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I only spend an hour reading the journal before I tuck it under my arm and jog down the stairs, straight to my car. I plug the address into the GPS and then I'm on my way, music blaring, calming my nerves and steadying me, despite the exhaustion I know I should feel. I've slept less in the last three days than I usually do in a single night. And yet I'm wired. Determined. I couldn't sleep now if I wanted to, not before I get to Evie. It's the only thing that assures me I won't fall asleep at the wheel. The music helps, too, and I turn the volume up.

It's a playlist that Evie made, one she sent to me that felt personal, but that I now realize is public. It has more than 45,000 subscribers on Spotify. Still, I have to admit that it's good. The kind of thing we both loved, indie folk music that mostly sounds like a compilation of sounds used in TikTok videos. I imagine the low, moody tunes being dubbed over videos of people saying goodbye to their elderly dogs or visiting their lonely grandparents in nursing homes, the kind of videos that always seem to pop up on my phone at one a.m. when I'm feeling my most vulnerable.

"There's a kind of relief in sad songs," Evie said to me once when we were listening to a particularly gut-wrenching cover of Patty Griffin's "Rain," one of our favorites. "No one needs an explanation. Everyone knows why you're crying, what you're feeling. How you got there. You don't need to give a play-by-play."

She was maybe fifteen at the time, and I had nodded at what she said, agreeing with her, feeling the truth of it. It was only later that I wondered if she was really saying was something like: No one would understand if I told them the things I'm really sad about. No one would understand. I comforted myself with the thought that everyone feels that way at fifteen. Right?

Still, the music doesn't quite fit this place, as I get closer and closer to Joshua Tree National Park. Not on a day like today, with a sky so blue that it looks like something you can dip into or scoop out. It's a perfect day, really. Not too hot. Zero clouds. A cool breeze, and a bright, piercing sunlight. I could understand choosing this particular place to convince people that the world outside their phone is better.

My GPS interrupts my thoughts by loudly announcing that I'm supposed to take a right and continue on for one hundred more miles. I look over the steering wheel and am comforted by the familiar absence of green. It looks so much like the long, terra-cotta-colored stretches of desert that Evie and I had driven through together before, talking about nothing the whole way. I wonder if Evie turned down this road a few weeks ago, if she looked out over the landscape and had the same thought I'm having now, that it looks like another planet here. The moon. Mars. A place to disappear into anonymity, to blend into the quiet.

Episode 125: "The Cult-ish Influencer Society That No One Is Talking About" |Darker: A True Crime Podcast

September 25, 2022

Kira James:Finally, we are giving the people what they want…

August Cho:A CULT EPISODE!

Kira:You've got it. This week we're talking about a cult—well, actually, no. Alleged cult. Rumored cult. Cult-ish…cult. Whatever. The fact of the matter is that they've never confirmed or denied any of this, so we're just sourcing rumors, theories, and information from the deep dark corners of the internet so you can get all the important information as you drive to work or fold laundry or, you know, whatever it is you do when you're listening to us.

August:It's a weird job, but someone's gotta do it.

Kira:And we're happy to, right? Right. So today, we are talking about ReBrand…part possible multi-level marketing scheme, part supposed off-grid community, lots of culty behavior…all-around mystery.

August:Can you believe that I hadn't even heard of this until you briefed me on what you were doing for this week's episode?

Kira:Actually, yes, I can totally believe that, because not that many people are talking about ReBrand at all—not the bigger company behind the MLM stuff, anyway. You can find rumors about it online if you dig, or if you know who to ask, but apparently they are very, very good about making real stories about them disappear, which is why I haven't previewed this episode anywhere yet. I wasn't risking getting an episode this juicy killed before we'd even put it out in the world. Plus, more importantly, maybe this could help someone out there steer clear of these people. In other words, they're not shutting us up anytime soon.

August:One thing about cults—they hate when people call them a cult.

Kira:Every time.

August:So. Kira. Tell us how this non-cult cult works, exactly.

Kira:Okay, yes. Let's get into it. But before I dive in, I want you all to know that I have been looking into this for months. I had to find anonymous sources and scour the weirdest places online for these interviews. And, of course, I will not be revealing anyone's identity who doesn't want to be exposed, but just know that I really, truly fell down a rabbit hole here. Once I started researching…I couldn't stop.

August:It's true, folks, she really went off the rails for a bit there. It was equal parts impressive and terrifying. Full Sherlock Holmes mode.

