Tribulation

 

 

An entire initiative designed to sabotage my entire life sounds a little crazy, sort of like the entire History of Mormonism was. But, that’s exactly what the ward bishop seemed to intimate when he said, ”Don't you want to live a happy life and have a wife and family to share it with? If you do you, you better stay in the Church". It took years for me to recognize the full significance of that threat. But, right now I only imagined life getting better, and I still thought I had a promising future. But, the frequency of events that began intersecting in my life to make it harder only seemed to be increasing. I was never the kind of person to blame others for my “problems” either, so I searched inward for the answers to why my life seemed to be getting so hard. I also chosen to move on, and viewed the whole “Mormon thing” as an “isolated event”, and I didn’t even think all Mormons were bad either. But, soon I began being fed clues that provided me with a glimpse of who and what was really behind my sudden misfortune. And, many clues were ridiculously overt like somebody wanted me to know who was behind these troubles. Only then did I begin contemplating the thought that perhaps it really was the Mormons, who were behind all of these events, and I still thought I was only being “bullied”; I had no idea my entire life was being dismantled. I also knew bullies tended to lose interest once they realized you weren’t afraid. So, I naively thought this same corollary would hold true with my Mormon bullies, and because I could have ever imagined the magnitude of what was really happening.

I never went to the dean of students to report that my grade was changed either, because I never requested any of the “perks” the Mormons offered me. I never went to any other authorities either, to report that Mormons were violating America’s laws and sabotaging my life. I was really only just beginning to realize the gravity of what I was caught up in. The events that had recently occurred in my life up were so enormous and had happened with such rapidity that even I couldn’t fully comprehend everything that was happening. And, I have to admit that even I found the implications of what was happening rather hard to swallow. Consequently, I don’t know how I could have fully explained what was happening to anyone else. I just wanted the dust settle and have an opportunity to better analyze and comprehend what was going on myself. How was I going to communicate what was going on and be taken seriously If I didn’t really understand what was going on and couldn’t communicate it? I also no longer had my copy of the research paper either, because I had thrown it away. I remember talking to my Grandparents one time about finding “The Book”, how I was being stalked and how the Mormons were trying to coerce and bribe me. And, I’ll also never forget their trite response after explaining the details of my growing religious plight either, “Now Lyle”, my Grandmother exclaimed, “You must be imagining things. Why would anybody go to all that trouble?” That same response was pretty much what I expected from anyone else at this point as well.

Ironically, the very next semester, I had to take another economics class, which was also required for my business major. I did well in the class all semester and received A’s and B’s on all of my midterms and assignments. So, I felt relatively happy to be “back on track”, and anticipated a good grade for the semester. But, when I opened my report card at the end of the semester, I was once again stunned after seeing the “E” that was printed on my report card. At the University I attended, an “E” was the equivalent of an “F”. So, now I contemplated the fact that the only “F” I ever received in my entire life was a gift from the Mormons. I obviously suspected a rat for the obvious reasons. But, at the same time, the apparent ease with which these bastards could manipulate my grades seemed very disconcerting, and not once but now twice. It almost seemed inconceivable. I wanted to talk to the teacher’s assistant who taught the class and hear his explanation of how this happened. So, I paid him a visited, pleaded my case that I had done well all semester, and asked what I had done to deserve an “E”. He looked at me, stammered vaguely and gave me a circuitous explanation about how I hadn’t done very well on the final. But, the look on his face revealed the truth, and I simply walked out.

OK, I thought, this was obviously payback for the “A” I received last semester. Then I began to envision a scenario where I reported this latest travesty to University officials. In this scenario, I was lucky enough to find a non-Mormon University authority, and explained how I had received an “A” last semester, but didn’t report it. But, now I received an “E” this semester, and I was really pissed and wanted to report this event. I also played out in my mind how utterly hypocritical this would make me look, and how this would look from a credibility standpoint. I wasn’t really prepared to put myself on trial after everything I had already been through, even though I had done nothing wrong. There was also the minor problem that I no longer any proof, and couldn’t substantiate my incredible story either. So, I continued with the theory that things would eventually calm down, and chose to just “eat” the “E”. I also thought perhaps this event would give them some solace that we were now “even”, and they would soon forget about me. But, as I already mentioned, this theory ultimately proved to be incorrect. It turns out they were actually just beginning to ramp things up. It seemed there was even a church department that was responsible for harassing people who just wanted to get out of this ridiculous religion. My guess was that it was the “danite department”.

