Blown for Good - Marc Morgan Headley [98]
We came in Monday and the shots were reviewed. They were not okay. Dave was pissed. His plan was foiled and the film would never get done in time now. What did this mean? What were we going to do? Organizing another shoot was out of the question as we now had actors out of town, on other projects, etc. We had already shot the sequence four times and some of the actors refused to come back again no matter what. And they were the Scientologist actors! We demanded that, amongst the four times the end sequence had been shot, there must be enough footage to be able to cut together a full sequence and be able to finish the film. No, this was not an option. Dave Miscavige himself had stated that without the end sequence properly shot, the entire film was a bust and could not be completed. We did not know what was going to happen, but we knew it could not be good. We were puppets waiting to be put into motion. Well, no matter what happened, we knew that Dave Miscavige would be pulling the strings.
That first tug happened soon enough. Naturally, first on the list was for all of the Dept Heads to be heavily security checked by RTC staff. This included any and all suspected activities that we could be involved in. Hookers? Theft? Sex with the actors? Goofing off? Sex with each other? Gambling? You name it, we were asked it. We were asked the exact same questions over and over again, worded differently, anything and everything was thrown at us. This went on for at least eight hours straight. We had screwed up the filming of this one sequence four times and there must be some real crimes below this. No one wanted to hear about us not sleeping for a straight month. No one wanted to hear about the crew pooling their own money to pay for gas for the org vehicles. No, the only thing that was wanted was for us to admit to committing the most heinous crimes imaginable and then it would all make sense. Dave Miscavige said we had crimes so we did, and until we admitted to those crimes, it would not stop.
After hours and hours of sec checking, it was now around 1:00 a.m. It was at this point that we realized that, up until now, we had never experienced anything that would compare to what was to come. We were told to muster outside on the road that was next to the dining room. We were told that wherever we went, we were to run, that we could not speak unless spoken to, we would be on a strict military schedule and that we would not be leaving the property to return to our own berthing until all of us had admitted to all the crimes we were involved in. The six of us lined up on the road. There were four guys and two girls. We were all tired and had not really had more than a few hours of sleep a night in at least one month. It was July and we were not only skinny from not eating much, but the heat and lack of sleep had really taken its toll on our overall energy level. Most staff on the property had long since gone home. Most of the lights on the property had been turned off and it was very dark out. Here we were, just having spent hours being grilled about what crimes we had been committing and all we wanted to do was get some sleep. It was at that moment when three off road motorcycles pulled up. Jon Stumbke, Inspector General master at arms from Religious Technology Center was on one and the others were ridden by Gold Security guards.
“Run!” they ordered. “Stay in the headlights and run until we say stop!”
We started to run. Where were we going? What the hell was this? I had heard of some crazy crap going on at the Int base but this was beyond anything I had ever seen or heard. Motorcycles driving behind us in the pitch black while we were made to run ahead of them like dogs. They yelled out at us every few