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May 5 2001

Discussion in 'Stories From Inside Scientology' started by WrongPlaceRightTime, Apr 28, 2008.

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  1. WrongPlaceRightTime

    WrongPlaceRightTime Patron Meritorious

    Hello All. With the seven year anniversary of my father's suicide approaching, I thought I might take an hour or two to write out the details of that event. It's a pretty crazy story.

    It's Cinco de Mayo and also Apple Blossom in the town of Winchester, Virginia- a small city in the Shenendoah Valley where my family moved to in 1992 after leaving the DC area. I am 18 years old and home from my first year of college at VCU. My family situation has hit an all time low and I want to have one last party before I have to get a job to support my mentally ill father, blind mother and epileptic 13 year old sister.

    Something has happened to my dad- we know not what. He won’t talk about it- he just cries and sighs all day and all night. It is a drastic change from the man I knew just 9 months before.
    In August 2000 my father drove me down to Richmond. It was a two hour drive; we had a really great bonding time together. I almost always enjoyed his company- he was funny and kind and understanding. He wasn't a nag like my mother; he let me be who I was and gently guided me to be better.

    When I come home for Thanksgiving I notice my father beginning to change. He is wringing his hands and looking off into the distance with a furrowed brow and permafrown. I ask him if he is ok, but I don't get much of a response- a feigned smile and halfhearted reassurance. I give him a hug and tell him I love him, he almost bursts into tears.

    I return to school and that is when the phone calls start. My mother is becoming increasingly worried; she is telling me that she is going to have to come live with me in my dorm room. My mother and I have a rocky relationship so these statements are magnified times 1,000,000. I definitely do not want her to come live with me- besides, I am a child.

    I am home for winter break- my father has become worse. He is taking time off from work and he has lost a tremendous amount of weight. He doesn't sleep, he sits on the sofa and cries and sighs all day. My mother is hysterical. I escape into a cloud of pot smoke and music and my Chinese food delivery job.

    It is the eve of New Years Eve and I am out on a delivery with my friend when I get a phone call from my mother. The message is: COME HOME NOW. YOUR FATHER TRIED TO KILL HIMSELF TODAY. My friend and I cry together then I go home to hear the rest of the story. Apparently my father found an empty parking lot where he parked and sat for over 14 hours on the coldest day of the year.

    A few days later I am woken up very early in the morning by my mother's hysterical screaming. I go downstairs and see my parents by the door- my father is trying to leave. My mother screams at him "TELL HER TELL HER WHAT YOU JUST TOLD ME! (He is holding back tears) HE JUST TOLD ME HE IS GOING TO KILL HIMSELF!" I break down crying and my dad comes in to console me. He tells me everything is alright and that he will see me that night. I want to believe him so I say ok, and he leaves the house. He does return that evening.

    I'm not sure when the trips to the ORG in DC started. He went in for ethics handlings. We were instructed to take him for walks and do locationals. He was taking vitamins and supplements for depression. He saw a scientology doctor and later my mother took him to see other unaffiliated doctors- they diagnosed him with clinical depression and prescribed Prozac, he refused it.

    He lived with his parents for a few weeks. His parents lived with us for a few weeks. I was at school during most of this time. We uncategorically did not know what to do or what was going on. We really had no idea why this sudden shift we just knew it had something to do with the possibility that he had been PDH'ed to self destruct and I believe this was the first time I had ever heard that term. It was a very scary, confusing, turbulent and helpless time. I was a child. I was hysterical. I was stoned. I had no support. None of us did.

    part two comming soon
    Last edited: Apr 29, 2008
  2. Wisened One

    Wisened One Crusader

    Heartbreaking story.....:no: :bigcry:

    Awaiting part two.......

    I can't imagine those experiences....:no:

    Just heartbreaking....:console: :hug:
  3. WrongPlaceRightTime

    WrongPlaceRightTime Patron Meritorious

    WisenedOne- Thanks for your reply. The quote you have choosen is so apt. It is essentially saying "come up to present time". That is a very powerful command. The buddhists say "be present in the breath"- we could all benifit from exercising being in present time.


    Where was I... So I am in Winchester and it's my first day back from my first year of college. It is Apple Blossom weekend which is an old city tradition going back about 80 years. The whole town shuts down and there are several parades and parties everywhere you turn. I am spending the weekend at a friend's house as she lives closer to town. We have a handle of tequila and a few ounces of schwag weed. At 11am I wake up and take a few shots of liquor. This is really unlike me; I have never been a big drinker, let alone taking shots early in the morning. They go down easy and I don't feel sick at all.

    30 minutes later I am in my driveway; my friend has driven me home to get a change of clothes. The side door is open and my dad's car is in the driveway but he is nowhere to be found. Through my intoxicated eyes I look around the house and sigh, thinking "this place is a mess, tomorrow I will clean it up." I leave the house and return to Tasha's place.