During the entire time I was at the University, my grades were manipulated at least a third time by an accounting professor who was also Mormon. It occurred when I was an undergraduate student, and was taking the upper-division accounting classes I needed to complete my accounting major. And, when it happened I had absolutely no idea he was a member of this religion. In that incident, I received a final grade of "C" for the semester even though I earned two "B's" and an "A" on my midterms during the semester. Early the next semester, after seeing my final grade, I went back to his office and asked why I hadn’t received at least a "B" for the semester. He stammered nervously and gave me the usual excuse that I hadn’t done well on the final, and I asked for, but never got to see, my final exam paper. I didn’t find out until 7-years later, when I was attending graduate school, that he was Mormon. Had I known, I probably would have gone to the Dean to report that incident. I also believe there is at least one other instance of grades being changes as well. But, these “grade changing” incidents were really only the beginning of my “Mormon persecution”, and only served to reinforce my perception that the Mormon religion was really more of a cult than a mainstream religion.

During the same semester I received my Mormon “E” in economics, another series of strange events began playing out outside the University setting, and continued for about the next 2-years before they began dissipating. The first incident in this series of events began at my Grandparents estate almost immediately after concluding my meeting with the ward bishop. Strangely, myriads of animals suddenly began showing up deceased at the main entrance to my Grandparent’s estate, which abutted the desert. The sheer volume of animals that suddenly seemed to meet their untimely demise, right at the front of our driveway, was simply not natural. Further, it was too much of a coincidence that all of the animals expired in such a compact area, which focused on about a 10-foot by 10-foot area. New carcasses showed up almost daily, and it was easy to see that some of the animals had actually been deceased for days, and were most likely road kill. There were dogs, cats, birds, turtles, snakes and a few other species of wild animals that ended up with their final resting place at the front entrance of our driveway. This went on for months and got to be so ridiculous that even my Grandfather at one point cursed the sheer volume of dead animals that ended up on this tiny piece of real estate. The only ting creepier than all the dead animals was the thought of someone killing or transporting dead animals to our driveway.

Another memorable event occurred one beautiful Sunday morning in June when I was out mowing our 4-acres of grass. It was around 10:00 AM when I heard my Grandmother yell out, “Lyle, telephone”. It was hot and about time for a break anyway, so I got off the mower and ran the 40-yards or so over to the house, went in, picked up the phone and said, “Hello”. There was not an immediate response, and then suddenly I heard an imposing male voice that commanded, “Lyle Slaughter, come to church!” It was pretty clear the person on the other end simply wanted to intimidate me, and really must’ve thought this would cower me into skulking back to church, but they were mistaken. How unbelievable is that? Soon, I also began receiving anonymous letters in the mail with notes inside explaining how sorry "they" were I was no longer doing well. Additionally, I received empty envelopes in the mail, with hand-printed messages on the front saying simply, "Postmaster, do not forward, just send forwarding address.” I also started receiving crank calls at all times of the night and day, and began hearing rumors from my friends that they had heard rumors I was gay, a drug addict and was dealing drugs. I also began being stalked around campus by the same guy who had “called” me to be the softball coach. This guy was a member of the bishop’s council, and was even a professor of engineering at the University, for God’s sale.

I have a rather funny story about this guy too, One day, after class, I went off-campus to a supermarket, which was located about 3 miles from campus to get some groceries. I finished picking out the groceries I needed, headed up to the front to checkout and was standing in line waiting when I suddenly got that feeling you only get when someone is staring at you. Unconcerned, I looked around and immediately saw this same engineering professor, professional stalker and member of the bishop’s council staring at me from about 6 rows over. He was already glaring at me intently and had an insidious sneer as I looked over at him because he had anticipated that I’d look over at him. But, when I turned to look, our eyes locked for a brief moment, which allows you to actually read the other person’s thoughts. And, in that same moment, my expression turned to revulsion as I recognized the ass who was trying to intimidate me. I also thought about what a sick bastard this guy must really be. At the same moment our eyes locked, he read my expression of revulsion, and the look on his face turned to ignominious embarrassment, and he quickly turned away. He had obviously hoped my initial reaction would be fear. We were 3-miles away from campus at a grocery store, and my guess was that we had to have met by coincidence this time because I don’t even think this jackass would have made that much of an effort to stalk me.

