Not Without My Sister (22 page)

This is what I had missed and wanted in a father. For so many years I had missed my dad terribly and longed to be with him, but it was too late to regain what had been lost. Even though we lived together at the School, we barely saw each other. He was busy with his new family, and I had my own life and work.
The only times I would speak with him were at the dinner table. One evening he told me that he had received a letter from Davida, our half-sister in Athens. The letter she wrote was angry and hurting. She felt abandoned by her father. I asked him what had happened.
"Well, honey, she wrote to me a few months ago. She wanted to know why I never sent her birthday cards or letters," Dad explained. "I wrote back saying that I had a new family now."
"You said that?" I was shocked at his insensitivity. "You should have let me help you write the letter to her, Dad," I said. "No wonder she was hurt! You should have apologized to her and understood why she felt that way."
"Well..." He did not have an answer to that.
"You need to write to her again," I said. "She needs to know that you care." Dad assured me he would.
Two years later, I found out that Dad had not kept his word to stay in contact with Davida, and she had become severely depressed and had turned to drugs. I could barely look my father in the eyes. I was angry that he had neglected his children and refused to acknowledge that the children he fathered were his responsibility. All he had were excuses.
"If this is what resulted from the Law of Love, then it was wrong," I told him, but he never took me seriously. Dad could not consider the possibility that anything our prophet said might be wrong.
In reality, I found that I had little in common with him anymore. I was no longer daddy's little girl.

Kristina

My campaign continued. Together with Ian Howarth, who had started Cult Information Center, I was a guest on the
Richard and Judy Show
. As the camera turned on me, my heart pounded so much I feared the mike would pick it up; but once we started talking I felt more relaxed, knowing Ian was beside me.
During the show Richard asked me why it was that the perpetrators of the abuse had not been jailed.
"It's very hard to bring them to court," I answered, "because in the cult, they change their names many times. The cult hides them from the outside world and moves them around within the communes."
"Was it difficult to adjust to life outside the cult?" Judy asked.
"I did not know what was right from wrong. Your whole foundation of life is suddenly taken from you and you don't know what to believe." Once I started talking, my nervous-ness faded.
Richard ended the show by asking me, "Would you categorize yourself now as basically adjusted and normal?"
"I'm a survivor," I answered smiling.
After the show Ian commented that I had spoken with conviction and clarity. This gave me more confidence to con-front the Family's spokespeople, Gideon and Rachel Scott, alone on
GMTV
.
To my surprise, a few days before the show, Dad called me. He was in England! I was pleased to hear from him and updated him on my latest news. Then the conversation turned to the inevitable—why was I persecuting the Family, his family?
"Didn't you read my letters?" I asked.
He skirted around the subject, so I asked about Celeste and his other children. I was delighted to hear that Celeste was also with him. I informed him that I would be in London to appear on a TV program and suggested we meet at my hotel for dinner.
I put the phone down, very excited.
The big day that I had been waiting for my whole life finally arrived. Before I left for London, I dressed carefully and stared into the mirror. I felt I was a daughter he could be proud of—and I wanted that so much. I checked into the hotel and waited anxiously for Dad in the restaurant, but I got a message to say he was running late, so I ate on my own. I hoped he wouldn't flunk this—I had waited so long.
Wandering around the lobby I spotted him by the lift. I recognized him immediately. He apologized for being late and we hugged somewhat awkwardly. We sat down and I had so much to say, I cut to the chase. I explained—just as I had done in my letters to him—about my traumatic childhood. He looked genuinely upset when I described what Joshua and a lot of the men had done to me.
"That's horrible, I am so sorry." He was shaking and said, "I could hit them." This reaction was the one I had hoped for.
"But David Berg started the whole thing, Dad! He wrote it down in black and white in the Mo Letters!"
Dad looked cornered and started to shake his head in denial. What I had learned about cult members was con-firmed when I saw how he had suddenly "switched" as soon as I accused David Berg and criticized the Law of Love. His loyalty to the leader was total and illogical. He would not accept his spiritual father was a pervert, insisting that he was motivated by love.
"Love?" I almost spat. "That wasn't love. It was a per-version. You really have no idea, do you, Dad, because you're in total denial, what that type of 'love' did to me—how badly it damaged me." I broke down in tears and went to the Ladies to recover myself.
When I got back, he had bought us both a drink. I stood just out of sight, watching him. His shoulders drooped and his head was forward—he looked so sad and alone. I saw then that he would find it almost impossible to deny what he had spent a lifetime defending.
