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The Church of Scientology is loudly voicing their strong resistance to what they call "psych drugs". It is therefore ironicthat the founder of Dianetics and Scientology, L Ron Hubbard, was taking a "psych drug" when he died. This is notunusual in itself, since bitter old men often go psychotic when dying. Witnesses testified that Hubbard died acting like araving lunatic. This is from the 1983 edition of the Physician's Desk Reference, pg 1571. It was a couple years out of date whenHubbard died. Vistaril is the psych drug found in Hubbard's body. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hydroxyzine has demonstrated its clinical effectiveness in the chemotherapeutic aspect of the total management ofneuroses and emotional disturbances manifested by anxiety, tension, agitation, apprehension or confusion. It induces a calming effect in anxious, tense, psychoneurotic adults and also in anxious, hyperkinetic children withoutimpairing mental alertness. It is not a cortical depressant but its action may be due to a suppression of activity in certainkey regions of the subcortical area of the central nervous system. Indications: The total management of anxiety, tension and psychomotor agitation in conditions of emotional stressrequires in most instances a combined approach of psychotherapy and chemotherapy. Hydroxyzine has been found tobe particularly useful for this latter phase in its ability to render the disturbed patient more amenable to psychotherapy inlong term treatment of the psychoneurotic and psychotic although it should not be used as the sole treatment ofpsychosis or of clearly demonstrated cases of depression. . VISTARIL® (hydroxyzine hydrochloride) Intramuscular Solution is useful in treating the following type of patients whenintramuscular administration is indicated: 1.The acutely disturbed or hysterical patient. 2.The acute or chronic alcoholic with anxiety withdrawal symptoms or delirium tremens. 3.As pre- and postoperative and pre- and postpartum adjunctive medication to permit reduction in narcotic dosage, allayanxiety and control emesis. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- According to what Hubbard's doctor told the coroner, and what the labs from the autopsy found, Hubbard had beeninjected with Vistaril® and only Vistaril® in a non-hospital setting. That's what you do with a psychiatrically disturbed ordrug withdrawal patient. L Ron Hubbard was given Vistaril® by Dr. Gene Denk in his final days, by intramuscular injection in the right buttocks.
Vistaril® is a psychiatric drug, used to calm frantic or overly anxious patients. He died on January 24th, 1986, eight daysafter the fatal stroke, and one day after signing his last will and testament. He died in a 1982 Blue Bird motor home,about five miles East of Creston, CA, at the very remote "Emanuel Camp". His fingernails and toenails were long andunkempt. His hair was long, thin and receding on his forehead. David Miscavige personally arrived with documents requesting that no autopsy be performed. 13 photographs taken ofhis body were later destroyed at the request of Norman Starkey. These are public documents, available from the San Luis Obispo Sheriff's Office. Coroner's file #8936: Page 1 | Page 2 | Page 3 | Page 4 | Page 5 | Page 6 | Page 7 | Page 8 | Page 9 | Page 10 | Page 11 | Page 12 | Page 13| Page 14 | Page 15 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- For years, Robert Vaughn Young rubbed shoulders with the more elite schelon in the CoS organization. Since leavingscientology in 1989, he has been an avowed and outspoken critic of the CoS, and has testified as an expert witness atseveral trials. He has been --- at times --- a regular poster to the USENET newsgroup alt.religion.scientology, where hehas offered invaluable insight into the inner workings of the CoS. He is also an acomplished and gifted writer, as thefollowing will attest.
