Effect on Families

"As you well know, my parents officially left the Church when I was 16 in 2000. I, having been separated from them at the age of 12 and thoroughly engulfed in the beliefs of the Church since birth decided not to go with them.

Not only was I not allowed to speak to them, I was not allowed to answer a phone for well over a year, in case it was them calling me. To give exact specifics, this "law" was enforced ruthlessly by one Tracye Danilovoch, the local representative for the Religious Technology Center, who intercepted all letters from my parents (and my friends). She would then pass them on to Marc Rathbun (the then 2nd in command of the Church) and Mike Rinder, who happens to be the former head of YOUR office, "The Office of Special Affairs" (you can thank me later for not elaborating on this one). Only after they had seen the letters and decided it was ok for me to see them would I receive some of them while sitting in a board room while they watched me read them and asked me to comment on them.

I was allowed to visit my parents from the age of 16-22, once a year for a maximum of 3-4 days, but that was only after they (my parents) threatened legal action if the Church got in the way of this and even then only after I underwent a "Security Check Confessional" before I saw them and immediately after I came back. A security check is interrogation (usually about if I intend on leaving the Church, or finding out if my parents have said anything bad about the Church, etc.) while being attached to an [electropsychometer] which is similar to a lie detector. This happened every single time I saw then (which was never more than 3 or 4 days a year)."

Dear Amanda,

Rummaging through a box of old audio cassettes the other day, I came across one that refreshed some memories. It's a pre-recorded tape by bluegrass artist Claire Lynch; on its label is hand-written: "To The World's Greatest Dad." That's your writing, Amanda. I remember when you gave me that tape.

It was during one of your many long summer visits, probably about ten years ago. You, your brother Ben, and I had gone to southern Wyoming with some friends to attend a bluegrass concert of several days' duration. The area was beautiful: high, flat, and open, it had patches of Ponderosa woods and large granite boulders. We were camping, in tents. We passed our time attending performances, walking among the trees, playing on the rocks, visiting, and generally enjoying ourselves in the crisp, dry, clear Wyoming air.

I don't remember who the various artists were, but I recall being especially taken with the beautiful voice of Claire Lynch, and I remember how surprised and happy I was when you gave me that tape.

I was particularly pleased by the inscription. I was "The World's Greatest Dad," and we knew that. Of course, fulfilling that role was easy in the company of The World's Greatest Kids: you and Ben.

How wonderful our shared times were! We were a temporary family of three, and we were free to celebrate our love for each other.

Scroll forward to December of 1998, when you sent me a letter saying you no longer desired to communicate with me in any way. How could your love for me have changed so profoundly?

The answers to that question are intricate and fascinating. They tell a tale of deceit, treachery, and manipulation. They tell a tale about the "church" of Scientology. It's a tale I need to relate.

This is my version of that story. It is also my gift to you for your eighteenth birthday. It is the truth, as I perceive it; as such, it is the most loving gift I can offer.

You see, dear daughter, for all we've been through, I do love you, very much. I miss you terribly.