Baer Laurance, “Deprogramming Testimony”

When I originally joined the [Unification] Church in June 1974, I had not seen my parents since the summer before. Our relationship had never been really close, largely because I had never felt fulfilled in what I had been doing. Before I joined the church, I was enrolled at Berkeley in Psychology and Physics, but was not motivated in either field. My dad had always hoped that I would follow his example and pursue some academic fields, so he was notably disappointed when I decided to join the Church after completing my spring quarter at Berkeley.

When I became involved with the Church, my life began to develop. Suddenly I could understand a purpose meaningful enough to motivate me. As I felt better about myself, also my feelings towards my parents improved. Through the teachings of Reverend Moon, and through my own soul searching, I came to realize the love they had always shown me, and I felt great gratitude and love in return. However, simultaneously, as I camp to take on more responsibility in the group, I had less and less time to visit. I had to settle for seeing my parents whenever they came to the Bay Area. At this time, my mother who was interested in learning more about our theology, attended a weekend seminar in Booneville. For her it was a very deep and meaningful weekend, and she wrote a letter to Kristina Morrison afterwards which I understand was very complementary. My father however refused to even read any literature. He had read some articles about Reverend Moon and was completely skeptical.

This was the last first-hand experience that either had with the group. For two years after, they read all of the newspaper articles and negative commentaries which were printed against the Church. Soon my father became strongly opposed to the church, and my mother became suspicious of her own experience. In our phone calls, they became more and more demanding that I come home. But in light of the kidnappings which even then were becoming commonplace, I decided not to risk a visit. As time went on, stirred up by much negative publicity, my parents began to research "deprogramming". More and more in our communications my father would make remarks like "you'd better watch out or I might kidnap you." At the time, he insisted that he would never do it, and I believe if he had not been provoked, he wouldn't have. However as a precaution, I wrote a letter to my attorney, Ralph Baker, retaining him in case a conservatorship were taken out against me. [Conservatorship were the means laws aimed at the elderly that anti-cultist used to "legally" seize cult-members for deprogramming until the American Civil Liberty Union got in to stop this practice].

I felt strongly then, and even more strongly now, that the freedom of religion and belief, was he basis for founding this country, and also the single most important factor in making America great. It's so clear to me that it's not only Reverend Moon and his followers who are being persecuted, but actually this has been the course of every great religious leader and thinker of history, from Jesus to Saint Francis to the Pilgrims to Martin Luther King.

Another thing I did at this time, was to visit a psychiatrist, Maye B. Beale, who was connected with the USC clinic in Los Angeles. I explained to her that I was afraid that a conservatorship might be taken out against me on the grounds that I was under mind control. She at first was very suspicious of my motives, but after speaking to my attorney, she assured herself that I had no ulterior motives. She then run me through several tests, and finally concluded that I was perfectly sane, and completely responsible. She actually remarked that I was extraordinarily responsible in that I was managing a whole maintenance company at the time.

I learned later that my parents had already tried to take out a conservatorship before this, but at the time, I was not aware of this. Around New Years time, my family planned a reunion at the home in Green Valley, to which I was invited. I decided to decline both because I was very busy, and also because I feared some funny business. My parents called up and did everything in their power to get me to come home, such as accusing me of not loving them, and also threatening me. My father wrote me a letter, demanding that I fly home, which he concluded "remember, there's more than one way to catch a rabbit." When I finally declined them, they changed suddenly and said they had finally accepted my decision not to leave the Bay area, and that they understood how important my work was. However, they were planning a visit in March to a medical convention for three days, and they expected me to at least come out do dinner. Of course I was skeptical of the sudden turn around, so I didn't respond for a long time. Finally, after speaking to my brother who had called several times, I decided to call them in Arizona, and arrange a meeting. I felt that if I could only meet with them, I could break through some of their concepts about the Church, and we could at least begin to communicate. I told them that I did not want to meet them in a specified place, because they might try to kidnap me. However I would be glad to have a friend pick them up and we could spend the day together at some undecided location. My father replied "I don't know what you're talking about," but that he would go along with it. They arrived Sunday March 13, and on March 14 I came to visit them. I came with a friend, Angelina Vigil, who met with them at their hotel in San Francisco. When I met with my parents, they were so warm and friendly, that I felt guilty of having been so suspicious. I have always loved them deeply, and still do, so that I was completely open to their suggestion as to where we might go. In retrospect, I can't imagine how I could have fallen for such an obvious set up, but at the time, I believed my parents when they told me that their blind, next door neighbor, had asked them to buy some fabric from a certain shop in Sausolito.