After a couple of years on campus, I discovered a series of shortcuts I used to maneuver my way through campus in order to get to classes. They even varied depending on the day of the week. Now, for some unexplained reason, the nice Mormon missionary who had given me “the lessons” and baptized me in another city years before was apparently in town, and just “happened” to be hanging out at one of the locations I frequently walked by. Initially, I noticed some guy acting rather conspicuously, so that I’d notice him, and then I realized he was the nice Mormon who baptized me. But, this really made me mad, and seemed especially appalling that they would go to such lengths. I always walked right by this guy and pretended not to see him. One time, he even smiled, waved and called out, “Hi, brother Slaughter”. I guess he hadn’t heard the news that I’d left the religion! This happened about 3 or 4 times before he finally disappeared. He wasn’t even a student and had no business being on campus either. I also began seeing other youth from the “Institute” much more frequently than I ever had before. They never said much to me before I presented the true history of their religion to them, but now they were waving and smiling at me. It all seemed so contrived, as if someone flipped a switch that instantly made every Mormon extra nice so I’d actually want to be a part of this faux environment myself. “Young adult leaders” also began showing up at my place of work to keep tabs on me. The only thing weirder than all of this was the entire history of their religion.

I was “easy pickings” where I worked too, because I worked at a famous establishment that was an “Arizona Institution”, which my Grandfather’s ancestors had founded in Texas in 1875. It also happened to be a retail store, so anybody could walk in. One day, in 1978, this crusty old man walked into the store, made his way over to the hat department, which was my department, and began looking at hats. He looked to be in his late 60’s, was dressed plainly and looked very dour, not unlike the silent troll companions who always completed the 2^nd part of a “home teachers” duo. He picked out a hat, walked over to me and explained how he wanted it blocked. And, my job was to steam and shape it for him, which took about 15 or 20 minutes to do. Because of the time it took to do this, you actually got an opportunity get to know your customers a little. We were chatting when apparently he noticed I was left-handed, because out of nowhere he exclaimed excitedly, "Oh, hand of the devil". I would have laughed, but I didn’t want him to realize I was laughing at him. We continued talking, and then he asked me if I knew the definition of the word "sinister". I said, “Generally speaking, yes”, at which point he explained that the word “sinister” was derived from the Latin word Sinistro, which meant "on, or of the left". When I got home from work that day, I grabbed the Webster’s Dictionary to verify this, and saw that he was indeed correct about the derivation of this word, and I continue to thank him for that to this day.

Fortunately, I have a photographic memory, and don’t forget faces, facts or events. And, this old guy’s face wasn’t too hard to forget either because he was pale and had an aura of emptiness as though his very soul had been slowly stripped from his body. He seemed like more of a shriveled shell of a man than anything else, with only thing remaining being the residue of all the pain he must have had to endure during his lifetime. At the time, I simply dismissed the majority of his strange utterances as crankiness resulting from the dirty pampers he must have been wearing. And, just like the beady-eyed Brazilian recruiter who offered me my contract and popped back into my life in February of 2000, this same old geezer also popped back into my life again, too. He eventually popped back into my life again in 1985 when I was in graduate school and living, unbeknownst to me, in an apartment complex owned by the Mormons. And, I’d open my door one day and be surprised to find that the “home teachers” had once again come to visit me. And, I’d recognized the dour and silent companion as the same old man who had come into my store in 1978, purchased a hat and explained the derivation of the word “sinister” to me. But seriously, this demonstrated that although things weren’t always what they seemed to be, and I could tie people and events together in order to form a cohesive story that would eventually reveal a better perspective about what was really happening.

