Blown for Good Behind the Iron Curtain of Scientology (29 page)

After hours and hours of sec checking, it was now around 1:00
 a.m.
It was at this point that we realized that, up until now, we had never experienced anything that would compare to what was to come. We were told to muster outside on the road that was next to the dining room. We were told that wherever we went, we were to run, that we could not speak unless spoken to, we would be on a strict military schedule and that we would not be leaving the property to return to our own berthing until all of us had admitted to all the crimes we were involved in. The six of us lined up on the road. There were four guys and two girls. We were all tired and had not really had more than a few hours of sleep a night in at least one month. It was July and we were not only skinny from not eating much, but the heat and lack of sleep had really taken its toll on our overall energy level. Most staff on the property had long since gone home. Most of the lights on the property had been turned off and it was very dark out. Here we were, just having spent hours being grilled about what crimes we had been committing and all we wanted to do was get some sleep. It was at that moment when three off road motorcycles pulled up. Jon Stumbke, Inspector General master at arms from Religious Technology Center was on one and the others were ridden by Gold Security guards.

“Run!” they ordered. “Stay in the headlights and run until we say stop!”

We started to run. Where were we going? What the hell was this? I had heard of some crazy crap going on at the Int base but this was beyond anything I had ever seen or heard. Motorcycles driving behind us in the pitch black while we were made to run ahead of them like dogs. They yelled out at us every few seconds to keep going and scolded us for slowing down.

They kept driving and yelled out to go left or right at certain points and we just ran all over the property. The Int Base covers over 500 acres and some parts were fairly undeveloped. We ran all over the property and kept on running. When one of us slowed down or stopped, the others were ordered to grab that person and force them to keep going. No matter what, we were not allowed to stop for any reason. We ran across grassy areas, dirt, pavement, through trees, and anywhere else the guys on the motorcycles decided to drive. It was almost as though we were not going anywhere specific, but that we were just going to run until someone decided we had run enough.

Finally, one of the girls collapsed. She could not run any more. She was tired and was crying. The rest of us were made to do push–ups while she was yelled at and made to get up and start running again. She cried and ran at the same time. It was horrible to watch. It was horrible to experience. It was just plain horrible, that sick feeling you get when seeing something awful and wrong.

That moment would be burned into my existence forever. I knew then that I would never forget this for the rest of my life. 2:30
 a.m.
came and we were told that we were now going to run to where we would be sleeping. Finally the torture was over. We were told to run out to the South end of the property. This did not make sense, because there was NOTHING out there. No buildings, no shelters, nothing. Just some trees and grass fields. But as the motorcycles roared behind us, we ran and ran until we reached the South end. We were ordered to stop and told to stand at attention in the dark. Most of us used this time to catch our breath. The one girl was still weeping and would sniffle from time to time amidst her crying.

About ten minutes passed before we all saw a pair of headlights coming towards us. It was a pick-up truck. It pulled up; someone got out and climbed into the bed of the truck. They proceeded to kick a large bundle out of the back of the truck and throw some poles down on the ground. The person got back into the truck and drove off.

It was pitch black out and if there was any moon out it was a sliver. We could barely see each other a few feet away. The only light was from the stars themselves and a faint glow from the nearby town of Hemet. Jon Stumbke told us that we would be sleeping out here tonight. Two tents were provided for us and that was all we got. We were told that we would be marched to our next assignment at sunrise and that we had better have our tents packed up and ready to go by the time the sun was up over the mountain. He got onto his motorcycle, as did the two security guards that so happily drove after us with him for the last two hours. They drove off and with them left the only light we would see for the rest of the night.

Until this moment in my life, I had never appreciated the Coleman camping tent that I had enjoyed as a child. You put two poles into a fabric sleeve and poof you have a tent! The tents we were given on this night were no Coleman tents. They were what appeared to be very old musty canvas tents from the army. They could not have been less than 30 years old, and the poles that went with them were very old and worn down. It took us at least 45 minutes to even figure out how the tent and poles went together. It was pitch black and we had never even seen these tents, much less set one up previously.

By about 3:30
 a.m.
we had the tent set up. Turns out that old style tents did not have bottoms like the new nifty Coleman tents either. We had tents, but no blankets, or tent bottom to sleep on. The grass was still a bit wet from earlier that night. Most of the grounds at Gold have sprinklers that are timed to go off around 11:00
 p.m.
Four hours later there was still a bit of moisture left. Most of us had to just rest our head on our hands or sleep directly on the grass. Luckily, it was summer and it was not too cold outside. That was about as lucky as we would get.

At 4:30
 a.m.
the sprinklers went off. Not all of the sprinklers on the South side went off. ONLY the ones where we were sleeping. Most of us jumped up and ran out of the area where the sprinklers went off. It was a dirt area not fifty yards from where we were sleeping. Now our clothes were most definitely soaking wet and we had nothing with which to dry off. A few of us managed to just lay down in the dirt and go back to sleep, while one or two just sat there until the sun came up an hour later.

After dragging the wet tent out of the grass and packing it up, we were greeted by another security guard on a motorcycle. Of course, Jon Stumbke and the other two guards were sleeping in their warm beds somewhere and would not be here to rouse us this early in the morning. I am sure we were each thinking that exact same thought as we saw the new guard pull up. Anyway, he told us to run over to the garage and take showers there.

We were given 10 minutes to take a shower and be back outside ready for our breakfast. Most of us just washed our hands and face and went back outside. The water in the garage was freezing and by the time the water was hot enough, it would be time to go. We were told to run over to the galley and see the cleaner in the kitchen. She would give us breakfast and tell us what was next.