When we arrived at the shop in Sausolito, it was closed for some unknown reason. Still because I trusted my parents beyond my better judgement, I wasn't suspicious. As we went back to the car, I was met by a crowd of about 8 or 10 men including several police officers. A man, who later identified himself as Mike Trauscht, my mother's attorney, asked if I was Laurey Baer and told me that I was being placed under "temporary conservatorship." Everything suddenly became painfully obvious to me, and my mother started crying. I tried to run, but there were too many people for me to get away. As I fought, they shoved me into a car, scratching my nose, and knuckles in the process, and losing one of my shoes. The police assisted them completely.

In the car I recognized several ex-Church members, who told me "not to get excited," and that "everything was going to be alright." I was driven to the back parking lot of a building where we were met by another car of deprogrammers and several police cars. Mike Trauscht entered the car and held a document in his hand which he claimed was a Court order placing me under the temporary custody of my parents to "determine whether or not I was under mind control." He said that I was guaranteed among other things, "availability of my parents at all times; access to any non-unification Church material such as books, newspapers, and magazines; right to see a physician dentist, and psychiatrist; and that after 30 days I would have the right to return to the church if I still desire to." Incidently, although the only psychiatrist I have visited declared that I was perfectly normal, my "therapy" was carried on based on the assumption that I was definitely under "mind control." Never once was I taken to a psychiatrist, or tested, to determine if the suspicions of the court were at all valid.

I was driven to an obscure truck depot in Burlingame, where we waited for another car to meet us. I was held in the back seat between two ex-church members (Michel Mack and Bob Stewart), while a "reporter" named Skip drove. Also in the front was Mike Trauscht. The first thing my mother did, was offer me a vitamin pill (when we stopped). Apparently they had told her that I was being undernourished in the Church. When we finally regrouped, we went through a roundabout route to Santa Cruz where we registered in the Holiday in there. All the time in the car they tried to get me to open up and talk about my experience in the Church. They said that they were "sorry it had to come tot his, but that it was the only way for me to hear another point of view."

I said that I would not cooperate at all until I had a written guarantee of what Mike Trauscht had promised me verbally. So that night I went to sleep in the room, with Mitch and Bob Stewart, and Jeff Scales. They slept on a bed which was shoved against the door, to prevent any escape. Michelle Tunis slept in the adjoining room, with Skip and several other men. Before I went to sleep, I was introduced to Joe Alexander Senior, who had come out "specially" for my case. He came on really friendly, telling me how wonderful my parents were, and that although I didn't realize it now, someday I would be very grateful for everything they had done for me. The next morning I woke up, but refused to answer any questions until Mike Trauscht had given me a signed guarantee to the things he had promised. He finally agreed, but afterwards said that the conditions, especially the 30 day limit, were contingent upon my cooperation. I then asked that my parents be allowed to sit in on the session, reminding him that I was to have access to them at all times. But Joe Sr. interrupted saying that they had been under a lot of strain, and they were "out relaxing" but would be back soon. I saw them for perhaps 10 minutes late that evening, and most of the days I never saw them at all.

Michelle demanded that I turn over my wallet and possessions, which they promised I would get back after the 30 days. They then sat me down and started asking me questions like: "Do you think that Reverend Moon is the Messiah?", "In whose name do you pray?" They kept barraging me with questions, and accusations, and then yelling at me that I was lying. Then they would be friendly telling me that they expected me to react since my mind was controlled although I didn't know it.

They promised that as soon as I started to respond, they would take me out skiing and golfing, and even suggested that I should take a trip to Israel with my family to get over my ordeal of the cult (they always referred to the Church as "the cult" and to Reverend Moon as "Moon").

I read all the articles that had been written about the Church and when I said that the things they alleged had not been proven, I was told that it was clear that "Moon is a dirty fascist."

They brought many ex-members who told me about all the terrible things they had done while in the Church, but when I told them that I hadn't done things like that, they said I was the exception. They accused me of running my business dishonestly, and said over and over "where's your integrity?" Also they accused me of not loving my parents. If I responded by acknowledging their accusations, they rewarded me. I got to play Mitche's guitar, and they would all be friendly. And Joe senior would talk about all the wonderful things I would be able to do with my parents. He kept telling me I would be so grateful to my parents when this was over, and that they would bring my parents so much closer to God. And he spent many hours with my parents, apparently reassuring them that this was the right thing to do, and that when it was over I would be so grateful for their love and sacrifice (of 10 to 20 thousand dollars according to Mike Trauscht). This was perhaps what infuriated me more than anything else in the whole experience. The way my parents were blatantly manipulated and used by Joe Alexander Sr., Mike Trauscht, and the deprogrammers. My mother told me later that they were undecided about what to do, but that after talking to Jeff Scales and Eve Eder, they were finally reassured that this was the "proper way to handle it." it's so sad, that my parent's love for me, and their own guilt at what they consider a failure of proper upbringing, could be twisted so much. My father spent perhaps a year's income, or more, because he had been convinced that Joe Alexander Senior and his crew could make me love them on their own term.

