By DOUGLAS FRANTZ
Leaving her home
in Boston one morning early this month, Therese Minton was shocked to
find her husband's photograph on fliers stuck to cars and trees in their
Beacon Hill neighborhood. Beneath the photo was text that began: "The
face of religious bigotry. Your neighbor Bob Minton is not all that
he seems."
A few nights later,
as children arrived for the birthday party of one of the Mintons' two
young daughters, three Scientologists picketed quietly outside the home,
handing out the same flier.
And the same night
of his daughter's party, Minton was among about 40 anti-Scientologists
marching in front of the church's spiritual headquarters in Clearwater,
Fla., to mark the second anniversary of a Scientologist's death, for
which the protesters blamed the church.
These are among
the latest skirmishes in an escalating war between the Church of Scientology
and Robert S. Minton Jr., a retired investment banker, who has spent
$1.25 million to finance some of the church's most outspoken critics.
Minton became a dedicated foe of the church after learning of what he
considered its heavy-handed efforts to silence the critics.
The battleground
in this conflict is varied, running from the streets of Boston and Clearwater
to the Internet, and its oratory is a clear illustration of the fervor
on both sides.
In addition to
the fliers, the church has private investigators digging through Minton's
past, and Minton says he suspects that two men he saw following his
school-age daughters twice in October were church operatives, though
he says he has no proof.
"I realize
that these are the tactics that this church uses to try to intimidate
people it can't control," Minton said. "They do intimidate
me. I'm not a total fool. But I'm not going to walk away either."
Church officials
vehemently denied authorizing anyone to follow Minton's children and
said that he made up those incidents to get press attention. But they
acknowledged picketing his house and using private investigators to
examine his background. They said both steps were legal and necessary.
"Sometimes
it requires aggressive litigation and investigation to uncover the depths
of the nefarious plots that have been attempted to destroy Scientology,"
said Michael J. Rinder, a director of the Church of Scientology International.
Rinder and other
church officials questioned Minton's motives and contended that his
actions and those of the people he is helping constitute hate crimes
that would not be tolerated against another religion.
"The people
that we know of whom Minton has funded have expressed their intentions
to destroy the Church of Scientology, not merely to 'criticize,"'
Rinder said. "If he wants to fund it, fine. He will have to live
with the bigotry he foments and be accountable for the harm he enables
to occur."
In a letter to
Minton last month, a church lawyer demanded that he stop financing opponents
of Scientology and warned that his actions had "crossed the threshold
of legality."
After consulting
his own lawyers, Minton said he was told that he had done nothing illegal.
He said he remained determined to continue his financial campaign.
Minton seems an
unlikely participant in this battle over the nature and practices of
Scientology. He retired in 1992, at age 46, after earning a fortune
trading in the debts of Third World countries. He and his wife had planned
a quiet life with their two daughters. He is an assistant Little League
coach and is active in raising money for his daughters' private school.
Minton said he
had never heard of Scientology until the spring of 1995 when he learned
of the church's activities through the Internet. Although he said he
did not question Scientology's beliefs, he said he objected to its treatment
of some members and its efforts to silence critics on the Internet.
"The more
I learned about the Church of Scientology," he said, "the
more I couldn't believe that this organization existed in the United
States."
What Minton said
particularly struck him as excessive was a series of court-authorized
raids by church lawyers and U.S. marshals on private homes in 1995.
Computers and related material were confiscated from former Scientologists
who had published high-level church scriptures on the Internet. The
raids were part of copyright-infringement suits filed by the church
against the former members.
Though Scientology
disseminates much of its voluminous scripture to the public, certain
high-level documents describing its religious techniques are copyrighted
and protected by extensive security. The church won a $2,500 judgment
against one person whose home was raided and preliminary injunctions
to stop publication in the other cases.
Scientologists
believe that people live many lifetimes and accumulate many traumas.
They believe that counseling courses, known as auditing, can clear away
those old traumas and help Scientologists lead more productive lives.
Church members often pay substantial fees for the sessions, which has
generated debate about the church's mission.
In the spring of
1996, Minton posted a $360,000 reward on the Internet for information
leading to the revocation of the tax exemption that Scientology received
in 1993 after a two-year inquiry by the Internal Revenue Service determined
that it was a bona fide church. The reward expired unclaimed that fall,
but by then Minton was committed.
"He's a man
of principle and a very tenacious person," said Robert P. Smith,
a Boston financier, who worked with Minton on many business deals.
Over the objections
of his wife and former business associates, Minton decided to finance
some of the most vocal and persistent opponents of Scientology. He lent
$440,000 to a former Scientologist who has been trying for a decade
to collect a civil judgment he won against the church. Minton and his
wife bought a $260,000 house on an island in Puget Sound and provided
it to two former Scientologists who are persistent critics of the church.
Some recipients
of Minton's largesse operate Internet Web sites that are fiercely, and
sometimes profanely, opposed to Scientology. Church officials say that
some of those people have advocated violence against Scientologists.
But the payment
that seems to have angered Scientology officials and lawyers most is
the $100,000 that Minton gave recently to Kennan Dandar, a lawyer in
Tampa, Fla., who represents the family of Lisa McPherson in a wrongful-death
civil lawsuit against Scientology.
Ms. McPherson's
death two years ago after a 17-day stay under the care of Scientologists
in a church-owned hotel in Clearwater has become a rallying point for
church critics. It was her death that Minton and others marked with
their protest march earlier this month, and he was among several participants
whose neighborhoods had been posted with leaflets. The local prosecutor
is expected to decide in the coming weeks whether anyone will be charged
in connection with the death.
Minton, who said
he promised to provide another $250,000 for the McPherson case, if necessary,
said the money was intended to level the playing field between Dandar,
who runs a small law practice with his brother, and the church, which
has hired a small army of lawyers.
The judge in the
McPherson case said Scientology's lawyers were permitted to explore
the motivation for the financing of the case. The church's lawyers said
Minton's role taints the litigation by substituting Minton's agenda
for that of the McPherson estate.
"This is no
longer a case about Lisa McPherson," said Laura L. Vaughan, a church
lawyer. "It is an improper attempt to put the entire religion on
trial."
Dandar said that
he contacted the Florida Bar Association before accepting the $100,000
and was told it was permissible as long as the family approved it and
Minton did not control any aspect of the case. An ethics officer with
the bar group said in an interview that Dandar's interpretation was
correct.
But church officials
see Minton as the latest in a long line of people who have unfairly
attacked Scientology since its creation in 1954.
J. Gordon Melton,
director of the Institute for the Study of American Religion, an independent
research group in Santa Barbara, Calif., said Scientology had probably
received the most persistent criticism of any church in America in recent
years. But he said the Scientologists bear some of the responsibility.
"They don't
get mad, they get even," Melton said. "They turn critics into
enemies and enemies into dedicated warriors for a lifetime."