by Karen Jonson
Something clicked. I left her office feeling lighter, strong, and more positive. Although I had spent so many years being deceived by truly wicked people, my life was now in my hands and I could make what I wanted of it. I knew one thing for sure: I would never again allow any other mere mortal to tell me anything about God. I had heard everything I ever wanted to hear on the subject. And I no longer believed in “saints.” I now only believed in a God-energy of some sort that didn’t require any intermediary to commune with it.
As I pulled into the garage of my new apartment, I experienced something extraordinary. In that instant, I sensed the power of God. I felt the energy as the dominant force in the universe. I was completely connected to that energy, and realized I had never truly been disconnected from the “God-force” in the first place. I now knew that, in the past, I had only failed to make the simple connection that was always there. It was like how, in The Wizard of Oz, Dorothy always wanted to go home—not realizing she already was home.
I think people in the ashram thought the moment of God realization would be something magical and beyond description, a metaphysical celebration that would mark their entrance into the divine realm forever—and something that would only happen after extreme devotion to a guru. But it wasn’t that at all. It was not an overwhelming bolt of bliss that knocked me to the ground, or some euphoric high that opened up my vision to God’s uncountable forms, as they exist in the divine realm. It was the most natural, simple, and quiet experience imaginable. Yet it was incredibly powerful—a private nod of acknowledgement from the divine existence to me and me back to it. That small gesture put me in a state of peace about my relationship to the divine for good.
The funny thing is that during my fifteen years in the ashram I never observed a single person who seemed to have achieved the ever-elusive “God realization” that the gurus wagged before us like a carrot on a stick—always out of reach. Now that I had actually experienced God realization, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that my connection with God was never not there.
Telling us that we had to “achieve” it was a clever ruse to perpetrate a spiritual con game. Everything we were told to do in the ashram to find God was just irrelevant busy work. All the hours of chanting, drumming, cymbal playing, video watching, darshan sitting, seva work, going to India—every last bit of it was just the gurus’ way of keeping the masses occupied—too busy to see their lives of luxury, decadence, and non-spiritual behavior.
What’s more, not only were we kept busy and out of their hair, but our devotional activities were also an important part of their con game—we provided the smokescreen. People saw our hours of devotion and worship, and assumed the gurus were as devotional as their devotees. It was a trick, a sleight of hand that had served them well for six decades.
After struggling for a decade and a half in the ashram and always feeling like a spiritual failure, all it took was a single solitary moment—not to “find” God, but to realize I’d never lost him or her or it in the first place. I had finally experienced samadhi, connection to my higher consciousness.
The Hindu theory of non-duality suggests you cannot experience anything without also experiencing its opposite. As the Lankavatara Sutra scripture states: “Light and shade, long and short, black and white can only be experienced in relation to each other: Light is not independent of shade, nor black of white. There are no opposites, only relationships.”
Similarly, I could not have experienced the divine without first experiencing pure evil.
91
Witness for the Prosecution
Nothing But the Truth
ONE OF OUR EX-DEVOTEE NETWORK’S first victories was to help to keep Prakash out of Barsana Dham.
After he received his passport in exchange for the $10 million promissory note in May 2008, Prakash had stayed out of the U.S. for three months. But when he returned to Austin in August, he wanted back into his ashram, despite the agreement he had made with Hays County. In the meantime, he was staying in a devotee’s home two miles west of the ashram.
His lawyers had requested a hearing on August 20th to seek permission for him to return to Barsana Dham. I immediately emailed our network and asked everyone to send emails of protest to the district attorney. Our number one concern was for all of the children who visited the temple for Sunday services, celebrations, and family camps. In my email, I included links to online videos of two families staring into the camera and explaining why they loved going to Barsana Dham. To a normal, non-cult person, these videos looked creepy—like the parents were completely brainwashed and the children were forced to go along for the ride. These were Barsana Dham’s own videos posted on YouTube—and they would work against them.
I later learned our comments made a huge impression on the DA, especially when she realized how many people were supporting the girls. Our emails strengthened her resolve to keep Prakash out of Barsana Dham, but she worried about what defense his lawyers would bring to the judge to sway him.
The day before the hearing, I talked to Kate about our email campaign. While we were on the phone, she emailed the DA to make her own request, and received an immediate response: “I will do my best to keep him out, but they will likely have several witnesses. And I don’t have any.”
I said to Kate: “Send her my name and phone number right now.”
Two minutes later, my home phone rang. “I have to go Kate. The call is coming from the Hays County courthouse.”
It was Cathy Compton, the district attorney. She asked me if I would come down to the courthouse the next day to be a witness at Prakash’s hearing. She wanted to meet two hours before the hearing. I agreed and was prepared to tell her whatever I knew.
The next morning, I was a nervous wreck as I drove south on Interstate 35 from Austin to San Marcos. Everyone in our ex-devotee network had sent me emails of support the night before, but I was still terrified at the thought of sitting on the witness stand in front of Prakash and his devotees.