Between Tuesday and Wednesday, I read all about the alleged mis-activities of the church, as well as many so-called "flaws" in the churches theology. After I heard these "flaws," I felt much more confident that I actually wasn't under mind control, as they were all of a very trivial nature, usually a question of grammar. But when I asked Joe Sr. about a point which the principle seemed to explain in a way much more clearly than any I'd heard, he wasn't even aware of the question. I realized that although he claimed to have read the book "four times," he clearly didn't understand anything about Reverend Moon's teachings. In his words, it was simply "satanic."

Then came much testimony slandering Reverend Moon as a person, alleging illicit sexual practices, which after questioning, they admitted they couldn't prove. Also I heard people who had once highly respected Reverend Moon and his wife, tell stories against them and many other local friends of the church. These stories all contradicted my own longtime personal experience.

Among the people who participated in these sessions were Skip, (the reporter), Mike Trausht (who disappeared after the initial kidnapping), Jeff Scales, Evey Eden, Mitch Mack, Joe Alexander Senior, Joe Alexander Jr., Michelle Tunis, Mark (an ex-church member from somewhere East), Steve Lang, Jerry Feldman, and Bob Steward.

Whenever I refused to agree with them, they got mad and said "face reality, you've been a prostitute for Moon." And when I agreed with them or conceded that it was possible that some things were true, they acted like my long lost buddies. They tried to convince me that people in the church were only appreciated as long as they could provide money.

Around 2 or 2:30 Thursday, I was told to pack my bags. A little after 3, I was taken from the room escorted by policemen. Apparently, some of the church members had found where I was and wanted to test the legality of my confinement.

The police assisted the deprogrammers with escort until we were away from the church members. We drove to Fresno. On the way, in the van, I asked Joe Jr. and Joe Sr. what it meant to have freedom of thought. They told me that they had special psychiatrists who could detect mind control and the they would know. They said that a lot depended on my cooperation. I asked if they thought that by my free will, I could possibly choose to return to the church? Every one of them said "no" it would not be possible for anyone of integrity to freely choose to join the Church after he knew what I was going to learn! So I said I might still want to return after the 30 days. They said, "if I didn't cooperate, they could extend the conservatorship indefinitely." Joe Senior said it would be no problem because "I know the judge." So basically, their definition of "cooperation" meant deciding to leave the Church. They kept telling me about the wonderful things I could do after I had made a "decision about my life."

I finally realized what I was in for. They weren't out to free my mind, they were trying to break my faith in Reverend Moon, and in my theology of God. They had sold my parents on the idea that I was brainwashed because I followed Reverend Moon. Also, the guarantee they had given to me earlier was meaningless, because they were the ones to determine "cooperation" and they defined it as "leaving the Church."

From that moment on I decided not to say another word during any deprogramming until I had a more substantial guarantee. I requested a written guarantee that I be given test on 11 April (the termination of the conservatorship), to determine if I knew that material they were trying to drill into me; and then on the basis of that, I be given a free choice of my own future. They completely refused, saying "I could learn the material without really knowing it." That unless I actually believed that I was being exploited, then I didn't really understand. So from that point on, I was determined to try and get out, or at least to last until someone could find me.

Thursday night they blared at me with really sarcastic dirty stories about Church members - from five in the afternoon on. At midnight I requested to sleep, but when I lay down, they put a loud tape recorder right next to my hear. Whenever I moved they followed. So I pulled the blanked over my head - but they ripped it off. Then they took away my pillow, and said I had to hear the "Truth," and that the "Truth would set me Free.." Whenever I requested that my parents be allowed to witness the process, they said "not while you're in this condition." I saw them about two times during the whole week. When I still tried to sleep in spite of the recorder, Mitch started rubbing his hands on my back and legs and head saying "you can't sleep now." So I got up to avoid being touched. They kept me up till 3:45.

The next day, they came on really nice, but when I refused to talk, they got more sever. Mitch said I couldn't stand, but that I would have to sit and listen. When I tried to stand, he threw me on the bed. I warned him not to use violence, be he didn't seem to hear. I tried to get up a few more times so he finally threw me on the floor and held me in a scissors hold. Then Michelle got an ice bucket of water. She and Mitch both kept talking at me in the same sarcastic slanderous style. Every time I tried to close my eye or turn my head, they poured water in my face. Mitch aimed for my nose, so that several times I choked seriously. Yet they wouldn't let me sit up. I warned him that this wasn't legal, but he said it was legitimate therapy and that he was recognized as a professional because his testimony had been accepted in several states. He said that there were several million dollars worth of lawsuits against him now, and that there would be no problem with another million of so.

Whenever Joe Alexander Senior would come in, the violence would usually stop. He would take Mitch and Joe Jr. (an ex-Vietnam heroin addict) aside and they would argue for awhile, but usually Joe Senior would win out. He was most paranoid about the legal aspects and said he had to stay away from the Courts because they were anxious to find him. I felt that the others were so confident about being able to "deprogram" their victims, that they weren't afraid of any charges ever being pressed.

