7, 2015 PAC BASE LOS ANGELES:
I left the Faultline Gay Bar
on the intersection of Melrose and Vermont Avenue in Silverlake, CA on
the evening of Saturday November 7, 2015. Checking out at 5:06 PM I left
and headed north toward Sunset Boulevard to catch the bus to West Hollywood
where I live. I was alone and not carrying a camera. It was already dark.
I decided to cut across the Scientology campus and talk to Scientologists
about the ruinous recent news for their religion, especially "King of
Leah Remini's new book
. They hate it when I do that stuff, especially
unexpectedly. But I think I forgot to turn off my cell phone. They
use its signals to find me like a tagged wild animal is found by its own
radio collar emissions. They were on to me immediately either because
they saw my phone coming or they saw me on closed circuit video cameras.
From the south I approached Bridge Publications at Fountain and New Hampshire,
a location I had never entered before in my over seven years of Scientology
protesting. I walked into the small lobby. Normally empty, this
time about eight to ten Sea Org/Public types were gathering. They looked
at me like I was an alien from the planet Teegeeack. I reconnoitered
down the hall a yard but no further. I am terrified of Sci interiors.
I said "Hi, have you heard that Leah Remini just wrote a new book?"
They snapped their heads around at me and said "Get out!" so I did.
The steps of the building are short and at the exact moment
I descended them two attractive but anxious young male bike guards were
already pedaling up from the west just feet away. Running with them
was long time
security guard Odo Huber
wearing a red vest. Not a dressy vest but
a cold weather vest. They all seemed especially agitated, anxious but
not afraid of me. Odo has watched me loom over him in a non-violent manner
since 2008. It was more likely they were frightened of what might
happen tonight. Or that they would be punished by cult leader
for failing to prevent my appearance.
much taller than Odo. Since 2008 he has always looked like he is
out starving on his bike all day. Which he is. Very thin and
undernourished/overly-aerobic exercised. I am 6'3" 205 lbs. If I
wanted to I could wail on him seriously, much like one of my fellow Anonymous
wailed on in 2008 at Scientology Gold Base
, Hemet, CA by cult guards.
But of course I was not going to even touch him. I am not an unpredictable
cultist, I'm not trained in security, I don't have a belt with mace, comm
lines, etc. as he does. I don't have a gun permit. He does. I am not in
the business of touching Scientologists genitals in the dark on their
own front lawns surrounded by their security guards. I have gone seven
years without sexually battering Odo Huber. Why would I start now?
Also, lookswise I'm not the wreck of the Hesperus. Gay guys hit
on me all the time and I get all the sex I could ever want at various
Gay sex club/bathhouse establishments.
I walked west toward
the Big Blue building on Fountain Ave. and reached the west side of L.
Ron Hubbard Way, turning northward. I talked loudly about
Leah Remini's book
to the food court crowd and folks on the sidewalk.
Odo and his guards got increasingly strident and aggressive with me, but
it only made me feel jumpy and nervous, not in danger. Odo usually
never gets too close but he was this time. I had to push him back somehow
without physically touching him.
I held out my hand toward
Odo's crotch with a gap of about six inches between us. I opened
and closed my fingers like a talking puppet twice while saying "wawkaa
wawkaa" the way Pac Man does. He hopped backwards very fast as if
he was going to catch Homosexuality from me. As my loyal viewers
know, Odo has apparently been caught giving blow jobs to security head
Ryan Boswell in the showers at Pac Base.
With him slightly
more distant I felt safe enough to resume walking north towards Sunset
Blvd. Odo kept saying "Donald leave now!" I taunted him by
saying "Look Odo I don't have my camera with me, try something on me."
I should not have said that. That was true overconfidence. He
kept demanding "Donald leave!" Finally I taunted "Call me DM and
I'll leave." He immediately said "DM leave." This was the first
time I had ever gotten Odo, or any Sci, to obey a command! On top of that,
it was a play on words. The Angry Gay Pope and the Scientology Pope
have the same initials. So I was thrilled and it made me want to
Scis got more agitated. Catholic Cathy, the lady who lives at
1420 LRH Way
out and we acknowledged each other. They hate her so much and her
Suppressive Person-ality. Loyal Osabot
arrived. He looks like a cross between Captain Kangaroo and a pedophile.
Catholic Cathy calls him "Captain Kangaroo" so I did too. He works for
the Scientology Secret Police the
Office of Special Affairs (OSA)
We walked north
up LRH Way for a few moments. When Odo realized I was going to chat with
Cathy and Ken instead of leaving he suddenly grabbed his phone and screamed
"Help! Help! He is touching my cock/penis, he is touching my balls/testicles
etc. etc. something something!" When Odo, in his red security vest,
screamed that into the phone suddenly all I could see, and all I can see
in my memory now, is a yelling, red, flaming effect all over him.
I perceived even his cell phone to be red. It's not that I was afraid
of him, I was afraid of what might happen. Just like they were.