RVY was actively involved in the events surrounding Hubbard's death, but it is only within the last few years that he hasbegun to doubt the 'official' version of what happened during January, 1986. In an article to alt.religion.scientology, heoffered this intriguing tale of his own investigation into the death of LRH. From a post by Robert Vaughn Young (September 2, 1998) When Hubbard died, everything changed. (duh) I went to the death site (his ranch at Creston, near San Luis Obispo CA)that night along with David Miscavige and some attorneys. Since none of us - including Miscavige - had ever been there,we were met at a restaurant by Pat Broeker who took us to the ranch. We arrived at perhaps 4 a.m. (Hubbard was founddead at about 8 p.m. I was told at 10. We left LA at perhaps 1 a.m. I wasn't always watching the clock, given thecircumstances.) What's amusing in the cult's attempt to DA me is their saying that I went to the ranch along with some gardeners andcooks. Right. Gardeners and cooks were the first to be rushed up that night, before the authorities were called or the body taken away. ROFL! Don't you just love these guys! Creston was where the story was put together that he had moved on to the next level of research, or however it wasworded, when it was announced at the Palladium and to the world. The event was so carefully constructed that no onenoticed that something essential was missing, but I'll get to that in a moment. But during the event, I stayed at the ranchto deal with any media who might show up or call. None did and less than 48 hours later, the Challenger space shuttleblew up, bumping news of his death and any serious questions from the media. I was monitoring the TV news via asatellite dish and watched it happen and reported it. While the rest of the world was in shock, DM was happy because wehad been bumped from the news. But that is how one comes to view the world at that echelon. I later moved to another ranch Hubbard owned, at Newberry Springs, east of Barstow CA and stayed there for a coupleof months. Hubbard never visited it (it was merely a fallback location for him) and I never did see that anyone learnedabout this one, even the media. I guess they were all hung up on the Creston property, near San Luis Obispo, where hedied. The most lasting benefit of my stay at Newberry was that that was where I stopped smoking. One day DM, Mitoff, PatBroeker, Mike Eldridge and I were sitting around and we all agreed to stop smoking, although Broeker was the only non-smoker. Mitoff had a horrible time of it. He ended up on Skoal Bandits, spitting disgustingly into a bucket while drivingback and forth to LA, and also addicting me to the little cusses. In the end, I was the only one who stopped, making mewish we had put some money in a pool. In the months I spent between the Creston and Newberry ranches, Pat and I became good friends. He had beenHubbard's closest and most trusted aide and confident for those final years. With what I already knew about Hubbard,Pat and I had the greatest talks. Sometimes Pat and I were the only ones at the ranch, so we eould chat while movinghorses or going to town to shop. I began to learn about the life Hubbard had lead while in hiding for those last years,moving between towns in the Bluebird bus and finally settling down in Creston. (BTIAS) THE STRUGGLE STARTS - WHO WILL REPLACE HUBBARD? Meanwhile, a power struggle was brewing to see who would take control of Scientology and Newberry was the placewhere many of the discussions occurred while DM stayed either in LA or in Hemet. (Jesse will have something to sayabout that someday because he was seriously involved in the ensuing explosion.) It would result in a number of peoplefleeing (such as Jesse) or going to the RPF (such as me).
A key element in the power struggle was Hubbard's last message to the rank-and-file. Those who were in the cult back in1986-87 will remember this incident. It was a message from Hubbard that was issued as a Sea Org directive. It saidgoodbye, wishing them well and establishing a new rank/position called Loyal Officer or LO. (The term is taken fromOT3.) Pat was to be the LO1 and his wife Annie was to be LO2 and it basically turned the management of the Sea Orgover to them. And since the SO ran Scientology, that meant they were at the top of the heap. DM was not mentioned inthe directive. It was later was issued to all staff - with DM's approval and authority - reduced in size and put in a smallfram with a photo of Hubbard for the desk of every staff member. In the meantime, Pat began to slowly take control. I would often get phone calls from him. He would never identifyhimself on the phone, going back to his years of tight security, but merely would say, "Hi, it's me." I won't try to give the details of the ensuing power struggle because I was in LA and it was happened at Creston,Newberry and Hemet. (I leave it to Jesse, who was there.) But the outcome was that Miscavige won. And typical of anypolitical coup, there was a sudden purge as he consolidated his power. Anyone DM thought might be a friend ofBroeker's who would pose a threat were sent to Scientology's equivalent of Lubayanka Prison or Siberia: the RPF, so Iwent. For 16 months and three escape attempts. Now here is where it gets interesting, folks. While I was on the RPF, a directive came out from Miscavige saying the supposed final message from Hubbard thatnamed Broeker was a forgery by Broeker and it was being canceled. That same day, Annie Broeker appeared on theRPF. This was not the Annie I had come to know. What stumbled into the RPF was a completely broken person. Shewas pale and hollow and her eyes were empty. There was no mistaking it. She had been broken and only now was shebeing thrown away into the trash heap called the RPF. Even then, she was kept under guard, just to be sure.