Friday, all day, they kept playing tapes advocating such things as sex and marijuana. They wouldn't let me read newspapers or the Bible. They said I still didn't understand. I asked to see a physician or psychiatrist, but they said not until I was ready.

Late Friday afternoon, I couldn't take it anymore, so I got up to go the bathroom. Joe Jr. said "sit down!" I tried to stand up several times, but he kept throwing me back onto the bed. So I ran past him into the bathroom and he followed and blocked the doorway. He said "I'm going to make you listen if I have to keep you in this bathroom for 30 days or three years for all I care." I told him he better not break any laws, and he said "I don't care about any laws. I'm backed up by the United States of America, and that's all that matters. And you don't have any rights or guarantees!"

I was determined not to be intimidated so I tried to walk by him. But he was much larger than I, so when I tried to walk by, he threw me against the tower rack and broke it. I tried to leave a second time, and he knocked my head against the wall. When I tried to leave again, he forced me to sit down on the toilet and said "if you were my kid, I wouldn't be so light. I would have taken you up into the hills, and that would have been that!" He was getting really angry, but luckily Joe Senior must have heard the noise, for he ran in and ordered his son to leave me alone. Joe Jr. made some wise cracks like "Aw, we were just having a little fun."

Friday evening, after that, they spent the rest of the night insulting me and making fun of me and the Church. I thought about escaping Friday evening. I realized that the screens weren't very strong and that I could jump right through. But I had gone to sleep without my shoes, and putting them on would have made too much noise. So I slept Friday and determined to face another day and then if possible attempt escape Saturday night. I knew I had to get out soon, because I was getting more and more frustrated, and I felt fearful of what they might do if I let them. I know that since Michelle and Yacov were deprogrammed, they started smoking and speaking filth. They had lost their ideas, and were no longer concerned with the world problems. I could see how Joe Alexander Sr. manipulated all the ex-church members to hate the Church. While I was there, he motivated Steve Lang to go through the study guide and try to find errors in the biblical references. He congratulated him for his effort and told him how good he was doing. I saw Joe Sr. comfort Jerry Feldan who was obviously shaken about meeting church members, since he had been kidnapped and deprogrammed, and tell him how strong he had been to face up to his old acquaintance. I could see how each person of the group, had to join together to validate their decision to leave. They had to make a crusade of kidnapping their old friends. It was probably the only way they could keep from facing their old abandoned ideals.

Saturday morning, every one was really friendly. All of a sudden, Joe Senior wanted me to play the guitar, "except for cult songs." I got to play and even read par paper. They even let me watch TV. Then about two or so, it started all over again. They launched at me with ridicule and more tapes of "successful" deprogramming sessions. When I tried not to listen, they made me sit in a chair while Michelle popped bubble gum bubbles in my face and poked me in the side if she felt I wasn't listening. Joe Jr. suggested that his war buddy, Don (who was also apparently an "expert" therapist although his only credentials were that he had participated in several kidnappings and "deprogrammings") Joe suggested that Don should smoke in the room so that I didn't feel like I was the boss. Also Joe and Mitch both threatened to smoke cigars and blow the smoke in my face, because their "friend, Ted Patrick (recently jailed for related activities) used it and found it very effective. At another point, I thought I detected marijuana odor as Mitch entered the room, although he denied it.

The repeatedly said they didn't care about any laws, and that I didn't have any rights, and that my 30 days didn't begin until I started to cooperate.

Finally Saturday night, I got up and said I was taking a shower. In the bathroom, with the water running, I wrote some notes saying "emergency message, call collect" and giving the Church's number, my name, and the name of the motel I was locked up in. I figured that even if they caught me, I could at least pass on the information to someone else who might call. Then I showered and came back. I laid down on the floor dressed, and pulled a blanket over me. They must have been worn out from the day, because they just played a tape and everyone went to sleep. At about 3:30 I rose quietly and tiptoed to the window. Joe Jr. was on the bed against the door. Mark and Steve were on the bed by the window, and Mitch Mack was on the bed nearer the bathroom. I positioned myself by the screen, prayed, and dove. As I crashed through the screen, I hear someone shout "Laurey," but I didn't stop to look back. I ran out of the street, and to the motel next door. There I managed to give away two notes. I kept running through the motel parking lot, over a fence and into yards and fields, I came to several roads. Every time a car drove by, I dove into the bushes. I knew that I was libel to be arrested as the police cooperated with the conservators. So I made my way along the road, without a penny in my pocket and no ID. I had my pen, (a Parker which my partner had given me an which I had managed to get back from the deprogrammers). I came upon some tracks and jumped a moving freight train for a mile or so, until it stopped. Then I walked along the tracks hiding in the bushes until I came to an all night gas station. I sold my pen to an attendant to get change for phone calls. . .

