My Brother, Mike Rinder

First, for those who have asked, my family and I are safe in LA, thank you.

This week, I will have more to say about the horrific fires in LA and how people can join me in helping.

---

It has been one week since my brother-by-choice, Mike Rinder, passed away, and in my message last week, I promised I would share more when I had a chance to collect my thoughts.

I was still in Scientology when I made the decision to call Mike Rinder to find out the truth about his escape and the lies I had been told my whole life in Scientology.

At the time, I only knew Mike as a high-ranking member of the Sea Organization under David Miscavige.

As a civilian Scientologist, I had seen him countless times on TV representing Scientology, and I was accustomed to standing and applauding whenever he appeared on stage at Scientology events.

Standing up and applauding when he entered wasn’t a choice but a required gesture of respect for senior executives like Mike Rinder—an absurd gesture knowing now what I know.

It was only after I left Scientology that standing up and applauding was required of all civilian Scientologists, all while Mike Rinder and a handful of top Scientology executives were being held captive at Scientology’s international base in Riverside County, California, where they were subjected to extreme physical and emotional abuse daily.

The prison they were held in was known as “the Hole.”

It wasn’t until years later that I came to understand the depth of the pain and abuse Mike endured as a child born into a life of Scientology, and later at the hands of David Miscavige and under his direction.

I had no idea that Mike was often subjected to brutal mental and physical abuse mere hours before being ordered out of “the Hole.”

He would be instructed to shower, put on his Sea Organization uniform, and stand before the public as the familiar face delivering the fiction—the falsehoods written by Miscavige about himself.

Mike stood there, not as the man he truly was, but as a tool of a cruel system, all while quietly enduring unimaginable suffering. Mike did what he did—good and bad—because he was raised in a system that made him and others believe he was doing the greatest good for mankind.

He accepted the abuse because, at a very young age, like all Scientologists and especially Sea Organization members, he was taught that the abuse he suffered was his own doing.

Mike’s mother, father, brother, and older children all abandoned Mike for their cult.

Mike rarely spoke of his pain, but when I asked him why he still lived in Florida, he said he had hoped his older children, Taryn and Benjamin, would find their way out, and Mike wanted to be close in case they ever escaped.

Mike was about family—a quality not taught to Mike by example.

The last flowers Mike sent to me in December 2024, thanking me for my visit, read, “Family is everything.” And although I wasn’t blood, I was lucky enough to be considered by Mike as family.

Looking back, I feel such sorrow that the times I stood for Mike Rinder were only because I had to. Now, knowing what he endured, it feels like the smallest, most inadequate gesture of respect for a man who deserved that respect and so much more.

In 2013, I didn’t yet know how Mike had escaped his abusers and what he and others had endured. I knew almost nothing about him beyond what Scientology had told me, but even that limited knowledge made the act of calling him terrifying. I knew I was breaking Scientology law, committing a High Crime by speaking to someone they labeled an “enemy.” At that time, I wasn’t even publicly out of Scientology (another High Crime), and Mike Rinder was considered David Miscavige’s Enemy Number One.

But all the fear, the indoctrination, the years of being trained to hate and destroy those who left Scientology—it all dissolved the moment Mike answered the phone. The first words he said to me were, “Hello, sweetheart, how are you holding up?”

In that instant, my armor shattered, and I burst into tears. I allowed myself to be vulnerable in a way I never had before and have rarely been since. But with Mike, I felt safe. I have never felt safer than when I was by Mike’s side.

I suspect I never will again.

Mike listened to me for hours. He answered every question I had about the “church” I had been raised in, confirmed the lies I had been told, and embraced me wholeheartedly. He gave me clarity, but more than that, he showed me compassion—something I hadn’t even realized I was so desperate for. What struck me most was that this compassion, this humanity, was so innately a part of Mike. It wasn’t taught to him by Scientology or his parents, nor was it shown to him in his life of abuse within Scientology. It was simply Mike—the person Scientology couldn’t destroy.

When Mike escaped Scientology, he said he left with only the shirt on his back. But what Mike took with him was the man he always was—a man of enormous strength, dignity, compassion, and love.

He was a man of honor and an unwavering sense of duty.

It was this deep well of goodness and strength that allowed Mike not only to escape a lifetime of unimaginable abuse but to dedicate himself to helping others from the moment he left. Day in and day out, Mike gave of himself in ways that defy words. He used his own pain to bring healing to others, to shine a light on the darkness he had endured, and to fight for those who didn’t feel strong enough to use their own voice. He was and is the epitome of strength.

Those phone calls marked the beginning of my journey to freedom, and it was Mike Rinder’s kindness that gave me the strength to take the first step out of Scientology.

There were many calls that Mike took from me. He was patient, he was kind, and he never told me I had to leave Scientology. It was the unconditional love Mike showed me that gave me the strength to finally leave Scientology publicly.

