Scientology’s Office of Special Affairs–Part Two
It was a beautiful Virginia day, late spring. With the rainy season in the not-so-distant past, winter’s browns had given way to a kaleidoscope of brilliant green hues. A tangle of early-blooming honeysuckle perfumed the air.
Kyle had been gone for just over a year.
I was walking along one of the neighborhood’s paved walkways—carrying, ironically, a copy of Andrew Morton’s recently released biography of Tom Cruise—when I noticed two unfamiliar vehicles parked off the road, suspiciously close to my backyard. They were the same make and model.
Approaching one, I leaned in close and rapped my knuckles on the partially opened window.
“Excuse me, are you lost?” I asked.
Peering across the passenger seat to better look at the driver, I repeated with a firmer tone: “Are you lost?” The thirtyish-plus man sitting behind the steering wheel didn’t respond. He stared…
View original post 1,343 more words