In retrospect, the thing which most disturbed me, was the deliberate intent of the programmers. They told me that they first planned to get the leaders of the Church, and then eventually everyone. They weren't interested in the freedom of any particular individuals, but rather they were using individuals to "destroy the cult." I know that they have systematically solicited the parents of other members of the Church, to try and manipulate them the same way they manipulated my parents. They told me "after we deprogram you, then through you, we'll get Jeremiah" (referring to one of the directors and a close personal friend). They refused to recognize the right of the church to teach, or the members to practice the religion as they desired. They have infringed on the lives of hundreds of individuals who live in daily fear of being kidnapped. They have taken upon themselves to enter the lives of hundreds of parents who might have otherwise been able to understand their children's heart.

It just hurt and frustrates me that the laws of a nation built on freedom of religion, could be so twisted and distorted as to support the breakdown of individuals' faith and spirit, the exploitation of families, and the destruction of valuable institutions which are the cornerstones of our society.

Signed: Laurance Baer.

Heather Thalheimer, “Deprogramming is really deeply evil, destroying innocence in people’s hearts”

The thing that characterizes my story of deprogramming was fear. I was afraid to lose my faith. I didn’t think my faith was that strong at the time. It happened in 1980 or 1981. I joined in ’79. I was new. I was sent out to CARP from Oakland. I didn’t know very much then.

I was pioneering with another sister, and we had an apartment. The deprogrammers told me later we were the laziest moonies they’d ever met. They followed us for a while. We were hanging around in coffee shops.

The deprogrammers pretended to be witnessed to by the other sister whom I lived with. They came home with her and grabbed me at the door and shoved me in a car. She called the regional leader and some members came back with the police later. They said to the landlady, "Didn’t you see anything unusual? Didn’t you hear her screaming?" The landlady said, "I thought it was one of your people changing her mission."

They took me to a house and kept me in a room. I thought, how can I protect my faith? How can I keep from losing my faith? How do people get deprogrammed? The key to losing your faith is resentment.

They would play on that. I knew I needed to get in touch with resentments before they did, and protect myself from that. They were fishing for things. I needed to look inside myself, for my own weak points. They tried to find things out about me.

They wanted me to give a testimony. I thought if I gave my real story, they might find out my weakness or resentment, so I gave an alternative testimony to protect myself. They told it to my parents, and my parents didn’t recognize that it wasn’t me. I was so sad that they didn’t understand that it wasn’t me. I was deeply hurt. It was about my life before; I made up a story about what I was like.

They would play taped negative testimonies from ex-members. They talked about all their hardships. I tried to hear the deep part of it. All the stories were about the MFT. I was in CARP and knew nothing about MFT. The deprogrammer yelled at me, "You’re not a Moonie. You’re a CARPIE!!!"

I knew I had to get out of there. I didn’t think I was going to last. I set conditions. I fasted and prayed. My parents freaked out because I was fasting. They saw that I wasn’t eating and they got very upset. I knew real loneliness through that. My parents didn’t understand me. I tried to cooperate. I decided to be reasonable and listen to what they said, if they would listen to me and let me share what I believe. They said no, you’re brainwashed and you don’t know what you’re saying. I had no voice. I had no power. I knew what it was like to be imprisoned. They blocked out the doors and windows. I could see through a crack, and I saw a blade of grass outside. I longed to touch life, to be out there. I felt I could understand a little bit of Father’s life in prison through that. How lonely it is to be misunderstood, and to have everything you say to be considered meaningless.

The deprogrammers have all the power, and you don’t know what they’ll do to you, or if they’ll harm you. I prayed for strength for God to liberate me. What happened in the end was, I asked, what weapon do I have? I realized that I could frustrate them. They would deprogram me in rounds. They took turns, a couple of hours at a time. But I never got a break. I would wait until they would be at a fever pitch about something. They would say, "You can have whatever you want here. But with the moonies you can’t." So I would wait until they were ranting at me, and I would say, "Can I have some chocolate ice cream?" It would make them so mad. They had to get it because they were supposed to be nice and the moonies were supposed to be mean. They told my parents, she’s too brainwashed. They knew they had to give me whatever I asked for since they were saying that the moonies wouldn’t give me what I wanted. So I would make a ridiculous request to make them keep their word.

I was on day three or four of a fast; I had difficulty doing a seven-day fast. But then everything went crazy. Total turmoil. The deprogramming took place in Texas. It all ended when a tarantula crawled out from under the bed and bit a deprogrammer and he had to be hospitalized.

I was on day three or four of a fast; I had difficulty doing a seven-day fast. But then everything went crazy. Total turmoil. The deprogramming took place in Texas. It all ended when a tarantula crawled out from under the bed and bit a deprogrammer and he had to be hospitalized.