With the cancellation of the message from Hubbard, there were now two vital things missing that were 100% Hubbardand 100% standard tech and yet no one seemed to notice or, if they did, no one dared to remark on it. But then, asHubbard correctly pointed out, the hardest thing to notice is the thing that is omitted.
What was now missing was (1) something from Hubbard to all Scientologists saying goodbye and what he was doing and(2) something that passed his hat, which is one of the most basic tenets in the organization. They had been missing atthe event announcing his death but with the cancellation by Miscavige, they were missing more than ever. One does not require much knowledge about L. Ron Hubbard to know that it would be completely unlike him to simplyleave - especially if the story about his going off to do more research were true - and not leave a message. So if he HADleft as Scientologists were told, where was the message if the other was a forgery? But perhaps more importantly, where was the hat turnover? I don't mean the volumes of policies and bulletins. I meansomething that says, I hereby appoint Joe Blow to take over as. Would Hubbard leave the planet and not pass on thecommand? Hardly. Or let's put it in one of the most basic tenets from Hubbard: if it isn't written, it isn't true. (Note: Hubbard's will was hardly a Scientology hat turnover and has not been issued to the rank and file as policy.) So the question became (to those of us who wondered), if the LO directive was a forgery, where was the real one?Where were Hubbard's wishes IN WRITING? Of course, DM never provided anything and no one was willing to ask and risk being sent to the RPF with the rest of us.
He said it was a forgery and that was that. End of discussion.
For the rest of my stay in the cult, Pat Broeker was never mentioned because, in the cult, you learn what to not talkabout. Pat became what in Orwell's "1984" is a non-person. He had been written out of history, with anyone who cared(such as me) being sent to the RPF or interrogated (security checked) until they got the point, which meant (per the headon a pike policy) that everyone else got the message. So without a shred of WRITTEN evidence from Hubbard and by canceling what even DM had first agreed was fromHubbard, Miscavige was now in control while Broeker had disappeared. After Stacy and I fled the cult in 1989, I put it all behind me. I simply wanted my life back and the last thing I needed wasto think about the cult. They had taken enough of my life without my adding more. But after a couple of years of dryingout, Stacy and I were invited to help with some legal cases and this gave us a chance to handle the material that oncehandled us. We could now read Hubbard and TALK about the material, which is completely forbidden in the cult. It waslike back-flushing a radiator and watching what comes out.
I came across a copy of Miscavige's cancellation of Hubbards final message and I began to kick it around with Stacy. Aswe talked, I started to comment on the various little oddities, starting with the cancellation itself. I began to remember afew others that I had packed away at the time. We were having a conversation that Sea Org staff could no more do thana loyal Communists might question the change of power in the Kremlin, and for the same reasons. AN "ACCEPTABLE TRUTH" IS FED SCIENTOLOGISTS In the weeks and months that followed, I couldn't shake the events surrounding Hubbard's death and DM's takeover.
Little oddities took on forms like pieces of a jig saw puzzle. I felt like an amnesiac trying to recover his memory yet whatwas there to recover? I was there at the ranch. I was there when Hubbard's body was taken out. I was there when theexecs were called up the ranch and told to get an event together, but not being told why. I was there when the attorneysreported his death and then scurried to get the body through the coroner. Etc, etc, etc. So what was the problem? Yeah,the next higher level of research story was the sort of pap we used to feed the rank-and-file all the time but it wasn't as ifwe LIED to them. (Sort of the way Clinton said he didn't LEGALLY lie.) We didn't LEGALLY lie, did we? Per Hubbard's policy, they were given an "acceptable truth" because of "the greatest good for the greatest number ofdynamics." What that means in plain speak was that there would be panic and disaffection in the ranks if it was thoughtthat Hubbard - the OT of all OTs, of course - was not at cause over life and death. If the tech couldn't help him, howcould it help others? That was the myth that had to be protected at all costs and that was what the story did when hisdeath was announced. It fed the myth that everyone so wanted to believe. (And it kept the money coming in.) While in the cult, I had done a lot of investigative reporting and some of the best I did was working on some of the CIA'smind control documents created under the code name MK ULTRA. When the CIA released them, much was blanked outand working with a team of people hand-selected by Stacy, we went through documents that the media had skipped pastbecause they were so fragmentary and so heavily deleted. In one file, for example, there were receipts for the installationof mufflers on a 1953 Mercury, a tiny battery-powered motor, elevator tickets to the Empire State Building, nose plugs, areceipt for someone to attend a Microscropy convention, etc.
