Re: Thanks to Bob Minton (SBY)
[19 Jan 1998]

As Stacy's husband, I'd now like to add some parts to her story (below) about the Scientology (RTC/OSA) attack on our rescued animals.

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From: (Robert Vaughn Young)
Newsgroups: alt.religion.scientology
Subject: Re: Thanks to Bob Minton (SBY)
Date: 22 Jan 1998 03:17:54 GMT
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As Stacy's husband, I'd now like to add some parts to her story (below)
about the Scientology (RTC/OSA) attack on our rescued animals. It is a
despicable tactic on their part that clearly reveals their true nature but
it came out well. [My earlier post ("Scientology Attacks Animal Sanctuary")
is archived at

It was not easy. The stress was incredible because it was no longer an
attack upon us. It was an attack on innocent animals, many that would have
been killed had we not taken them in. They were not our "children" but it
touched that nerve and it caused that distress, which - again - brings it
back to the sadistic nature of these people, that they would delight in
such pain. (See my post how Hubbard's attitude toward "suppressives"
directly parallels Hitler's attitude towards Jews. URL's at end.)

Stacy told it well. But let me tell you some more of it, from my side,
starting with an somewhat amusing tale of how I legalized our operation.
But it is amusing only because it came out well.

After receiving a citation from Animal Control for having unlicensed cats
and a citation from Zoning for having more than three, I had two weeks to
comply/respond to each.

The Animal Control ticket is the same as a traffic or parking ticket. It
even shares the same form. At the top is a place for the officer to tick
off "traffic" or "non-traffic." As with a traffic ticket, one is given the
option of pleading guilty and paying the fine (in this case, $50 per
instance), pleading not guilty and asking for a trial/hearing or asking
for a hearing for "mitigating circumstances." At the end of two weeks, I
filed my request for a mitigation hearing. That gave me more time.

Zoning regulations citaions allow for extensions. At the end of two
weeks, I asked for and got one, giving me more time.

The State of Washington has an excellent record disclosure act (similar to
the US Freedom of Information Act) so I began to make requests to areas
where I knew there were problems, starting with Animal Control. I
requested copies of all files/reports/notes concerning us, our work and
any complaints. (The city responded within days, compared to the US FOIA
where it can take years.)

In the meanwhile, I collected up letters from neighbors and our
veterinarians who had visited our home and people who had adopted from
us. They all said that our home was clean, the animals were well cared
for, and the idea that we were abusing them was scandalous. (Two who
happened to be in media also added of their own volition that they knew of
our Scientology work, that this campaign was clearly the work of
Scientology, and it was disgusting. These two, as neighbors, had been
called earlier by Scientology PI David Lee so they had some first-hand

With the pack of letters and some other documents (including information
obtained under the state FOIA and some news articles about our work and
the front page story in the Seattle Times about Scientology picketing our
home etc)), I began my visits to City Hall to deal directly with these
"complaints." I began to meet with various officials. They were impressed
with the our work and I, in turn, began to get some information and some
help. (The funniest irony in all this was that Scientology was forcing me
to go out and do what I did for the cult: work agencies and the media.
That was also where I first learned how to use FOIA.)

With what I had learned directly from City Hall (and from some friends) I
also got a criminal attorney who knew city hall, gave him the info and
turned him loose to do some calling.

My immediate concern was the threat of a raid for "animal abuse" but,
thanks to what I had learned and the work of the attorney, that had been
defused. I then turned to the continued safety of the cats. It was clear
that even if the whole scene turned around, that we could not stay where
we were if we wanted to continue or work. The alternative was to stop our
work and get rid of the cats. Our problem was that we could do neither. We
did not have the resources for a place adequate for the sanctuary and we
did not want to give up before the assault. We had visited Vashon Island
and looked about several times as one of the few places near Seattle with
lots of open land. But we had a bigger problem. As long as we were in the
current house, the cats and the work was vulnerable. I had to remove that
threat by making sure we were "legal." But how?

I had an idea: neighbors.

