A Day in the life of Raniere, sleep all day, f— all night – with a little litigation strategy in betweeen

When I worked at NXIVM, I well remember that members of Keith Raniere’s harem would weep about the injustices they felt Keith was enduring – such purity and goodness so misunderstood.

They had mystical interpretations: that some world-shaking consequence was sure to come out his suffering: since Raniere was the equal of Buddha or Christ, his pain a Crucifixion.

While this weeping and gnashing of teeth was going on, Raniere would hide from the public and most to the NXIVM students who paid for the classes based on his teachings.

While he allowed his harem to think he was suffering [he might even die from the grief], his nights were spent having sex with one or more of the women, playing volleyball, or gathering several together to sing harmony [A Capella] under his direction.

During the day he would sleep, then get up to consult with harem women, Kristin Keeffe, on what tricks he would make her pull in the litigation so they could keep their lawsuits alive and punishing enemies.

Keeffe was the mother of his son.  Few knew this then. Raniere told his inner circle harem to tell the general class of NXIVM students that the child was adopted, that no one knew who the father was and that the mother died during childbirth – even though Keeffe was the mother and the boy’s caretaker and Raniere was the father who never let his son call him ‘dad.’

[Keeffe fled later with her son and is presently in hiding from Raniere.]

After arising late and meeting with Keeffe on legal attack strategy to wage against his enemies, he would meet with Clare Bronfman and load up some great ethical teachings onthe heiress and maybe on some other women.

Then he might take a walk over to Nancy Salzman’s house where she would cook him dinner and wait on him.

Next he would decide what woman or women he would bed that night.  Whether he would stay home and sleep with two that lived with him – Mariana Fernandez, an illegal alien, a Mexican beauty, and/or Pam Cafritz, an aging, but slavish devotee who served as his wing women procuring new females –  or whether he would go a-calling on any one of a dozen women who would drop everything if Raniere chose to bed them that night.

Perhaps he espied some new lovely  – he might be grooming her – [or Pam would] for a magical night.

He told the women that whichever one he chose was the one who was growing the most spiritually, so, as it was a sacrifice for him to sleep with the lady, it was a sign of her high honor and privilege.

When I knew him, Raniere did not work. He’d sleep by day and play by night and thank goodness or the devil whatever power it is that he had the Bronfman money for the whole thing would have fallen apart without it.

 

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Artist’s conception: Keith Raniere working in the daytime on matters of great ethical concern.

 

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