"Groan," I thought. "They love to exploit American citizen's arrest laws
and he is writing a really stupid citizen's arrest script and the unsuspecting
police will come." The previous Scientologist who
successfully citizen's arrested
, at least improvised a script that could reference an
actual legal restraining order against me plus a TRO (temporary restraining
This is the second time I have
documented Odo's behavior setting me up with cops
at this very spot.
He did it before on July 5, 2012 but failed to convince them that I was
evil. They cross checked his story on their computer and it did not hold
up. So they drove me around the corner, freed me of handcuffs and let
me go. Unfortunately one cop put the handcuffs on too tight and
I was left with a numb thumb for months. That is what they want to happen.
It all occurred in almost the same spot.
This time, in 2015,
I wanted to flee the scene when Odo called for help but that is what guilty
people do. Besides, the bike guards would follow me if I tried to escape
on foot (it's their job). Or the police would just show up at my home
hours later. After five lawsuits I think the Church knows where I live.
I decided to stick it out, man up. Hope that the cops would figure out
what was going on and not arrest me. That doesn't always happen. In reality,
I think that the Church just wanted me to leave and if I ran away they
would probably have called and cancelled what was about to happen.
In the short term I should have run. But I chose the long term.
the two cops arrived they exited their LAPD cruiser but did not recognize
me. Odo pointed me out. He didn't say "Help! Help! Officers
he's a menace!" as Lisa Uvizl did during my last legal episode. The
two cops looked at me. I raised my hands behind my head with elbows out
in the quintessential passive position and slowly approached, saying "Hello
officers." It was a man and woman.
I was immediately pushed
against the right side front hood of the patrol car. "Spread your
legs apart, hands behind your back!" the male arresting officer barked. I
protested. The handcuffs went on. "Ow!" I said. "Careful,
I'm a big guy, not some small Latino."
"That's okay," his
female partner the good cop chirped, "I'm a short Latina." Indeed, she
was a short Latina with long black hair and a pretty face. He was a medium
height Italian/Latin type with slightly curly black hair. I wish I could
remember the license plate of the police car, the faces, badge numbers,
etc. But, who cares. The Church probably faked them anyway
and video cameras were everywhere recording. Those cameras were at the
Church compound and the police station I was taken to.
protested louder and louder about the injustice. The arresting officer
said "Any more of that and I'll charge you with public intoxication."
Remember I said I had been to a Gay bar earlier?
I shut up.
They dumped me on the hard, brown plastic back seat of the
squad car and I watched, through the right rear window, while they held
a little FI (Field Investigation report) "cocktail party" filling out.
Lots of smiling and chatting and looking at me handcuffed. The red
white and blue flashing police lights were like a patriotic disco.
The police radio crackled with life. But I was not enjoying this little
inmate reception at the Hotel California tonight like they were. But
I could not fault the ambiance. The two cops penciled in their little
white FI forms. They both held what appeared to be several purplish
pieces of 8.5x11 paper folded in thirds into the shape of an envelope.
Finally they both got into the car. He went through my wallet looking
for my California driver's license. I bought a wallet about two months
ago and sometimes even I lost the driver's license in the middle fold
where I usually keep it. He got more nervous when he could not easily
find my ID. He talked loudly to me about "where is it?" I snapped back
"It's in there somewhere." Either he found it or found a pay stub in my
billfold that established my identity. I saw him reading the pay stub.
Next he dropped a purpleish form on top of the computer terminal in the
middle of the front seat area
is what your charge is going to be." He pointed to the words "SEXUAL BATTERY." I
said "What does that mean?" He wiggled his fingers like an octopus
swimming forward, smirking "Tooooo much toooouuching ... are you
"I'm the Angry Gay Pope!"
"Oh?" the Latina chirped, "You're the protester with a website?
I'll have to take a look at that." She was playing the "good cop" even
though she was evil. I mean why go to the effort? Can't she just
shut up and be evilly kidnapping me? Neither one of them were good cops.
She really didn't have to charade that hard. Why not be quiet and entrap
me without the facade? Sheesh ... women.
out my Scientology protest website," I sneered to the Latina rogue cop,
"because you're going to be on it and I will tell the net about you and
your kids will have to take down their Facebook pages in shame."
This was not a very powerful threat. But, like Odo, at this point I was
just running on scripts.
"My kids' won't be taking
down their Facebook pages" he said.
"How do I know you aren't
paid off by the Church?" I sneered.
"Oh I'm not paid off
by them, this is my first day on the job." I don't know what he meant
He drove to the nearest police station, Rampart,
I assume. A charge of "Sexual Battery" was added to my public record.
Then they inserted me into the unsuspecting system where I was arrested
at 6:25 PM. Now that I was in the care of the "good cops"
the "bad cops" drove off into the night forever anonymous.
SERIAL NUMBER: NONE
officer's name was a spelling impossibility and deps at county jail later
told me they never see this form with a serial number of NONE. I considered
pointing this out to the unsuspecting "good" cop that was dealing with
me when I entered the station. But I was concerned that he might be "in
on it" with the other two rogue police losers and actually a "bad cop."
This was probably Rampart, a police station famous for scandal and corruption.
