Commentary

Email this article

Fighting good roads and fair weather (continued)

--------------------

Since I first learned about Scientology’s dirty little operations against its critics, I have spoken out. In return, the group has distributed libelous fliers around my neighborhood, followed friends from my house—resulting in some interesting car chases—tried to set me up several times, and phoned friends and relatives, posing as “investigators” doing background checks for some new job I never applied for.

A while back, I was living in a loft downtown when I encountered a man outside of the Ralphs supermarket. Smiling and friendly, he claimed to have spoken with me before, and walked with me back to my building.

You have to understand, I am not the type of person strange men approach on the street. I am a scruffy ex-punk rocker. People cross the street to get away from me…except this fellow, who followed me to my door and wanted to continue our non-conversation of “good roads and fair weather,” a Scientology distraction. Guy had Scientology written all over him. As if I’d hang out with a guy in a polo shirt!

In the little corners of the web where I hang out, it is well known that I ride a motorcycle. Warning flags were raised one day when I got an e-mail from a guy who said he rode a Honda and asked whether I wanted to go riding some weekend. My battery was dead, I told him. Sorry, no can do.

I checked with my fellow Scientology critics and found out he was known to be involved with the “church.” So I played him a little, sending leading, non-committal e-mails. He eventually disappeared, but sent me a message months later with a most interesting story.

OSA, or Office of Special Affairs, is Scientology’s dirty tricks and intelligence arm. Under the guise of Public Relations, they are the ones behind all of the egregious, high profile actions against their critics.

The biker told me that OSA had contacted him and asked if he knew me, as he lived in Escondido. He said that his wife and kids were still “in,” and he was not allowed to see them. In Scientology, this is called 'disconnection.’ It’s Scientology’s version of shunning. But, he said, OSA told him he could be reconnected with his family if he made amends. And I was to be his amends project. Who knows what shape this might have been? Stop for a beer and get a DUI? Slip a little something on my bike when I wasn’t looking and get me arrested? Don’t laugh--it’s happened before.

I could just hear them scheming. “She rides a bike. Let’s send in someone who rides to set her up.” What they didn’t understand was, yes, I ride a bike. I’ve ridden since 1976. But, I’m not a “biker.” I don’t go on weekend rides with groups. I don’t attend rallies, or go to Sturgis. I just happen to ride a motorcycle.

Furthermore, when I was in the Army back in the 70s, my training included a lot of intelligence courses at Ft. Meade, Maryland. Given the proximity to Washington DC, these courses were meant to raise our awareness of the possibility of being approached by operatives from hostile governments. The training has proven useful when dealing with Scientology shenanigans. For some reason, Scientologists think they can intimidate and harass their critics into silence, all the while claiming to support the right to free speech.

They’ve sent people out to visit my parents, a couple of nice ladies who wanted to know why I was “saying hurtful things about their church.” Their driver was less friendly. When my parents responded that I was an adult and that they had no control over my behavior, the man growled, “We know how to shut her up!”

The most absurd, childish thing they ever pulled happened when my dad and I drove up to Hemet to visit a woman who lost her son to the cult back in the 70s. When we arrived, I phoned my mom to check in and heard her laughing on the other end of the line.

As soon as we’d left, she’d received a call from the “Adult Book Store,” telling her my dad’s order was in. You’d have to know my dad to appreciate the ridiculousness of this silly attempt to stir up strife.

One day this year, I was visiting my parents in Clairemont when neighbors began phoning in to report a man going door-to-door and flashing a badge. He claimed to be investigating me as a drug dealer and terrorist. He left no business cards or other contact information. His only purpose was to smear my name and, by association, that of my folks.

Also this year, I rode up to Los Angeles to participate in a picket outside the L. Ron Hubbard Life Museum. We met at a Sizzler on Hollywood Blvd. and before going off to picket I got permission from the manager to leave my bike at the restaurant. When we returned, the bike was gone.

Turns out that someone posing as the manager of the Sizzler had my bike towed from the back lot. The real manager didn’t have a clue that this had happened on his watch! It cost $250 to get my bike back, money which was generously reimbursed by a few Scientology critics from the global online community.

1 | 2 | 3