They said I was the most selfish, brainwashed brat they had ever dealt with. The worst, etc., moonie they had ever met. They were going to have me deported back to England. My father got possessed then, he was so mad. He finally said, "You’re not in charge here, I am.

Get out of here. I paid you, get out of here." So I was left alone with my parents. They said, "We want to spend three days with you before you go back to the moonies." I told them, that I wanted to go to church. They took me to a little church. They sang, "Let There Be Peace on Earth." I started weeping; it was incredible to be in a spiritual environment being nourished again. I was so depleted, and I cried. If they knew how vulnerable I was at that moment, they could have done lots of things to deprogram me. But they didn’t know. I was bathed in God’s love in the church.

My parents were so insensitive. They said, "We can go on vacation together." I had just been through the wringer and they wanted to go on vacation. I said, "Okay." I knew I had gotten a spiritual victory on some level.

My mother took me to a department store to buy some clothes. I heard a voice, "Here is my daughter in whom I am well pleased." I heard it, like trumpets and fanfare. In the department store there was this fanfare. I realized I owned everything. I had a spiritual victory. I felt like I owned everything. I was Lord of Creation. I was so spiritually open. I would eat food and feel it was alive. For three days I felt like there was a spiritual announcement that I was there.

My parents brought me back to the Austin, Texas center, and they left. The CARP leader wanted to get me out of the state. He thought they might change their minds and try to kidnap me again. CARP wanted to send me to Oklahoma. I had heard all this crap about MFT. I was afraid if I didn’t get to see everything, it would bother me until I saw it for myself. I prayed to God, and I asked them please show me about MFT.

My leader dropped me off at the MFT center. I felt, at the entrance to the bedroom: I am unworthy to enter here. I went to sleep and I thought the people in this room are so holy. I thought, we don’t know the value of people on MFT. I felt like God was saying, this is what MFT means to me, forget everything that was said to you.

The next morning there were two sisters who were left behind in the center. They had been on MFT about 10 years and they were left behind for a rest and recreation day. They were so Abel, so grateful, and holy and Godly. God seemed to say to me, "This is what MFT means to me."

Then they sent me out to pioneer a CARP center in Oklahoma. I had not recovered from the deprogramming ordeal, and yet, I had to witness by myself, doing 21 surveys. An MFT team stayed with me at my center. The Commander asked me to stay in the mornings for a week while they had their meetings. He invited me to their morning services, which were really inspirational. He asked if I would help serve breakfast, and attend his meeting with the captains. They said things like, "What can we do for so and so? She’s getting older, how can we take care of her?" They had real, heartistic concern for their members, which was the exact opposite of what the deprogrammers had said.

They’d come back at 11 pm from fundraising and mat pictures until 2 am. They were so bright and happy. I would stay up and help them. God was trying to show me, this is MFT.

About a year later, I saw a brother who’d been on the team. "You don’t know what that time meant to me. I went through a deprogramming, and you were always so heavenly."

He laughed and said, "I was so NEGATIVE then." But I wasn’t privy to the more down-to-earth experiences then. It encouraged me that God speaks to us and provides answers through situations like that. This brother had his own situation but God used them to encourage me.

I learned that when we hear unsettling things, we need to pray so God can reveal His perspective. God spoke to me through situations like that to help me answer questions. Now when I hear things, I remember this lesson, so... I don’t jump to conclusions about things.

After the deprogramming I was cautious. I needed to restore the innocence. When people have been damaged, they need to be nourished. It is really deeply evil, destroying innocence in people’s hearts. It takes time to restore that innocence again. When something like that happens to people, we need to take care of them, and heal them again.

From 40 Years in America, pp. 279-80.

Rebecca Sommer, “We spent the night in the Tucson jail”

On one occasion I remember flying to Arizona to stake out a house where the deprogrammers were holding a sister against her will. We spent more than a week in the desert just waiting for an opportunity to speak to her. At one point we felt we had a chance and Mrs. Durst hopped on the plane from Oakland. When she arrived she walked right up to the door of the house and began calling and calling for our sister. She was so desperate to reach her. I said, "Don’t do that, we’ll get arrested!" Sure enough, the cops pulled up and we spent the night in the Tucson jail. I’ll never forget Onni witnessing to the various hookers in the cell as we waited to be bailed out.

From 40 Years in America, p. 216.

Gerhard Peemoeller, “There were 1,000 threats on Father’s life at Yankee Stadium”

When I was Father’s bodyguard during 1975, 1976, 1977 -- that was the peak of persecution. It was unreal. Whenever they found out who we were, they said, "Moonie!" Such an evil force behind their voices, "MOONIE." All your hair stood up. There was so much negativity then.

During Yankee Stadium persecution was at its height. There were 1,000 threats on Father’s life. Now if people call up and say, "I’m going to blow up this school," the police go crazy. But there were 1,000 threats on Father’s life at Yankee Stadium. Can you believe it?

