skyrider

More Cost-Cutting Items The sunday service audio tapes would no longer be mailed to corps by overnight express mail. And......a mighty relief was heard and felt throughout the land.....WHO CARES? [No....I might have dreamed that last part. Sorry--lol]. The ego-driven insanity that the corps had to hear every utterance from martindale's mouth before the next corps meeting was palpably so tempting to mock. But....I'll let it simmer with a silent smile. Hey, here's a thought........sell Camp Gunnison. Which brings up another story. While in Canada, a pfal grad in Montreal, in his mid-thirties, told a corps grad there of some property he had inherited and wanted to donate to The Way of Canada. Since I was country coordinator, this news and phone call quickly reached me. Apparently, for reasons I never fully quite unraveled because he was French-Canadian thru and thru......everything needed translation. I guess you'd just have to say it was "lost in translation"......but I felt it worth pursuing and phoned Reynolds who, in turn, talked to Howard Allen. He told me to jump on it and check it out. This somewhat 32 acres of property was around seventy-five miles due east of Montreal.....i.e. out in the boonies. I had to take Je-an Ben-oit with me to translate. This guy couldn't speak a sentence in English, nor I in French. It was a hellish ride, swerving thru the backcountry of this heavily wooded area....but finally, we found it. So....that swamp-ish, tangled wood-mass was it? Okaaaay. Good to know....and the seven hour drive back to London, Ontario was a drag. I phoned Howard and told him.....naw, it ain't worth it. What would we ever do with it anyways? That is what I had often thought about camp gunnison........and not just because I was abducted from there. It just didn't seem to fit any of the specifications for an organization that was trying to train/reach others. Lots of extra work and hazards.....and it all seemed like "a tease." All that beauty nearby with a flowing river.....and the corps never got to relax, explore or enjoy it. The cult kept the bees buzzing.

And.....Since Family Is So Inter-Connected I would like to take this time to tell you about our younger son. Upon leaving Oklahoma, he was not a happy camper.....as his sports-world was left back there. He had resumed a much greater access to little league baseball, because we weren't rushing out the door to all-things twi. He loved sports too just like me....but since I'd married this 5'2" little woman, he had limited opportunities for growth or sports. You can't have everything, right? In middle school, one of his buddies who stopped over at our house one day was Sam Bradford. Yep, that guy......who, after we moved away....he went on to Putnam City North High School, OKC.....(the high school where our older son had been), six blocks from our home. Here in Indiana (yeah, just keeping some anonymity here......) younger son went on to graduate from college and then, married his high school sweetheart. We love her dearly....and so thankful she never had any involvement with any cult of any kind (lol). Both have good careers.....my son is a small business owner with two employees. And, together my son and daughter-in-law have the means, desires and opportunities to travel abroad quite often. Probably, just like many of you and your kids do. Anyways.....since I told you about my older son, I wanted to insert a small segment on the younger one. We are proud parents of two cult-free kids. I will always be thankful that they never had to run the gauntlet. So, again.......I pause..........if any of you have a pic of a two-hands, one-finger salute......this would be the time to insert it. Thanks.

The Pregnancy Policy What kind of board of directors legislates pregnancy policy to their employees? Forget diving into all the details......what gives them the right to insert when a couple should or shouldn't get pregnant and have children? Craig, Don and Howard all signed off on this? Doesn't this policy obliterate all kinds of issues about a woman's right over her body and conception? What about legalities? Is this even legal? [And please......don't start a legal-issues argument on this thread. Thanks.] Did this kind of thinking and policy connect all the way back to victor paul wierwille? Yep. It. Was. A. Cult. The Pet Policy On this one, the first sentence, the foundational directive..........Effective March 25, 1998, larger pets ("serious pets") such as cats, dogs, horses, reptiles and some birds will not be allowed by full-time Staff. Of course, when my wife and I read this, "Who has horses or reptiles or birds?".........but I digress.... The bigger issue, the MAIN POINT is......What gives the trustees the right to give these orders that affect our lives? Did every financial issue connect back to the needs-basis doctrine of wierwille......or what was it? NOW, it was personal. We had a dog, a rescue dog....a poodle mix. Our older son had turned 12 years old and summer was near. My wife was deeply involved in this and knew, with that deep-instinct of a mother's love, that our son needed the companionship of a young dog. Not a puppy with all its early needs, but a one-year old rescue dog from the shelter. A very dear and long-standing family corps woman, Jean G!les T0mko (mother of Paul G!les...corps grad) was like "the grandmother" that our boys never had encouraged it as well. [Note: My deprogramming episode was STILL rippling out its effects.....our two boys never really had that son/grandparent relationship.] Jean and her husband (a wonderful military veteran) through the years offered to babysit our boys several overnight weekends (Sat/Sun).....it blessed them immensely and my wife and I felt is was deeply healthy for the boys. Anyways......nine months prior to this "pet policy" my wife, son and Jean had gone to the rescue shelter and brought this dog home. Jean insisted on buying several dog items, because her heart was invested into our growing boys. She was, again, "Grandma" to our sons. When this policy went into effect, we had to get rid of this dog. My little twelve-year old son's heart was crushed and he sobbed for days while we looked to find a new home for his "little companion." Jean, too, was deeply saddened by this whole ordeal. The rippling effects of this pet policy on my family brought a deep, profound sadness to my heart.....opening the passageway to the haunting memories of my captivity, and my mom and dad. My son who had this growing desire to be a veterinarian.......floundered in this emotional turbulence of losing his little dog, Sandi. **Fast forward to leaving this cult........ into the years ahead, and now 19 years later: Our son graduated from college summa cum laude Received the chancellor award in medical school Selected as one of eighteen in nation for one year, intern yr, at sloan kettering (manhattan) Received intern of year award of those 18 Today.....a brain/spinal oncologist in top-tier cancer hospital So, readers......please indulge me as I pause..................to give a one-finger salute to the cult puppeteers, past and present.