We had lived in that house for three years and had come to know the
neighbors intimately. That particular little section was unique. It was on
the final dead-end of Beach Drive, filled with beach homes occupied
by people who took great pride in their neighborhood. We were close to the
entrance of the dead end street so every person down the block had to
pass our house to get home or to leave it. Plus our house had a lovely
little front patio where we loved to sit and watch sunsets and chat with

Thus over three years, we came to see or meet every resident on
the street. There were constant waves, hellos, greetings and chit-chats
and constant banter of what was happening with whom and we became some
sort of nexus for the neighborhood.

We participated in parties at neighbors homes and we gave ours, including
a beach party with logs blazing, guitar playing and singing long
into the night, neighbors strolling down with bowls of food, a bottle of
wine or cheese or snacks and the latest information. People chatted and
enjoyed each other. It was community. It was neighborhood.

What a concept! Neighbors!

It taught me something I had lost in the cult: neighbors. In the cult,
there is no "neighborhood." There is cult and non-cult. But you don't come
to enjoy someone because of "neighborhood." If neighbors are not
Scientologists, they are suspect. They are to be watched. You don't trust
them. After all, if they won't join the cult, something is wrong. So one
smiles but behind the smile is distrust.

Our neighbors had come to learn about Scientology, not because of us, but
because of the cult. Our neighborhood had been leafleted with anonymous
slimey pieces about us that neighbors brought down in disgust, offering to
help and giving us a chance to tell them of our work. Some had been called
by the likes of Gene Ingram or David Lee, asking salacious questions.
Finally, when we were picketed, neighbors came down and sat on our patio
with us, as a show of solidarity. The picketers, in their "knowing how to
know wisdom," insulted the neighbors while we sat back watched. Later,
neighbors would ask us, "Don't they know how they look and what they are
doing?" Even when pickets showed up when we weren't home, neighbors came
to confront the picketers, telling them how L. Ron Hubbard and
Scientology was viewed on that street and telling them to leave. All the
picketers did was more abuse, turning the neighborhood against them by
their own actions, which is typical of the cult that "knows how to know."

Neighbors, I thought. They helped before. I'll bet they will help again.
They knew about the visits from Animal Control and Zoning. There were no
such secrets from friends.

I asked those who had no cats/dogs if they would like to adopt three, the
legal limit. (If they had a cat or two, they were asked if they would
adopt whatever brought them to the legal limit.) All agreed. I told them
which cats they could have and that I would take care of the licensing. I
then filled out a license form with their name, address and the names of
the cats (with basic descrip like sex/color) and took the stack of
applications up to the licensing bureau.

When I pushed a stack of license applications (with rabies certs for each
- another task completed) through the window at the girl, she looked at
them with a big smile and asked what this was about. After all, not too
often that someone comes in with ten or twelve applications. (I forget how
many I had.)

"We're just catching up on licensing in my neighborhood," I said with a
big smile.

"Why, that's wonderful!" she replied as we started to go through the
applications. With each one, I paid the fee and got a little tag for each
cat. The whole process took some time.

When I was done, I returned home and on the back of each tag, I wrote the
cat's name and the name and address of the owner. That way if someone saw
a cat on my doorstep and looked at the tag, they could see who it was
licensed to. There were even two licensed to us. (The third for our
household was our Golden Retriever, Maggy.) When that was done, each cat
was tagged that day.

We were legal. There were no unlicensed cats and we legally had only
three. Could I help it if cats licensed to others came through a cat door
and into our house?

When it came time for my hearing on the Animal Control citation, I went
with more documentation, not to mention the stack of complete licenses.
The magistrate was wonderful. She was fascinated with our animal rescue
work and the degree of care we give the animals. My $50 fine per cited
unlicensed cat (and I was cited for 10) was reduced to $5. My $500 fine
was reduced to $50. I happily wrote the check and let the magistrate know
where she could come adopt a rescued cat.

Next was Zoning. I called them up and said I was in compliance. The
inspector came out and looked. "Whose cat is that?" he asked pointing at
one cat in the driveway. I looked at the tag and read off the name. Oh,
said the inspector, okay, you pass and you will get the letter soon.

The most immediate threat had been defused, although we still didn't know
where we would go. In the meantime, I wanted the world to know what had
transpired. I was able to take some time and write that briefing for the
Net. As Stacy says, Bob Minton called a few days later.