And this is the LAPD. And this is Hollywood. I don't even trust myself
half the time. How could I trust them?
I was booked at the
LAPD Metropolitan detention center at 8:41 PM.
Just as in
my November 5, 2013 incarceration involving Lissa Uvizl setting me up,
my blood pressure soared. 190 over 120. Well into stage 2
hypertension by thirty points. I had purple flushing on my face, body,
knuckles, etc, as if I was in the
Scientology Purification Rundown
because my circulation went haywire.
Groan. A nurse remarked that she could tell how high my BP was by how
big the red bubble of fluid was when she pricked my finger for a blood
sugar test. This is just what the cult wants. Throw them into the system
and let violent inmates and drug resistant staph infections kill them.
We won't be blamed. We will let the taxpayer funded system do our dirty
work for us while we pay few taxes. If I had died of a stroke from high
blood pressure in jail Odo would have gotten a reward commensurate with
The perfectly fine foreign born medical employees
at the LAPD city hospital did their best to try to contain my hypertension
but they didn't. And I couldn't remember my exact dose of the Lotensin
blood pressure drug I usually take. I also could not remember the
name of the second BP drug I take and had to describe its appearance.
can't handle lockdown and the medical staff could not handle lockdown
killing me. So I was transferred to the 90% larger county jail.
The Twin Towers Correctional Facility "Inmate Reception Center."
Yes, the food is free but it's less fun than it sounds. At this much bigger
facility I was assaulted with gobs of free medical services and attention.
As a protester I want to drain the system of resources at every turn so
I did whatever they said. TB X-ray, drug prescription quizzes, blood tests,
mental health screenings, etc. Lots of blood pressure sessions, in particular,
took me out of my tedious lockdown cell and into the community where I
could interact with the staff. The bored out of their minds captive audience
In nicer areas there are HD TVs on the wall, each deliberately set to
grainy lowres video/wrong aspect ratio images. They showed broadcasts
like the "Matrix" movies, football and sitcom "The King of Queens."
At one point that show was playing and I saw
Leah Remini, the ex-Sci actress who wrote the book
that I was promoting
on the street to the Scis when this all started. Oh isn't life funny.
I attempted to get an arraignment on Tuesday but failed.
My lawyer was told I would be in court at 8:30 but I did not get there
till around 11 and they did not find me till about 2:30. However, cackling
around with the LesBiGay community in the holding cell was 1000% better
than being in lockdown in one tiny, dirty room with toilet paper on the
air vents and the lights never turn off. When I was returned to my housing
I was told to report to medical. A nurse announced "You are going
home!" She informed me that I had
overly thick blood and enlarged platelets. A hematocrit level greater
than 55% (I assume). Later, another healthcare worker asked me why I was
being released. I said I had "poly-sci something" and she corrected me
on it's proper name. Polycythemia. She told me that, whatever it
was I had, it would not stop me from living many years.
Polycythemia is a side effect of being a media/legal hot potato.
You catch it from the district attorney's office once they realize you
are there. Or should they just have had a guard come up and get me, announcing
that I was free because "the system is really corrupt and fucked up"?
After many tedious hours of more waiting I was released on my own recognizance
at about 3:15 AM Wednesday and took an unlicensed cab home to West Hollywood.
Isn't it funny that unlicensed cabs operate at the very exit doors of
the criminal justice system? The "cab" driver told me he had been
doing this job for decades and I sat in the front seat with him. He said
that, lately, the jail had changed it's exit processing and gotten behind.
Regular releases 15 at a time had been replaced by irregular releases
30 at a time. People had been released by accident. Oops. Now the
staff had to triple check things. There were many new inexperienced hires.
He knew the schedule of when people were to come out because he made his
livelihood on it and had for decades as an unlicensed cabbie, I assume.
He quoted when I was scheduled to be released and when I finally got released
and they were way apart by hours. Clearly, America has spent too much
money building nuclear weapons that can blow up the world forty times
and not enough money on more immediate concerns. What is more dangerous
to the country? Soviets externally or a collapsing criminal justice
cabbie confessed he had met Sci founder L. Ron Hubbard in the 1950's when
he was a Latin gangbanger and LRH had just opened their first location
in Los Angeles. The gangbangers were angry at the time because the snotty
Scientologists didn't want the Latins to walk through their alleyway.
So they showed up in a group and confronted the Scis. LRH came out
and soothed things over somehow.
LAWYER GRAHAM BERRY:
I spent most of the day at the downtown
Los Angeles Criminal Courts building where AGP was to be arraigned
in Department 30 on a misdemeanor sexual battery charge. Although
he was listed for 8:30 AM he was not located until 2:15 p.m. by which
time I was getting pushy and suggesting dire consequences. "Three
nights and three days in the County Jail on a frivolous citizen's
arrest." There was not even a case file on which I could serve an
informal discovery request (which I am sure they were not expecting
right off the bat - see the PDF attachment at right).
around 2:15 pm AGP was located and the Deputy District Attorney in
D30 advised me that the City Attorney's Office had advised him that
they were taking no further action on the matter and they were "cutting
him loose immediately."