    We set out for the carnival midway with soda cans full of tequila. I remember being so drunk that I thought I was invincible- I steal goldfish from a carnival game right in front of the game operator's eyes and he doesn't notice. After a few hours we decide to head back to Tasha's house to smoke a blunt. I walk ahead with her little brother, who is 5. Tasha and Ryan walk behind us smoking a joint as we are walking out of a huge crowd.

    Before I go any further I want to acknowledge how irresponsible and reckless we were being exposing a 5 year old to our behavior.

    I hear police sirens and I turn around to see Ryan with a police officer's arm around his shoulders. Ryan is pulling his foot back, smearing a joint across the sidewalk. I am 120 feet up the street with little Nelson, holding his hand, looking back, feeling numb. I have two bags of goldfish in water tied to my belt loops- fish I had stolen and won for Nelson. The police officer takes the backpack from Ryan and I foolishly approach them to retrieve it.
    "That's ok, you don't have to search that, it's my bag."
    "Oh yeah, well I'm just gonna search it any way, how about that? Ma'am could you step over here, I need you to blow in this tube."

    I blow a .179.

    The contents of the bag are emptied onto the hood of a police car. Out come a few limes, a case of CDs, a change of underwear, birth control pills, glasses, a contact case, my keys and an ounce of marijuana. Ryan's pockets are searched. Out come several dub sacks of weed ($20 worth) and a postal scale. Things aren't looking so good.

    There are 5 officers surrounding us now. These guys are your stereotypical asshole cops who want to rile you up. Not only that but they are redneck bigots- I think they are goading us so much because Tasha is black, Ryan is mixed and I am white. Everything is a blur. I don't know how the encounter has escalated to this but the cops are screaming at us and I am screaming back. Little Nelson is cornered by two officers who demand to know whose bag it is. Poor boy is terrified. Ryan and I are handcuffed and put into separate cruisers.

    I finally decide I need to lighten up a bit and I ask the cop with composure to please put on my seatbelt. My arresting officer still wants to burn me so he pretends like he doesn't hear my request. I ask again and again; taunting smirks are his only reply. I loose it and snarl, "Put on my fucking seatbelt mother fucker!" The cop swings in, his face only inches from mine as he fastens my seatbelt. "You think you're hard, huh?" I glare back at him. "Say goodbye to your son." He scorns me as the door slams shut and I am momentarily alone.

    Next: A Solitary Cell and Comming Home
    Last edited: Apr 29, 2008
  4. Wisened One

    Wisened One Crusader

    :omg: :police: :stickpoke: :police:

    :gulp: I'dve :faint:
  5. Kathy (ImOut)

    Kathy (ImOut) Gold Meritorious Patron

    You can't leave us hanging like that. In a book with that kind of tease, I'd start the next chapter no matter how tired I was.

    What's next?
  6. Free to shine

    Free to shine Shiny & Free

  7. Good twin

    Good twin Floater

    That's funny FTS. I actually got up and made popcorn.
  8. Bea Kiddo

    Bea Kiddo Crusader


    We love you, WPRT... Sweetheart...
  9. Free to shine

    Free to shine Shiny & Free

    Popcorn is comfort food!
    This stuff still makes me cry.

    WPRT - hugs girl! :bighug:
  10. WrongPlaceRightTime

    WrongPlaceRightTime Patron Meritorious

    Solitary Cell and Comming Home

    A short drive takes us to the county jail. I have been there numerous times on my deliveries, now I was being delivered. I am strip searched and booked. My mug shot looks completely insane. I do not realize that I am to be locked up until it actually happens. I am taken to a private cell where I completely loose it.

    I am a lunatic in there. It dawns on me that I am not going to be able to leave. I wonder when I will be able to leave. I think about my family and about how much trouble I am going to be in. I am vitriolic. I scream and cry and sing songs of freedom at the top of my lungs. Next door a man calls out to me. He tells me to "shut the fuck up" and in the same breath "I think I love you, wild child." Completely uninhibited I scream back at him some venomous curses.

    A few hours later I request to take a breathalyzer test which I fail. 20 minutes later the guards are back and they say I can go. I collect my things and sign out on my own recognizance.

    I am given a ride home in a cruiser. This concerns me; I do not want to arrive at my house in a police car. I ask the police woman driving why I am to have a ride and my friend is not. We pass him walking down the road in the dark. I ask if we can pick him up but the cop says she cannot. She has orders to take me directly home and she won’t tell me why. She says she doesn't know why. I cry some more. She wants to know why I am crying I tell her that I am in big trouble and that my family is really unstable right now. She listens to me. I can hear the sadness in her voice as she says uh-huh and yeah in acknowledgement.