Part Paycheck, Mostly Principle Again, it was not the 10% pay cut......I could easily look around at the advanced class grads and others, and realize that our conditions were quite similar to theirs. We weren't hurting, nor would this plunge us into some "martyrdom syndrome." For sure, there were probably some limb/region guys out there with gym memberships, bigger homes, etc......but that was certainly not our situation. The reason that my ire was increasing was.....they were the puppeteers and we were the little puppets. Especially......now that we were ON TWI-PAYROLL. They were pulling the strings. The policy words connected back to their arrogance, their control over us.....words like -- eliminate and we give you. Who were these people? What employer goes on a conference call and states......"we are eliminating your cable tv?" I could go thru that whole cost-cutting expense policy that they sent us point by point and line by line......to decode the cult's arrogance and power over us. But....I'm not going to do that, nor will I print out the long-form policy-jargon and dissect it. I said all along that this was my personal mission to "expose the beast and spear it to death." Others might want to take a shot at this.......but right here, on this series of posts, are the pages of my life. And further, rent insurance.....twi would no longer pay for renter's insurance unless it is required by the lease or the law. Again....what kind of employer dictates this stuff to its employees? What if something happened....fire, theft, stolen property? Now, who's liable? Me, of course.......I probably wasn't "believing God." They were off the hook far, far away.......pontificating and puking these pompous platitudes to the peons. They were ALWAYS off the hook....just like wierwille was off the hook, not liable, not accountable for things he said or did. And further......what about life insurance? What about health insurance? No, twi didn't go into the area of homeowner insurance, because....first and foremost, hardly any corps owned a home. How could they? The puppeteer had them jumping from hither to yon.....back-and-forth, up-and-down, side-to-side. Home ownership was just something that was never,.....maybe once or twice....discussed on corps meetings. Why should they? It wasn't in their best interests to expose their cards and give the game away. Corps were commodities.....to be used. Now, rent expense.....this was something that could be dwindled down from the edges of one's budget IF corps moved from those "upper-middle class neighborhoods." Are you fricking kidding me? UPPER-middle class? Those people at hq have NO IDEA of the realities of life. None! We were not living anywhere near that level. Maybe....maybe.....at the lower end of middle-class, but not upper-middle class. Those people at hq need to get out more. And, could I at least make the point that often, quite regularly....we used our living room (24' X 18' --??) with its vaulted ceiling.....for classes. Sometimes, we'd set up those chairs on Friday mornings and leave the set-up throughout the 3-day weekend class/seminar. There just wasn't time for finding meeting rooms everywhere, making down payments on rental fees, getting keys, setting up the class, etc.......the wasted human toil of effort setting it all up, only to tear it down and store it away....then, do it all again the next day for a class was sheer insanity. It was just a lot easier to do lots of functions at the limb home. I'm sure corps across the country were doing the same thing. And now, knowing what I know today......here in my city, the upper-middle class have nice homes with 5-6 bedrooms, 4-5 bathrooms, and 3-4 car garages. Of course, there are, at least (imo) two-tiers above that........the multi-millionaires (10-50 million) and then, the ultra wealthy (above 50 million). I know.....I live in a city with wealthy suburbs and all. We.....the full-time corps......were NOT living in upper-middle class homes. Martindale's bloviating was NUTS! And one more item, on rent expense.......you could have someone move into your home on a long term basis. This option should be thought through in detail with the wise counsel of your overseers and FINAL APPROVAL REQUIRED from the Trunk Office. (their words........added emphasis, by me). The puppeteers were controlling our lives.

.......I've been known to go back and edit some typos and errors, so it might change until that edit button disappears. .......wish I'd had an "edit button" when life was unfolding before my eyes, in real time.

Part VI The Price We Paid When the "Emergency Expense Cutting Measures" policy arrived in the mail, my wife and I read it together. "These necessary measures are a benefit spiritually as well as financially for the entire household." Every time twi enacts policy mandates, or program objectives, they stand on their podium and laud the spiritual benefits. Where are those elusive "spiritual benefits" going to come from if they claw back 10% of our salary? At the time, I believe our bi-monthly paycheck was $1,150.......$2,300 per month and came to the grand total of $27,600 per year (household income). Sure, there was petty cash reimbursement for gas, food, and motel expense IF those expenditures were "ministry related." The "housing allowance" category remains a grey-area in my mind, but to me.....it was hardly relevant. The limb home was a buzz of weekly activity with my office, meetings, classes etc.....hardly "a home." But still.......$115 from our paycheck, twice a month, was unsettling. I knew we could cut some grocery expense from the budget, but by no means were we splurging or eating steak every week. The cost-cutting was not the problem for me, it was the principle of the thing.....and what got us to this point! And, another thing......what about them, martindale, don and howard? They seemed to be living quite large. Martindale in particular; he was on the receiving end of constant adulation, travel benefits, perks of every kind.....AND after finishing those video-tapings of the wap-series, gifts large and small were pouring into the corps chalet. Nor did I presume to have any idea what other field corps' salaries were around the country, that was their business, not mine......but I signed on the line and agreed to a "needs-basis" salary as to how I saw our needs, my family of four. I had not been greedy in padding our numbers, not in my mind anyways. This whole business of "needs-basis" was so subjective anyways that it screamed of irregularities, favoritism and elitism. The audacity of martindale to, on one hand, puff his chest about the "full-time corps revelation" and now, be cutting our salaries? It reeked of flagrant hypocrisy in my mind. We went down the list to begin the process: More economical grocery shopping: Okay, we will be more diligent on coupons and definitely cut back on any chips and snacks. Children's activities (i.e dance lessons, art lessons, private art or fencing lessons: Huh? Are corps really doing this? Wide-spread? Health club memberships: Perhaps, a few corps might have this.....maybe to swim.....like those with knee problems? Health and Grooming (i.e. monthly manicures, expensive haircuts): Not us, haircuts....sure. But expensive? Naw. Secular magazine subscriptions: Maybe, my wife picked one up occasionally at the grocery checkout line....but no subscriptions. Economical, local vacations: We hadn't taken an extended or long vacation...EVER!....all those years in twi. Then, the next highlighted section began with cable tv. This was NOT a suggestion as the ones previous; this was a mandated directive. "We are eliminating from your housing allowance the money we give you for cable tv." Twi was eliminating it. Again, those words....... "we give you." How damn benevolent of "our masters" to give this money, this salary to us each month......this salary that we were working our a$$es off for. In the days that followed, the more I thought about those words "we give you".....this slap across the face, it irked me to no end. Screw them......(I'd use stronger words, but this is a public forum). Now.......The Question was "Where?" Where........in our monthly budget will we cut? Where........is the fine line between "need" and "want?" Where........can we cut from one area to help another? Where........are the boundary lines to stop this intrusion on MY family? Where........is this leading to and when will it end?