Despite what the "knowing how to know" gang at RTC/OSA think, it was the
first time we had ever spoken or met. I had no idea who he was or what he
was about. He said he had read about the problem with the cats and wanted
to know if he could help. No, I said, after a few words of polite social
chit-chat. but thanks.

He called back a day or two later, I think it was, asking how it was
going. We chatted a bit about that and the Internet and ARS and he asked
again how he could help. I still didn't know who this guy was or if he was
for real. Besides, I was due to go into deposition with the cult in a few
weeks and I didn't need complications in my life. I know how they like to
run in the plants. (ASIDE TIP: If you ever spot a plant, never let on and
never tell the cult how you spotted them. A good rule of intelligence is
that it is better to know who is a plant and to leave them in place rather
than blow their cover, and start all over. It's easier to keep the one you

So to make it easier on everyone, I turned Bob over to Stacy. Besides, she
was the one taking direct care of the cats.

In my deposition, they hammered at me with questions about Bob Minton,
clearly not believing that we had never spoken or met until a few weeks
earlier. (It also made me quite glad I had curtailed conversations with
him. It fully convinced me that the guy was on the level as the other side
was frothing at the mouth.) They also challenged my remark that he was
asking me about ARS. They showed me a post that Minton had allegedly made
to ARS offering a reward long before. No, I said, I had never seen it
before. (I hadn't.) Well, barfed the attorney, why would he ask YOU about
ARS when HE already KNOWS about! I shrugged. How was I to know?

They hammered at our looking for a new place. As I had heard a little bit
from my wife, I told them that yes, he had offered to help us with a
place. This sent the hired guns over the edge. Rinder went running out the
room to make his telephone pee call to you-know-who and then came racing
back with notes to fire at me. It went like this for hours. Nothing about
FACTNet, which was the reason for the depo. Just Minton, Minton, Minton.
As I listened to the ranting and watching the frothing, I quietly thought
of two Scientology maxims: "Natter is evidence of missed withholds" and
"The TA is moving. Do nothing." (The latter is too complex to explain but
Scientology ex-auditors will understand.)

By the end of the depo, there was no doubt in my mind. Minton was for real
and he was starting to appear as their greatest fear. Interesting.

Minton did buy a house on Vashon Island but not for us. He bought it for
the cats. (As I pointed out to someone else, he knew of me and Stacy and
the harassment and never contacted us until the matter with the cats, and
that his response was how to help the cats.)

Vashon Island is in Puget Sound, off the Seattle shore and just north of
Tacoma. It's about 12 miles long and a few wide and very rural with a wide
variety of animals. (The property next door has llamas. Besides horses and
cattle, there are wild deer, pheasant, rabbits and ducks. There are also
animals rescue groups including one that rescues wolves. Yes, wolves.) So
it is populated by people who are very animal-friendly.

The house is on 2.5 acres and belongs to Minton, contrary to what the
RTC/OSA robo-drones spew. It was selected because perhaps 45% of the
square footage is a semi-finished basement that is perfect for the bulk of
the sanctuary work, for that is the function he is supporting. Other space
upstairs is also devoted to the sanctuary. There is also a small but
well-built barn that can be converted later. There is also other space
such that can be easily converted without change to the structure, eg..,
an isolation section was created in the large two-car with some 2x2's and
sheets of heavy plastic, until we can do something better. A large covered
(semi-enclosed) parking port serves as storge for unusual items such
as the palette (3000 pouns) of kitty litter (60 fifty pound bags) and the
dumpster and other needs. Because the land slopes away, the basement has
an open-to-the-air ground side, with a deck above, that is quite large.
We've already extended it with a cement pour into a portion of the yard.
It will then be enclosed with some wiring so it can be accessed via cat
doors to give the sanctuary cats an "outdoors" where then can play safely
and get fresh air and sun, and some nice Seattle rain, if they want it.

The location is pretty much in the center of the island, about a half mile
south of the King County Police Station. (Great cops on this island!)
It is well off the main highway, down a long private dirt road. This helps
security and gives future picketers a nice lonely place to march, not
to mention a lousy site for line-of-sight stake-outs. The house and
grounds already had lights activated by motion-detectors. Our only
addition is a rescued dog who made even the FedEx and UPS people nervous,
until we introduced them.

