Beyond Belief (25 page)

Before we got in the sauna, we had to run for thirty minutes to get the niacin circulating in our bloodstream. The thirty minutes was way too hard for me, so I’d end up walking most of the time. I’d still get a niacin flush, which was an uncomfortable red prickly rash, then I would sit in the sauna for hours. I was in there with older men, who would be dripping with sweat, but because I was young, I would hardly sweat at all. Whenever I was out of the sauna to cool off for more than a few minutes, a staff person in charge of the Purif would usher me back in, telling me I was taking too many breaks. The Purification Rundown went on like this for a few weeks and, by the end, I was ready for it to be over. My young body wasn’t prepared for temperatures like that.

The Purif could be a pain, with all of the vitamins and high temperatures, but you were required to take at least five hours in the sauna where you could chat with the others, read your favorite book, and even play board games, which was much more fun and exciting than being on course. More important, though, it now offered a way for me to see my brother.

I used whatever I could to get on the Purif. I confessed that when I’d done the Purif at the Ranch, I hadn’t taken the majority of my vitamins. In addition, I mentioned that I wasn’t sure I had achieved the end phenomena and brought up how I’d had a bloody nose after it, which wasn’t a good sign that the Purif had been successful. After hearing this, my case supervisor agreed that I could do this next step, and I started almost immediately.

Unfortunately, it was all for naught. Though I had requested it solely in order to see Justin, after a couple of days I found out that RPFers did their Purif at night. My plan had backfired and, as usual, the sauna was too hot for me. I took a lot of breaks or lay on the floor, where it was cooler. The thirty-minute run prior to the sauna was the worst part. Thankfully, Lisa Marie Presley happened to be on the Purif at the same time, so my exercise time would often get cut down. When she was in the gym, nobody else was allowed in. She would run on the treadmill while listening to Madonna.

While I’d never seen Lisa Marie before, like most Scientologists I knew that she was part of the Church. She appeared in many Scientology promotional pieces, and some of her Scientology projects were announced at the church events. The Celebrity Centre even published a magazine that often featured success stories and testimonials from celebrities about their belief. Every celebrity had a code name used on their pre-clear folders to protect their privacy. Lisa Marie was referred to as “Norma” or “Norma Darling.” I assumed the celebrities had made-up names so that people wouldn’t snoop, or in case their folders ended up in the wrong hands.

On the Purif, Lisa Marie was in one sauna, while five or six of us were in the other. I would sometimes see her in the changing room or pass her in the hallways. She was shy, but friendly. She had seen my name written on something and asked me if I was related to David Miscavige, so I told her I was his niece. From then on, she said hi whenever she walked by.

One afternoon, when I was finished with the sauna I was approached by Anne Rathbun, who was now the Head RTC Rep. She told me that my brother wanted to leave the Sea Org, and she wanted me to help talk him out of it. I agreed to meet with Justin in the security offices, which were in the garage of the Fort Harrison Hotel. Those small rooms were fitted with cameras, where we could be observed while we spoke.

From the start, I felt strange. I tried to convince Justin to stay, but speaking to him and knowing that we were being recorded was awkward. I hadn’t spoken to him in nearly two years, and I just wanted to talk to him off the record. But, when we were in those rooms (and even when we were outside them), Justin simply refused to talk to me about the Sea Org. He knew as well as I did that we were being filmed. I could tell he was really troubled, because he was the type of person who always puts on a comedic face, and now he didn’t.

I was also confused as to why he was suddenly going by the name Justin Tompkins, rather than Justin Miscavige. Ever since my dad had married my mother when Justin was two, he had gone by Justin Miscavige. I asked Mr. Rathbun if she knew, and she said it was for PR reasons: the Church didn’t want people to know that a Miscavige was leaving or on the RPF. Mr. Rathbun told me that I was not to speak about Justin’s situation with anyone.