To Rocky...........I knew you'd get that dig. Every March 4th, I had something different in mind. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ To All.................Only 2 or 3 chapters left in "my book." I should be able to wrap this up in a week, or less. Next chapter is "The Price We Paid."................but still.................The music played on.......

Part V The Music Played On The music of the cult played on........even though the money iceberg of 1998 sideswiped the lower hull. A select few would remain in their seats and keep playing despite the circumstances, but others weren't listening. The real music of our hearts was much different than what the cult ensemble had nearby. Rather, it was the music below deck, memories from years before.....far away from the elites, the arrogance of the cigar bars and dinner parties, who'd stroll along the upper decks by day and by night put on their white ties and diamonds......the music of the steerage folk. This music was pulse-pounding and alive. The Music of 1981 After the intervention, the music of my heart played on. I married my bride in September. Weddings are those private moments of the heart.....the vows, the exchange of rings, two lives joined, the solemn kiss, and the hopes and dreams stretching into the future. And, we embraced those special songs of our hearts hoping they'd beat is romantic rhythm. Maybe its the romanticist in me, but I've always loved weddings. When wierwille did those "mass weddings" at Emporia, I observed the impersonal parading of couples on what should have been their special day, especially for the brides. Why couldn't wierwille step down from his narcissistic pedestal and teach these truths of personal treasured moments? Wedding days held the vows of promise and love.......and I enjoyed my involvement as a wedding planner those couple of years. The Music of 1982 I suppose it would seem strange to many, but I really enjoyed being the department coordinator of warehousing. The day-to-day involvement, the fast-paced decision-making as basically eight different departments utilized its access. Lots of dedicated people, steerage folk, moving about the day focused on things that they, too, found worthwhile. I didn't have to be in the spotlight to hear, and enjoy, the music. The Music of 1983 The High Country Caravan series was not my style of music....and, probably took some coercion for many to get involved and take the stage, but nonetheless......it opened, for me, the doors to see the Grand Ole Opry. I got to walk thru the back stage areas and past the dressing rooms and memorabilia of roy acuff and minnie pearl. The "music of the cult played on".........but at least, I wasn't in sea org in scientology. The Music of 1984 Those three years in Canada will always be the music that I treasure. We flew up there on a Friday March 2nd and officially were assigned the country coordinators on March 4th......(yeah, march forth). But again, the music was the melody of the canadian believers who danced to a variety of genres from british columbia to new brunswick. I was on their dance floor, down below in steerage, trying to gain the rhythm of their lives. It wasn't the cult music that I remember at all.......this music made me want to dance the night away. SO.....when some people ask me, "why did you stay so long in that cult?".....much of the time, I wasn't listening to their music at all. I was listening to the music that moved my heart.

Sideswiping The Iceberg Sitting in that corps meeting, it was clearly apparent that we'd scraped the iceberg. My wife and I listened to martindale sound the alarm, but cautioned us from panic. Yes, there would be a sideswiping of every corps' salary beginning March 25, 1998, but the trustees wouldn't be held accountable for this series of errors. Had others cautioned them? Couldn't anyone, anyone at all, summon the prospect that there'd be danger in these icy waters.....traveling at this speed, at night? My tie was already loosened as I sat there listening to martindale. Maybe, to him, a ten percent cut was reasonable and justifiable, but when you go thru your monthly budget to determine your "need-basis" living......how do you square that with a ten percent cut? And further, the accumulative burden of the bribery letter and the gift-policy mandates AND.......NOW, this cut? I slapped my pen on the table. My wife stared over at me.....I didn't care. I stood up, took off my sports jacket (yeah, by now....I'd stopped wearing a suit to this two-person, conference call) and hung it on the back of my chair and plopped back down. The days of taking detailed pages of corps notes had passed......they'd fax us the long-form policy within a couple of weeks. Yes, it was personal......it was MY life. Just like six months ago, when Peggy died and the funeral that followed. And, like when I went alone to see the movie, Titanic. The happenstance of life's series of decisions, actions, and emotions affecting loved ones and others rippling out to the future......and decades later, rippling back haunting one's past. Disrupting one's sleep. Peggy was dead....she had come to Oklahoma to run a twig fellowship, lured in knowing that she'd be helping rod and jo mart!ndale, craig's parents. Every decision along the way led to this outcome of Peggy's death in my state. Not just one thing, but the connectivity of it all. Just as everyone aboard the Titanic was connected.... as corps, being sideswiped by "the money iceberg." The titanic struggle was at our doorstep......

