The Bad Cadet: New book looks at Scientology in a coming-of-age story

We first heard from Katherine Spallino several years ago, and we’re happy to see that the book she’s been working on, The Bad Cadet: Growing Up in the Church of Scientology’s Sea Organization, is now available for you to buy at Amazon.

She’s generously provided us with an excerpt for you to see today, and from it we think you’ll get the idea that Katherine’s book is less like other memoirs coming out about Scientology’s Sea Org as she tells a coming-of-age story.

We found the writing charming, and we think you will too. Here’s the part of the book she wanted us to share…

Excerpt:
The Bad Cadet: Growing Up in the Church of Scientology’s Sea Organization
By: Katherine Spallino

WHO IS LISA MCPHERSON?

Suppressive People were coming to PAC Base today, and I was determined to find out why. I didn’t care that at muster earlier the EPF I/C had warned us to keep out of sight. I wanted to know what all the fuss was about.

I had been on the EPF a few weeks now, and I was enjoying it. This was not because I liked restudying the courses, but because there were hot guys to flirt with. I woke up each morning excited for the day. I was aware that my intentions were wrong, but I couldn’t help myself. I should be focusing on becoming an ideal Sea Org member, but all I could think about was boys, boys, boys.

On top of that, there were not many girls on the EPF. It was as if I had arrived at the perfect time. The other girls in our dorm were younger than me, with the youngest being twelve. They had parents who were parishioners of the church and had gone to private schools called Renaissance Academy and Delphi Academy that used L. Ron Hubbard’s study technology. They were shy, quiet, and obedient. Everything the Sea Org could ask for to be molded into top-performing Sea Org members. Being around them helped me be in-ethics. I followed the rules, I was less likely to be loud, and I was more “in valence,” or at least in the valence of what the Sea Org expected of me. But now, I could feel myself reverting to the old me. I wanted to know what was going on with those SPs, and I didn’t care if it was against the rules.

My chance came later that day as I was mopping the tiled hallway leading into the Complex elevator. A unit paused near me as they were passing through. Their unit I/C, Hannah, had stopped to chat with my unit I/C. I swished my mop back and forth, but my ears perked up when I heard words float to me. “. . . protesters . . . outside . . . not allowed . . .”

I spotted my friend Grant in the other unit. I wondered if he knew what was going on. I waved my arm at him to get his attention and he jogged over, his eyes shining with excitement.

“Are they here?” I asked.

“Yeah. They’re in front of AOLA right now.”

“What’s on their signs?” I asked quietly. It was common knowledge that it was frowned upon to discuss what the protestors were there for. But my whole life I had never been given a clear answer for why these people hated Scientology so much. I was just told they were Suppressive People. I wanted to know what made them Suppressive. I knew I could trust Grant to not write me up. He was new to Scientology and had only joined the EPF a couple of weeks ago. He had already had the temerity to question LRH policy a few times.

Grant grabbed the mop bucket and pushed it so it looked like we were a team working together in case anyone looked over.

“I don’t know,” Grant said. “I tried to get Hannah to go closer when we were outside, but she said we needed to stay out of their sight.”

Grant’s unit was gesturing for him to join up with them, but he pretended like he didn’t see.

“How often are protesters here?” he asked. I moved the mop back and forth as I thought about it.

“Well, since I was a kid there have always been random people trying to film us at the Ranch. That happened like once or twice a year. And then sometimes I’ve seen protesters here on L. Ron Hubbard Way, but it wasn’t all the time.” I frowned. “I feel like it’s more often now.”

As I said that I realized that it was true. This year there had already been several occurrences of protestors compared to the year before, when I only knew of two instances.

“I wonder why there’s more?” I said.

“Grant,” Hannah called. “Let’s go!”

“Shit,” Grant said, looking over at his unit. “I better go. Let me know if you find out anything.” He turned and jogged over to his unit.

I continued mopping the floor as I thought about the protestors. Why were they here? Why were they coming more often? I knew that I shouldn’t even be wondering, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to know what the SPs were so mad about. I finished mopping my area and joined up with the rest of the unit. My I/C, Shauna, was telling them that we could go report to the EPF office now for a ten-minute break before muster.

“I’ll put away the mops,” I volunteered.

