In happier times, when Ron Miscavige was getting the attention he wanted, and was lacking for nothing, he rejoiced. On August 28, 1998, when speaking to a reporter, Ron described his younger son: “That’s wonderful, beyond my most treasured dream, that I’m his father. I hope you don’t mind me telling you this, he’s just a wonderful guy… very proud of David. If you actually knew him, he’s a very admirable guy. He’s very intelligent. He works for the good of all.”

Now, Ron is off on his own in the Midwest with a middle-aged wife, her elderly mother, estranged from his daughters and younger son, and no longer living the exciting life of being in a band. So what does he do? Tell stories.

Now, Ron is off on his own in the Midwest with a middle-aged wife, her elderly mother, estranged from his daughters and younger son, and no longer living the exciting life of being in a band. So what does he do? Tell stories. It is difficult to chalk it all up to a mental decline associated with old age. It is easier to believe that Ron lies for money and notoriety—notoriety gained only through exploiting his blood relation to his younger son.

At this point in Ron’s life, he forgets the true story so he can make up a new one. He forgets what he said when he wasn’t trying to make a buck but actually was given a purpose to help others. He forgets what he told the same reporter: “I’ll tell you, Scientology does a lot of good, we get people off drugs, we can teach people how to read and write, we can reform criminals. Boy, these are wild statements, but I’ll tell you guys, we have programs that do it. And I guess you know this, but it happens to be true, that’s the most wonderful thing about it.”

Where Ron once told the truth, now he makes up stories and tells them over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again to anyone he can get to listen if they are likely to give him some perks.

Where Ron once told the truth, now he makes up stories and tells them over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.

One sign of the aging brain, even without dementia, is that people repeat themselves more often, especially when they tell stories. As one ages, there is an inclination, by those who betrayed their families and friends, to try to make sense of what happened and explain away one’s misdeeds in one’s own past. This is when one reflects on what will be his legacy. Retelling stories, especially when one is making up “facts” that were not the case, is all about this process of justification, especially when one cannot confront how this will play into one’s future. It is so sad to see it happen with Ron.

Ron tells false Dickensian tales of his life in the Church’s religious order, too. Ron was not “imprisoned,” he was not “starved,” he had time off, he did not “escape.” Ron drove the car his younger son and daughters gifted him to a new life enabled by his younger son’s gift of $100,000 to buy a home, and on top of that his younger son paid his father’s medical insurance premiums annually.

What kind of a father betrays a son who helped support him throughout his life, by telling stories that falsely portray his son? Ron Miscavige.

What kind of a father betrays a son who helped support him throughout his life, by telling stories that falsely portray his son? Ron Miscavige.

Life now for Ron Miscavige is seeking to score some attention, and to do so at the expense of his daughters and by using the name of his famous son. It is unconscionable that a father would seek to capitalize on the good name and fame of his son by spreading provable lies for cash. Any father exploiting his son in this manner is a sad exercise in betrayal. But no one is surprised, as that, too, is the hallmark of Ron Miscavige. For he is a storyteller full of betrayal.