Day Nine: Sunday, May 3rd Intervention to Half-way House The deprogrammers had gone the night before. Plans were to leave the house. Around 9am or so, I was told that we were headed to the airport. My parents had arranged for me to spend time at a half-way house in Iowa City, IA. My parents had hopes that this intervention had worked, their struggle to release me had paid off.......and soon this episode of travail would cease and be washed from memory. I was reserved in my demeanor.....of which, I presumed they took that as progress. At the airport, I would be parting ways with my dad.......he would drive home; my mom would ride in the plane with me to Iowa City. My uncle owned this plane and one of his employees would pilot this flight. Again, not commercial travel......to keep distance as best possible, just in case. The time, effort and expense that went into this intervention, and forthcoming re-hab, only seemed to exemplify the lengths of forethought and preparation to do all of this. It was gut-wrenching......the slow-motion, churning emotional turmoil of seeing all this......having planned classes, meetings, events, understanding what effort it takes to pull off something of this magnitude.....knowing deep within, that I was headed back to twi, and my fiancé....just biding my time for the right moment. As we stood in the lobby, waiting for the plane.....I asked my dad for some coin change for the vending machine. They had given me back my wallet with my driver's license in it.....but not one single dollar. I had no money and thought some a couple of dimes and/or quarters would be needed to make a phone call [and I was right]. My dad embraced me with a long, hug good-bye and my mom got aboard the plane seated next to me. We flew to Iowa City.....someone from the re-hab place was there to drive us to my next "house." I carried my luggage, with new clothes.....six or seven new shirts, jeans, etc. everything different to erase the cult-memories from my life..... into the house, up the stairs into my newly-assigned room. Across the hall was another "cult guy" (I believe hare krishna) who'd been there for like three weeks. He greeted me and extended his hand. I was told to unpack my bags, put things in "my" dresser and closet......and in 10 minutes we'd have a meeting downstairs in the family room to go over schedule and new guidelines. As I stood at that dresser and looked in at myself in the mirror, I listened to the voices downstairs. I waited for another couple of minutes to pass.....then, went quietly down the stairs, peeked around the corner....slipped across the small hallway and out the side door. Only the clothes on my back and the coin change in my pocket. This was the first time I'd been alone, without someone closely monitoring my ever move and confined........it was frighteningly exhilarating. I was paranoid of "them" chasing me down, somehow--someway. My legs felt slow to respond; I'd been confined for that length of time with no exercise. A car turned the corner towards me. Was it one of them? I turned into an alley....anything, to keep out of view. Another two blocks and I spotted railroad tracks that crossed over a river.....I followed the railroad tracks, no car could follow. On the other side was a commercial strip with a denny's restaurant. I went in and reached into my pocket for the change and made a collect call to headquarters. The receptionist, Adele, answered the phone and when I told her my name, she accepted the collect call immediately. Everyone there was praying for me. I was on the prayer list in the OSC prayer room. She put me thru to Howard Allen. He told me to stay put and an 8th corps guy in Iowa City would be there in fifteen minutes to pick me up and drive me to Des Moines to the limb to spend the night Day Ten: Monday, May 4th Flight to Headquarters In the morning, my flight was around 8:30am and headed to Dayton......and there was my fiancé waiting for me, with tears streaming down her face. Twi's security guys, linder and brooks, were there to take us to hq. ~~~~~~~~~ Seven years passed before I saw my parents again.......to begin the slow process of any semblance of reconciliation.

Day Eight: Saturday, May 2nd Intervention: Family Time Saturday morning was "family intervention"......bringing the family back together. My dad, my mom and me.....the "counselor" went to great lengths to build the strength of the family, our family, why its so important. He encouraged openness.....trying to get each of us to open us together. Dad? Mom? what would you like to say? How do you feel? Then me.....what do you think? It was a whole morning of parents/child reconciliation. A deep dive into thought-provoking realities and relationships. The afternoon session was softened even further. We walked outside.....looked around the backyard a bit. Spending time with dad. Spending time with mom. Spending time together......then supper, together. A nice meal. The turmoil that was racing thru my mind.......it seemed as if I'd crossed into a rubicon of different dimensions. I'd stopped thinking about the corps program, or wierwille, or twi........it was about the essence of relationships, the essence of humanity. About me. I had given my heart to my fiancé. Our lives together. This was bigger than the cult.....this was my life, wanting to be with her. Wherever she was. At times, the blurred realities of cult structure and cult culture.......maybe I didn't even understand it myself. Maybe I'm deeply confused. It was so deeply personal. I'd woven all these memories into my heart with this woman, who happens to be in twi.......maybe, all this "spiritual" stuff isn't all that "spiritual?" How did all this get so complicated? And now.....this intervention? Was I now supposed to doubt the very essence of love that I felt in the depths of my heart? I pondered.....into the night.....searching into the deep crevices of my heart. This intervention was more than them trying to break my allegiance to twi. To me, it had forced me into the abyss of my soul. This was......the deep, "searching to the bottom of the ocean's floor".......who am I and what do I want.