Cathy asked me many questions about my life in the ashram, how I got there, and why I left. She was particularly interested in a letter I had with me—the one I had sent to Prabhakari just four days before I moved out of the ashram. It was clear evidence that I had left Barsana Dham under good circumstances and was not kicked out by them for any reason. She also wanted to know what life in the ashram was like, what Prakash did when he was there, how often he left for India, and how the place functioned when he was gone.
Cathy was a tiny woman, but had a huge personality and a heavy southern accent. Right away, I sensed the brilliance. “Defense lawyers often think I’m just some little country bumpkin,” she laughed. “I like it when they do, because that throws them off guard. They’re not prepared when I go on the attack.”
The court’s victim’s advocate, Allison, came to check on us. “I just want to warn you that their side of the courtroom is completely filled with their people.”
At this news, I burst into tears. The thought of being alone in front of that mass of die-hard Prakash worshipers overwhelmed me. Cathy stood in front of me, looking at me intently. “When you are on that stand, just look at me. Don’t look at them, okay?”
I looked her in the eye and said: “I trust you.”
Then she left for the courtroom. The plan was to keep me sequestered until she needed me on the witness stand. I stayed in her small office pacing the floor. I tried to gather strength by thinking of the girls who would one day face Prakash and the devotees with their stories of sexual abuse. I wanted to do the best job possible for their sake.
Finally, Allison came to get me. She took my hand and led me into the courtroom. She was protective as she guided me around the phalanx of devotees, all facing the judge’s bench. Just as we were about to walk up the center isle toward the witness stand, Cathy came rushing up to us and said, “It’s done. The judge denied their request.” She told Allison: “Take her to the corner so she doesn’t have to mingle as their people leave the courtroo
m.”
I sat in a chair in the back of the courtroom with Allison and her muscular husband, a Hays county police officer, sitting beside me. She even stood up at one point to block the devotees’ view of me. I have never felt so protected in my life. I took refuge in their protection, relaxing because I did not have to take center stage on the witness stand. And we got the win anyway.
I barely looked at the devotees, not wanting to make eye contact with any of them. I noticed a few familiar faces here and there. They looked confused and shocked by the outcome of the hearing. I’m sure they thought their great and powerful guru would successfully get whatever he wanted from a mere worldly judge.
When most of the devotees had left the courtroom, Cathy and the head DA, Sherri Tibbe, came over and thanked me. Cathy said, “The information you shared with me before the hearing helped me effectively cross-examine their witnesses. They tried to say he was needed in the ashram to run things. But I pointed out that he’s often not present and things run just find without him. Right after I called you as a witness, Judge Ramsay said ‘Motion denied,’ then stood up and left the room.”
I was happy and relieved. The victory for our side felt wonderful. Maybe Prakash wasn’t in jail yet, but at least he could not return to the kingdom were he molested young girls.
As we were talking, Prabhakari walked out of the room, pushing the door open with disgust. Sherri said to Cathy, “There she goes.”
I said, “Yeah, she’s leaving in a huff.” They laughed.
Then she walked back into the room, her back ramrod straight and faced pinched. She marched over to the table where Prakash and the lawyers had been sitting and grabbed a handful of papers. Then she repeated her huffy exit from the room. We all laughed again.
When we returned to Cathy’s office, she dashed off a note to the girls. “Great news! The judge denied their motion. Prakash cannot return to the ashram. Karen wanted me to tell you Prabhakari walked out of the courtroom in a huff—twice.”
I was elated as I drove home. Kate called as I was driving up Highway I-35, I happily told her every detail—including how brilliant Cathy Compton had been.
“You girls have an incredible woman in your corner,” I said.
92
Appealing to a Higher Power
The Guru Can’t Take No for an Answer
PRAKASH’S ATTEMPT TO GET BACK INTO Barsana Dham did not end with his denial in the Hays County courtroom that August—he tried again and again over the next fifteen months.
I’m sure it was both a personal indignity and a public relations nightmare for him not to be able to enter his own ashram. After all, he led his followers to believe he was a form of God incarnate with powers that included dominion over the mundane world. But now he could not even step one foot onto the ashram property. This was a problem he clearly hoped to remedy as soon as possible. Nancy, my friend, told me that Heather had said the case was going to be resolved very soon because Prakash was “taking it all the way to the Supreme Court.”
Unless she meant the U.S. Supreme Court, my guess is Heather mixed up the names of the highest state court to which Prakash would be allowed to appeal. For criminal cases, the highest appellate court in Texas is called the Texas Court of Appeals. But Prakash’s lawyers could not simply go straight to the top. They had to follow standard procedure, which required them to make their request to the county court a second time. However, to do this, they needed to bring something new to the bench—which they did, in the form of a creative motion.
Almost immediately following the first hearing, Prakash’s lawyers filed a new motion containing a writ of habeas corpus. A habeas corpus is a summons addressed to the judge, asking him or her to determine if a state's detention of a prisoner is valid. Although this seemed irrelevant to Prakash’s situation (after all, he was not being kept in a place, he was being kept out of a place), his lawyers were able to use it as an excuse to obtain a second hearing, which was all they wanted.
