Cults & Sects

OBOMEDIA ENTERTAINMENT

Sects don't announce themselves with robes or chanting in the dark. They arrive as a folding table outside a gas station, forty tarot cards fanned across a towel, and a woman named Clarity who remembers your birthday before you tell her twice. That image, ordinary and slightly wrong, is where every story about cults in this show actually begins. This is a narrated documentary podcast, no host on mic, no studio banter. Each episode reconstructs one real, complete story about cults and sects from the inside out: court transcripts, property records, old sermon tapes, the neighbor who noticed the vans stopped leaving on Sundays. You get names, dates, the specific motel room where a group's story falls apart. Nothing about these cults is summarized in a paragraph and moved past. We sit in the driveway, in the retreat lobby, in the church basement, until the shape of the thing is fully visible. The subjects range wide but the pattern among these cults repeats: mind control dressed as self-improvement, charismatic leaders who read a room better than they read scripture, communities that promise clarity and deliver isolation. You will hear about a pastor who vanished off Route 9 leaving only ash and a trail of lies nobody wanted to follow. You will hear about a quiet Tennessee retreat where guests stayed long past checkout and long past reason. These are not lectures on cult psychology, they are reconstructed accounts of how ordinary people walked into cults convinced and walked out, if they walked out at all, changed. If you're drawn to the mechanics of belief, the architecture of control, and the very human reasons people hand their lives to a person who says trust me, this show about cults is built for you. New episodes drop weekly. Subscribe, and keep the porch light on for the next one.

  1. 11h ago

    A laminated ID badge toppled Clearpath's founder from grace

    A laminated ID badge in deep snow points to a Victorian recovery house whose routines may crack-how do you fall from that high? A laminated ID badge toppled Clearpath's founder from grace In this episode, we follow how a single object found on frozen Aldermoor Creek led investigators to scrutinize a small-town recovery house and the systems that ran it. The episode traces daily routines, records, and financial moves to ask how institutional authority was built and maintained. Person: Teresa Bauer Location: Fourteen Aldermoor Road, Harwick Falls, Broome County, New York Date: March 14, 2019 (badge discovery); fall 2017 (Clearpath registration); Feb 28-Mar 9, 2019 (log overlap) Role: Founder and Director of Clearpath Recovery House, Inc. Resident: Megan Coleman, court-referred in January 2019 - A laminated ID badge reading TERESA BAUER - CLEARPATH RECOVERY HOUSE - DIRECTOR was found alone on top of fourteen inches of unbroken snow. - Clearpath operated from a converted Victorian at 14 Aldermoor Road, registered in fall 2017 with Teresa listed as founder and director. - Megan Coleman, a twenty-six-year-old county drug-court referral, was assigned routine chores including feeding the house therapy rabbit, Colt, twice daily. - For eleven days (Feb 28-Mar 9, 2019) entries in the rabbit feeding log were written in Teresa Bauer’s handwriting while Megan remained the listed feeder and appeared on a "compliance watch" page. - On March 7, 2019, Dennis Farrell, listed as treasurer and financial co-signer, signed a $4,200 cash withdrawal from Clearpath’s account with the memo "facility supplies" and no receipts attached. To listen to this podcast ad-free and access premium episodes, try our subscription with a 14-day free trial at obomedia.com. © 2026 OBOMEDIA. All rights reserved. This episode and its content (audio, text, and related materials) are the exclusive property of OBOMEDIA and are protected by applicable copyright laws. Reproduction, distribution, editing, or commercial use, in whole or in part, without prior written permission from OBOMEDIA is prohibited. For permissions, licensing, and business inquiries: business@obomedia.com.

