CHAPTER 1

IN THE NAME OF THE CHURCH

One of my earliest memories of Scientology was a conversationthat happened when I was about four years old. At thetime, my family was living in Los Angles in an apartment thathad been provided to us by the Church, and one Sunday morningI was lying in bed with my mom and dad wondering what itwould be like to be out of my body.

"How do I go out of my body?" I asked.

My parents exchanged a smile, much like the one my husbandand I share when our son asks one of those difficult questions thatcan't really be answered within his frame of knowledge.

"Can we all go out of our bodies together and fly around inthe sky?" I asked.

"Maybe," my father responded. He was always eager to indulgeme.

"Let's do it now," I demanded impatiently. "Just tell me whatto do."

"Okay, just close your eyes," he instructed. "Are they closed?now, think of a cat."

"Do we all think of it at once?" i asked, wanting to make sureI was doing it right.

"Yes," was dad's reply. "okay, one, two, three ..."

With my eyes closed, I waited, but nothing happened. I couldhear my parents laughing, but I didn't understand what wasfunny and why they weren't helping me. Were they not allowedto help me out of my body? Could they only help at certain times?Could I only get out of my body when I was older? Was somethingwrong with me?

I knew I was a Thetan. I had always known I was a Thetaand had never believed anything else. Theta was the termScientology used for an immortal spirit that animated the humanbody, while the body itself was essentially a piece of meat, a vesselthat housed the Theta. A Theta lived lifetime after lifetime,and when the body it currently inhabited died, it picked its nextone and started over again.

The idea of having past lives fascinated me. I would oftenask grown-ups to tell me stories about their past lives. I couldn'tremember any of mine, but I was always assured that they wouldcome to me eventually. My father's secretary, Rosemary, wouldtell me things that had happened in a past life of hers, when shehad been a Native American girl. They all sounded so amazingand romantic to me. I couldn't wait until I could remember oneof mine. I hoped I hadn't been a bad guy or a solitary old man.Surely, I must have been a princess at least once.

Back then, as young as I was, that was what Scientologyseemed to be about: past lives, leaving your body behind, being aTheta. Beyond that, there wasn't much that I knew about it, butfor a child who really couldn't understand the layers of complexbelief, there was an excitement to it all. I was a part of somethingbigger, something that stretched into the past and the future;something that seemed impossible and yet somehow wascompletely believable.

And so, I sat there, eyes closed, waiting to fly around the skywith my parents at my side, waiting to leave my body behind.I didn't know then that only Scientology believed inThetas. everyone I knew was in the Church, and as a thirdgeneration Scientology, my life was Scientology. My grandmotheron my mother's side had started reading books by l. Ron Hubbard,the science-fiction writer and founder of Scientology,in the mid-1950s. on my father's side, my grandfather had comeinto the Church in the 1970s when an acquaintance told himabout it. They'd each gotten hooked right away.

In Scientology, there was no god, no praying, no heaven, nohell — none of the things that people generally associate withreligion. It was a philosophy and a self-help program that promisedgreater self-awareness and the possibility of achieving one'sfull potential. This unconventional self-help quality was preciselywhat drew both of my grandparents to it. Each, in their own way,liked Scientology's focus on controlling one's own destiny andimproving one's life through a series of clearly laid out steps; eachbrought children in, nine on my mom's side and four on my dad's.once my parents joined the Church as children, they stayed. Bythe time I was born in Concord, new Hampshire, on February 1,1984, they had been Scientology for more than fifteen years.from my first breath, I was a Scientology, but it wasn't untilshortly before my second birthday that the Church actually beganto shape the course of my life. That was when my parents decidedto give up the life they had started in new Hampshire, moveour family to California, and dedicate our existence to service inthe Church. Prior to that we had been living in Concord, wheremy parents had built their dream house, a four bedroom, twobathroom wood-and-glass home on a parcel of land. Mom anddad both had well-paying jobs at a local software company, andmy nine-year-old brother Justin was a fourth grader in the localpublic school. At least on the outside, our family had all themarkings of a normal, suburban existence.

All that changed in the fall of 1985, when my father, RonMiscarriage, Jr., went to Scientology's Flag Land Base in Clearwater,Florida. Covering more than a few city blocks, the FlagLand Base was a massive complex that served as the Church'sspiritual headquarters, a place where Scientology from all overthe world gathered and stayed for weeks to months.

My father went down for a couple of weeks, and on thisparticular trip, the clergy of the Church, known as the Sea ororganization or the Sea org, was in the midst of a massive recruitmentcampaign. The Sea Org recruited and employed only the mostdedicated Scientology, who were willing to devote their lives tospreading Scientology to all mankind. l. Ron Hubbard had createdthe group in 1967 aboard a ship called the Apollo, which hereferred to as the flagship. l. Ron Hubbard was a navy man andhad a passion for naval traditions. The word was he had taken tothe seas to research the spiritual component of Scientologywithout interruption or interference. There was speculation that hehad moved into international waters to avoid accountability tothe United States Food and Drug Administration, after some ofhis medical claims, such as applying his teachings could curepsychosomatic illness and other physical and psychological ailments,had been criticized by members of the medical community, whodebunked his miracle cures as fraudulent.

Regardless of the reason he operated at sea, he mandated thatthe members of this special group wear naval-style uniforms andgave the Sea org its own navy-like rank and rating system, whichset its members apart from other Scientology. He went so faras to have crew members address him as Commodore and highranking officers as "Sir," whether they were male or female. Heeven selected his own group of personal stewards within the SeaOrg who ran programs, related his orders, and followed up tomake sure they were carried out. He called this important groupthe Commodore's Messenger Organization, CMO.

