Authors: Jenna Miscavige Hill
As much as I missed Mom and Dad, the time away from them wasn’t always bad. Some days, Taryn would invite her friend Heather, whose parents were also at Int, to our apartment. I loved pretending I was a princess, so the two girls would dress me up in costumes and fancy dresses, fix my hair, give me a wand and a crown, and make me beautiful.
Justin also liked to invite friends over. Mike, the son of our father’s secretary Rosemary, and Teddy, a friend whose mother worked with Mom on the Ship Project, were two of his favorite guests. They would practice their karate on B. J. and me. We would pillow fight them back. Teddy and Justin liked to go skateboarding, and they’d bring B. J. and me along to watch.
My father made it down to Los Angeles most Saturday nights. Usually, he would try to make the weekend visits as special as possible by bringing me little gifts or doing something fun with me on Sunday mornings. Sometimes, we would relax at home, but at other times we would go out for breakfast, hang out at Griffith Park near the Santa Monica Mountains, or look around the mall. Because of her work, my mom was able to come less often.
One Saturday night, though, she called ahead and told me that she and Dad had a surprise for me. I tried to wait up, but I had fallen asleep by the time they came in. The next morning, I ran into their room. “Where’s my surprise?” I asked excitedly. Mom reached under the bed and pulled out a kitten, a silver tabby, absolutely adorable, but scared to death. I named her Sarah Kitty. At first, B. J. and I were scared of her because she was vicious, but eventually we made peace with her.
B. J. and I were at the apartment one afternoon when Sarah Kitty suddenly came sprinting out of the dollhouse to investigate a newcomer, a boy around Justin’s age whom I had seen around the Base before. He had barely stepped into the living room when Sarah Kitty dashed up to him and climbed him as if he were a tree. He was screaming, partly in fear and partly in pain at having been scratched, so B. J. and I ran to grab her. Once we had her and our laughter under control, we stood staring at the boy, wondering who he was.
Justin was home and made the introductions. “This is Sterling,” he said to me. “He’s your brother.” I knew that Justin had a friend named Sterling, but I didn’t know that he was actually his twin. He and his family had been living in L.A. for several years and were also members of the Sea Org.
It took me a while to get used to the concept of having another brother. Although Sterling and Justin looked nothing alike, they both loved sports and got along fairly well. He even started picking me up from the nursery some nights and stayed until Pat arrived.
Dad, Mom, or both left L.A. every Sunday morning at 11:00 a.m. When they left, Justin and I liked to be outside to wave them off. I’ll never forget the Sunday when my parents were backing their car out of the garage and B. J. and I were riding the garage gate. My leg got caught in between the bars as it was sliding to the right to let the car out. Justin tried to pull me off, but I misunderstood his intention and thought he was teasing me as usual. The gate had no safety stop and my leg got stuck between the gate and the wall, and I was trapped. In unbearable pain, I started to scream my head off.
My dad jumped out of the car and literally bent the metal bars with his bare hands to free my leg. I was crying uncontrollably as he carried me to the elevator and back upstairs. My parents called a local Scientology doctor, who instructed them to ask me to try to walk. When I couldn’t do it because of the pain, she told them that unfortunately my leg was probably fractured, and that I should get an X-ray in the morning.
Mom and Dad stayed with me for as long as they could, but they had so many urgent phone calls from Int that they were unable to stay past dinner. Someone in charge insisted that they come back to the Base, even though he knew I was seriously injured. Orders had to be obeyed, and my parents reluctantly went. The ramifications for insubordination were significant and depended on the wrath and power of the person you disobeyed. My parents didn’t want to displease their senior and suffer the consequences. After all, it was for the greater good.
After my parents left, Pat remained with me and took me to the doctor’s office for an X-ray the next morning. My knee was indeed fractured. The only thing the doctor could do for me was to wrap it in an ACE Bandage.
I was back at the nursery two days later. My leg hurt so much that my limp caused me to lag behind during our daily strolls along Franklin Avenue. Rather than slow the group down, the teacher would become irritated at me and tell me to hurry up. She seemed to think I was putting on an act. B. J. defended me, telling her that my knee was fractured.