I sat and watched as Mike bravely exposed Scientology, all the while he and his family were viciously stalked and harassed by Scientology—all for speaking the truth. And even after I left, I told Mike I felt weak for doing nothing with my voice, which he and others had already been using for years. And he told me not to worry about doing anything but to take care of myself and my family. He didn’t judge me for not immediately speaking out or for not joining him.

There has been no one who suffered more than Mike Rinder, both in and out of Scientology. And yet Mike continued to do the work despite it all. He continued to help those who left Scientology—even those who stabbed him in the back.

To former Scientologists who hurt Mike, spoke out against him with lies, and launched campaigns against him—he expected that from Scientology and Scientologists, but not from you.

You broke his heart, and for you now to feign tears while posting tributes for Mike and his family, I say this: Go and f*** yourselves.

I will never forgive you for what you did to Mike and his family.

To my dying day, I will tell you all to go and f*** yourselves. I will not speak your names—you do not deserve it—but know what I think of you and will forever think of you.

I am sorry to say to the ex-community that there is no one left who was a senior, high-ranking Sea Organization member who knows more about David Miscavige and the inner workings of Scientology than Mike Rinder.

Some of you worked very hard to take him down. What you have done is simply tried to make names for yourselves, make money for yourselves, while Mike was simply doing the work morning, noon, and night. He didn’t do it for money, for fame, or for clicks—he did it because he felt a deep need to right the wrongs he was responsible for and right the wrongs he was not responsible for.

Regardless of your self-serving narratives, Mike did the work, mostly never being paid for it.

You caused immense pain for this man and his family. If you ever want to show an ounce of remorse, you will publicly apologize to Christie and Mike’s family with as much feeling as you so callously attacked Mike. For me, you can do nothing to be right by me, but Mike’s wife and family deserve your apologies.

If not for Mike, your stories would have fallen on deaf ears.

Christie, I watched you dote on your love, Mike, refusing to leave his side. I was honored to witness your love. You are a beacon of strength for Mike and your boys, and it’s evident why Mike loved you so much.

Claire Headley, you are heaven-sent. You traveled to and from your home to Florida to do whatever was needed. You flew to Los Angeles to fetch me so I wouldn’t have to travel alone to see Mike. You did this on your 50th birthday. It was only fitting that, in the end, it was Christie, you, and me with Mike.

Amy Scobee, the sweetest sister-wife in our circle—you and Mat can never be thanked enough for what you’ve done and continue to do. There is no one we could have left Christie and her boys with other than you and Mat.

Christie, thank you for allowing me to be with you and Claire in Mike’s final hours. Although it was the hardest experience of my life, I am honored that you had me there to hold Mike’s hand one last time to say goodbye.

In Mike’s final post, he shared that his biggest regret was not getting to see his son Jack grow into adulthood. He had hoped to live until Jack was 20 and to see the end of Scientology’s abuses—especially disconnection, which affects so many families, including his own. I hope we honor Mike by doing everything we can to carry the torch he so bravely lit.

Mike’s final wish was for people to consider donating to Jack’s college fund, something he didn’t get to do.

If you would like to join me in contributing to Jack’s fund, you can donate here: https://bit.ly/40945pE

Let us not forget what Mike has done.

There was not a call Mike didn’t take, an email he didn’t respond to for someone who needed him. There was not a lawsuit he wasn’t willing to help with, a case he wasn’t willing to assist on—for free. Mike met with every agency he could, turned over every document—several times. Mike would meet and talk to anyone if he thought it would help end the criminal organization that is Scientology.

And when I asked Mike to do The Aftermath with me, all I told him was that it was to be a documentary series to expose Scientology. I said I didn’t exactly know what it would be or how much he would be paid. He cut me off and said, “If it helps, I’m in—and I don’t care about the money.” And the same was true for our podcast.

Mike didn’t care about titles or money. He cared about the work, despite the cost to his own well-being and peace.

I was lucky enough to work side by side with Mike for three seasons of Scientology and the Aftermath.Without Mike, this important documentary series would not have been made. I couldn’t have done it without him. There were many days when I wanted to walk away, and Mike reminded me of the importance of the work we were doing daily. I was also lucky enough to do our podcast together.

And every episode opened with Mike’s beautiful smile and his “Hello, Lee Lee.” That he will never say those words to me again is an unbearable thought.

Mike allowed me to do the most important work of my life. He was my strength when I very often had none.

Mike was my friend, my trusted confidant, my best friend, my partner in crime, and a man who showed me what true courage and humanity look like. His loss is immeasurable. Yet his legacy—of truth, compassion, and unwavering resilience—will live on in the countless lives he touched, including mine, my family’s, and my daughter Sofia’s. I will forever be grateful to have known him, and I will miss him deeply for the rest of my life. Mike is truly one of a kind.

The universe just got it wrong taking him from us.

My heart will be forever broken.

I will miss you until my dying day.

Rest now, my brave Mikey. You deserve peace.

Love you always,

Your Lee Lee.