It was obvious his lawyers knew their motion would be denied. What they were really after was access to the Texas Third Court of Appeals, which does not allow just any case through its doors. But one type it will hear is a habeas corpus case. As if on cue, at the next hearing on December 2nd, Judge Ramsay delivered a judgment of nunc pro tunc (Latin meaning “now for then”). In general, a court ruling of nunc pro tunc applies retroactively to correct or uphold an earlier ruling. In this case, it meant the earlier decision of the Hays County Court would hold. In other words, Prakash’s new motion was denied.
The next day, on December 3rd, Prakash’s lawyers notified the Hays County Court that it was filing a writ of habeas corpus with the Texas Third Court of Appeals. On December 15th, Prakash’s lawyers filed the case.
In Prakash’s fifty-five-page appellant brief, his lawyers cited the following issue: “Continued imposition of bond conditions which prevent appellant from residing in his home, leading religious ceremonies, and ministering to his congregation, constitutes a violation of appellant’s rights under the first, eighth, and fourteenth amendments to the Constitution of the United States.” Basically, they were playing the “freedom of religion” card—and playing it hard.
Several months later, in May 2009, the Appeals Court heard his case. The Hays County attorney made several compelling arguments, basically, stating that the defendant’s appeal should be dismissed for want of jurisdiction, because Appellant’s appeal is essentially an appeal of an interlocutory pretrial order and a “court of appeals does not have jurisdiction to review interlocutory orders.” An interlocutory order means an interim order rendered in the midst of trial proceedings, which have not yet received a final judgment.
On 24 June 2009, the Texas Third Court of Appeals denied Prakash’s bid to gain entry into his ashram: “There is no allegation that [the guru] did not understand the agreed conditions of his bond or that [his] acceptance of those conditions was involuntary.”
In the Third Court’s judgment document, I particularly liked a comment made by Chief Justice of the Texas Court of Appeals, J. Woodfin Jones: “Appellant’s inability to return to Barsana Dham was no less a hindrance to his ability to practice his religion or associate with his followers in May than it was in August, or than it is today.” It was refreshing to know there were people who saw right through his con game.
Prakash’s team had one final option: the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals. But on 17 November 2009, the court declined to even hear his case, and upheld the decision of the Texas Third Court of Appeals, which had upheld the decision of the Hays County Court.
Finally, Prakash was out of appeals and had to give up on returning to Barsana Dham before his trial. The only way he would be free to once again reign over his kingdom was if he were found innocent at this criminal trial. If he was found guilty, he would be an accused sex offender and likely to be taken to a new, less luxurious home—jail.
Prakash left Austin two days later. Apparently, he had been scheduled to stay a bit longer, because an insider emailed me after I told him about the Court of Criminal Appeals decision: “Probably that was the reason for his early departure to India this morning!”
Prakash did not return to the U.S. again until early October 2010—over ten months later.
93
Publication Day
The Power of the Press
I BOTH CRAVED AND DREADED READING Eric’s articles in the Austin American-Statesman.
I wanted the public to know the true nature of the Hindu temple sitting behind an eight-foot high fence, fifteen miles southwest of Austin, Texas. But I was also afraid of being identified as someone once involved with such a despicable place.
Four months after my first contact with Eric, the articles were published in a two-day weekend exposé on the 28th and 29th of September 2008. Both appeared on the front page. The first article, on Saturday, was about the sexual allegations. It was titled: “Women Say Temple Guru Made Sexual Advances.” In order to keep us anonymous, Eric had c
reated a system of numbering each of the five women he interviewed.
Suzy was Woman No. 1. She only had experiences with Prakash:
“Woman No. 1 who spoke to the Statesman said she started following Prakashanand in the late 1980s after hearing him speak at a meeting in California. ‘It was mesmerizing,’ the woman, who at the time was married, recalled. ‘I was enamored of him.’ She relocated to Austin after the land for the new ashram was purchased, and, she said, soon began a physical relationship with Prakashanand - a development she did not discourage and, until hearing of the Hays County charges filed against him based on the experience of the two girls, did not regret. ‘It was just his nature to charm women,’ said the woman, who has since left the ashram and lives on the East Coast. She said their activities never progressed past kissing and fondling, and occurred about 15 times.”
Kathi was Woman No. 2. She had one limited encounter with Prakash, but several more intimate experiences with Kripalu:
“The former TM follower, No. 2, said she was willingly intimate with Kripalu in India, where all devotees are encouraged to visit. In the evenings, she recalled, the guru would retire to his bedroom and put on his sleeping clothes. Devotees - mostly women, she said - waited outside. After some time, Kripalu would open the door for several minutes while everyone yelled and cheered.
“Once, after he closed his door, the woman recalled, a preacher approached her and said Kripalu wanted to see her in his room. When the woman asked what would happen, the preacher told her only to ‘be open to this; it will be like being with your husband,’ the woman remembered. She was told to cut her fingernails, not wear jewelry and bathe well.
