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Authors: Leah Remini, Rebecca Paley
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and she responded less as a Scientologist and more as a mom: “Don’t use that shit against me, Leah. I’m still your mother.”
Later that day, she filed a Knowledge Report on me. When I showed up on course the day after that, my supervisor summoned me almost immediately, took out an Ethics routing form, and wrote my name on it. It was a printed form that directed me to proceed to the Ethics office.
I had fucked up. I was off to see an MAA, who was just one of a whole network of Ethics Officers in Hollywood, working in concert to investigate and make sure everyone was in-ethics. In other words, they were on our shit. The only thing required of us was that we stay on course, and the only people we had to answer to were Scientology officials.
“What’s happening?” asked the MAA, a heavyset woman with curly black hair. “Why didn’t you make it to course yesterday?”
“Oh, I was tired.”
But the MAA didn’t buy it, and she employed an investigative technique called “pull a string.” The piece of string sticking out represents something that doesn’t make sense—like the idea that I wouldn’t come to course because I was tired. Further questioning is pulling on the string—finding out why I was tired. And this MAA was going to keep pulling until she got to the bottom of it.
“Why were you tired?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Were you out late?”
“What’s late to you?”
“What’s late to
you
?”
“Um, like, two a.m.”
“What do you do until two a.m.?”
“Hang out.”
“Does hanging out mean doing drugs?”
“No.”
“Is anyone who you are hanging out with doing drugs?”
“I don’t know.” I was starting to grow more anxious.
“Well, because you can’t be connected to that, right? So if you’re connected to that, see how that has a domino effect in your life? You didn’t make it to course, right? Things don’t just happen. Everything has a cause and effect.”
“I didn’t do drugs. I wouldn’t do that.”
“Good, because they are the single most destructive element to a person’s spiritual and mental well-being.”
“I drank!”
The MAA sat back and looked me straight in the eye. It wasn’t accusatory but instead kind of calming.
“Good, so who else was involved?” she asked.
I quickly reverted from peaceful back to worried; I didn’t want to get my friends in trouble.
As if she could read my mind, the MAA said, “It’s not about tattling, Leah. You know what the policy says. You’re not narcing on them; you’re helping them. Is it great that they’re staying out and getting drunk till two in the morning?”
“No, I guess not.”
“So what’s the greatest good here? It’s to tell the truth. And if we all did that, we’d all be helping each other to live a better life. It’s about not being a wog” (a term for non-Scientologist, short for “Well and Orderly Gentleman”). Wogs are considered to be ignorant and unenlightened and to be avoided for their lack of priorities.
The MAA scribbled as quickly as the names rolled off my tongue. She was connecting the dots for a Knowledge Report. Every person I mentioned would be routed to Ethics. But I didn’t feel guilty. Notonly had I given up what I had done, but I was helping my friends. I made a vow to myself to be a better person.
I’m going to be good.
I’m going to be on course.
I didn’t want to be average. I didn’t want to be acting like a wog.
I am more than this. I am a Scientologist and I am here to help clear the planet.
Chapter Five
I T DIDN’T TAKE LIVING I N L.A. for long before I realized that you didn’t need actually to be
in
anything to say you were an actor. I would meet people all the time who said, “I’m an actor.”
“What are you in?”
“Well, right now I’m in the fry station at McDonald’s.”
I got it: You didn’t have to do shit to be an actor. You didn’t even have to necessarily believe in yourself. You just had to have the confidence to say
Later that day, she filed a Knowledge Report on me. When I showed up on course the day after that, my supervisor summoned me almost immediately, took out an Ethics routing form, and wrote my name on it. It was a printed form that directed me to proceed to the Ethics office.
I had fucked up. I was off to see an MAA, who was just one of a whole network of Ethics Officers in Hollywood, working in concert to investigate and make sure everyone was in-ethics. In other words, they were on our shit. The only thing required of us was that we stay on course, and the only people we had to answer to were Scientology officials.
“What’s happening?” asked the MAA, a heavyset woman with curly black hair. “Why didn’t you make it to course yesterday?”
“Oh, I was tired.”
But the MAA didn’t buy it, and she employed an investigative technique called “pull a string.” The piece of string sticking out represents something that doesn’t make sense—like the idea that I wouldn’t come to course because I was tired. Further questioning is pulling on the string—finding out why I was tired. And this MAA was going to keep pulling until she got to the bottom of it.
“Why were you tired?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Were you out late?”
“What’s late to you?”
“What’s late to
you
?”
“Um, like, two a.m.”
“What do you do until two a.m.?”
“Hang out.”
“Does hanging out mean doing drugs?”
“No.”
“Is anyone who you are hanging out with doing drugs?”
“I don’t know.” I was starting to grow more anxious.
“Well, because you can’t be connected to that, right? So if you’re connected to that, see how that has a domino effect in your life? You didn’t make it to course, right? Things don’t just happen. Everything has a cause and effect.”
“I didn’t do drugs. I wouldn’t do that.”
“Good, because they are the single most destructive element to a person’s spiritual and mental well-being.”
“I drank!”
The MAA sat back and looked me straight in the eye. It wasn’t accusatory but instead kind of calming.
“Good, so who else was involved?” she asked.
I quickly reverted from peaceful back to worried; I didn’t want to get my friends in trouble.
As if she could read my mind, the MAA said, “It’s not about tattling, Leah. You know what the policy says. You’re not narcing on them; you’re helping them. Is it great that they’re staying out and getting drunk till two in the morning?”
“No, I guess not.”
“So what’s the greatest good here? It’s to tell the truth. And if we all did that, we’d all be helping each other to live a better life. It’s about not being a wog” (a term for non-Scientologist, short for “Well and Orderly Gentleman”). Wogs are considered to be ignorant and unenlightened and to be avoided for their lack of priorities.
The MAA scribbled as quickly as the names rolled off my tongue. She was connecting the dots for a Knowledge Report. Every person I mentioned would be routed to Ethics. But I didn’t feel guilty. Notonly had I given up what I had done, but I was helping my friends. I made a vow to myself to be a better person.
I’m going to be good.
I’m going to be on course.
I didn’t want to be average. I didn’t want to be acting like a wog.
I am more than this. I am a Scientologist and I am here to help clear the planet.
Chapter Five
I T DIDN’T TAKE LIVING I N L.A. for long before I realized that you didn’t need actually to be
in
anything to say you were an actor. I would meet people all the time who said, “I’m an actor.”
“What are you in?”
“Well, right now I’m in the fry station at McDonald’s.”
I got it: You didn’t have to do shit to be an actor. You didn’t even have to necessarily believe in yourself. You just had to have the confidence to say
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