More than anyone could imagine. We kept a record in the World Mission Center. I read the book they kept, and I read the first 100 threats. Afterward there was so many more. There were phone calls, letters, someone would try to come in the building screaming, "I’m gonna kill Rev. Moon." Some were written like ransom notes, with words cut out from the newspaper glued on paper. Anonymous letters. It makes you think. There were so many people who were negative. Some supported Father, but at Yankee Stadium it seemed like no one was supporting him.

From 40 Years in America, p. 258

Gerhard Peemoeller, “Gloucester became the center of anti-moon madness in America”

In the spring of 1980, we bought Cardinal Cushing’s villa in Gloucester, Massachusetts. It became Morning Garden. It has over twenty rooms. It’s a big mansion, the pride of Gloucester. That made Gloucester mad. Later, Father bought Bob’s Clam Shack. It was a magnet where all the young people went. He also bought a marina that had about 30 boats in it. Then those people got nasty.

Every single day there were people demonstrating in front of the restaurant. In the beginning without fail, there were hundreds every day. Six months later it was about 20 people, but they kept it up. They were so negative. It looked like Father was buying up Gloucester.

They had signs, "Honk if You Blah Blah Blah...." Some people doing security at night got shot at -- stones were thrown at us. Gloucester became the center of anti-moon madness in America, the soul of the anti-moon sentiment. Then we started tuna fishing. They knew our cars, they knew our boats. They knew everything. There were some bars on the main street, and they had lookouts. If they saw a moonie car, they would yell, "Moonie car!!!" They had rocks prepared and they would come running out and throw rocks and would yell and scream at us. They threw stuff at the boats, yelling and screaming. It seemed to be the entire town of Gloucester.

The people who went to sea in Gloucester were the most vulgar you can imagine. The big thing to do was to "moon" us. They would drive and pull their pants down and show us their butts.

They would yell, "Moonie sucks!" They would yell that all season long: "Moonie sucks!" They would yell that again and again. Father was sick of it. We were all sick of it. Father said to us, "You’re dead moons. They just call you all kinds of names and you don’t respond. You don’t yell back!"

Every day, the entire fleet was so negative. We were so outnumbered. We caught tuna and the rest of them caught nothing. We hooked up and caught tuna every day. God’s blessing came to us no matter what they did to us. We caught tuna and they didn’t. That made them madder.

Once Father was anchored and a negative guy came along and said, "Move! Move!" and Father said right back, with the same intensity, "Don’t move!!" to the brother driving. Our brother was quiet, but Father said, "Don’t move!"

Then of course we had fights on the ocean. One time I caught the biggest fish I ever caught. Then the nasty guys picked a fight with me. At that moment I hooked a fish. Then we took off and they picked a fight with someone else.

In 1981, it intensified. They were ready to kill us. There were anchor lines cut, and an anchor was lost. The fleet was so negative. I was the head of our fleet that summer. Father wasn’t there. It was like the old west, with Custer surrounded by Indians.

One of the seminarians called on the radio, "Maybe we should call the Coast Guard." And that stopped them. The Coast Guard is the police of the ocean. If people tried to lynch the moonies, and someone called the Coast Guard, they would interfere with it, and might press charges. They backed down, but made an appointment to meet us at a restaurant at night. The Seagull Restaurant. All the fishermen gathered there, to talk it out. The problem of the moons. A couple hundred Gloucester people. And us. The media came, and the next day it was in the paper. All the yelling and screaming. We did talk with some of them, but some crazy ones really screamed. They said, "You do this and this and this...." We just took it and swallowed it.

Once that meeting was finished, we went home. We stopped the car and someone said, "Look at all the fluid under the car." It turned out they had cut the brake lines. They tried to kill us that way. That is how Gloucester treated us.

From 40 Years in America, pp. 258-59.

Jonathan Gullery, “We would have to warn them about the unfriendly people outside our house”

When we invited guests to the evening program, we would have to warn them about the unfriendly people outside our house. This was at the height of legalized conservatorships, kidnappings, and the court case involving the "Faithful Five." "Oh, they just don’t like our community and our lifestyle, and they don’t want anyone coming over," we would say to guests. The scene outside 1169 Washington Street (an Francisco) was like a wild circus. Picketers with big signs would be circling like vultures on the sidewalk, waiting for us to try to get people inside safely.

They would most often succeed in at least getting a flyer in the hands of guests, who would be a bit confused and alarmed by this screaming mob. We also had a band of "regulars" who would appear at crucial witnessing moments. They could be counted on to come up with the most inflammatory things to say! We always witnessed in pairs those days, so with a little luck (and lots of spiritual intervention) one of us would be able to draw the "nego" off, although they were pretty good at figuring out who was being witnessed to! Despite all this, people came in droves, people were sincerely moved, and so many, many people joined. I remember occasions when over 100 guests would attend weekend workshop at Boonville.