Things only got worse when I learned from the RTC Rep, Mr. Rodriguez, who was auditing my brother, that he had been classified as a “List One Rock Slammer.” This meant that, while Justin was in session and talking about Scientology, his needle did a “Rock Slam,” a wild slashing back and forth in a crazy motion. A Rock Slam signified that someone had an underlying evil intention against whatever he was talking about at the time and, in his case, it was Scientology itself. LRH said that List One Rock Slammers had done no good in their entire past, lifetime after lifetime, and had only brought harm to people. She then showed me the LRH policy on List One Rock Slammers. One of my friends had been assigned to the RPF on the grounds of a List One Rock Slam alone. When I told Mr. Rodriguez that I didn’t believe he was a Rock Slammer, she told me it had been verified by the video of the session.

The next time I saw my brother he seemed genuinely hurt by being named a List One Rock Slammer. I tried to console him by telling him I didn’t believe it. However, it was clear that I wasn’t getting anywhere trying to convince him to stay. Mr. Rathbun eventually said she didn’t want me to talk to Justin anymore, as it wasn’t panning out and violated a policy called “Leaving and Leaves,” which forbade staff to talk to each other about leaving the Sea Org or Scientology.

While I was disappointed that I couldn’t help Justin more, and help the Church more, there was also a small part of me that was starting to see that maybe all this was happening for a reason. I never would have admitted it to anyone, but little by little I began to see that maybe the only way for Justin to be truly happy was for him to leave, as he had apparently wanted to for a long time. Until then, I hadn’t really thought about his leaving in terms of what would be best for him. I’d only thought about what was best for the Church. But as I listened to his reasons and arguments, it seemed to make sense why he would be considering departure.

O
NE AFTERNOON SEVERAL WEEKS LATER,
I
WAS CALLED OUT FROM
the sauna and told to go to the WB right away. I protested at first, concerned because you weren’t allowed to cut your five hours short. However, I was told that I absolutely had to, because someone very important needed to see me. I put on my uniform and took off for the WB in one of the vans.

I wasn’t sure if I should be worried or excited. At the WB, I was directed to the upstairs auditing room at the end of the hall. I was surprised when the Inspector General RTC, Marty Rathbun, himself, walked in. He was the second in command of the Church of Scientology. He was one of the few executives who worked with my uncle whom I had never really known, so I didn’t know what to expect.

“Hi, Jenna,” he said, flashing a smile and introduced himself. “Have you heard anything about your mother over the past year?”

“No, sir,” I said, which was the absolute truth. I had no idea how she was progressing. I had received no calls, letters, or updates from anyone, not even my father. Dad had been writing me several times a week, but he never mentioned her. He had also been very insistent that I call him, even sending me a calling card to use at the pay phone, since I couldn’t dial out on the Org phones. When I asked about her, he always said he didn’t know anything and assumed she was simply doing her program. Unfortunately, Mr. Rathbun only had more bad news.

“Your mom is going to be declared a Suppressive Person,” he said, very matter-of-factly. “She wants to leave the Sea Org. She has taken off several times without permission, she still is not following orders, and at this point, she’s started accusing the Church of ridiculous things.

“I’ve done everything I can, and so, at this point, we are probably just going to let her leave.” He let that sink in for the briefest of moments before continuing. “However, before she leaves, I want you to visit her, so that she can’t make a legal claim against the Church and say she was forbidden from seeing her daughter.”

There it was. I sat stone-faced, but I felt like my world was unraveling. The thought of her leaving was overwhelming enough on its own, but coming so soon after I’d been forced to think about Justin’s possible departure, it felt like too much. It never occurred to me that someone from my own family would be declared an SP, and yet here I was, confronted with that possibility on two fronts. The prospect of my already fractured family suddenly disappearing entirely was unnerving. But I managed to maintain my composure.

“Mr. Rathbun, I’m pretty sure that if I can see her, I can get her to stay.” It wasn’t a job that I wanted, but I knew it was a duty I had to try to perform. Hearing everything that Mr. Rathbun had to say made me think that perhaps my decision not to speak with her had played a role in her wanting to leave, especially since she’d apparently been asking for pictures of me. I didn’t really want to be in the role of arbitrator and I never wanted to be caught in the middle of all this, but I honestly thought I could make her stay. And, if she really was going to leave the church, I wanted to see her before it was too late.

“Really?” he asked, as if he was considering it. “Let’s see what happens.”

