to rage. I was a loner who led a double life; I didn't trust anyone and hated everything. I couldn't enjoy things that normally would make you happy because I was burdened with guilt for failing my father. And love? I didn't know what it was because I didn't give it and I refused to receive it. My sanity was my school work. I was smart and I excelled. I received many awards, was in gifted and talented education classes and graduated with honors at the top of my class. Who would've thought that? My dad was released soon after due to "technicalities," not because he was "innocent." He missed 61/2 years of my life.

I'm all grown up now. The damage they did to me by destroying my family is damage that never goes away. I had built up a brick wall to protect the hurt and pain I experienced growing up so that I wouldn't feel anything coming in or going out.

I was 20 years old and didn't know who the hell I was. I felt like someone evil, mean and cruel had taken over my mind and killed the little innocent girl that I remembered. That's who I am, right? Who is the crazy person in my head who never shuts up? I couldn't even look into my own eyes for a long time because I saw things that scared me. I saw evil and hate.

It took many years to quit fighting myself and accept that who I saw was who I grew up to be. The little girl was just a memory of someone I had lost. I mourned her loss. Kern County killed the person I was supposed to be.

My siblings, including me, abuse drugs and alcohol just so we can be numb. We don't like the way we feel. Some of us feel guilt, anger, pain, depression, deep sadness, confusion, rejection, failure and worst of all, we don't know how to be happy. Everything we feel, we see, we believe, seems distorted.

This is my story. Imagine the stories of the other kids. The system threw us away like garbage. What address should I send my therapy bills to?

Carol Pitts, 37, lives in Bennington, Okla.