The Vashon people are wonderful and we've started having many over to see
our work and to get to know us. Some already saw Stacy on "60 Minutes".

As Vashon is accessible only by ferry, it has an up and down side. It
provides privacy and security. (The crime rate on Vashon is
not-surprisingly low. It is very dangerous for criminals to break the law
and try to quickly escape. All you do is end up in the ferry line. And you
might not even get on that ferry! It also reduces the outsiders so that
they are known and recognized very easily. (Islanders get to know each
other. There is a strong network on the island.) There's also a great
little newspaper. (smile)

Thus, thanks to Bob [laugh - no, not THAT "Bob"], the cats are safe. We
have ended up with more space than before and better facilities to treat
and deal with them. We know the cult will try again. They can't stop, no
matter how many publics they antagonize because they cannot see that they
are their own worst enemy.

The final irony is that this all came about because of the cult. We would
never have met Bob, in all likelihood, had it not been for them. Bob Minton
had been around for awhile yet our paths did not cross until they attacked
and threatened our animal rescue work. Like an angel, Bob Minton appeared
only then. All he asked then - and since - is that the animals be safe.
Warped RTC/OSA minds like to think differently but that is what
distinguishes them.

I would like to extend Stacy's offer in another way. Should any of you be
in the area and like to visit, please do. (We already had our required
plant visit but feel free.) You can meet the cats and see the work we are
doing and see what the cult wants to destroy. It will let you see the true
face of the cult in another light.

And we will have a web page soon - with photos - so you can see the
sanctuary and the animals that were saved. Again.

Best wishes from us and all the furries...
Robert Vaughn Young

My credentials can be found in an article I wrote for Quill,
the magazine of the Society of Professional Journalists, which is
archived at
Other posts I have made about Scientology and its criminal Dept 20
are at <> and