From 40 Years in America, p. 212.

Bob Gauper, “Warn them that there’s a Moonie in town”

“Betty, call the shopkeepers and the townspeople. Warn them that there’s a Moonie in town." Such was the response when I asked the hardware store owner, in a small northern Wisconsin town, if he would like to make a donation for a butterfly pin to help our church work.

He then asked me to come into his office so he could show me something. One wall of his office was covered with negative articles about the Unification Church. Looking at the articles I had a feeling that today was going to be an interesting day.

I left the hardware store and then proceeded to go shop to shop. Which of course was futile since every shopkeeper had been "warned" about me. Having finished the shops in record time (having someone yell "no" at you when you open the door doesn’t take very long), I started to go house to house. Although many of the residents had been warned about me, I was still able to gain some success. However, it was soon to become more difficult. One gentleman, perhaps a relative of the hardware store owner, believed it was his personal responsibility to make sure that no one in this town was going to give me any money. So he went with me to every house to let the residents know why they shouldn’t give to me.

I was often able to outrun my persecutor, an overweight middle-aged man, and was able to knock on a few doors without his presence. However, he would drive around in his car, and would soon spot me. I then decided to try another part of town. Walking near downtown I passed a small gas station where I had been earlier. An elderly lady asked me to come inside the station. She asked me what all the commotion was about. (Meanwhile, I noticed that my house-to-house antagonist was driving around trying to find me, but couldn’t see me inside the gas station.) I briefly explained what I was doing. She stated, "People in this town are mean. You seem like a nice young man. I’ll buy some of your butterflies." She gave me ten dollars. I then left the station, ran to the other side of town, and started to go house to house unmolested. Until! Until, I reached a newer subdivision.

They’d been waiting for me! "Red Alert! Red Alert! Moonie on the block!" about six kids on their bicycles shouted as I started going house to house. Surprisingly people still bought. (Perhaps they felt sorry for me.) Around about 7:00 p.m. a police officer pulled up and said the townspeople had a special meeting to decide what they should do about me. The officer stated that he knew I had every right to fundraise for my church, but for my own safety, he suggested that I stop fundraising. Since I was almost done with the town, I agreed. "You know," I stated, "I get an idea how Jesus must have felt when he got kicked out of towns."

"Yeah, and I know what it must have been like for Pontius Pilate," remarked the officer. I walked over to the post office where I was to be picked up in about an hour, sat down, and started to reflect about the day. I thought about the elderly lady who had asked me into her gas station; I thought about the policeman; I thought about the various people who gave me a donation while someone was screaming at them not to. In particular, I thought about an elderly couple living in a small shack down a small dirt road, a couple who were both reading their Bibles when I knocked on their door. They offered me some lemonade, said that they were glad I came by, and gave me $5.00. Around 8:00 the fundraising van picked me up. I counted up. I had made exactly 100 dollars. Someone asked me about my day. "Well, when I walked in to this hardware store..."

From 40 Years in America, p. 248

Marilyn Mueller Okoda, “The First Blow”

I was chosen to go around to the different townships and cities and establish permits for our fundraising teams. I would get dressed up in a suit and high heels and visit county or city clerks to file the necessary documents. Sometimes I would even visit the mayors of the smaller towns.

One day I set up an appointment with a small town mayor -- so small that his office was in his own home. This particular town was very difficult to get the permission necessary for fundraising. I was received by the secretary and told to wait for "His Honor."

I waited about 10 minutes and then in walked a type of Paul Buyan. A big, middle-aged man, with a plaid wool shirt and a big jovial smile. He came right over to me, as I stood to meet him and with a big strong hand, he reached to shake my tiny hand in greeting. "Good afternoon, your honor," I said with an equally big and warm smile. "I am Marilyn Mueller and I am with the Unification Church." Before I could even finish the word church, his face had changed to red, make that maroon, make that purple, all in an instant. His smile was on the way down to a grimace. He then picked me up with his big bulky hands. He grabbed the back of my suit collar, like a mother cat carrying her kitten with her mouth, and lifted me up and threw me out of his office.

With high heels on, I could barely maintain my balance. I missed all the steps of his porch and landed on the sidewalk on one foot and my knee hit the pavement. It all happened so fast that I just stood up and straightened my clothes and walked away from his house. I heard him shout, "And don’t come back!"

After about 2-3 minutes as I was collecting my thoughts, I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I said a short prayer that God could forgive him for he really did not know what he was doing. And then I went home -- to the center and reported to my central figure, Tom McDevitt. Tom called the town clerk and reported what the mayor had done to me. Realizing the seriousness of the mayor’s actions, the clerk invited us to the next town meeting.

The result of all this was that because of the improper actions of the mayor, and in order to avoid a lawsuit, the town gave our fundraising teams unlimited permission to fundraise.

From 40 Years in America, p. 197.