When I met with wierwille weeks later, and described the sequence of these events and the dramatic turning point on day 6.....he said, yep that was the right thing to do in the situation. The intensity built and built.....and, "God was working in you to get thru this. This kind of stuff is there in the scriptures, son." Day Seven: Friday, May 1st Softened Intervention: Dad Arrives Everything changed......I ate breakfast and showered. No long sessions on cult indoctrination or thought reform. My mom spent about an hour with me......and told me that dad was on his way. He'd be there by before supper. The whole day was systematically designed to start building the parent/family relationship back into proper order. The deprogrammers were setting the stage to wrap this thing up. IMO.....they'd put in the time, done their job, pocketed the money......and were ready to go to the next intervention. It was Friday.....it'd been a long week. I was given a couple of books to read...if I wanted. My dad arrived around 3:30 - 4:00pm.....I remember this, because after our initial awkward greeting.....we ate supper. I think its a Midwestern thing......supper (dinner) is served around 5:00 - 5:15pm. [Wasn't that the way it was done at hq?] After supper, we again......stepped out on the back patio. It seemed like they were "extending my leash" and allowing me more gradual freedom.....monitoring my actions, reactions, and progress. Any psychologist would probably be able to label all the baby-steps, the labels, the reasoning..... That night, the intervention was movie night. It was gently suggested to me to sit between my dad and mom during the movie. We watch Rio Grande......starring John Wayne. You can never go wrong with a John Wayne movie.......even something my dad would like. I refused to cop an attitude with my parents. The conflicts were raging from side to side in my mind.........twi or my family? my future or my past? My parents were doing all of this for me? How many other parents would go to these lengths to help their child? Spend this money? Fight this hard? Go thru this emotional hell for a son in his mid-twenties? When I went to the bedroom, I was convinced what choice I was going to make. I knew the pain it would cause. I could only imagine the hurt and heartbreak that it would heap upon my parents.....and me, for a long, long time. Probably, a chasm that would exist for the rest of our lives. It was absolutely heart-wrenching......and yet, as soon as this ended, I was going back to my fiancé......my future. I knew I'd come to a crossroads.....and I couldn't have both. I chose my fiancé....and thus, twi. .

Day Four: Tuesday, April 28th The Intervention The deprogrammers were looking for ways to break my allegiance to twi, the cult. Mid-morning, my brother (the one who'd been in Gunnison)......came into the bedroom. He implored me to stop fighting, to listen. I hadn't shaved in days, my hair was a mess, no shower.......I'm sure my body odor was not pleasant. I refused to eat. Over two hours.....and my own brother was urging me, confronting me, telling me that if its my fiancé.......they'd pay to help get her out, too. The emotional toll was purely agonizing. Childhood memories, sports, hunting........why was I staying in this cult? My brother was thoroughly disgusted when he left the room. He left...headed home. Long drive home. The afternoon session was more on wierwille. Cult leader, deceiver, predator..... The woman deprogrammer was not there the whole day. Maybe, to her motel room or office? Maybe, meeting with other parents to set up a deprogramming intervention? At times, with 5 or 6 guards, 3 deprogrammers, 2 homeowners, and 2-3 other people coming and going.....it started to be a blur of activity. I have no memory of this evening......I don't remember any intervention session after supper. Day Five: Wednesday, April 29th The Intervention By now, my stomach was growling every couple of hours. I was refusing to eat and hadn't had a bowel movement in several days. As best I remember, a local pastor came by to "counsel me." The deprogrammers were looking for any method, any strategy to break my allegiance to twi. The pastor would go to passage after passage and read me scriptures. Often, I'd quote the verse to him.....as he would finish reading a verse. In a mocking sort of way, I found it amusing. He didn't quite know what to make of me. He never said it, but I think he was dumbfounded how much scripture I knew. Maybe he thought I was like a moonie or one of those really strange cults. No.....I was in the way ministry, I told him. This afternoon is a blur/blank in my memory. I think the woman deprogrammer came back......they were tag-teaming me. Each trying different methods and techniques. Sometimes, "good cop/bad cop" strategy. I really started going introvert by now. My brain was shutting down. My stomach ached. I was on a hunger strike....in defiance and possibly, would need to be taken to the hospital I ran scripture thru my mind, as best I could.......and collapsed into sleep. Day Six: Thursday, April 30th Drastic Intervention: Mom Arrives Guards at the bedroom door, still. I hadn't showered in days. My mom arrived around 9am.......and pleaded with me to eat. I had staked my defiant flag in the ground for many days now.....and was not about to stop. It was gut-wrenching standing toe-to-toe with my own mother. How could I relinquish my allegiance? my love for the scriptures? leave my fiancé? It was more than just my allegiance to twi........my fiancé, my corps friends, my time at hq, I was intertwined into so many relationships and experiences. This wasn't just some weird cult selling flowers on a street corner........we went deep into biblical research and everything. Hebrew & Aramaic. How could she, my mother, possibly understand the world I was living in. She left the room......and about 15 minutes later, she came in with a bowl of oatmeal. Four of the thug-guards followed her. They held me down and force-fed oatmeal down my throat. I thrashed my head back and forth. I struggled on and on. My mom and others telling to me to stop fighting,.....it seemed to last ten minutes, but it wasn't. The big guy gripped my head tightly, and my jawline......I kept trying to grit my teeth....but as my mother started crying, deeply.......I gave in. I stopped fighting, opened my mouth.....and swallowed the food. Those four of five minutes of intense, guttural, emotional anguish....and hurting my mother to her core.....has haunted me for decades. My mother who, in so many ways had all the same qualities of most rural farm-wives (and mothers).......would go to such lengths of intervention to help her youngest son, brings throngs of hurt and remorse to my soul. For years......and often during the holiday times, I was haunted by these memories.....of what I did, what I put my own mother thru to try and save me from myself. If I pondered it too much, deep into the night.......I'd go into this deep, sobbing, rhythmic anguish, this very dark hole. That afternoon......the man deprogrammer came in. Less intense. About an hour or so. Then, my mother came in and we spent some time together. I decided for my mother's sake......to shower, shave and eat the dinner meal at the table. Concessions were made.......and my mother sat next to me at the table. After supper, we stepped outside on the back deck. I breathed in fresh air. Guards stepped outside too......stationed some thirty feet away in case I decided to bolt. I was extremely tired after the meal, the long day......the emotional turmoil.