    We arrive at my house as an ambulance pulls away. The cop says, "We're home. My parents are your next door neighbors." I thank her and get out. My mother and little sister are standing on our neighbor's porch. My little sister calls out to me, "He's dead. Dad is dead"

    There is a lot more to this story and I will write more tomorrow. Comming up 2 Services and "Being Handled"
    Last edited: Aug 24, 2009
  11. Free to shine

    Free to shine Shiny & Free

  12. Kathy (ImOut)

    Kathy (ImOut) Gold Meritorious Patron

    Wow, what a story so far.

    We want more, we want more, we want more!!!!!!
  13. alex

    alex Gold Meritorious Patron

    Holy F--k.

    I could not make something up so dramatic and heart wrenching in my wildest imagination.

    My love to you for being so brave and determined to write it for us.

  14. WrongPlaceRightTime

    WrongPlaceRightTime Patron Meritorious

    The Nitty Gritty

    I am going to leave first person present tense for a segment to bring you up to date on what happened at my house before I arrived. This was relayed to me by my mother.

    My mother and sister and two family friends came home from the Sheep and Wool Festival to an empty house. Her friends searched the house but found no sign of my dad. My mother called the police to report a missing person. I think some officers came out to the house to take a statement.

    She tells me that the cops asked her if my dad was suicidal, she lies and says no. Years later she tells me that she was afraid that the police would take him to a psych ward if they had found him alive and he had been attempting suicide.

    About an hour later my mother's best friend, also named Cathy, lets out a blood curdling scream. She has found my father. He is no longer alive. He has hung himself from the rafters in a dark corner of our mud porch. My mother lost the contents of her bladder when she heard that scream she tells me. My little sister is moved to a neighbor's house and the police are called.

    My mother asks the police to find me. They ask her my name. They say, "oh yeah, we have her."
    Last edited: Apr 29, 2008
  15. Ladybird

    Ladybird Silver Meritorious Patron

    I have a wonderful sheep wool shawl you 3 sisters and your blind mom made for me. I love it very much. It is one of the most precious things I have.

    It is about 6 feet long and has shades of grey, sky blue, lavender, purple and aquamarine. It has over 40 tassles of 6 to 10 12" threads hand tied by your mom. She told me you girls dyed and chose the colors and wool.

    I am wearing it now, and I will be wearing it on May 5th in honor of your dad, who was one of the most sincere, sensitive and good people I have ever had the priveldge of meeting.

    My heart breaks for you, you lost a very special person. He was your dad so of course he was special to you, but he touched a lot of other lives as well. Please know that people do care and your story is important.

    All the very best to you,

    Last edited: Apr 29, 2008
  16. Kathy (ImOut)

    Kathy (ImOut) Gold Meritorious Patron

  17. Pixie

    Pixie Crusader

    More!! More!! Please!!!
  18. WrongPlaceRightTime

    WrongPlaceRightTime Patron Meritorious

    Alabaster Angel and the Urn

    Family friends Pam and Dean Blehart (scientologists) come out to our house to pick up my mother and sister. I don't want to go with them; I need some space, so I go back to Tasha's house for the night. I don't sleep; I stay up all night writing in my journal- pages that have since been burned.

    The next day our house is a flurry of activity. The phone is ringing off the hook, family members are starting to arrive, strangers are coming to the door with food and I am most seriously in a suspended state of shock. Leslie Dechanauc is dispatched from FCDC to our home to "be there for us". I actually remember at the time hearing the term "handling".

    My mother is hysterical. She is like a skipping record on the second day repeating over and over to anyone who will listen some asinine poem she wrote about "The B(ee) Family". For some reason Omps Funeral Home in Winchester has printed in the newspaper that the services for my father will be at their place but we actually intend for the services to be at another facility. My mother writes the poem about "Mr. B's body being stolen". Every time I hear her saying it aloud, I cringe and resist the urge to pummel her.

    The adults go through the motions of filing formal papers and making arrangements. John's body is cremated within 3 days. My mother asks me if I want to see his body, I decline.

    I leave the house with my little sister to run some errands. First I need to go to the police station to collect my belongings that are now being held as evidence. While we are waiting, we over hear a woman making a report about some stolen property.

    Someone has stolen the alabaster angel statue that she had placed at her daughter's grave. "Now what kind of person would do a thing like that?" the lady asks the officer taking the report. Their tender moment is cut off by Officer Bower (my arresting officer) coming out to address me. He doesn't miss a beat before he starts into me.

    "I can't believe you are gonna let your friend take the fall like that. That was your weed in that bag and you know it! What kind of despicable person would let their friend take that much heat?!" He is shouting at me, the woman with the missing angel is stunned. I say, "Do you know what happened to my family last night?" He responds that I didn't know anything about that at the time and it is no excuse. I burst into tears and scream back at him, "WELL I KNOW ABOUT IT NOW! HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT INFRONT OF MY 13 YEAR OLD SISTER! GET YOUR SEARGENT OUT HERE NOW!" With that he shrinks away into the back momentarily.

