Newsgroups: alt.religion.scientology
Subject: RI-225i  The Anti-rel 1/2
From: dennis.l.erlich@support.com
Date: Thu, 20 Jul 95 15:23:46 -0700


     
    The story of my departure?

    At the 1981 First Ever Flag Mission Holder's Meeting
    called by Bill Franks, newly appointed Exectutive Director
    International (for life) by Tubbard, I assisted in an
    attempted (but aborted) reform of the barbaric practices I'd
    witnessed in the cult.  There is a tape of my plea for
    compassion floating around.  The whole meeting was
    videotaped.

    The long and short of the meeting was that the long time
    scieno Mission Holders (franchise holders, really) demanded
    to know who was this new Watchdog Committee running our
    church, who was David Miscavige and by what authority was he
    ordering everybody around.  They demanded the poodle show up
    with his minions and explain themselves.  The meeting went on
    for days, waiting for the little man to come.

    Finally he stormed in with his uniformed thugs, disbanded the
    meeting, kidnapped Bill Franks, took him to Hemet under guard
    and imprisoned him for weeks (months?).  Bill had to escape.

    From that point on there was a purge of dissident,
    uncontrollable or objecting staff members.  I held the post
    that was assigned to me by Tubby hisself.  Chief Cramming
    Officer.  I had half-a-dozen junior Cramming Officers and
    word clearers.  I continued to attempt to get staff to be
    more compassionate, take better care of themselves and not
    engage in the shouting, backbiting, vicious activities they
    heaped on each other.

    One day Jeff Walker came in with an order, signed by David
    Mayo, transfering me to NOTs auditor in the NOTs auditing
    unit.  Jeff was Sr. C/S Flag.  David was Sr. C/S Int.
         
    Even though it was not a demotion and NOTs auditor was a very
    cushy post, I didn't like being pushed around.  I knew they 
    would have sent me to the RPF if it weren't for the fact that
    I could easily deliver $40-60,000 of auditing per week.  I 
    felt used.

    I queried the order for several reasons:

         1) I was posted by Tubby.
         2) I was Staff Status II and fully hatted, which means I
            cannot be removed from post without a Committee of
            Evidence (Vol 1, green policies on Musical Chairs).
         3) It would be destructive.
         4) The order was clearly illegal.

    I was instructed to request a ComEv.  I did.  None was ever
    convened by the cult.  I waited on post, however Jeff issued
    orders that no person was to be sent to me.  He didn't cram
    me or take away my OK to cram.  He just ordered everyone away
    from me.

    I sat in my office for 2 weeks like this.  A Mexican
    Stand-off.

    Finally Jeff and Ray Mithoff came in and sat down across from
    me at my desk.  They leaned forward and talked to me in kind
    soothing tones.  "Why don't you just be reasonable and take
    the transfer, Dennis?"  "No ..." I said, "I think I'll wait
    for the outcome of my ComEv."  (Note: they had to have at
    least 2 Class 12's on the ComEv to make it legal, and I guess
    they couldn't find any willing to give me the appropriate
    screwing)

    Jeff leaned back and said in his most threatening growl,
    "If you aren't off this post in the next 15 minutes, we'll
    come back with enough big guys to drag you out."

    "Why didn't you say that in the first place?" I asked.

    I was packed, out of my office, out to the Quality Inn
    motel where my wife, baby child and I shared a tiny room,
    within minutes.  I watched tv and layed around for two weeks
    more, waiting for the ComEv to even convene.

    Finally Brian (whatsisname), Sr. C/S Flag MAA, called me into
    the org.  We sat on the back porch of the Ft. Harrison Hotel
    and discussed calmly my plight.  A warm, Florida breeze blew 
    over the swimming pool.

    "If you don't report to your new post, you'll get sent to the
    RPF again." I was told, calmly.  
    
    I replied, "Being assigned to the RPF is very different from 
    actually *going*."  
    
    "I'll have to declare you Espee if you don't go."

    "You gotta do what you gotta do, and I gotta do what I gotta
    do." was my priceless reply.  That ended our chat.

    Later that day I was called back from my motel room
    to the Ethics Officer (some green recruit) and read my
    declare for blowing (leaving) Flag.

    But I was sitting right there.  I instantly flashed on Doc
    Daneeka from Catch 22.

    "How can I be blown if I'm right here?" I asked.  She
    just shrugged.  
    
    I took it as a sign, packed my wife, infant daughter 
    and all the belongings I could fit into our little
    VW and drove straight through to the home of some friends
    in Albaturkey, New Mexico.