Blown for Good - Marc Morgan Headley [104]
After seeing the near shish-kabobbing of Dave Miscavige and the visuals wipeout, I pondered the turmoil that would ensue. I knew my direct junior, the stage manager, was destined for the Rehabilitation Project Force, that was a given. You cannot almost kill COB and get away with it. He was a goner for sure. But what about the rest of us? We had been up for the last three months day and night. Most of us were too numb to feel pain or even worry about what would happen to us.
After the event, people just disappeared here and there with no explanation given as to why or where they were sent. If anyone asked, “We are getting rid of the deadwood,” was the reply. Busloads of people were taken to the Rehabilitation Project Force in LA.
Everyone at the base had to re-do a battery of tests; every single person at the base received a Fitness Board. If for any reason, you were found unfit for the Sea Org, you had the uncertain fate of being sent to the RPF or dumped off in some foreign country to live with some SPs who had been assigned the task of taking care of you in order to get themselves un-declared.
We were back to shortened meal breaks, no canteen privileges, people being restricted to the base for months on end, sleeping under desks, in attics, or wherever you could find a spot that would go undisturbed for a few hours during the dead of night.
While most people on the Int Base were considered the scum of the earth, I had the pleasure of being the direct senior of the guy that almost got COB RTC killed. Not only was I restricted to the base for an unspecified amount of time, but I was considered to be on a very short leash. I would have to grovel, beg and plead to ever make it off the property to sleep in my bed again. Like many other staff on the Int base, I had to fend for myself.
A lot of people had to find a spot that was not already taken and make that their spot. It was very territorial. If you had found a spot, and had any personal effects of yours there, it was commonly understood amongst other restricted Int Base staff members that the spot was taken.
Having been there throughout the construction of the Cine Castle film studio, I knew the good spots that were out of sight and out of mind. I slept in an attic above a hallway behind the castle cyclorama wall for four straight months. I had a thin blanket that I had gotten from costumes and each night around 3:00 a.m., I made my way up above the hallway to sleep with the blanket on the plywood decking until around 7:00 the next morning. Hopefully, the Sets & Props staff that worked throughout the night loading in sets for the next day’s shoot would not be too noisy and I could get a good, solid three hours of sleep. I was over all Pre-Production Departments at the time and was one of the highest posted executives at the Cine Castle, so it was not unusual for my staff to see me at all hours of the day and night. I ate leftover snacks meant for the professional actors, showered in the Costume changing rooms, did my laundry in the Wardrobe washing machines and slept in my little makeshift attic bed. The castle was my home. Some of my staff would make the remark that “it is like you never ever leave the castle.” They had no idea that for most of the year 2000, I didn’t. I lived there.
Now, this is fun.
Chapter Twenty – A Pain That I’m Used To
We had been having meetings up in Building 50 weekly. Building 50 was the new Religious Technology Center building that was built, but was only occupied by Dave Miscavige and his personal staff. So you had a seventy million dollar building being used by about fifteen people. That made sense.
The building was started in the late 1990’s and was finished in 2003. The only reason it even took that long is that it got built several times over and parts were redone and redone based on Dave changing his mind. At one point the interior of the building was mostly completed