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Operation Clambake presents: Looking over my shoulder, The Inside Account of the Story That Almost Killed Me (xenu.net) Looking over my shoulder, The Inside Account of the Story That Almost Killed Me The author in 1967. Little did she realize the turn her life was about to take. Saturday, June 23, 2007 The Scandal behind "The Scandal of Scientology" By Paulette Cooper You may not believe this, but you can write something that some group doesn't approve of and then have a quarter of your life almost ruined. I know because it happened to me. I haven't previously written about this from beginning to end because it's still painful, but here goes. In 1968 I was a struggling New York freelance writer, searching for an investigative story that would make a difference. I was already used to controversy - and publicity - when a year earlier I had successfully stowed away on an ocean liner and wrote an article (and sold movie rights) about it that had appeared all over the world. The paperback cost less than a dollar. But the price the author paid - both in torment and in legal fees - was immensely more. But when I next decided to expose a then relatively unknown organization called Scientology (and the related Dianetics, ) I ended up falsely arrested and facing 15 years in jail, had 19 lawsuits filed against me all over the world by Scientology, was the almost victim of a near murder, was the subject of 5 disgusting anonymous smear letters sent to my family and neighbors about me, and endured constant and continual harassment for almost 15 years. I had obtained a master's degree in psychology and had studied comparative religion at Harvard for a summer. So I became interested in researching a newly-popular quasi-religious mental-health cult founded by science fiction writer L Ron Hubbard. I started by writing an article exposing Scientology for the British Harper/Queen, (now Harper's Bazaar) and expanded this into a book. In it, among other things, I stated that the crux of Scientology - their e-meter which they say acts like a lie detector - produced questionable results; that Hubbard had lied about his credentials; that Charles Manson had called himself a Scientologist; that some auditors had behaved improperly toward their "parishioners"; that some who left may have feared being blackmailed; that some defectors claimed that they had been psychologically damaged by Scientology, financially ripped-off, and/or harassed when they tried to leave or speak out. I soon got used to telephone death threats, harassing calls - and lawsuits. I was occasionally followed - often conspicuously as if to upset me - and people seemed to be trying to gain access to my apartment. Then, in the basement of my small building, I discovered alligator clips on my phone wires - likely the remnants of a phone tap. Next, my cousin - who was also short and slim like me - was in my apartment alone when a man arrived with a "flower delivery" for me. When she opened the door, the intruder pulled a gun out of the flowers and put it to her temple. Fortunately, the gun jammed, misfired or was empty. The man then began to choke her, and when she pulled away and screamed, he ran off. The police said afterward that they were mystified, because there appeared to be no motive for the attack. I quickly moved to a safer doorman building. But soon afterwards, 300 of my new neighbors received an anonymous smear letter about me, outrageously describing me as a part-time prostitute with VD! Then, a few weeks later, I received a visit from a pompous FBI agent named Bruce Brotman. He said the spokesman for the Church of Scientology in New York, James Meisler, claimed to have received 2 anonymous bomb threats and named me as a likely suspect. I didn't take it seriously until I was called to appear before a federal grand jury - and was shocked to learn that I was the target (suspect). I had to hire a top law firm (I chose one headed by Charles Stillman) who required a $5,000 retainer on my meager freelance income. Little did I realize that they would ultimately cost me $28,000 (like $75,000 today) and they would unsuccessfully sue me after the case was over for even more money! Even worse, during the grand jury, the prosecutor, John D. Gordon III, told me that if this Grand Jury decided that I had sent Scientology the 2 bomb threats, I faced 5 years in jail for each letter, 5 more for perjury for denying it, and $15,000 in fines. He showed me the letters, and I truthfully testified that I had never touched or seen them before. Then Gordon dropped the real bomb. "Then how did your fingerprint get on one of them?" he asked. I was so shocked I think I momentarily lost consciousness because the room turned upside down. I then rightly explained that Scientology could have obtained a blank piece of paper that I had touched, and typed threats on it afterwards. But Gordon was unconvinced. On May 9th, 1973, I was indicted on all 3 three counts by the U.S. Attorney's Office for the Southern District of New York. And 10 days later I was arrested, released on my own recognizance, and forbidden to leave the state without the court's permission. "I was named a likely suspect and the next thing I knew I was called to appear before a federal grand jury in New York." For months, my anxiety was so terrible I could taste it in my throat. I was in a total panic. I could barely write, and my bills, especially legal ones, kept mounting. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I smoked 4 packs of cigarettes a day, popped Valium like M&Ms, and drank too much vodka. I worried obsessively about the possibility of going to jail. And also about my career. I had been doing extremely well. I had 4 books out and I wasn't yet 30. But once these accusations came out at trial, what editor would give an assignment to a writer believed to have sent bomb threats to the people she wrote about? I had wanted to be a writer since I was 8 years old, and my dream life was about to be over. I was also very concerned about my parents. They had adopted me from an orphanage in Belgium when I was 6, and I had always tried to make them proud of me. However, I knew they would soon be humiliated when the trial started. The sexual revolution was going on then, and young people were also experimenting with pot, considering horrifying by adults (and jurors no doubt!) in those days. As a single photogenic woman involved in a bizarre case, I knew I would become the scandal du jour for the tabloids during the anticipated 3-week trial. I tried desperately to prevent a trial. I made a writing barter arrangement with a private investigator, Anthony Pellicano - the same one in jail and in the news now - who I wanted to look into L Ron Hubbard Jr., the son of the founder, who I had worked with against his father but whom I now began to suspect had turned. But Pellicano did nothing. I also volunteered to take lie-detector tests to prove my innocence. But they returned contradictory and inconclusive results, although not surprisingly, they did sh