Stacy Young ( wrote:
: Stacy Young here. I 'm sitting here in my office with several of the cats
: whose lives were saved by Bob Minton.
: There is Rachel, the black kitten with white feet who jumped onto my desk
: on 60 Minutes and was the real star of the show. Someone found her when
: she was less than a month old, sitting alone in the middle of a park,
: close to death from an upper respiratory infection. She's healthy now and
: very happy.
: And there is Charlotte, who looks like one of the cows on the side of the
: Ben and Jerry's ice cream truck. She and her sister Allison were thrown
: out of a crack dealer's cadillac into the street when they were three
: weeks old. Someone saw it happen and scooped them up before the oncoming
: traffic ran over them. You'll never meet more affectionate cats than
: Charlotte and Allison.
: And Mufasa, a beautiful orange long-haired cat who was rescued from
: another shelter when she was a kitten. She's Bob's favorite. She loves to
: put her front paws around his neck and give him kisses all over his face.
: There are a lot more cats who are safe and happy here at our beautiful
: sanctuary thanks to the miraculous generosity and compassion of Bob
: Minton. I will be forever grateful to this kind-hearted man who took pity
: on the plight of these animals and saved their lives.
: I am sickened (although not surprised) to see the lengths to which
: Scientology is willing to go to try to destroy Bob Minton. I cannot stop
: them from spreading their lies about him and his family. I wish I could,
: but as long as they can hide behind their false cloak of religion no one
: will be able to stop their terrorism. All I can really do to help him is
: to stand up to Scientology's bully tactics myself, expose what they're
: doing to us, and offer my help to other people who are being harmed by
: this criminal organization.
: I have spoken publicly in other arenas but never before on ars. Now it's
: time.
: Many of you know about Scientology's harassment of my husband Vaughn and
: me from Vaughn's posts and others. But I want to tell my version. We have
: been the target of their campaign of harassment and character
: assassination since we began speaking out in 1993, and it has been
: horrifying to discover firsthand what this terrorist organization
: masquerading as a "religion" is willing to do to silence its critics.
: Vaughn and I both held high positions when we were inside, but even in our
: positions neither of us realized how utterly corrupt and vicious this
: group really is. I have been face to face with their dark side now, and I
: know that I have seen the face of pure, psychotic Evil.
: The harassment of us increased dramatically this fall. Three things
: happened that were probably what caused DM to order us taken out: 60
: Minutes interviewed us, the German government asked Vaughn to testify
: about Scientology, and we started helping Ken Dandar on the Lisa McPherson
: case. Until then, the harassment had always been directed at slandering
: and libeling us, breaking us financially, or threatening us in various
: other ways but it was always an attack on us personally. But suddenly,
: this fall, the target shifted to our sanctuary animals.
: All of our neighbors in West Seattle had been very supportive of the
: rescue work we were doing. They would bring stray cats and dogs to us and
: ask us to help find homes for them, and we always did. Some of them even
: adopted kittens from us. But this fall a man moved into an apartment right
: down the street from us and immediately began complaining to our landlord
: about our rescue work. Then our landlord's assistant began receiving calls
: from someone who said he lived in our neighborhood but who would never
: give his address and whose phone number was bogus. He falsely claimed that
: he had been in our house and that it was filthy and the cats were all
: sick. The landlord's assistant knew this was not true because she had been
: in our house. She defended us to this man and let us know these calls were
: coming in and that she was sure the man was a Scientologist.
: Our neighbors and our landlord had weathered earlier onslaughts from
: Scientology -- the whole neighborhood had been leafleted with a 15-page
: smear about us, Eugene Ingram had gone door to door spreading lies about
: us, and all the neighbors had stood by us when we were picketed.
: Then an anonymous letter was left on all of our neighbors' doorsteps
: asking them to complain to Animal Control about our rescue operation. Our
: neighbors knew it was from Scientology and it only reconfirmed what they
: already thought: that Scientology is a hateful organization. But we also
: received an anonymous letter on our own doorstep, and ours contained a
: direct threat against our rescued animals. At that point we began to be
: very concerned for their safety.
: When the anonymous letter campaign failed to influence our neighbors,
: Scientology increased the pressure, and it soon became apparent that their
: plan was to get us arrested for felony animal abuse and to get all of our
: animals confiscated and killed. Our veterinarian was visited several times
: by David Lee and told that we were under investigation for animal abuse,
: that our animals were being kept in filthy conditions, etc, etc.
: Fortunately our vet had been to our house a number of times to treat the
: animals and knew Lee was lying. The vet thought there was no question that
: Lee was trying to make a felony case against us to get us arrested. David
: Lee visited many other people related to our animal work and tried to
: spread the same lies, but no one believed him because they all know how
: much we care about the animals and the degree of care we give them.
: So Scientology increased the pressure even more. Animal Control, the
: Department of Construction and Land Use, and Seattle City Council all
: became the targets of a phone campaign against our sanctuary. They were
: constantly being phoned about us, and even though Animal Control made
: repeated visits to our sanctuary and repeatedly found that the reports
: they were receiving were false, the phone campaign was successful in
: bringing pressure to bear on the city so that they finally ordered us to
: get rid of the cats.
: This was disastrous for me. Getting rid of these cats would mean taking
: them to the pound, where many of them would surely have been killed. We
: are a sanctuary. This means that we take in many cats that would be killed