    A laminated ID badge toppled Clearpath's founder from grace
  2. 1d ago

    The loose padlocked hatch that sent Diane Bell tumbling from eight feet

    A slightly ajar, padlocked hatch and a mason jar of forty‑seven names tie a newcomer to a communal art residency-how do you fall from that high? The loose padlocked hatch that sent Diane Bell tumbling from eight feet In this episode, we follow how Diane Bell arrived at Meridian Works, the communal residency she joined, and the small discoveries and decisions that started to unravel her stay. What did the jar, the Covenant Document, and a missed midnight call set in motion? Person: Diane Bell Person: Wade Callahan Person: Chad Stroud Date: February 28, 2011 Topic: Meridian Works residency - Diane drove to Meridian Works with two canvases and a thirty‑day trial agreement and signed the Covenant Document restricting individual attribution. - Wade Callahan, 52, framed the collective as “returning authorship to the room” and introduced the Covenant to residents in the communal dining room. - A padlocked hatch on a steam‑pipe housing was slightly ajar; inside a mason jar held forty‑seven folded paper squares, each with a name. - Chad Stroud, a 16‑year‑old delivery worker, climbed eight feet up a utility wall and found the jar while dropping off invoices; Diane had been inside the building when it was found. - Diane’s brother Pete expected a weekly 2 a.m. proof‑of‑life call; it came on Feb 14, then failed to come on Feb 21, prompting Pete to contact reporter Frances Murphy. To listen to this podcast ad-free and access premium episodes, try our subscription with a 14-day free trial at obomedia.com. © 2026 OBOMEDIA. All rights reserved. This episode and its content (audio, text, and related materials) are the exclusive property of OBOMEDIA and are protected by applicable copyright laws. Reproduction, distribution, editing, or commercial use, in whole or in part, without prior written permission from OBOMEDIA is prohibited. For permissions, licensing, and business inquiries: business@obomedia.com.

    The loose padlocked hatch that sent Diane Bell tumbling from eight feet
  3. 2d ago

    A ninety‑minute sleep schedule made him stop writing home

    A man leaves a Tuesday bowling league and moves into a farm compound where a radio host enforces a ninety‑minute sleep schedule and bans letters home. A ninety‑minute sleep schedule made him stop writing home In this episode, we follow the path from a small‑town bowling alley to a closed residential compound organized around a late‑night radio host. We trace how sleep rules, finances, and identity control created a system that kept members isolated and why families were left waiting for replies that never came. Person: Richard Andrews Date: March 4, 2002 Location: Millgate Farm; Calverton Lanes Person: Michael Voss (recorded name), Dennis Pruett (logbook name) Event: discovery of a lockbox with 214 unsent letters on January 14, 2011 - Richard Andrews stopped appearing in the Calverton Lanes attendance log after March 4, 2002, and soon moved to the Millgate Farm compound. - The compound enforced a rotating sleep schedule in ninety‑minute blocks, limiting members to no more than four consecutive hours of sleep. - The compound’s administrator, Donna Fitch, tracked sleep rotations and finances and served as the primary point of contact for members. - The radio show The Anchor Hour, hosted on WKRL after midnight, drew listeners who were awake at odd hours and became a recruitment channel for the compound. - A WKRL personnel logbook entry showed the radio host known as Michael Voss had the legal name Dennis Pruett and a prior fraud conviction under that name. To listen to this podcast ad-free and access premium episodes, try our subscription with a 14-day free trial at obomedia.com. © 2026 OBOMEDIA. All rights reserved. This episode and its content (audio, text, and related materials) are the exclusive property of OBOMEDIA and are protected by applicable copyright laws. Reproduction, distribution, editing, or commercial use, in whole or in part, without prior written permission from OBOMEDIA is prohibited. For permissions, licensing, and business inquiries: business@obomedia.com.

    A ninety‑minute sleep schedule made him stop writing home
  4. 3d ago

    A 1991 diploma printed on post-2001 paper toppled her career

    A community director built a learning haven on a doctorate. A lineman found a shed that unraveled it all. How do you fall from that high with the credential at the center? A 1991 diploma printed on post-2001 paper toppled her career In this episode we follow the discovery that pulled back the curtains on Millhaven Learning Center and the people who lived there. We track the paperwork, daily routines, and the paper trail that raised one central question: what happens when the credential that legitimizes a leader is impossible? Person: Carol Barnes, PhD, Director of Learning Location: Millhaven Learning Center, Crestfield County, Tennessee Event: Discovery of eleven children's report cards in an unheated shed Date: December 9, 2011 (power-line repair at 7:14 a.m.) Document: Doctorate diploma dated 1991 printed on post-2001 paper - A TVA lineman, Cheryl Dalton, cut a padlock during an ice-storm repair and found report cards nailed in rows inside a shed that wasn't listed as occupied. - Millhaven registered as a homeschool cooperative in 2003 with filings signed by Carol Barnes listing a doctorate from Harwick University, Ohio. - For eight years county filings and annual compliance reports bearing Barnes's signature and degree were accepted without a single outside visit or audit. - Families lived in a shared-trust structure controlled financially by Barnes; at peak roughly thirty-one adults and children resided and learned at Millhaven. - Resident Dean Price kept a handwritten journal of rotating early-morning "voluntary reflection" sessions and made a weekly fourteen-mile trip to his brother's house, where he maintained outside contact. To listen to this podcast ad-free and access premium episodes, try our subscription with a 14-day free trial at obomedia.com. © 2026 OBOMEDIA. All rights reserved. This episode and its content (audio, text, and related materials) are the exclusive property of OBOMEDIA and are protected by applicable copyright laws. Reproduction, distribution, editing, or commercial use, in whole or in part, without prior written permission from OBOMEDIA is prohibited. For permissions, licensing, and business inquiries: business@obomedia.com.