I sat down and picked up my drink and sipped a little. At some points, his own personality shone through, a funny, engaging man who was good company. But when I mentioned anything negative about the cult he would just shut down and trot out the party line, which was so ingrained in him.
I told him with heartfelt sincerity how much I had missed him, how as a child I had treasured his letters and was proud when I listened to
Music with Meaning
I still had a copy of the
Child of Love
drama he narrated, which I played to my son at Christmas.
He smiled and looked happy. "It's wonderful being a grandfather! I'd love to meet my grandson," he enthused.
I sensed that he was vulnerable. He had devoted his whole life to the group. Part of me felt sorry for him. The other part was angry and needed answers. It hurt knowing that as an "enemy," he would always be two-faced towards me and I wished that he could be as honest with me as I was trying to be with him.
I noticed that he did not ask too many questions. What I thought or felt did not seem to matter and he made it clear that I would never change his mind.
At one point he said, "Can't we just agree to disagree?" I nodded. "Okay, if that's what you want."
We showed each other pictures of our families. I asked if he had any pictures of David and me as children. Eagerly, he fished into his pocket—and it made me smile that he kept them on him.
As I looked at pictures of Celeste, I said, "You know, Dad, it was really sad being separated from her for so long. We just weren't allowed to be sisters—and it's hard to undo the past. All those missing years will never be recovered."
"I'm sorry," he said simply.
"And you can have no idea how it hurt me to know that you didn't protest when I was put on a list to be prayed against. Did you actually want me to die or be harmed in some way?"
He could not answer, and just gazed steadfastly at his feet. I wondered what he was thinking, what strange thoughts must be going through his mind—or perhaps he was thinking of nothing. Or he might even have been praying against my words.
We lost track of the time. The hotel bar was closing. "Oh no, I've missed my tube," he realized.
"You're welcome to stay in my room," I offered. I could not believe it when he agreed. On the way up in the lift, I said, "I'll sleep on the floor, and you can have the bed."
"No, I don't mind sleeping on the floor," he replied. "I was a hippie. I'm used to roughing it."
We laughed. He had twisted my arm. I was so happy to be spending time with Dad my head was spinning. Then he remembered, "I better phone Celeste or she'll be worried."
He was on the phone with her for nearly an hour. He allowed me to speak with her and when he put the phone down he chuckled. "She's a bit worried and maybe a bit jealous that I'm here with you."
He gave me the impression that they were as tight as net curtains and said that she and Juliana wrapped him round their little fingers.
We laughed again and while we brushed our teeth he said, "You're a nice person."
"So you don't think I'm a witch or a demon?" I raised my eyebrows.
"I...never thought you were a witch...I didn't ..believe," he mumbled.
"Don't believe if they ever say it again, Dad." I shook my finger at him.
He said he wouldn't, hugged me—and said goodnight.
Dad was up at 5 a.m. the next morning. Room service brought my breakfast of coffee and croissants. He asked if I would pray with him and I said yes. With his eyes shut tight, he started reciting whole portions of the Bible and Mo Letters for the next half an hour. I quietly nibbled a croissant and occasionally chimed in an "Amen." When he had finished, I complimented him on his impressive memory.
"One day in the Endtime all that will be left of the Bible is what is hidden in our hearts," he said.
The car was coming at 7 a.m. to take me to the studio, so we decided to grab a coffee in Covent Garden. I was tired and jittery. As we crossed the Strand, instinctively he took my hand. I smiled. At the age of eighteen I was finally holding my Daddy's hand.
We said our goodbyes as I jumped into the car waiting to take me to the studios. I pondered how cults demand unconditional love for the group and leader, which takes the place of their own family, and it made me incredibly sad. But this meeting gave me hope. Before I went into make-up, an "excited little Nina" told Ian Howarth about the last four-teen hours with Dad.
He knew how much this meant to me. "Does that mean you've changed your mind?" he half teased.
"Don't think so," I said. I was happy to have met my father but I had not changed my mind about the Family. Bring it on I thought.
That year I was awarded X5,000 by the Criminal Injuries Compensation Board for the abuse I had suffered in the cult whilst a child in the UK. The money did not matter
to me as much as the precedent it set. This award was to be part of the discussion on the show.
The hosts of
GMTV
, Eamonn Holmes and Anthea Turner, opened the show with a picture of me on the front page of the
Daily Mail
and the
Guardian
.
"The front page of the Daily Mail yesterday focused on the story of eighteen-year-old Kristina Jones. Kristina is here with us in the studio this morning," Eamonn Holmes introduced. "The leaders of the group, Gideon and Rachel Scott, are on the show with us too."