Bit by bit, we struggled to give them meaning until one piece cracked another, like breaking a code. We came up with theexperiment and got national news on Operation Big City where bacillus were released (through the mufflers) to test forbacterial warfare. (The elevator tickets were so agents could go up and measure the amount of released bacteria.) It is astory the cult still likes to cite, along with several others I did for them, under my byline in the Freedom rag. Since then,per Orwell, my name has been deleted, of course. Pouring over those heavily deleted CIA documents was how I felt like while I chewed on the oddities around Hubbard'sdeath, such as nothing in writing from him, Broeker missing, the fact that Denk (Hubbard's physician at the time of death)had also disappeared, Annie's appearance and little things that I had seen and learned at the ranch. And then it hit me. It was what Hubbard calls a blue flash, the sudden insight.
I fell back in my chair, completely stunned. In all of the years since 1986, I had never once considered that possibility.
Even with my being long out of the cult and directing criticism at various practices and policies, the thought had nevercrossed my mind that Hubbard might have been killed. I got a sheet of paper and began to take notes, my heart pounding and my breathing hurried. That nagging feeling hadturned into an adrenaline rush that I couldn't explain. Who was there at the Creston ranch when Hubbard died? Annie Broeker - broken, under their control. Two Scientology ranch hands. While trusted to work on the ranch, I came to see how much they were kept out of theloop. Gene Denk - Hubbard's personal physician. (And mine. Small world.) Denk had disappeared for a year after the death,which was one of those oddities, before returning to his practice up the street from the main Hollywood complex.
End of list, a too-short list so I started to add who went up that night in the three-car caravan that included DM, someattorneys and a couple of us "gardeners and cooks." Nothing there.
I looked at the list. Pat Broeker was the only possibility, if he was out and alive. For all I knew, he was dead or locked upsomewhere and in a mental state that approximated cold oatmeal. There was no middle ground. He wouldn't have beengiven a safe back-lines job or I would have heard about it. So how would I find Pat Broeker, if he was alive. I racked my memory, trying to dig out some clue he might have givenme in the months that we were together but I came up with nothing. My tendency to not inquire about a person'spersonal life had just sold me short. I didn't even know what state he was from. Who might? Who would know where hecame from or where he was born? I needed some clue to start the search and the problem was the security that Patused for his job. He had explained to me how any trace of him had been wiped out, to ensure that no one could findHubbard by finding him. Plus if Pat had escaped or fled, he was skilled enough to hide from any search as that was whathe had been doing for years to hide Hubbard from the authorities.
I finally remembered one location he told me about and sent a message there saying that I was trying to reach him butno reply came. After a few months I sent another and waited. The months turned into nearly a year and I basically gaveup until one day when the phone rang. "Hi," came a voice. "It's me." "Pat?" I finally said with some incredulity. "Is that you?" "Yeah," he said, with what I swear was a twinkle in his voice. "How are you?" Let's jump ahead a few years when I was in a deposition in Denver, in the FACTNet case. The usual goon squad wasthere, including Mike Rinder, who proudly heads up the criminal Dept. 20 where Scientology's felons are produced.
Rinder was struggling to stay awake in the corner while the cult attorney was going through a list of names, wanting toknow if I had spoken with any of them. Rinder's head was bobbing as the attorney asked monotonously, "Pat Broeker?" I glanced at Rinder. I had to enjoy this one. I couldn't have gotten a faster reaction with a bucket of water. Rinder jumped awake and looked at me in shock, fear andhatred. I smiled. The questions about my involvement with Broeker were routine, from a list that they asked for each person I named butBroeker wasn't routine. They soon stopped to take a break. Like the good sock puppet that he is, Rinder dashed out ofthe room, obviously to call DM. (I so wish I could have watched DM's face too.) About 15 minutes later, Rinder returnedand shoved some questions at the attorney and the depo continued. But little was gained and not one question wasasked about what Pat might have told me about Hubbard's death, if he had at all. They clearly didn't want it on therecord, under oath. I found it amusing, this great powerful cult was so terrified of the subject, not to mention Broeker. So let me tell you a little bit about Pat: he's doing fine and his sense of humor has improved. End of a little bit. Now lets back up a tad, before Pat and I spent several days together, going over old times. I went to San Luis Obispo,the county seat for where Hubbard died. It was there that I got the full coroner's report from a very friendly deputy sheriff.