“Well if you fall behind, you are going to get left behind,” she scolded. She told me that I needed to “make it go right!” This was a common Scientology saying, which referred to the Church’s belief in mind over matter. All I had to do was not let the pain dominate my thoughts, and it wouldn’t feel as bad. A few months passed before my knee finally stopped hurting.
Right before my fifth birthday, Justin told me he was leaving L.A. and going to live at a place called the Ranch. I didn’t know what the Ranch was or where it was, but I didn’t want him to leave me. I already saw so little of Mom and Dad. He said it was close to where they were living and he would come and visit me once in a while, like they did. To make things worse, Taryn was going, too. I didn’t know how to feel, but I didn’t like it.
Now, with no one to pick us up, B. J. and I had to stay at the afterschool nursery, where we waited for Pat, who would usually come to get us around 8 p.m., except on Thursdays when she had to work late—often past midnight. All the kids at the after-school nursery ate dinner sitting on the kitchen floor, took an evening shower, played a little, then went to bed on one of the cots lined against the wall of the living room. This was where I first learned about touch assists. We were taught to perform them on each other before bedtime each night. We would be paired with another child and instructed to use one finger to touch him or her on the arm. The touch assists were procedures created by LRH to put the Thetans into better communication with our bodies, so as to improve the healing process.
“Feel my finger?” I would say to my partner, who was supposed to say, “Yes.”
I’d say, “Good,” and repeat the exercise on the other arm. We would all do this on each other’s fingers, toes, arms, legs, and face. I didn’t totally understand the concept. I just knew the touch assists helped put me to sleep.
While many of the kids stayed there overnight, B. J. and I got a pickup, when Pat took us home and put us in our own beds, or my parents’ bed, where she would sleep with me. She was amazingly nice, and I loved her very much. On Sundays, she would pick us up at the apartment and take us back to the nursery after my parents left for Int.
Every few months, Pat or Rosemary would take me to an international Scientology gathering, which was usually held in the Shrine Auditorium, a huge entertainment hall and expo center on West 32nd Street. Hundreds of Scientologists and Sea Org members, some from the Los Angeles area and some from the Int Base, would be in attendance. Pat would always dress me up and curled my hair for the occasions. Together, we’d sit in the audience and listen to the speeches. I didn’t know what the presenters were talking about, but my father would often be one of the featured speakers. Seeing him at the podium, I would get so excited that I would scream out, “Hi, Daddy! I’m over here,” and wave madly.
If my Uncle Dave spoke, I was equally animated and would yell, “Uncle Dave! It’s me! It’s Jenna!”
When I would see them in the greenroom afterward, they would tell me that they had winked at me or waved with their pinkies when nobody was looking. I had no idea how important these events were, but they always went on for several hours, they were filled with standing ovations and loud, long cheers, and the reception had great food.
B. J. and I had been living in Los Angeles on our own for a little over a year when Pat told us that we were going to be moving to the Ranch, where Justin and Taryn were living. We were both thrilled, even though we didn’t know why we were leaving L.A. It turned out that someone had been shot right in front of the Edgemont Building, so my parents insisted that I be taken to the Ranch immediately, and naturally, B. J. would be coming, too.
The next morning, we packed up our stuff and waited for Rosemary, Dad’s secretary, to pick us up. When she arrived, B. J. and I climbed into the backseat anticipating that Pat would get in, too. But she didn’t.
“Why are you standing there?” I asked. When she broke the news she wasn’t coming with us, I was shocked. We both started crying. We had been together for two years, and I was devastated. Although I knew that at the Ranch I might be able to see more of my parents, I was still really emotional. I had spent more time with her than with my own parents. I told her how much I loved her, and I promised to visit often. After one long last hug, I got into the car, and Rosemary pulled away from the curb.
I
T
WAS
A
LONG
DRIVE
TO
THE
R
ANCH
. A
T
FIRST
, B. J.