Kira:I agree. I got to some really weird places, personally. I wasn't sleeping. I started speaking in the Keith Morrison voice all the time. But I digress. Let's talk about what we know for sure right now…as in, what is recorded fact somewhere.

August:Let's do it.

Kira:So, ReBrand, LLC, is a company registered in California. It is listed as an influencer and marketing agency. Pretty standard stuff. Their website is very bare-bones. Just a completely stark white background with the RB logo and a place to submit your email address to learn more. You can email them and everything, ask to be considered to join the team. But their standards are both high and mysterious.

August:Ah, so that one time I convinced two of my followers to watch three consecutive seasons of Sister Wives would…not make me an appealing client?

Kira:I am sorry to report that no, I don't think it would.

August:So, wait. Who's making these decisions? Who's running the whole thing?

Kira:That's one of the many mysterious aspects of ReBrand. Even the creators I interviewed—we'll get to them in a minute—were hesitant to name names when it came to the founder. Their identity is a well-kept secret.

August:Creepy.

Kira:Very. But anyway, those creators? Each of them had more than 150,000 followers—and basically the same story about applying to ReBrand, more or less.

August:Tell me, tell me, tell me!

Kira:They were told that they would have to offer an up-front commitment. Basically, collateral. If the creators didn't make X amount of money or get Y amount of deals in a certain period of time, then they'd forfeit the up-front cash. It's rumored that they promised this cash would go toward charities, good causes, but it's impossible to trace it all, of course.

August:Wow, that's…kind of fucked-up?

Kira:It is. But based on what I've learned, ReBrand is very good at making it seem like you need them and not the other way around…at least for that level of influencer.

August:Now, Kira, what do you mean by level?

Kira:Well, according to their very mysterious Tier System…

August:Oh, my God. I swear we need some kind of party foghorn sound that goes off anytime we do an episode on a cult and there's a hierarchy involved. It's like when you're at a club and it's someone's turn to do birthday shots every twelve minutes.

Kira:Wait. You club?

August:What can I say? I was a different person once.

Kira:Wow. You heard it here first. But, okay. Back to the ReBrand Tier System. So, bottom tier is minor influencers. But minor to them is like…a quarter of a million followers. You pay a flat fee to start working with ReBrand. They take that money.

August:Hmm…methinks a pyramid scheme is about to emerge…

Kira:You're not totally wrong. So there are two ways to sort of prove yourself to ReBrand after that. One, you get enough partnerships to hit a certain threshold. We're talking very big money. Almost impossible standards, but from what the creators I talked to said, they make it seem like with them, you'll hit those standards easily. No problem. And if you don't, well, there's another way to earn your keep: recruitment.

August:God, what I would give to read a SABI newsletter about this thing…

Kira:I know, right?

August:But, okay. Back to the fucked-up-ness of it all. Let me guess: They can't recruit just anyone? Because of that whole exclusivity thing…

Kira:Exactly. It has to be people in the levels above them…each group is more and more popular, more and more famous. One source told me that she was childhood friends with a mega-influencer. We're talking followers in the millions. Apparently, the source's contract was coming to an end and their manager brought it up to them—suggested that they recruit this old friend. That it would mean this person wouldn't lose their up-front financial commitment. Thousands of dollars. When the source wasn't sure what to do, the manager suggested blackmail. Gave them a whole booklet of things to use against this creator, their old friend.

August:Oh, God. Is that legal?

Kira:Maybe. Because the thing is the contracts. People seem to get so enamored by the exclusivity, the mysterious nature of everything, that they sign without even knowing what they're getting into. They sign away any ability to push back. There are NDAs included in it all, of course.

August:Okay, so…what about the higher levels? What's in it for them, exactly? Are they actually earning money?

Kira:That's where things get really weird. Really, really weird. You'd think that when it comes to those ultra-VIP clients, they'd just want money, right? More clout…more deals, whatever. But according to one source who managed to get out—escape, if you will—from their contract with ReBrand, it's so much more complicated than that.

August:Sorry, did you say escape?

Kira:I did. The thing is that if the buy-in for the lowest-tier influencers was cold hard cash, then the buy-in for the Top Tier targets—that's what they call them by the way, targets—is something much bigger.

August:Oh, God. What could they possibly want from them other than money?

Kira:Well, according to this source…everything. Your whole identity.