Day Three: Monday April 27th The Intervention Thugs on guard duty.....deprogrammer guy came in around 7:30am. They'd let me sleep in a little longer. I didn't want to be there. Another morning started in defiance. Back and forth jabs, until he left for awhile. When he came back......I was told if I didn't eat, then things were going to get rougher. Things started intensifying and a thug entered.....a scuffle broke out, and I reach for a chair. Another thug came rushing in and they held me down. The deprogrammer left the room.....and quickly, two more thugs came in. They took out the chairs, the little night stand, dismantled the bed frame and left only the mattress on the floor. It remained that way the rest of the time I was there. Things were escalating, intensifying. No longer was I allowed to use the bathroom If I had to pee......there's the bucket. Nope. I refused to eat lunch. The whole afternoon session was on thought reform and the psychology of totalism. The bedrock principles by these deprogrammers to help free people from cults -- came from Robert Lifton. Hour after hour, they went over loaded language, confessions, weird stuff in other cults Another ninety minutes into the evening.....and they left me alone. My stomach growled some as I lay in bed. I hadn't eaten since Saturday morning. Another night of restless sleep......and no deep sleep.

Day Two: Sunday, April 26th The Deprogrammers Arrive: The Intervention Begins I had been awake for over an hour and laying there in bed.......before a designated thug asked me about breakfast. I told him, no.....I wasn't going to eat. I wasn't hungry. They brought me a plate of food anyways.....brought in two chairs and the plate was put on one chair. I let it set there until it was cold. The defiant attitude was to show my utter contempt for kidnapping me against my will. Confrontation back and forth until these two thugs left me alone. They were there to guard me until the deprogrammers arrived. Around 9am...(not sure, no longer had a watch or clock in room)....I told them I wanted to take a shower. I just wanted a hot shower to help wash the anxiety away. Something. Anything. To have my own space. I also wanted my clothes back.....and my wallet. Damn it. Again, when I showered.....the door was ajar. I took a long shower....getting more agitated by the minute. When I stepped out of the shower and threw on my jeans and shirt.....in a fit of rage, I tried to break the bathroom mirror with the hanging light fixture in the corner. I don't really know what I was thinking.....I was just lashing out at something. Maybe break the mirror and use a shard to cut someone. But the light didn't crack the mirror.....but the commotion sent two thugs rushing in and we wrestled until the three of us tumbled into the hallway. I tried to throw a punch, but was quickly overpowered and another thug joined in. Twisting, struggling, grappling, kneeing......obscenities, the whole works. Now, I'd got their ire up.........but they were paid to "stay in control of the situation." They couldn't throw punches, but I could. I was lugged back to the bedroom, to the floor. Waiting for the deprogrammers........they left me alone. Two guys outside the bedroom door....kept peering in, watching me. Close to noon, the deprogrammers....three arrived. Two seemed to be more dominant, the third one......an understudy learning the art of deprogramming. The woman had worked alongside Ted Patrick for a couple of years......until the legal pressure that mounted and followed Patrick's practices, and she separated from him. The other guy was more into the psychological side of dislodging people from cults. This Sunday afternoon, they tried easing into this intervention.......parents are worried, why are you abandoning them, the cult is not your family, etc. Later in the week, I learned that Robert J. Lifton and his works were their guiding methods. By supper time, they offered to grill me steak, anything I wanted......just ask. I refused. I viewed it as them trying to soften me up and drop down my guard. If I softened and gave in to any of it, I would go down in spiritual defeat. Another couple hours in the evening, lots of stuff on wierwille. Many of accounts of wierwille raping wow girls, other accusations......I didn't believe them. They were liars. These deprogrammers were the enemy.......spiritually coming after me. Those were my thoughts. That's what I remember hearing from Barry Hill.&nb

.......as I document this account, I struggle with trying to convey to the readers what my thoughts and attitudes were THEN.......as opposed to how they are NOW. .......at the time, I was mad at myself for "not spiritually seeing it coming." That's what I was taught during the corps indoctrination.