AND
I
WERE
excited and chattering, but after a while, boredom set in. I fell asleep briefly, and I woke with a jerk of my head smacking against the window, the result of the car hitting a bump on the winding dirt road we’d apparently turned onto. It was March of 1999, springtime, and everywhere I looked was lush and green. At one point, we crossed a bridge that spanned a very large running creek and came to an oasis of tall oak trees. Each turn in the road seemed to present a new vista.
Difficult as it would be not to have Pat with me, the excitement that I would be only twenty miles away from my parents made me forget about Pat for the time being. From time to time, I had wondered what the Ranch would be like, but I really had no idea. Whenever I’d tried to get clues from my brother during his trips home, he always teased me and I wound up with no information in the end. While I didn’t know for sure whether being closer meant I’d be able to see my parents more often, I certainly hoped it would. Despite the uncertainties, just the thought of being closer to them made me think that life at the Ranch would be worthwhile.
The fact that Rosemary was going to stay for a couple of days to help us settle in was also comforting, although she was no Pat. As we drove up to an old wooden gate, Rosemary victoriously declared that we had arrived, setting off a cheer from B. J. and me. She pushed a button on the call box attached to the gate.
“Hello, I have Jenna Miscavige and Benjamin Rinder,” she announced, when asked her business. At that, the gate opened and we proceeded up the dirt road around a hill, passing a few outbuildings along the way. Soon, Rosemary parked in front of a low-slung, rundown-looking building, where older kids in uniform—light blue shirts and dark blue shorts—were milling around. When I stepped out, the first person I saw was Justin, with a big smile on his face. He gave me an embarrassed, awkward brother-to-little-sister hug, happy to see me, but still being cool in front of his friends.
Taryn was waiting there, too. B. J. had barely gotten out of the car when she swooped him up into a suffocating hug. B. J., always the quiet type, accepted the hug with no fuss. “Come here, little sis!” Taryn said to me, as she forced me into the same overwhelming embrace.
A few older kids, my brother included, grabbed our stuff out of the trunk and led us toward the buildings called the Motels. We followed them into an open courtyard with large birch trees in the center. Around the courtyard were thirteen doorways, each with its own small walkway.
B. J. and I were assigned to Room 12. Apparently the room had been chosen for us, because its refurbishment was the closest to being completed. It was pretty big, about twenty feet square, with two small windows on the back wall. Although the floor was carpeted, it was completely empty.
As I stood looking at the room wondering how this could be a bedroom, someone behind me yelled, “Coming through!” Two older boys, carrying a twin bed frame, followed by two older girls carrying a mattress made their way through the doorway. This was repeated until three twin beds were set up while we were standing there.
Room 12 was connected to Room 11 by a shared sink room and bathroom. Room 11 didn’t even have carpet, just a concrete floor with a single mattress on it. Someone who had been asleep on the mattress suddenly sat up, and I saw that it was my brother’s friend, Teddy, who I had always had a little-girl crush on. Teddy explained that he was sick and running a fever, and that Room 11 was the isolation room. Sick kids stayed there to keep away from healthy kids until they were better, so he told us we should stay out. The room didn’t look very comfortable to me, especially if you were sick, but I figured that they must know what they are doing; after all, this was the Int Ranch.
B. J. and I went back to our room and made our beds. We let Sarah Kitty out of her crate, but she was not happy. She started snarling and hissing, her hair standing on end, scratching at anyone who came near her as she was hiding under the bed.
After we finished making our beds, Justin and Mike gave us a tour of the property. The Ranch was sprawling, covering about five hundred acres of land at the back of the Soboba Indian Reservation in the San Jacinto Hills in Riverside County. They told us they had heard the property had once been a convent, but didn’t know for sure. The main dwelling cluster included the Motels and six or seven other buildings, some small, and one big one spread across five of the acres. There was a small swimming pool in a state of disrepair, with a few dead rodents floating in it. They said they couldn’t use the pool until it got fixed, and they said the same about many of the other buildings as well. The rest of the property was mixture of green trees, dusty desert, and mountains.