Anderson Cooper: “Guys, I appreciate you talking again. Thank you very much.” 

Anti-Scientology apostates (more or less in unison): “Thank you, Anderson. Thank you.”

Thus Anderson Cooper closed out his series on the Church of Scientology, and thus his apostates bid him farewell. In contrast to the anchorman’s steely-eyed interrogation of Church officials, Cooper’s last exchange with this self-proclaimed posse of tough guys is strangely intimate, almost touching. He wears blue jeans. He listens to their woes with sympathetically furrowed brow. He carefully prefaces every question with a first name: 

“Marty, why didn’t you...?” or “Jeff, why would...”

And they respond in kind: “You know, Anderson, you asked about...”

There is even a gentle nod to an apostate heard in absentia and he is simply “Mike.”

As you wish, Anderson...only this time it’s the full story and
the whole truth.

So, yes, Anderson has come to believe in his “guys” and they, in turn, believe in Anderson. 

But what’s absolutely unbelievable is that Cooper thinks he can get away with this hogwash and pull off what even the greatest hucksters in history failed to accomplish, i.e., fool all the people all the time. 

So in the immortal words of Cooper himself, let’s start “keeping ‘em honest” by presenting his Posse of Apostates as they truly are: 

Marty Rathbun, a former external affairs officer, removed from authority within the Church seven years ago for gross malfeasance and violent behavior.  To be sure, he is a self-proclaimed psychotic with a long history of violence.  He committed 50 separate acts of assault against co-workers.  He is also potentially homicidal and, in fact, nearly killed a man with his fists.  That he models himself after an ax-wielding lunatic from a Stephen King horror story is likewise a matter of record, and he is not joking when announcing his appearance with a trademark “Heeeeere’s Marty!”

Mike Rinder, another erstwhile external affairs officer removed from post for gross malfeasance and unstable behavior.  But the real clue to his character lies in the fact he was Rathbun’s pet punching bag.  Indeed, the two men worked together on numerous occasions and their relationship was frequently tinged with what can only be described as sadomasochistic impulses. That Rinder now refers to Rathbun as his “best good buddy” is yet another strange twist in this story. 

Tom DeVocht, a former Church construction manager and still another with a proclivity for violence.  (He especially enjoyed wrestling Rinder to the ground.)  By his own admission, he is also an unrepentant liar and, in fact, is proud of it. Indeed, there is nothing wrong with lying for financial gain, he boasts, so long as “you don’t get caught.” 

Amy Scobee. She is another dismissed from any position of authority within the Church years earlier—specifically for sexual misconduct. When she failed to curb her libidinous behavior, she was ultimately expelled. 

Jeff Hawkins, a former Church copywriter who claims to have left Scientology to avoid an overseas transfer—possibly to Australia, possibly South Africa.  In fact, however, the transfer was a figment of his own imagination, and he actually left when his own sordid misconduct came to light.  He is also a member of a cyberterrorist organization known as Anonymous that remains under federal investigation for hate crimes against the Church of Scientology—with two of its members already prosecuted, convicted and sentenced to prison for said hate crimes. 

Steve Hall, a former Church scriptwriter with a dismal production record.  He currently serves as “webmaster” for the Posse and ekes out a living scooping doggie droppings from suburban lawns.  He is further known within the Posse for apparently creating the universe (not necessarily in seven days) and claims he was previously both Jesus and the Buddha (not necessarily in that order).  

Although not formally on the CNN payroll, all above-mentioned names purportedly enjoyed free airfare, free lodging, free meals and limousine service to and from Manhattan.  After all, the moment AC360 sat them in front of a camera, these people were no longer merely violent, delusional and deviant; they were suddenly CNN sources. 

They were by no means, however, media stars and even their allotted fifteen minutes of fame proved ephemeral. 

Viz: Between Cooper’s introduction of the Posse on a Monday and his sweet adieu on Friday, a full third of the AC360 audience had already tuned out, and no wonder what with critical reviews like this one: 

“Honestly, this is getting tiresome...”

Followed by: 

“Somebody please wake me up when this is over...”

After which it was: 

“Anderson, you jackass!”

There was a lot more about the Posse itself—how Rathbun looked like he was in “extreme turmoil,” how the rest of them “sounded like a broken record” and how it felt “like an episode of Judge Judy except without the judging bit.” 

But let us now replay the record and scrutinize the evidence in light of what Cooper himself kept exhorting through those five dreary nights, i.e., that we must make up our own minds and judge for ourselves.

To which we now reply:  As you wish, Anderson...only this time it’s the full story and the whole truth.