With that, he told me we were flying to L.A. together that night. We were even flying first-class, and Ray Mithoff, another senior executive in the church, would be joining us. The fact that I was sitting in first class beside these two senior executives, my feet barely touching the floor, was hard to believe. I slid down in my wide, soft seat, and planted my feet firmly on the carpet, thinking about how, a few hours earlier, I’d been following my routine at Flag and now was on a plane flying across the country to see my mom. I truly hoped that I would be able to deliver on my promise, and was nervous about what would happen. I felt worried about all the responsibilities I’d assumed on behalf of my family members and what would be the consequences if I failed. I was only fourteen, but I had to negotiate with my brother to try to make him stay, respond to my dad’s letters, which felt a bit needy and obsessive at times in my mom’s absence, and now travel to California to convince my mother to stay in the church.

After we landed, the three of us drove to the Int Base, where I was to meet Mom. Mr. Rathbun had me wait in a room in Building 36 while he arranged everything. About thirty minutes later, he came in.

“She is waiting in the next room,” he said. I got up slowly, not excited about starting this process. “You know, Jenna, I should probably be there when you speak to her. Would you prefer that I be with you guys as part of the conversation, or would you prefer that I stay at the other end of the room, away from you?”

I looked at him, considering his offer. In truth, I didn’t want him anywhere, because I didn’t even want to have a conversation with her, much less have someone watching. I didn’t want to confront her about any of these issues, but I felt obligated.

“Honestly, Mr. Rathbun, I’d prefer to go in there by myself.”

He seemed surprised by my response, but nodded his head in assent.

“Okay, if that’s what you want, Jenna, I’ll allow it.”

As the door swung open, I caught my first glimpse of her in over a year. She looked thin and somewhat haggard, with tanned skin and sun-streaked hair, like someone who had been working outside. She stood up and started crying as I walked into the room. And that’s when I realized just how much I had missed her. All at once, I felt awful, as though I should have made more of an effort to find out what was happening with her, as though I’d been neglectful of how much she needed to speak to me. I hadn’t even thought of what this would mean to her own healing process. We hugged each other for a long time. She wasn’t saying anything, so I started the conversation.

“Look, Mom,” I began haltingly, “I don’t want to make you feel horrible.” I tried to avoid using words like “out 2D” as much as possible, as I really did not want to get into that discussion. “I don’t think that would be helpful, and that’s not why I came here. I just want you to figure out why it happened, resolve it, and move on.”

“I’ve done so much bad; I feel like I can never make up for it,” she stuttered through her tears. This was a bit surprising to hear, as Mr. Rathbun had told me a few hours before that she was being uncooperative. Seeing this strong woman, a woman I’d admired and respected my whole life, so upset, I started to fall apart, too, but I did my best to compose myself.

“Mom, you have to remember that no matter what anyone said, did, or implied, you are a good person. LRH would not have put the technology out there to help people if they didn’t deserve to be helped. Anyone making you feel guilty or unworthy is guilty and unworthy himself.” My mom choked back sobs before I continued, “If you can make it through your program we can be together again.”

“Yes, I’d like that,” she replied, nodding her head as though she was already on board. “I’d like for us to be in touch. That would help with the tough parts.”

“Mom, of course I will write,” I said trying to use this opening to get her a bit excited. “I’ll send you anything you need; just let me know what it is.”

She smiled as I spoke. The role reversal wasn’t lost on either of us. Was it really that horrible or even unnatural that after being separated from my father, her spouse, for years due to her commitment to the Church that she had craved and found solace in a human relationship? This was the perfect recipe for an out 2D. Despite her mistake, she had dedicated her life, worked rigorous hours, and given up so much for the cause that I didn’t see how an out 2D wiped away all the good she had done. It felt like she had sacrificed a lot for the Church, and although the punishment was expected and even standard, it just felt so unforgiving.

“How’s Justin?” Mom asked, changing the subject. When I told her what had been happening, and that he would most likely be leaving, she didn’t seem surprised. “Maybe he’ll be happier that way,” she said, her voice sounding a bit more hopeful, “he always wanted to get out.”