We got over to the galley and there was the cleaner. It seems everybody loves it when they are normally the lowest person on the totem pole and they get the chance to boss someone around. The cleaner told us that she had some bread and water for us. We were supposed to eat in five minutes and then get to work. It seemed that no sooner than we saw her leave, she was back telling us that breakfast is over and handed each one of us a toothbrush. She informed us that she and the rest of the galley staff were taking the day off since it was Sea Org day. We were supposed to spend the entire day scrubbing the galley floor tiles with our newly acquired toothbrushes.

You have never felt pain until you have spent sixteen hours on your hands and knees scrubbing floor tiles with a tiny toothbrush. Lucky for us, we got 10-minute meal breaks for lunch and dinner. Because most of the Int Base crew were off for the day, not that many people were around to see us scrubbing the floors. It was humiliating enough that we had the cleaners bossing us around. We looked like utter crap from not having slept or showered.

By the end of the day, we were all nearly physically incapable of doing anything besides sleeping. We were made to run out to the area where we had slept the night before. Knowing full well that the sprinklers had been reprogrammed to coincide with our sleep time, we moved our location out of their range and we had each smuggled large plastic trash bags out of the galley to use as sheets to sleep on. We at least knew how the tents went together, so setting them up did not take as long. We were able to get to sleep around midnight. For the first night in many nights we would get a full night of sleep, or so we thought.

At around 3:00
 a.m.
we were awakened by another security guard. We were told that we were not allowed to sleep on the grass since we were being punished and making amends and did not deserve such luxury. We were told that we had to break down the tents, carry them over to OGH and rebuild them there. It normally took 20 minutes to walk to OGH from where we were. Getting over there with the tents took a good 45 minutes. Everything around OGH was dirt. There was no grass anywhere. We looked at the bright side, no grass = no sprinklers. By the time we made it over there, we opted to lay the tents on the ground and sleep on top of them. This would give us a little more time to sleep and we would not have to break it back down in the morning either.

Day after day, week after week, we followed the same routine. Not allowed to talk with other staff, not allowed to go back to our own homes or berthing. Not allowed to see our spouses. Out of the six of us, four were married and had spouses who also worked at the Base. Two weeks in, we did get a surprise; the entire rest of the shoot crew joined us. Another twenty or so people sleeping in the dirt. None of them even knew why they had joined us out in the tents, scrubbing dumpsters all day, or toilets, or floors again with toothbrushes. They just ended up out there and who knew how long they would stay.

It was about two months before we were allowed to return to our normal duties and return to our own beds to sleep. Not one of us ever did admit to any crimes and nothing ever came of anything. The TR#1 film was completed and Dave Miscavige himself sat in the editing bay with the Chief Editor and used all of the shots we shot from all four times we shot that last sequence and managed to do what we had suggested before any of the extreme mental and physical torture had taken place. We were given no explanation as to why we were allowed to go back to post, no nothing. Just go back to your life as if nothing had happened.

Oh, but something had definitely happened. Several individuals had been emotionally scarred for life. To this day I think that the night we were being chased around the Int Base by motorcycles in the dark is the only time that I have even entertained the idea of suicide in this lifetime. Only years later, after I had become one of the highest executives at the Int Base, would I find out what had happened and why we were eventually allowed to return to our normal lives.

It turns out that after Dave Miscavige had ordered us out into the tents and for the guards to run us all over the property and so forth, he got involved in some big legal suit and totally forgot about us. He went off to LA and was working on other matters. Because he never ordered us to go back to post, we never went back. Some weeks later, the subject of the shoot crew came up in some meeting and to his supposed “amazement”; we were still out in the tents and scrubbing toilets all day. We were then ordered back into production like nothing had ever happened.

It was 1999 and Dave Miscavige had been writing down to Int Executives all year about making sure that the New Years 2000 event was the biggest event in all of Scientology’s history. Dave even wrote a dispatch to CO CMO Int on January 1st, 1999, telling him that it would take all year to get the next year’s event properly planned.

So of course when October 1999 had rolled around, nothing had been done all year to prepare for the New Years 2000 event. Dave had been asking about this event all year and was assured that it would be taken care of. So he did what he does best, he created havoc.

Now keep in mind that the 1999 IAS event had just been held in England and was a complete wipeout. At the start of the event, the 35 mm film projector that was meant to show the opening film went out. Then the backup projector went out and then later in the event during a video, the video projector went out. In addition, somehow the translations got screwed up and the live translators simply gave up trying to keep up with Dave Miscavige’s verbose and speedy delivery and just quit midway. Being a predominantly foreign language-speaking crowd from all around Europe, the event was officially classified as a proper disaster. The entire event crew was still reeling from this and the projector guy got an express ticket to the Rehabilitation Project Force. He also just happened to be one of the Gold Visual Effects guys and they were already undermanned before his absence.

Based on the dismal performance in England, and the fact that the entire Int Base had ignored him all year regarding this next event, Dave Miscavige directed that every single person on the entire Int Base work on getting the New Years event produced. Normally there would be a crew of a few hundred up for a few weeks before an event. This time it would be the entire Int Base. Every single, last person was to work on getting the event done and if it was not a huge success then it would be every single person on the Int Base’s fault, (except Dave’s, of course!).

The New Years 2000 event would have to top the biggest event to date, which was the 1993 IAS event. In order to do that it would require more people and be on a bigger scale than the LA Sports Arena event. Dave decided that the Sports Arena was the venue to hold the event, but that it would be bigger in size and scope. And this time there could be not one empty seat in the whole place. When Dave briefed the event crew on this, it was like déjà vu all over again. We knew this event was cursed for sure. If there had not already been enough bad mojo attached to it, this was now guaranteed to turn into a giant crap sandwich. The LA Sports Arena was like a black omen to a Gold crew member. It held the special significance of being the one place that Gold had produced an event and not one single thing had gone right. We were on course for certain death.