I poured over the pages and noticed that something called Vistarilý was found in Hubbard's blood. Since the cause ofdeath was a stroke, I assumed it was a stroke medication so I didn't bother further. Several days later, I called aphysician friend and was going over the documents and the medical language.
"By the way,? I asked casually, "what's Vistarilý?" "A psychiatric tranquilizer," he answered matter-of-factly. "Excuse me," I said in near-shock, "but what did you say?" "Vistaril® is a psychiatric tranquilizer, usually injected through the buttocks." I flipped to the document where the Coroner had examined Hubbard's body. I read it to my friend, about the needlepuncture wounds found on the left buttock, under a band-aid. "Could that be the Vistaril shots," I asked. "Probably," he said. "That's where they are usually given." I looked at the Coroner's report and the blood sample report. Holy shit, I said to myself, in my best French. Holy fucking shit. I pulled out another document, signed by Hubbard. It prohibited any autopsy of his body on "religious" grounds, whichwas legally binding on officials. DM and attorney Earle Cooley had shoved it at the coroner to stop him, leaving him totake only blood samples, which turned up the Vistaril. So, I thought, L. Ron Hubbard, the man who fought psychiatry since 1950 and who railed against the dangers of anypsychiatric drugs had died with them in his brain while signing a new last will. Plus even the coroner was suspicious of the will as it had been signed by Hubbard just before he died. Coincidences likethat tend to make coroner's worry. (I wonder what the coroner would have thought had he known that Denk wasgambling at Lake Tahoe when Hubbard had his stroke, as several people can attest. The impression the coroner hadwas that Denk was "in attendence" with Hubbard not only at death but was there at the stroke, having stayed at the ranchfor months. Hmmm.) I fell back in my chair, trying to catch my breath. Okay, I said to myself, lets see if we understand this. Hubbard signs a will while on the psychiatric tranquilizer Vistaril andthen dies. The coroner cannot conduct an autopsy because Hubbard also signed a paper (also while on Vistaril?)prohibiting an autopsy on religious grounds. The Scientologist doctor who was in attendance (except when he went toLake Tahoe and Hubbard had the stroke) signs the death certificate as the physician attending to Hubbard and thendisappears for a year. Then even though David Miscavige has nothing else in writing from Hubbard, he cancelsHubbard's last message and hat transfer to trusted aide Broeker and ousts Broeker, who disappears while his wife isturned into a compliant vegetable, leaving DM in charge.
Nope, nothing wrong here, I facetiously thought. No outpoints, borrowing Hubbard's word for oddities. I don't know when it was but I clearly remember a particular moment when I sat down at my computer keyboard. I amone of those writers who needs either the opening words of the article or a working title in order to really start. I had aworking title, not for an article, but a book, and I typed it out. Then I leaned back in my chair, took a deep breath and readit. It said, "Who Killed L. Ron Hubbard?" I leaned back and my eyes roamed over each word and letter. I took in the question and then the words and letters andback to the question. I even digested the tiny pixels on the screen, as if I hoped the answer would leap from thephosphorescence but nothing changed but the black cursor blinking at me, almost mocking my effort. Yes, I thought, it isa pretentious question but it was the one I had to try to answer, if there was an answer. Then I had the exact moment for the opening words. It was on the night that Terri Gamboa - former Executive Director ofAuthor Services, Inc. and now out of Scientology - called me to DM's office where I was told that Hubbard had died andthat I would be going to his ranch. I leaned towards the keyboard and began to write. To my amazement, the words and the scene poured out effortlessly. Iwasn't striving for literature. I merely had to capture the scene.
As the cursor flitted across the screen, I began to remember how it happened that night and into the days that followed.
There was more that I needed to remember but for now, this would do. Let it roll, I told myself. Let it roll. It was as if I wasregaining myself. Perhaps six or so hours later, I finally stopped, exhausted and sufficiently satisfied for the moment. But even then, Ifound it difficult to sleep as my mind kept returning to the ranch, Broeker, DM, the RPF, the Challenger disaster,Newberry, the ambulance taking away his body. I was searching for pieces of a puzzle that had no comprehension. And how could I possibly answer the question?

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