    A 1991 diploma printed on post-2001 paper toppled her career
  5. 4d ago

    The ledger Kimberly buried under the floor toppled his empire

    A hidden ledger surfaces on a Pelican Wharf life ring, threatening the man who built it; how do you fall from that high? The ledger Kimberly buried under the floor toppled his empire In this episode, we follow how a zip-lock bag on a life ring and a second ledger buried under a cannery floor set in motion an investigation into the Tide Cooperative. The story traces who joined the coop, what promises were made, and the small decisions that allowed a deception to grow - and asks who put the ledger where they knew it would be found. Person: Sarah Holt Person: Leon Long Person: Kimberly Wilson Location: Slip Seven Cannery, Pelican Wharf Road, Harrow Point Date: November 9, 2011 - A runner finds a zip-lock bag taped to a life ring at Piling Four containing twenty-two pages of handwritten financial records. - The life ring is stamped with the registration for Slip Seven Cannery, and the pages are dry and deliberately ordered. - The Tide Cooperative operated from a converted cannery with twenty-two members living and working under a five-year covenant called the Tide Cooperative. - Leon Long presented himself as a former union representative and cannery manager, but port records show a 1997 dismissal for misappropriation and no union affiliation. - Kimberly Wilson, an accountant recruited after repeated encounters on the Harbor Loop Trail, was assigned fish weights instead of accounting - a decision that concealed the one skill that would expose the coop. To listen to this podcast ad-free and access premium episodes, try our subscription with a 14-day free trial at obomedia.com. © 2026 OBOMEDIA. All rights reserved. This episode and its content (audio, text, and related materials) are the exclusive property of OBOMEDIA and are protected by applicable copyright laws. Reproduction, distribution, editing, or commercial use, in whole or in part, without prior written permission from OBOMEDIA is prohibited. For permissions, licensing, and business inquiries: business@obomedia.com.

    The ledger Kimberly buried under the floor toppled his empire
  6. 5d ago

    The photocopied Leiden transcript that taught him to convince forty-four people

    A man with a photocopied Leiden transcript builds a language and convinces forty‑four people to abandon English - how does that happen? The photocopied Leiden transcript that taught him to convince forty-four people In this episode, we recount how a copied university transcript helped a newcomer assemble a secluded language community and the choices that bound strangers together. What methods and rules transformed curiosity about linguistics into a strict everyday system? Person: Roger Kowalski Location: Harlan Creek compound, unincorporated Orvane County near Dellwick Date: October 19, 2011 Event: Forty-four members absent; compound found with settings laid and one child's shoe Topic: Creation and enforcement of the constructed language Aethon - Kowalski arrived in 2007 carrying a photocopy of a University of Leiden doctoral transcript and presented himself as a linguist. - He recruited people with language interests, promising a complete phonology, grammar, and a living speech community called Aethon. - The immersion threshold required thirty days of learning, then exclusive use of Aethon in communal spaces; English became “the old noise.” - Infractions were logged by Tom Seidel in a composition notebook with 1,140 entries; punishments included reduced sleep, food rationing, and isolation. - Bev Marsh enforced punishments and controlled food and sleep schedules, turning ledger entries into tangible penalties. To listen to this podcast ad-free and access premium episodes, try our subscription with a 14-day free trial at obomedia.com. © 2026 OBOMEDIA. All rights reserved. This episode and its content (audio, text, and related materials) are the exclusive property of OBOMEDIA and are protected by applicable copyright laws. Reproduction, distribution, editing, or commercial use, in whole or in part, without prior written permission from OBOMEDIA is prohibited. For permissions, licensing, and business inquiries: business@obomedia.com.

    The photocopied Leiden transcript that taught him to convince forty-four people
  7. 6d ago

