I got sucked into a cult... it drove me to the edge
‘CHURCH’ HEAPED PRAISE ON AUTISTIC MAN AND CONTROLLED HIS LIFE – INCLUDING HIS RELATIONSHIP – UNTIL HE BROKE FREE. NOW HE HAS MADE IT HIS MISSION TO HELP OTHERS
A MAN with autism has described how he was ‘sucked into’ a cult which controlled every aspect of his life.
Richard Turner, 38, believed cult leaders were ‘prophets of God’ until he managed to break free. He’s now using his experience to help other victims – studying at Salford University to become one of the UK’s only ‘exit counsellors.’
Richard, from Cheshire, was persuaded to donate part of his wages to the cult, which banned him from kissing and having sex with a girlfriend and assigned him an ‘accountability partner’ to snoop on him.
Taken in by the group’s ‘hipster’ image, Richard says he was lured in with ‘love bombing’ – where members ‘buttered him up’ with praise.
“Like a lot of autistic people, I had been on the receiving end of bullying in high school and my self-esteem was quite low, so I responded very well to the love bombing,” he said. “But a lot of autistic people also have a strong sense of justice, of right and wrong, and in the end that overrode the cult rules.”
Despite still dealing with the mental fallout from his ordeal, he has now completed a Masters degree in the psychology of coercive control at Salford University – the only such course in the country.
And he has made it his mission to help others whose lives have been destroyed by cults.
He said: “I didn’t want anyone to go through what I did. I didn’t want anyone to feel so isolated. I wanted to become a person they could talk to – which was someone I didn’t have.”
Richard first came across the cult back in 2013, when he was looking for a job working with victims of human trafficking. What he at first thought was a “hipster church” working in this field turned out to be a fringe sect.
Despite having a gut feeling that all was not well during his first church event, he was dazzled by the razzamatazz – with lights, music and the rockstar-style charisma of the speakers.
He said: “You go in and it’s dead loud, you can feel the music vibrate, they’re trying to make you feel good – to get you to have a good time.
“You come away from the services and you’re sky-high because you’ve been singing for an hour. You think, ‘Because I feel so good, it must be God. God must be here, so it must be OK and it must be safe.’
“Looking back, it was almost like being hypnotised.
“And while you’re feeling like that, they’re asking you for money. So, you’re not even on your guard.”
Earning just £13,000 a year at this point managing a hostel for the victims of people trafficking, Richard was persuaded to give more than he was able to. He would sometimes give up to 35 per cent of his salary to the cult, which he says was controlling every aspect of his life.
Alarm bells finally rang when cult leaders began interfering with his relationship with a fellow member. He finally started questioning the way things were run.
At this point, three years had passed and Richard’s mental health had gone on a downward spiral.
Other members in the cult turned against him, treating him as if he was ‘mad’ for questioning the leadership.
“At this point, my mind was getting really scrambled, because I was being treated as if I’d gone mad but it was them that was causing the situation,” he said.
But instead of quitting, Richard was desperate to claw back the love and respect he felt when he first joined the cult, and started devoting himself even more – donating more money and moving into shared accommodation with other members to demonstrate his commitment.
He said: “Despite all this, I was being isolated. You can imagine my state of mind at this point. Earlier on I’d thought these leaders were prophets, that they heard from God, so when they started turning on me, I thought there was something wrong with me that everyone else could see and I couldn’t. “They really drove me to the edge.” Later that year, 2016, Richard had an emotional breakdown. He left his job on sick leave and moved back in with his parents Phil, 67, a hospital chaplain and Ruth 65, in Widnes – the town where he was brought up.
Thankfully, with support from his family, Richard approached his old counselling teacher for help.
As he began to heal, he realised he had been the victim of a controlling cult.
When he later saw a report on TV into the coercive methods of the group he had been involved with, he broke down in tears when he finally saw that he was not alone.
“All of a sudden there was national recognition for my trauma. The power of that was unreal,” he said.
He now counsels individuals who have managed to escape cults, as well as families of people who are still involved with sects, wanting advice on how to get through to them.
Despite his bravery, Richard fears his own mental trauma as a result of his ordeal may haunt him until his dying day. He said: “I’m not 100 per cent sure if I’ll ever fully recover.”
If you think someone you know has been affected by a cult, visit The International Cultic Studies Association’s website for resources and guidance at www.icsahome.com