He turned to me asking, "Will the money in any way go towards easing your pain?"
"I don't think any amount of money will make up for the twelve years that I lost," I answered. I was nervous with Gideon and Rachel sitting so close to me.
When Gideon was asked what he thought about it, he answered, "If s difficult for us to comment on Kristina's allegations, because even though she has been awarded this X5,000, these allegations have never been tested in a court of law"
Eamonn Holmes thought this statement was bizarre, considering it was a court that awarded my compensation. "Surely there must have been some validity for the judge to make the award," he commented.
"I presume someone believes her story," Gideon replied self-righteously. "And I doubt... cannot comment on the story as I don't know the details. But I do know that I have been in our group for twenty-three years, and have never once seen any sexual abuse of any child and this is born out by the evidence around the world of over five hundred of our children who have been intimately and thoroughly examined by court appointed officials. Not one single case of child abuse has ever been found," he answered. "In fact, the evidence is entirely to the contrary—that our children are happy, well adjusted, well brought up and educated."
I shook my head in disgust as I listened to Gideon. I felt anger welling up inside me and my face felt as if it was on fire.
"Kristina—," Eamonn cut him off and turned to me. "They say members are free to leave the group. Does this comfort you?"
"No it does not!" I exclaimed. "When all their lives David Berg has instilled in them fear of leaving, fear of the System, fear of what will happen to you outside their elite group."
`And will you continue your campaign?"
I looked directly at Rachel and Gideon as I answered, "Yes, I will."
I was determined to continue speaking out, but had just bro-ken up with Bryan and I needed to relax and get my head together from the difficult and drawn out break-up. I also needed some peace and quiet, without the emotional stress of everything that was going on around me, and I arranged to go to Australia with my son to visit Nan and Papa for a few months.
At Sydney airport I spotted Nan and Papa straight away. We were all in tears as we hugged. They still called me Nina and I did not mind a bit; it reminded me of the good times in my childhood. Jordan took to Nan immediately. Being with Nan and Papa again made me feel safe and loved.
I was saddened when I saw all the pictures of us hanging on their wall. It struck me how much it must have hurt them that their only son had abandoned them and how lonely it must be with their grandchildren halfway across the world. I spent many hours telling them about my brothers and sister in England.
The four of us went on many outings to the zoo and parks and the incredible Blue Mountains—and I remembered the air in a jam jar, one of the few amusing stories that Joshua used to tell us. They took us to meet their welcoming friends and relatives. It was good to know they had a wonderful set of friends and family to keep them company. They took an active part in their church community and Nan sang in the choir. While I was there, they asked me if it was okay for their son and his Greek wife to come over. They had been in Sydney for a few months; he was driving a cab to raise funds so that he could go back to the "mission field." I assumed he had been forgiven his "excommunication"—and I wondered if it had ever happened at all.
Joshua greeted me as if nothing had ever happened. He ruffled my hair. "You've grown," he said.
I flinched. Suddenly I felt like I was a little girl again. We all had tea and made polite awkward conversation. Over lunch Joshua complimented me on my toddler and at one point admitted to everyone that he had been very strict with us as children. It was hard for me to hear and say nothing and I felt uncomfortable when he was around my son.
After lunch, while Nan and Joshua's wife were in the kitchen doing the dishes, Joshua came out and sat with me on the porch. We got into a heated debate about Mum. He criticized her for backsliding and running off with his children. I explained that she did what she had to do, and that I thought she was very brave.
"You were wrong and a hypocrite because you were the one who had wanted to split us up," I said.
"I guess I shouldn't have pushed your mum into leaving your dad. I am sorry for that," was all he owned up to.
Our conversation led into a discussion about the "Law of Love" and "One Wife." I told him that those teachings had led to untold abuse and I relayed my childhood memories to him.
"You remember that?" he asked, surprised.
"Of course I do."
He started the usual patter of prepared responses about how the Family was free from the bondage of the System, who wrongly viewed it as abuse. "See, it's not really abuse—," he started to defend himself.
Suddenly there was a roar from inside the house. Papa burst out the back door on to the porch, trying to steady himself with a cane. He had overheard us from his room, where he was in bed resting from a recent hernia operation.
"How could you?" Papa said. "I heard every word!"
He lifted his cane and struck his son on the shoulder with the little strength he had. Nan came running out and Papa told her what he had heard. She looked shocked and I was reminded of that time when she stayed in her bed in India for three days. It must have been very painful for this kindly woman to have suspected what was going on, but not been able to say or do anything.
I jumped up in surprise and concern for Papa. I had never seen him so angry before, much less heard him raise his voice.