Scientology After Going Clear
Los Angeles Field Operations
April 28, 2015, 1410 Hours

It’s only verbal data as I haven’t seen it in writing, but Otto “Odo” Huber, PAC Base Security Guard, told me that I’ve been declared a suppressive person!


Fred G. Haseney, your West Coast Correspondent, reporting from Scientology Incorporated’s (“SI”) West Coast headquarters, the Pacific Area Command Base (aka “PAC Base” or “Big Blue”). I approached PAC Base from an alternate route today (from the corner of Fountain Ave. and Vermont Ave.). As I approached PAC Base, I snapped a picture of a Sea Org (“SO”) member talking on a phone outside an office; it may be the International Association of Scientologists (“IAS”). SO members are quite often doing what he’s doing, which is most likely “regging” (getting a Scientologist to give him money for the IAS membership or to raise their status).

From there, I walked back to Fountain, heading east. Before I got to the Advanced Org of Los Angeles (“AOLA”), I snapped a photo of two SO members entering the front door of what may be IAS. As I walked past AOLA, that’w when I first saw Otto “Odo” Huber, PAC Base Security Guard. I knew that he had arrived because of me; I could just feel it in the air. He didn’t even look at me, but I’m not stupid, Odo.

I then walked down Fountain and turned north onto L. Ron Hubbard Way. I found someone deep in a phone conversation outside of AOLA, so I zoomed in on him and took a picture. Then I walked to an apartment building just up the street, kind of across the street from the Canteen, and sat on a wall and that’s when a pretty girl approached me.

She handed me a card that I’ve scanned, a promotional piece for an event to be held at Pasadena Org, May 2. The front reads:


The back of the card reads:

Pasadena Org
35 S. Raymond Ave.,
Pasadena, CA 91105


May 2nd, 2015
6:30 pm

Be there!
Wear white:

I spoke to the pretty girl for a few minutes. She must be a non-Sea Org staff member at Pasadena Org. We talking about Melanie Lekas and Chel Stithe; Mel is most likely the Deputy Executive Director (“D/ED”) of Pasadena Org Foundation; Chel is, from what I got, the D/ED of Pasadena Org Fountain. As I talked to her about Melanie having been my boss when I first arrived in Los Angeles (Mel and her late husband, Johnny DeCrescenzo, owned Atlas Natural Foods on Glendale Blvd., in the village of Atwater, between Los Angeles and Glendale, California). All of a sudden, Odo rides up on his bicycle.

“Don’t talk to him,” Odo orders her, “he (referring to me) has been declared a suppressive person. The pretty gal hightailed it out of there.

“Where is that declare in writing?” I ask Odo.

Odo says he’s seen it and asked me if I had receive my copy of the declare order in the mail.

“Can I see a copy of it?” I inquire. Odo shakes his head.

“It’s not okay,”I add, “to spread verbal data, Odo.” I continue taking pictures of people at the Canteen and out and about on LRH Way. Odo seems to know exactly when to turn so I can never get a full frontal shot of his face.

“What are your hands shaking for?” he asks as I snap a photo. Odo is trying to introvert me, that I know for sure.

“Well,” I state, “I never have success holding this little camera; luckily, I’ve got a good auto-focus. Plus, “I add,” you’re probably making me a little nervous.”

For the rest of the conversation and while I take pictures, Odo is at my side. He’s actually about a foot-and-half away from me, straddling his bicycle. I ask him if he ever gets the idea that something is wrong in his church; does he ever ask questions. I tell him about the Senior C/S WUS’s “secret” audio of a meeting he had publicly in which he said, basically, that public should just “bend over” and take the Survival Rundown (no matter how many times they’ve done Objectives).

Of course, none of this means anything to Odo, and it’s so easy to observe that he’s just playing guard.

“Tory Christman is going to be real proud of me when she hears I’ve been declared, especially if I receive the “goldenrod” that declares get printed on.  It’s the ultimate sacrifice,” I say, “for what used to be my church.”

Now, when I said that, I meant that L. Ron Hubbard’s Scientology used to be my church, and not David “Let Him Die” Miscavige’s Scientology Incorporated. But that’s not the context in which he heard my statement (he heard it as if it had come from a person who had just been booted out of his church, such as after receiving a declare order).

“That’s something you’ll never have again, will you?” Odo asks, referring to how Scientology is completed out of my reach now (well, thank God for that). I turn to face Odo.

“Oh yeah, I’ve just lost my spiritual eternity,” I declare slightly laughingly, “and mankind’s only hope for salvation.”

For just a moment, Odo froze, his eyes locked on me, because I finally said something that communicated to him.

Next, I walked north on L. Ron Hubbard Way past a SG across the street who may have been Odo’s back-up. When I reached Sunset Blvd., I traveled west, heading into Body Router (“BR”) country. There were plenty of BRs, some in SO dress, others in regular street clothes. As I walked along Sunset, I had picked up a few “free” Dianetics film tickets strewn on the sidewalk; trash looking for a garbage can.

So there I am, taking pictures of all the BRs (one just a foot away) and an African American woman BR (who I had just photographed), hands me a “free” ticket.

“I’ll add it to my collection” I say. That’s when she notices the other tickets in my pocket. She suggests I go see the film and I tell her that I got into Scientology  in 1977 and that “Scientology” today is not “Scientology” when L. Ron Hubbard was around, not with all the alterations made by David Miscavige.

“Yes,” she says, “but Dianetics is still the same.”

“Is it?” I inquire. “How do you know that Miscavige hasn’t changed that, too.

I took a few more photos, circled around to L. Ron Hubbard Way and Sunset Blvd., and snapped a quick, poor picture (but a photo nevertheless) of two BRs: Frasier “We Know Who You Are” not and a white lady in a dress, escorting a couple of people into LA Org.