Other bizarre incidents also occurred where I worked, and one of these is worth mentioning. This particular incident was really an “act” staged by two people who were posing as customers. These “actors” came into my store specifically to act-out a perverse scene they created and proceeded to act out in the middle of our store during the height of our busy season when there were myriads of customers in our store who might also see it. Although it took me a second to recognize this fact, their fabricated scene was designed specifically for me. The reason I know this was because they acted out their scene right in front of me, and then it dawned on me they were actually talking about me in their crazy scene and had wanted me to see it. Initially, I was appalled at what I saw and heard them talking about. But, that was only until I realized they were just acting, and really had just done it for my benefit. In their “scene”, the woman acted very distraught, almost crying in fact, and was talking to a gentleman who was ostensibly her husband. I heard her go on and on about how she had been in the change room and some “guy” had been peeking in at her while she was changing. In the ”shocking conclusion” to her story, she pointed at me and said, “that’s the person who did it, right there”. I was immediately quite angry because she was lying and I had done nothing of the sort. The guy never did anything either, and they just walked out. I always suspected they were part of the Mormon campaign of terror, and sure enough an almost identical incident occurred later in 1985 as well.

Somehow, I managed to earn my undergraduate degree in 1979 in spite of being severely sabotaged by members of an unknown terrorist group; unknown, that is, by everyone except for me. And, by this time, the stalking and harassment that was unleashed by these strange people seemed to finally be dissipating, just like my theory predicted. Then, around 1981, I decided to attend graduate school at the same University where I obtained my undergraduate degree, largely because I needed to compensate for all of the sabotage I had endured as an undergraduate. I also knew I’d need some kind of “protection” if I ever hoped to graduate from this University with an advanced degree. At the same time, I also seemed be developing a comprehensive understanding about what was happening to me and why. I was also a bit angry, and even entertained the thought of exposing the Mormons for what they really were. In preparation for my plan to attend graduate school, I also made an appointment to meet with the Dean of Students at the University to document what happened in 1977 and 1978, even though I wasn’t a student. My plan was to disclose certain aspects of what happened when I was an undergraduate student, position myself to be protected from potential incidents in the future and begin the process of being accepted to graduate school. And, as my 4-hour conversation with the Dean of Students began, I noticed that he slipped his hand beneath his desk and pressed a button and there’s no doubt in my mind that the button he pressing belonged to a tape recorder.

The entire meeting with the Dean, except for about the first 10-minutes, consisted of me spilling my guts for about 4-hours, and it was all recorded. I only focused on the most overt, tangible and straightforward acts of sabotage, in order to simplify my story. I knew if I had tried to provide too much detail, the story might seem convoluted and psychotic, and I was worried he might referred me to a “ward” or an “institute”. Consequently, the key thing was for me to explain in simple terms what transpired in order to provide a clear motive for why Mormons would launch such a strategic campaign against me in the first place. I was also concerned about being taken seriously because the entire story was so incredible, and I also no longer had the tangible proof I once had, which was of course my research paper with bibliographies. So, my story to the Dean focused on “The Book”, the contents of the book, my interaction with the class at the “Institute” and the story about my grades being manipulated. All of these things could be easily corroborated with an investigation. I chose specifically not to go into some of the more esoteric details of my persecution because quite frankly, some of it bordered on the realm of unbelievable. However, looking back I really wish I had documented this aspect of what happened because it would have been nice just to get it on record. Not doing this also came back to haunt me when the Mormons began ramping up their dark arts of persecution against me once again.

At this point, it seemed like everything that was known about me by the outside world was now stained and clouded by terrorists who had been able to strategically smear and marginalize who I really was. I also began to notice there seemed to be a major flaw in the “the system”, which allowed corrupt data to be ultimately recognized as legitimate data by legitimate sources who were relying on corrupt sources, which claimed to be “mainstream”. Regardless, in order to be admitted to Graduate School I’d have to exonerate myself and prove I could handle graduate-level course work, and that was just to have the opportunity at another shot at life. I wasn’t admitted to graduate school until 1984 because of “having to prove myself”, and because I spent another 6-months assisting in the liquidation of my Grandparents business, which the Mormons had conspired to sabotage as well so that I would never inherit it. The only real positive thing that happened in my life during this period of time was reporting what had happened to the Dean of Students, and being taken seriously. I hoped this would, unbeknownst to the Mormons, result in an investigation and expose their religion for what it really was. Ultimately this did happen, but I hadn’t counted on these events triggering a renewed effort by the Mormons to ratchet up their Nazi-like surveillance, and begin a whole new round of persecution, only this time, for the rest of my life.