Shauna thanked me, and the rest of them headed off. As I pushed the two mop buckets down the hallway, I decided that, instead of coming back through the ground floor hallway, I would cut through ASHO and walk back to the EPF office on L. Ron Hubbard Way so I could try to catch a glimpse of the signs. I put the mops away, then slunk out the front door of ASHO reception and headed out to the street.

It was a lovely sunny day. I felt the warmth beat down on me as I stood on the stairs leading down to L. Ron Hubbard Way. I looked over toward AOLA, using my hand to shield my eyes against the bright sunlight. I could see a small crowd of people standing in front of the building with signs. Most of them were in regular T-shirts and shorts. They didn’t look at all as menacing as they were made out to be, but I guess Suppressive People didn’t dress any differently than us. Some of the Sea Org security guards were on their bikes nearby watching them. I trotted down the stairs and started down L. Ron Hubbard Way, squinting my eyes to try to read the signs.

One of the security guards guarding “the protesters peeled off and came biking over to me.

Crap.

I pretended like I didn’t know he was coming and continued my stroll.

“Hey,” he said as he pulled up next to me.

“Oh, hey,” I said. “What’s going on over there?” I asked.

“Just some SP’s. But you need to go back inside. You don’t need to see this bullshit.”

“Okay, yeah, I’m going in. I was planning on going in through the canteen area because that’s closest to the EPF office,” I lied.

“No, go through the Lebanon Hall entrance,” he said, pointing to the entrance nearby.

“Fine,” I said nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just ruined my investigative plans. He biked off as I turned to head into Lebanon Hall.

Should I look?

I wanted to see the signs, but I was worried there would be OT information on them. OT meant you were an Operating Thetan and you were at the highest levels of spiritual enlightenment. Since I was a young girl, I had been told not to look at protestors’ signs because they could have OT III data. It could ruin your chance to go up the Bridge and potentially cause physical harm and even death. I didn’t understand how that could be possible, but it frightened me. Despite all this, I wanted to see what was written on them.

I turned my head and looked. Words jumped out at me. There didn’t seem to be any OT information, so that was good, although how would I know, since the OT data was secret? But these signs just seemed to be talking about “Lisa McPherson.”

I had no idea who that was. Maybe she was sending people to protest for her. Was Lisa McPherson another SP like David Mayo? David Mayo was a name I had heard since childhood. I knew he was the worst SP in the world, although I didn’t know what for. No one ever talked about David Mayo anymore. It was like he was Voldemort, a.k.a. He Who Must Not Be Named.

“Hurry up!”

I startled and looked over. The security guard was still there waiting. He gestured for me to get inside.

I nodded and opened the door to the building. I made my way down the stairs to the ground floor and headed to the EPF office. I picked up my pace. I was excited to find Grant and tell him what I saw. Maybe since he had just been out in the wog world before coming here, he would know who this Lisa McPherson was.

EPFers were sitting at the tables chatting as they waited for muster to be called when I walked in. Grant looked up and gestured at me. I hurried over and sat next to him. Two other EPFers were sitting at his table too, but they were my friends, so I knew they would like to hear what I had to say. Hopefully they could be trusted not to write me up.

I sat down and whispered to Grant everything that I had seen.

“Who’s Lisa McPherson?” he interrupted.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I was hoping maybe you had heard of her.

“The sign said ‘something’ for Lisa McPherson. I couldn’t see what the ‘something’ said—”

Grant made a face warning me to shut up when a hand grabbed my arm. I was wrenched up and out my chair.

“What the fu—” I said, turning to yell at whoever just grabbed me, thinking it was another EPFer getting overexcited about something. But before I could finish my sentence, I saw it was Mr. Johnson, the Commanding Officer for PAC Base. She gripped my arm and yanked me toward the EPF I/C’s office, pushing me inside and slamming the door shut. Mr. Cromwell, the new EPF MAA, looked up from her desk, startled.

“Did you hear what this SP is doing?” Mr. Johnson shouted . . .”

 
Pick up your copy of The Bad Cadet at Amazon.

Katherine Spallino grew up on a secluded ranch within the Cadet Org, the Church of Scientology’s Sea Org school for children. She is no longer a Scientologist and is a stay-at-home mom happily raising three rambunctious boys (two of whom are twins) in Minneapolis with her husband. Katherine is working on her second novel, The Bad Scientologist. Follow her on Instagram @thebadcadet and twitter @badcadet to receive updates and news.

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