    The pre-labeled eleven-slot grid waited - then filled, and she vanished

    An Ohio art teacher enters a troupe meeting, finds a grid nailed to a storage-unit wall - then she disappears. Where is she? The pre-labeled eleven-slot grid waited - then filled, and she vanished In this episode, we trace how a familiar routine-Tuesday coffee and wheat toast-was interrupted when Gina McCarthy joined a local ensemble and then stopped returning to her life. We outline the group's structure, membership timeline, and the discovery that the group's identity system existed before its members, raising the question: what happens when a role replaces a person? Person: Gina McCarthy Location: Harwick, Ohio Event: Joined Meridian Players September 2007; ceased attending Arlo's Diner Organization: Meridian Players, founded 2005 by Jerry O'Brien Evidence: Eleven-slot laminated headshot grid pre-labeled by role in a storage unit leased 2005 - Gina was a long-time middle-school art teacher, fifty-four, recently divorced, whose Tuesday diner routine stopped in September 2007. - Jerry O'Brien recruited members into the Meridian Players, charging $400/month "role fees" and assigning in-life character roles called The Role. - O'Brien claimed a BFA from the Cincinnati Conservatory (class of 2001); later checks found no enrollment record and a true degree in marketing. - The storage unit lease dated 2005 held an eleven-slot headshot grid pre-labeled by role names, with two slots left blank until filled later. - Sandra Voss joined in 2006, later refused her birth name and was recorded as Jane Doe at intake, illustrating how role adoption affected members' self-identification. To listen to this podcast ad-free and access premium episodes, try our subscription with a 14-day free trial at obomedia.com. © 2026 OBOMEDIA. All rights reserved. This episode and its content (audio, text, and related materials) are the exclusive property of OBOMEDIA and are protected by applicable copyright laws. Reproduction, distribution, editing, or commercial use, in whole or in part, without prior written permission from OBOMEDIA is prohibited. For permissions, licensing, and business inquiries: business@obomedia.com.

    The pre-labeled eleven-slot grid waited - then filled, and she vanished
  8. Sep 8

    A zip-tied binder facing the trail pushed a camp to collapse

    A zip-tied binder labeled "RENEWAL CIRCLE FINANCIAL RECORD" sits by a gated camp trail - who on the other side of the fence found it? A zip-tied binder facing the trail pushed a camp to collapse In this episode, we follow the sequence of discoveries and decisions that led investigators and a local reporter toward a converted summer camp called Hollow Pines and the Renewal Circle that occupied it. We outline how recruitment, paperwork, and conflicting ledgers set up a deeper mystery about money, control, and a single exit that broke the group's silence. What happened inside that fence, and who chose to leave evidence where a dog would find it? Person: Kelly Chambers Location: Hollow Pines, Garner County Date: August 3, 2019 Amount: $214,000 Topic: Renewal Circle financial and recruitment practices - A woman walking a trail stopped because her dog found a three-ring binder zip-tied to a sapling outside the camp fence. - Kelly Chambers presented herself in a uniform, drove a branded van, used a clipboard, and recruited people as a supposed nutritional-supplement contractor. - Members handed over money totaling figures that appear in two different ledgers kept in the same handwriting. - A former member photocopied internal financial pages showing $214,000 and passed them to reporter Sherry Smith, who verified discrepancies with public records. - Letters from member Harvey Carter were reviewed and approved by Chambers before mailing, and his last notes differed in voice from his earlier correspondence. To listen to this podcast ad-free and access premium episodes, try our subscription with a 14-day free trial at obomedia.com. © 2026 OBOMEDIA. All rights reserved. This episode and its content (audio, text, and related materials) are the exclusive property of OBOMEDIA and are protected by applicable copyright laws. Reproduction, distribution, editing, or commercial use, in whole or in part, without prior written permission from OBOMEDIA is prohibited. For permissions, licensing, and business inquiries: business@obomedia.com.

    A zip-tied binder facing the trail pushed a camp to collapse

About

Sects don't announce themselves with robes or chanting in the dark. They arrive as a folding table outside a gas station, forty tarot cards fanned across a towel, and a woman named Clarity who remembers your birthday before you tell her twice. That image, ordinary and slightly wrong, is where every story about cults in this show actually begins. This is a narrated documentary podcast, no host on mic, no studio banter. Each episode reconstructs one real, complete story about cults and sects from the inside out: court transcripts, property records, old sermon tapes, the neighbor who noticed the vans stopped leaving on Sundays. You get names, dates, the specific motel room where a group's story falls apart. Nothing about these cults is summarized in a paragraph and moved past. We sit in the driveway, in the retreat lobby, in the church basement, until the shape of the thing is fully visible. The subjects range wide but the pattern among these cults repeats: mind control dressed as self-improvement, charismatic leaders who read a room better than they read scripture, communities that promise clarity and deliver isolation. You will hear about a pastor who vanished off Route 9 leaving only ash and a trail of lies nobody wanted to follow. You will hear about a quiet Tennessee retreat where guests stayed long past checkout and long past reason. These are not lectures on cult psychology, they are reconstructed accounts of how ordinary people walked into cults convinced and walked out, if they walked out at all, changed. If you're drawn to the mechanics of belief, the architecture of control, and the very human reasons people hand their lives to a person who says trust me, this show about cults is built for you. New episodes drop weekly. Subscribe, and keep the porch light on for the next one.