After my second time being sent to the now-infamous Scientology child-abuse-ridden Mace-Kingsley Ranch, I returned home in 1999 to find the same old Scientology pressures from my mother. The same cold environment where I was always going to be second to Scientology. I had been abused for so long that I was detached from my home life. So I ran away and didn’t speak to my mother for a couple of months. And when I did call her, expressing regret for the drugs I had been doing and asking to come home ,she informed me that my family didn’t want to ever hear from me again. They had disconnected from me. They had followed Scientology’s principles and policies. I was a Potential Trouble Source.
Life on the streets intensified as the pain did. I went down to New Mexico where I hooked up with ‘the wrong crowd,’ I suppose you could say, though I’m not sure I stuck out much. We formed a small crew called the Sluts in the City, named after the song name from one of our punk-rock heroes, GG Allin. The homelessness, despair and pain continued, medicated for by alcohol and drugs.
Eventually most of our crew got tattoos of our symbols, which were SIC, “Slut(s) in the City,” or most commonly the chaos symbol, which we identified with heavily. Chaos was our life. Chaos was all we had left. I got tattoos of the chaos symbols on my left forearm and I got ‘slut in the city’ across my fingers and thumbs. Later in life I got them covered up as part of a ex-gang-member free tattoo cover-up program.
By the time 2000 rolled around we were all-in to this lifestyle. My family abandoned me, I had no friends as I had moved to Florida and then was sent away for 3 years to the abusive Mace-Kingsley Ranch and then ran away. And when I reached out to my mother for support, it was all gone. Alone with no one to turn to, I only had my friends. And many of them weren’t too much better off than me. We had a shared appetite for curtailing our pain and issues with alcoholism and drug abuse.
One night in a particularly typical fashion a friend of mine and member of this crew got together two 40-ounce bottles of beer and a fifth of a gallon of vodka. Him and I drank all of the Vodka and wandered off with the beers. We had nowhere to go. I was homeless and abandoned, after all. We decided to go to the local Walmart, as you do. I remember going into the Walmart and wandering around inside it, with our beers. Life was meaningless and so were consequences.
The next thing I remember we were in his truck. He was driving and we decided to go through the drive-through of a local fast-food hamburger restaurant, tie a rope around the drive-up microphone and to his trailer hitch, and drive off with the microphone. And that’s exactly what we did.
He drove us around, dragging this metal 2-way speaker-microphone system on the asphalt behind us. Sparks were flying but we weren’t done yet. We asked several people for directions to places we didn’t need to go to so they could see what we were doing, which we thought was hilarious. We were laughing and having a good time, at the expense of the hamburger joint, to be sure. Eventually my friend turned a corner and nearly ran over a police officer who had been sitting there hiding in the dark waiting for us. The police officer violently jumped out of the way of the truck, drew his gun and started screaming to get out of the car. His partner approached the passenger side, where I was.
The officers had responded to a call. They were hiding in the dark, expecting us to drive around the corner at any moment. Suddenly, a big black truck spun around the corner with a rope tied to a large microphone system which was sliding all over the pavement. Sparks were flying all over the road. Unable to see the officer hidden in the dark, the truck came dangerously close to running the officer over. He jumped out of the way. His partner and him quickly approached the truck on both sides. The driver side had my friend with a large mohawk, who was clearly drunk. The passenger side revealed me. I was also obviously drunk and had a spray-painted mohawk.
I turned my head to the cop we had nearly ran over, now with his gun in my face and I asked calmly, “Is there a problem, officer?”
They peeled us out of the truck and onto the ground. Soon we would both be in jail. But as the cop was tossing me into the back of the car he stopped and showed his buddy what the back of my jacket had on it: a patch with a drawing of a punk-rocker punching a police officer that read “Show them how not to be.” At the detention center he made sure to show some of his buddies. They had a good laugh about it.
The initial charge filed was criminal trespassing, with a court date in a couple of weeks. At that time they added criminal damage over $1000 (apparently that microphone thing was ~$1,200), and conspiracy to commit that criminal damage. I didn’t do any real jail time. I’ve never been to prison.
Some years later, my alcohol and drug abuse had really escalated. I was a regular user of Heroin and other hard drugs. And if anyone cares to dig up scary attack stories there, go right ahead. I’m not shy. I don’t need to hide my crimes. I admit them. I spent a lot of time and effort in changing my ways. I can confront myself. Can you, Scientology? It seems like all you’re doing is whining about the truth coming out on TV.
I had been off of Heroin for about 6 months when an old friend of mine connected with me. She wanted to make a documentary about heroin and wanted me to do some in front of a camera for the documentary. I agreed, even though I was trying to get off the stuff. Ironically, perhaps, that was the first time I overdosed on heroin. She panicked and called 911. They sent the police and an ambulance. I was taken into the hospital and charged with possession of controlled substance and possession of paraphernalia. Again, all you have to do is ask me. I’m not shy.
My Arrest documents (red circles added by me to show no emergency contact and the date of arrest):
In short, news, when I said that I was homeless for 7 years, it wasn’t a lie. Just like the rest of what I said on Aftermath wasn’t a lie. All Scientology has done is illustrate that point.
After a few more overdoses and run-ins with the law and hospitals I eventually started to work my way out of the trap. I slowly built my life up after giving that stuff up. I’m totally comfortable talking about all of this stuff as it’s very much in my past and in some ways it’s been inspirational for myself and others to talk about. That’s why I find it hilarious that Scientology’s weak attack page (link) tries to put this information forward, as if anyone cares. I clearly stated on Aftermath that drugs, and crime and homeless were part of my life for many years after leaving the Ranch and being disconnected from by my family, who did so under guidance from Scientology principles and policies.
In some ways it’s actually pretty sad though. Can’t they come up with something better than this? I mean seriously, is this all you’ve got? I was expecting mass murder, child molestation, riots, rape, debauchery and Nazi claims. Scientology, step it up. All you’re doing here is showing more evidence that your Mace-Kingsley Ranch didn’t work. Your technology failed me and continues to fail me as what’s left of my so-called family remains mentally trapped in your horrible corporation. It was only by abandoning your “alien” technology and looking around to see what actually works that I was able to get out of this state.