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One of the biggest and best stories I stumbled upon during my nine-year tenure at the St. Louis Post- Dispatch was a feature about a lapsed Scientologist. He was a dear friend of a neighbor who confided in her that he wanted to turn over reams of documentation: receipts, notes , email exchanges, and more. It was all, according to him, anyone needed to reveal what a con game Scientology was. I was sworn to secrecy. I started making calls to verify info; lawyers vetted it six ways from Sunday. Suddenly, abruptly, the story was pulled. It was subsequently killed altogether. The message I got -- and this was 40-some years ago, those folks had power. I never forgot that. In a career that spanned a little over four decades Scientology scared the mighty Post Dispatch. Lawrence Wright’s book (Going Clear) caused him no end of grief, grief that included a protective police detail. Scientology muckety mucks are not to be trifled with. A most unpleasant bunch.

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