Day One: April 25th The Abduction I had gone out to the Camp Gunnison gate at 6:40am......looking forward to being with my parents and brother. I wanted to be a little early just in case they arrived early; I knew that things about twi made them a little uneasy, so I certainly didn't want them to have to pull in and find me somewhere on grounds. Besides,.....being 10 minutes early was "corps time" and 20 minutes early was "I can't really believe they're here" time. I glanced at my watch, it was within the 10-minute mark....a couple minutes later they pulled up to the gate. My brother got out of the front passenger side, got in the back seat with my mom. I sat in the front seat and dad drove us into town. Looking back.....I subconsciously remember some of the uneasy body language, my mom's silence in the back seat, the reason why I was motioned to sit up front with dad and not in the back seat with mom. We ate at a local breakfast/pancake restaurant. My dad encouraged me to "order big"......so I did. The hungry man's breakfast, or whatever it was called.....full plate, the works. The conversation moved quickly with lots of questions about Gunnison, what I did on weekends,....pretty normal stuff. My mom asked about my clothes and wanted to be sure that they bought me some things before dropping me back at the campus. Still was a little early for store openings......so, let's just stop back at the motel room for a little bit. Okay, that sounds good. Their motel room was on the first floor with an outdoor entrance. No going inside the lobby or down a hallway. We pulled up near the door, got out......my brother unlocked the motel room door and motioned me to enter. Two guys had rushed behind me, pushed me in the room and ..........WHOOMP.....within seconds, four guys were on top of me, I struggled violently as two guys worked to handcuff my hands behind my back, one guy had a pillow over my head to muffle my shouting, another guy with his knee on my upper thighs holding onto my legs. My brother kept telling me over and over...."they aren't going to hurt you, stop fighting it." My mom was nearly wailing with cries of anguish seeing my violent struggles. Within three or four minutes.......my hands were bound behind my back, my legs at the knees were duct-tapped, my ankles tied, and I was gagged and blind-folded. A fifth guy, the driver of the cargo van, was the lookout.....and told them it was "clear" (no one walking by to see the abduction).....he swung the two back doors open (I heard the sounds, couldn't see it), they hauled me out and put me in the van and sped away. Even though I was blind-folded, I knew we were headed east. I could slightly see from the edges of my blind-fold the shadows registering the sun's light. Two guys hovered over me and pushed me to the floor....anytime I struggled. The gag was removed from my mouth after about 40 minutes into the drive. I yelled obscenities at them. I was pi$$ed off and fighting mad. Obviously, they were being paid to deliver me to the deprogrammers unharmed...... it was most likely a contractual agreement between my parents, the deprogrammers and the thugs. Later, I found out that we were headed to the Wichita area, but throughout the drive laying on the floor, I spotted grain elevators with the names of small Kansas towns. These guys were taking the secondary highways all the way in.....to a rural home where "the intervention" would take place. I believe the name was DeVos......the resident's homeowner. Their daughter had been in twi and they paid to have her deprogrammed. To help others, they had made their home available for other deprogrammings. I think I was the last one at their house.....for reasons which will become obvious. Anyways, it took nearly eight hours to get there. Along the way, when I shouted at them and later, needed to pee......they found an isolated turnoff spot. Since I was bound, and they wouldn't untie me [deathly afraid that I'd outrun them and be gone.....my parents told them that I had been in sports all my life]......they gave me a bucket to pee in. Since my hands were handcuffed.....one guy unzipped my pants, and held my penis while I peed. [I still can't believe this happened!!!] I mocked him as I peed. They urinated outside, by the van. Lovely. We stopped a second time. Same routine. All of this, of course.....to not raise any unwanted suspicions by fellow-travelers. We arrived at the farm house around 4pm or so.....I was tracking time by the sun's altitude by the sliver of sight thru my blind-fold. They unbound my ankles and knees, walked me inside with these five-thugs. Once inside, my hands behind my back were unbound. The house was one-story, sprawling with most-likely four bedrooms, three baths....and a deck out back. I was led to a back bedroom.....plain and non-descript, only a bed and nightstand with lamp. There were ten to twelve people moving around the house....and learned later, the deprogrammers would arrive tomorrow [Sunday afternoon]. I was instructed to attend dinner [big table--probably 10 seats].......and did so, only because I wanted to survey "the lay of the land" rather than stay confined in a bedroom. Thugs were positioned by front door and two guys near the sliding glass door to the deck out back. I didn't eat. I didn't talk. I watched intently and listened......documenting everything sequentially into my memory, because I knew that twi would want a report of this. I was behind enemy lines. My attention was riveted. Later, that night....I took a shower, the bathroom was across the hallway near this bedroom. The door handle had been removed.....they didn't want me locking myself in the bathroom. Two guys stood near the bathroom door.....left it ajar. I couldn't lock it. No privacy. The thugs seemed exhausted from the day. While I showered, all my clothes were taken away as was my wallet, my watch, and the corps nametag I had in my pocket [I'd taken it off at the gate at camp Gunnison....put it in my pocket, because I thought it would help ease our time together at breakfast.] . New clothes were given to me. New pajamas were on my bed. They were stripping me of my corps/twi identity. And, tomorrow.....the deprogrammers would drill down into this intervention. It was long past midnight before I fell asleep. I rehearsed the day's events thru my head before exhaustion pulled me into sleep. The bedroom windows had been secured; two thugs sat just outside my bedroom door throughout the night....guarding me from escape. It was a restless sleep. I'd heard the stories of Barry Hill (7th corps) and others...who'd gone thru these deprogramming episodes. Now, I was in one of my own. Sh!t.......I should have seen it coming.

Camp Gunnison: April 24, 1981 The sun was shining and my parent and one brother arrived at Camp Gunnison. They had stopped at the front gate and their arrival quickly reached Tom Jenk!nson. Within minutes, I was notified that my parents and brother were on grounds. Of course, this visit was an interruption to twi's campus that saw few visitors on weekends....much less on a Friday afternoon, uninvited. I greeted them warmly and, somewhat puzzled......but hey, they were my parents. My dad said that they'd been in Denver and decided to make the drive to Gunnison to see me. Tom J. greeted my parents and brother with a handshake and simple conversation. Arlene came around the corner......and she, too, greeted them. A few other corps gathered and more introductions. This was unusual though......corps parents just stopping in to see their son. It was a rarity......I don't remember seeing it at all during my in-residence training. As my parents looked around, the conversation veered to small talk about the many cabins, the lodge, the Gunnison river running adjacent the property line, the fishing........for about 25 minutes. When my dad asked to take me out for supper in Gunnison, I looked over at Tom J. and he said, "You know, we've got a class tonight......how about breakfast in the morning?" My dad, taken back a bit, paused......and relented, said, "Alright, how about we pick you up at 7 in the morning? By that gate area?" I looked at Tom and he nodded. Seven o'clock in the morning it was. They got in their car and waved as they drove off. I would see them in the morning. My dad was always on time. .

Movie References: Injection One of the reasons why movies are so-riveting.......is because they give a stream of activity (week, month, year, life) in rapid succession hitting all the high points, drama, intensity, romance, action-thriller, etc). It's rapid pace helps us to escape the average, generally uneventful days of our lives. All of the mundane realities are skipped over. We desire to see the sequence, how it happened, why it happened, why it didn't happen.......rapid-fire action or high-drama romance......to a "tell your friends to go see it" movie end. The challenge in presenting this series of posts is.....it's slow moving. I am starting to re-live those memories.......the colors, the shadows, the voices,.....