: outright if they were taken to the pound. They are sick or injured, and
: most shelters aren't set up to provide long-term care for a sick or
: injured animal. I had nursed some of these cats for months. There was no
: way I was going to risk having them killed.
: Our only other option was to move, but where could we go? And what
: landlord would rent to someone with a cat sanctuary? We searched high and
: low for a place in an area that was zoned for what we were doing, but we
: couldn't find anything.
: I was exhausted from the stress of their constant harassment and frantic
: with worry about what would happen to the cats. Then one night two women
: showed up at our front door at about eight o'clock. I stepped outside to
: see what they wanted and they both looked me up and down in a very
: peculiar way.
: "Are you Stacy Young?" the plump one asked in the tone of voice one uses
: with a child. She handed me a business card that identified her as being
: from the Department of Mental Health Services, Commitment Section.
: "We've received some calls saying that you've lost quite a bit of weight
: recently and that you've been -- well, uh -- collecting cats," the plump
: woman told me, very gently, and instantly I realized what was happening.
: Scientology was trying to have me committed.
: I called Vaughn outside and told him what they had said. We looked at each
: other in disbelief and then I turned to the women, who clearly were not
: witnessing what they had expected to see.
: "Do I look too skinny to you?" I asked them, holding my arms out. I am
: definitely not underweight by any means. The women shook their heads,
: frowning.
: "And as for 'collecting cats,' let me take you inside and show you our cat
: sanctuary," I said, and ushered them into the house. It was spotless, and
: several very healthy cats lounged on a cat tree in the living room. The
: two women muttered to each other that it certainly was clean, and the cats
: looked just fine.
: I told them all about our rescue work and the sanctuary, about finding
: good homes for the cats once they were ready to be adopted, and then I
: explained about Scientology's harassment campaign against us. The two
: women were horrified, and extremely embarrassed about having come to our
: house. They explained that the calls had been anonymous and the people
: had clearly lied, saying I was crazy, that my house was filthy, that all
: the cats were sick -- the same old story. They admitted that they had come
: out to determine if I should be committed, and that they were ready to
: begin the process even though they had received nothing but anonymous
: calls.
: They ended up apologizing to me as they left, but the incident left me
: badly shaken. What frightened me was that Scientology could so easily
: manipulate the mental health bureaucracy that these women had actually
: been ready to commit me.
: It was the last straw for me. The next day we had another surprise
: inspection from Animal Control and another notice from the city. Then we
: got a notice from our landlord, delivered apologetically by his assistant
: who explained that he was now being sent notices by the city. The letter
: said we had until the end of the month to get rid of all the cats. The end
: of the month was two weeks away.
: That night was when Vaughn posted his briefing to the net about what had
: been going on. Scientology had finally found our vulnerability. We were
: willing to put ourselves at risk but we couldn't risk the lives of the
: animals. We were literally at the end of the line. We had no idea what we
: were going to do. All I knew was that I was not going to surrender these
: animals. I had made a commitment to save their lives and somehow I was
: going to live up to that commitment.
: And then a miracle happened. Bob Minton called. He called a few days after
: Vaughn posted his briefing. Neither Vaughn nor I had ever met him or ever
: even heard of him before. All he said was that he didn't feel Scientology
: should be allowed to terrorize people the way they were doing to us and he
: wanted to help us. What could he do to help, he wanted to know.
: From time to time in my life things have been so bad that they couldn't go
: anywhere but up, and this was one of those times. I told him the truth.
: "What we need is a sanctuary for our animals," I said.
: And Bob Minton replied, "Well, I can help you with that."
: I had never met this guy before and knew nothing about him. But I knew
: that I had nowhere else to go, and no one else to turn to, and no choice
: but to believe this stranger who was offering to help us.
: He never asked any questions, never questioned our motives, never asked
: for any proof of who we were or what we were doing, never made any demands
: of us at all. He just believed in us. He helped us find sanctuary for our
: animals and put them out of the reach of the Scientologists.
: He came to visit us after we moved to Vashon Island and we met him for the
: first time. After a few days we had become great friends, and I am sure we
: will be friends for a long time. Bob is a kind-hearted, generous,
: down-to-earth person who is profoundly concerned about the harm
: Scientology is doing to people. There is really nothing more to it than
: that. Now Scientology is trying to destroy him because he has helped
: people like Vaughn and me, and others who won't let Scientology's terror
: tactics silence them. But he isn't going to stop trying to help people,
: and I want to do the same thing.
: I want to offer help to others the way Bob Minton offered help to us when
: we desperately needed it. So I have this announcement to make to all
: Scientology staff members, and especially to Sea Org members:
: I know what it is like to be in there and to feel you have nowhere else to
: go. I know how terrifying it is to think of what will happen to you if you
: leave. But I want you to know this: I can offer you a safe place where you
: can catch up on your sleep and you can talk to people who will understand
: what you've been through and can help you get your life started again in
: the real world. We will help you recover from this nightmare called
: Scientology. Please call us, or contact us in whatever way you can.
: Our phone number is 206-463-6809. Our address is 19731 Vashon Highway,
: Vashon, WA 98070. My e-mail address is Vaughn's e-mail
: address is

: Stacy Young

Robert Vaughn Young * The most potent weapon of the oppressor is * * the mind of the oppressed. - Steve Biko *