Read Online The Church of Fear: Inside The Weird World of Scientology by John Sweeney - Free Book Online

false accusation and prison had broken Sally’s heart. I gave Radio Five an interview, switched off the phone, and in the middle of a country park in Florida I burst into tears, grieving for a good woman destroyed by bigotry. And then it was back to the day job.
    Mike and Donna took us on a tour of Scientology Town, past the Power building, a half-built monstrosity, still being completed after years and years of refurbishment, past the Fort Harrison hotel where the Operating Thetans do their courses. We got out of the car and filmed them walking around Clearwater pointing out all the sites. We expected to be filmed or challenged. But downtown Clearwater was eerily quiet, as if the whole Scientology population had been ordered to keep off the streets lest Bill film them off-guard.
    We took Donna and Mike to dinner to thank them for their time. I knocked back a bit of wine while Mole scowled at me. Surely, I was allowed some time off? It was late when we said our goodbyes to Donna and Mike. We got back to our hotel in Clearwater at midnight, to find the Church of Scientology waiting for us in the lobby.

CHAPTER THREE
     

Ill-met at midnight
     
     
    T ommy Davis and Mike Rinder were sitting in the hotel’s comfy chairs along with a Scientology cameraman, clad in black. Damn the wine. I should have drunk lemonade.
    ‘Hi Mike, Hi Tommy,’ I said, as if it was perfectly natural to bump into two Scientologists in your hotel lobby at midnight, and proffered my hand.
    ‘I’m not going to shake your hand,’ said Tommy, rising from his chair. He was wearing a suit, dark tie and white shirt. ‘I find it considerably obnoxious what you’ve done. The time that I took – spent two days with you straight. Offer you cooperation and who do you spend your time with?’
    His tone was that of an outraged Victorian husband furious that his young wife had dallied at the regimental ball of the 19th Foot and returned at midnight with a tendril of hair uncoiled and her bonnet askew.
    The Scientology cameraman was fully kitted out with camera top light and microphone on a lead, so he could catch every word of Tommy berating me for my atrocious conduct. It was the perfect video ambush – or it would have been had not Mole brought along a small video camera to dinner, just in case. They were video-ambushing us. We were video-ambushing them back. The Scientology cameraman switched on his light. I engaged with him: ‘Hi I’m John Sweeney from the BBC.’ He said nothing but we later found out his name was Jesse Radstrom.
    ‘And you spend the day with Mike Henderson and Donna Shannon? What are these people?’ said Tommy, full of wounded pride. ‘The people who you spent the day with?’ I stepped away from Tommy. He stepped towards me. Mike Rinder edged closer to me, the cameraman boxing me in.
    ‘Ok, from my perspective?’ Suddenly, I was sober as Mr Justice Latey. ‘Are you sure you’re getting good sound? Shall I hold that?’ I grasped the microphone wielded by the black-clad cameraman and opened fire. ‘You’ – Tommy - ‘and you’ – Mike - ‘and the Church of Scientology have been spying on the BBC. You have been spying on our hotel. We didn’t tell you where we were staying so you’ve been spying on us. And I find that, if I may say so, a little bit creepy. Here’s your microphone’ – and I handed it back, not to the cameraman, but to Tommy.
    ‘Thanks,’ said Tommy, perhaps – I might be wrong – a little forlornly.
    I hadn’t finished. ‘And secondly, what’s wrong with talking to people who are critical in an open society, who are critical of an institution?’
    ‘Nothing,’ said Tommy.
    ‘Have they no right to speak?’
    ‘There is nothing wrong with that. But that’s not what I’m taking about.’
    The hotel receptionist was not used to this kind of theatre of absurd in her lobby at midnight. She said: ‘Excuse me, you two need to go outside or I will call the police.’
    ‘OK,’ I said, ‘but