    I end up getting my things back but not without some more goading from Officer Bower. He gives me shit about having birth control pills, I tell him that I am 18 years old and it's none of his business. I try to joke with him a bit and he does soften some. After that Maggie and I leave to go buy an urn for our father's ashes.

    Up next: 2 Services and "Being Handled"
    Last edited: Apr 29, 2008
  19. Wisened One

    Wisened One Crusader

  20. WrongPlaceRightTime

    WrongPlaceRightTime Patron Meritorious

    2 Services and "Being Handled"

    The first service is held in Winchester at Jones' Funeral Home. Our extended family is there along with friends of my sisters, mother and I. My father only has one friend in attendance, ex-scientologist Joey Russo.

    I am given the task to speak on my father's behalf. By the time I make it up to the lectern to speak, the reality of the situation is sinking in. I am a sobbing mess but I manage to squeak out a few words for my father. "My father worked very hard to make sure we had what we needed. He was a kind, funny person and I will miss him immensely."

    The pastor asks the audience if anyone else has anything they would like to say. Its crickets so he offers a story. The pastor is the father of one of my older sister's ex-boyfriends. He speaks of how my father was accepting and open minded to his son, Thad, who came to a new town with a long red pony-tail and black finger nail polish.

    No one else has anything to say so Leslie DeChaunac stands up. In tone 40 she tells the story of how my father was responsible for bringing her to D.C. - that he had given her then boyfriend, Joey Russo, a job and that they had moved up from Clearwater. She does a great job and truly does raise the tone level of the group for a moment.

    Really cheesy music swells in the hall. I don't know what it was, maybe some Pat Boone singing some hymn. I turn to my mother and whisper in her ear, "This music sucks." She tries to hold back laughter but cannot. The four of us, mother and sisters, laugh together. This gets a really negative reaction from some family members as they aren't in on the joke and feel that we are behaving inappropriately. What is the appropriate way to behave? Back off, I think.

    Leslie leaves town after the service but leading up to it, she is at our home almost daily helping my mother and I. My sisters, aunts and grandparents refuse any auditing, but my mother and I both receive sessions. I think my mom has an ARC session and I have a locational session. Leslie asks me to look around the house and find something that is not reminding me of Daddy. It is challenging to *not* find something that reminds me of him- we are in the house where he lived and died. The end result of that session is that I am momentarily able to feel stable. I don't have a single negative thing to say about Leslie other than that she is married to a douche bag, more on that later.

    The following week there is a memorial service at FCDC. My grandparents and aunt come down along with us. Caroline Shomo is there and a sobbing mess. Richard Reeves, my father's ethics officer, and his wife Astrid, who was my I/C on the Purif, are there as well. I make the mistake of thinking Astrid is Richard's daughter because she is so much younger. I tell her, "Your father is a really great person." The two of them look at their shoes and make a half-smile. There are several other people there whose names escape me. Gearhart? He told a funny story about his experience with my father.

    The service is very up tone and I deliver another speech extolling the virtues of my father's life. I tell some funny stories, one in particular about a pancake and hotdog restaurant he used to take us girls to on the weekends when my mom was busy at the church.

    This place had foot long hotdogs and giant ice cream cones. When I was 15 I went to DC to see the band Ween play at the 9:30 club. I wanted to take my friends to the pancake place I remembered so fondly but when we arrived at our destination, the pancakes were no longer there, instead for sale were foot long dildos and other adult novelties. The pancake shop had been turned into The Pleasure Palace.

    Someone comes up to me to offer their condolences. I don't know who this person is, but apparently she knew my father well while at the Org. She asks me how long he had been battling cancer. I don't know how to respond; at this point I am still wary of telling people that he committed suicide. I tell her that he was not well for about 9 months.

    My father never had cancer; I don't know where she gets this information. I know that not my mother or anyone else in my family has ever claimed that he had cancer. I used to tell people that he had a heart attack just to avoid the awkward conversation, but never ever did we go around telling people that he had cancer. I don't think this woman even realized that he had died from self-inflicted wounds rather than complications from cancer.

    Later that night my mother tells me that Thierry DeChaunac, an OT8 and Leslie's husband, has gotten in touch with my dad post-mortem and that "John had an immense outpouring of grief." He also tells her that he expressed forgiveness on behalf of the whole Church of Scientology and that my father was grateful to know that he could return to the church when he reincarnated. This seems acceptable to us and we are glad for the message. Understand that we still did not know what had really happened to him.

    In due time…

    Up Next: Finding the Note, More Trouble with the Law, and Narrowly Escaping GOD KNOWS WHAT.
    Last edited: Apr 29, 2008