In 1975, the Sea Org moved onshore to the Flag Land Base indowntown Clearwater, where members lived and ate communallyin facilities provided them. even though the organization was nolonger stationed on ships, it still kept the naval terms from itssea days — living quarters were "berthing," staff dressed in navalstyle uniforms, and l. Ron Hubbard was still the Commodore.Ten years later, this was where my father found himself in themidst of the all-out recruitment effort. dad later told me there wereSea Org recruiters stationed at various locations around the Baselooking for young, successful, competent, ethical Scientology.

Anyone who entered the Sea Org would have to sign a billion yearcontract that bound their immortal Thetan spirit to lifetime afterlifetime of service to the Sea Org. It's members also had to workgrueling hours, seven days a week — with minimal time off tospend with their families — often for as little as fifteen to forty-fivedollars per week. Qualifications for membership included havingnever taken lSD or angel dust, having never attempted suicide,and having no anti-Scientology immediate family members.My father had once been a member and felt he still fit the bill.He was a dedicated Scientologist, he was willing to make the fullcommitment, and he was the older brother of David Miscavige,one of l. Ron Hubbard's top executives and a rising star in theChurch. At only twenty-five, my uncle Dave was chairman of theboard of Author Services inc., which oversaw all of the financialaspects of l. Ron Hubbard's copyrights, texts, and intellectualproperty from his writing. like my father, Uncle Dave had beena Scientologist since my grandfather had introduced the family tothe church. from the start, Dave was so passionate that, with mygrandpa's permission, he dropped out of high school at sixteen tojoin the Sea Org.

When my father returned home to new Hampshire, he informedmy mother that he had decided to accept re-recruitmentinto the Sea Org. Although my parents had been in the midst ofsettling down, he again felt the calling and wanted our family tomove to the Church's Los Angeles base, where we would beginour new life. Mom would have to re-enlist in the Sea Org as well,as Sea org members could not be married to non-Sea Org members.Without hesitation, my mother agreed.

As impulsive as this was, my parents knew what they weresigning up for. not only had they both in the Sea Org before, theyhad first met at the Flag Land Base when each was only nineteen.At the time, they had each been married to someone else in theSea Org. My father had a stepson, Nathan, and my mom hadtwo-year-old twin boys, Justin and Sterling. My parents becameromantically involved, got in huge trouble for it, as it was a violationof Church policy, and had to work hard to make amends for theirbehavior. eventually, they got permission to marry, and Mom'sex-husband remarried, too. Sterling lived with his dad and hisdad's new wife, and Justin lived with my parents, but both twinswere able to spend time in both households, an arrangement thatmade everybody happy.

My parents made a handsome couple. My father was five footeight, slender but strong. He had sandy hair, a mustache, blueeyes, a warm smile, and was an all-around friendly guy. My mom,Elizabeth Blythe, known as "Bitty" to everybody, was beautiful,five foot six, and quite slim. She had hazel green eyes and brownhair that came down to her waist. Her ivory skin had just a fewfreckles. Unlike my father, she was a smoker, and had been sinceshe was a teenager. Around strangers, she was shier and morereserved than my dad, but when she was with her friends, shewas confident, blunt, and funny, with a very dry sense of humor.Mom was opinionated, and sometimes judgmental, but also anamazingly capable, woman.

Even with the huge time commitment that the Sea Orgrequired, my parents had actually been happy there until the late1970s, when they started getting frustrated with the managementat the Flag Land Base. in 1979, after being in the Sea Org for fiveyears, they both quit. While that was a breach of their billion yearcontracts, at that time leaving was not catastrophic. They wereallowed to remain public Scientologists, loyal to the church, butwithout the full-time commitment of service to the Sea Org.For years after they had left, my parents' lives were normal.They lived in Philadelphia with my dad's parents for a bit beforemoving up to new Hampshire, where they lived a typical middle-class life — two working parents with job security, two children athome (they'd retained full custody of Justin after they'd left theSea org), a nanny for the daytime, and a house built to order.Much of our extended family, including my father's sisters, Loriand Denise, and my grandmother on my dad's side, was also livingin new Hampshire, and we were on a path to settling down surroundedby family. it seemed like rejoining the ranks of the most die-harddevotees of Scientology could not have been farther frommy parents' minds.

And yet, with one rash decision, they did just that, returningto the Sea Org and putting all of our lives on a drastically differentpath. What my parents knew at the time, and what I wouldonly learn later, was that being in the Sea Org meant that theywould spend a lot of time away from me. But that didn't changetheir decision. The Church was their priority, and their mindswere made up.

Later, my parents would tell me that their decision was madespontaneously, without much thought, and in hindsight it was theworst decision of their lives. While I can't say whether theyconsidered the impact that their choice would have on me, most likelyI was just one of the many sacrifices they were willing to makein the name of the Church. They had quit once, so perhaps theyfigured that they could leave again if it didn't work out. Anotherpart of their thinking may have been that they really believed itwould be awesome to raise a child in Scientology, because I wouldexperience Scientology from the beginning of my life.

There was likely a restlessness in them, a feeling that somethingwas missing. They preferred being out in the world on animportant mission and serving some higher purpose than being innew Hampshire, working nine-to-five jobs, and raising children.They were motivated by the Church's mission and they wantedto be involved in something bigger. one thing is clear to me:That decision was when normal stopped having a place in ourlives. There had been an opportunity for our lives, for our family,to look very different; my parents considered that future, thenwalked away from it.