Dancing to The Music: No Parents Allowed My parents were shut out of my world.....it felt good at the time. Exuberant youth was coursing thru my veins and I "had the need for speed" (yeah, I know --- Top Gun movie didn't come out until 1986 -- lol)......the faster, the better. Besides, every obstacle in the cult world made it hard to phone home. Even more so than the public phone in the lounge area of my college dormitory years before. At hq, there wasn't even that. The switchboard had to be the "gatekeeper of my personal life"......to connect me to "the outside world." [And, long before the days of cell phones......how did we ever live without them, gasp.] What concerns and alarms must my parents have thought about the strange switchboard/receptionist relay at emporia or hq? So, here is a rapid-fire background of my years before the deprogramming/intervention: 1979-1980.....Aug--began my interim year at hq ......................way builders/cabinet shop --- main project was osc, side jobs for trustee homes & conference rooms ......................major Christmas party at hq.......area believers waiters/waitresses / open bar ......................began courtship, fell in love, proposed and yes, even vpw announced our engagement at way builder cook-out ......................interim household branch assignment Jan-Mar was stringing chairs in the brc. ......................in Feb, my fiancé-to-be and I watched Ice Castles (1978).....(a movie of manipulation and dashed dreams....hmmm) ......................I made a cedar chest for bride-to-be in cabinet shop [Before the days of extreme micromanagement/legalism) 1980-1981.....Final year of 9th corps in-residence / In late Aug, took my fiancé home to meet parents (2 day visit?) ......................Fast-paced activity; in-rez study/work....Oversaw "Fitness for Living" dept. / Dept. mtgs / Ross Tr-acy---good man ......................Flew to hq on small plane w/ Don, Wanda, Emogene......one seat available, I took it to see fiancé during holidays ......................2nd Christmas in a row w/o going home to see parents ......................Jan-Mar....first block at hq That's why they call it ho-ho re-lo...../snarc ......................April 3 (?)----> ..next inrez block in Gunnison ......................April 24 Friday, my parents and one brother came to Gunnison for "visit" ......................April 25 Saturday.......the abduction .

(((krys))).........I know you deeply understand. When you posted on 7/14/2008 -- I got a sense of your deep pain. I included your post on page 1......on this thread. It was that important. That year, 1998, the escalation of those events, my exiting from twi .....was the other bookend. The first bookend was my 10 day captivity. The second bookend was the 1998 advanced class sex scandal....and my final decision to exit. Between those two dramatic "bookends" ...... were the books, the unfolding chapters of my cult experience. And.....thanks for your deep sentiment, "We can wait." You, of all people, know this oh-so-well. For all.... there's a great book out there that's related reading (while you wait on me).....a great read.......Undertow. .

Still on Pause: Prep Time As you see from the links, many GSC-posters have added different perspectives and lots of insight to spur on discussion. Many posters have moved on in life and no longer visit Paw's Café......but their pictures are on the walls all around. And to those posters still here....a significant amount of credit goes to them. Last night was a really tough night for me......the wave upon wave of memories shook me to my core. I haven't explored those deeply personal experiences of my 10-day captivity for over two decades.....not like that. I swore to have "thrown away the key." All the other timeline stuff is more accessible to my memory banks. I honestly thought I'd just skip the deprogramming episode, but now think that it's an integral part .... and perhaps, the central core....to exposing the cult. Another day or so....and I plan to "go to the depths of titanic on the ocean floor" to share it with you. .

The accumulative effect of these postings washed over my heart and soul last night.......I didn't fall asleep until after 3:30am. To be honest, for a couple of hours......I deeply evaluated whether I wanted to continue this thread or not. Even after I posted the pause button........the flickering of flashbacks continued until exhaustion gave way to sleep.....a restless sleep. Thank you for your words of encouragement and support. I appreciate it deeply. ~~~~~~~~~~ Still on Pause: Introspection These repressed memories had been flickering in my deep subconscious, more acutely, since 1996. At the risk of targeted symbolism, or mixing metaphors......the only way I can describe it is "jason bourne-esque." I knew deep within that somehow who I am and what I had become got altered, indoctrinated. With each new assignment, my skill sets were enhanced by "injections and blue pills" that made me dependent on consistent upgrades. The anguish struggle to find its starting point.....the "why" and "how" it happened was haunting my sleep, my very existence going forward. Those 10 days of deprogramming captivity were an abduction and intervention......my parents were immeasurably alarmed by the "cocaine of this cult." And further, they believed that my corps graduation would lead to more enhanced addiction. They were absolutely right.....and their love and parental concern for their son drove them to pursue this dramatic episode. But.....to their utter disappointment, I slipped away and ran back to my cult addiction and its "cocaine." In deviating from the "jason bourne" version, I met with the man (wierwille) who devised and implemented the hyper indoctrination and thus, continued on more assigned operations. Those assignments continued for years......until the poignant flashbacks, the struggle and grappling of self emerged to unravel my past. The deeper truths of those 10 days of captivity were still allusive to me when I sat with wierwille. I was still addicted to its cause and influence at the time .....and only years later, have I come to grips with the crushing realization of how it all happened. Just like bourne, I volunteered. Each incremental step lead to an outcome I didn't quite expect or endorse. I was deceived step by step......and allowed it to happen. Who were the real deprogrammers? Twi or "my captors"....?? Manipulation of One's Consent .

hg30.....thanks for your story. Yes, I'd love to hear more about NZ

Pause: Sorry folks. I'm going to need a couple days on this or more. It's 2am.....and there are parts of this deprogramming experience that my repressed memory has buried so deeply, it's painful to revisit. I have no records of those ten days.....the details are surfacing, but so are the pangs of pain in my heart.