By
Heidi Hutchinson
Gina’s death and a bit of background
“The Journal”
Gina knew Keith Alan Raniere for just shy of 20 years — from sometime in 1983 until sometime between October 7 – 11, 2002; within days of her death.



We were luckier than most. The Pipino family on our Mom’s side had a “farm” — 240 acres in Clifton Park, NY.
We called it “the land.” It had woods and relatives’ homes, where we could retreat, thank God, from the brownstone Italian ghetto with a Virgin Mary statue peering out nearly every nook and cranny.
We’d moved temporarily into our Grandmother’s house in Cohoes from Provo, Utah, in 1982, planning to build in Clifton Park on our Mom’s share of the land.
Our parents were in a protracted, on-again, off-again marital break-up. Our Mom worked as a museum curator and made Christmas crafts with her sister for our Aunt’s doll shop in Saratoga.
I stayed at college in Provo, at Brigham Young University, and was home for the holidays in Cohoes in 1984. I was fresh from a semester in Washington, D.C., where I worked on the Reagan-Bush campaign for college credit.

October 11, 2002

It had been raining for days. The creek bank was muddy and full of soggy fallen leaves. The water flowed brick red anyway; there was no discernible blood around her lifeless corpse.
The downpour was so heavy that the German Shepherds on the canine unit didn’t pick up Gina’s scent for hours after someone from the Monastery reported seeing an abandoned car the night before.
The automobile description matched a missing persons dispatch from Clifton Park. Gina had been missing for over a week.
Before her death, she spent some nights in Clifton Park, NY motel rooms. The clerk remembered she was waiting to switch to a final room with a jacuzzi hot tub she’d requested when it came available.
Even the clerk remarked how skinny she and her friends, other young women who’d visited her room, were. But the last guest was a man Gina had spent her last night with. I believe that man was Keith Alan Raniere.



Our Clifton Park relatives Gina was living with made at least one of the missing person reports. They were concerned Gina hadn’t checked in with them. Nor was she answering their calls. It wasn’t like her to just disappear.

Gina’s body was light and stiff to the touch when the sheriff’s deputies turned her over. They said her face was “beautiful” — wholly intact and preserved — and she looked like me. I dared not even glance at those photos from the scene. They said her eyes — Gina’s big, bright, so sincere, baby blue eyes — were open. I had a mutual friend, Serena, who’d flown in from Utah, identify the lifeless likeness as “Gina Rose Hutchinson.”
There were two long, single-barrel shotguns near the body.
I think a single shot was fired from only one. The deadly bullet sped through the roof of Gina’s mouth, ripping a 1/4 inch hole through her skull and her up-turned hoodie. It was surmised that she’d leaned her head over the top of the gun barrel – its butt wedged on the granite beneath — fixed her mouth over the tip, reached down, and yanked the trigger.
Gina’s naked back and shoulders were photographed just before the autopsy. I saw those pictures. She bore tattoos — some new — of intricate Buddhist symbols. The centerpiece was a large lotus blossom on a moon cushion that sat at the small of her back.
Her fast-growing, usually long, silvery-dark hair was sheared and bleached-blonde. It was blood to burnt orange around the jagged edges of the exit wound — I caught an accidental glimpse — like the setting of the black hole sun
The police noted a pack of gum in one of her jean pockets and a Buddhist medallion in another.
The autopsy revealed there were no drugs of any kind in her system. She was in optimal health.
They mentioned her lungs were in “perfect” condition.
The examiners were looking for signs of drug abuse, because someone had written: “Speed Kills” on a “clue” from her car. No one I know ever recalled seeing Gina use any “speed.”
Sure, she smoked her share of weed in the day, but “speed kills” — those words were sticking in my mind — words on that damn, eerie chart on a notebook in the car.

And she was never so thin before — nowhere close. Gina had a mesomorphic frame, still sturdy at her lightest weight. Now, she was down to skin and bones with little muscle tissue. …Speed, what? “SPEED…KILLS.”
Not Gina’s handwriting, except for the words in gold she’d decorated the edges of the chart with.
“Descent” was the other word that stuck. But what did any of it mean?

Gina’s blue Toyota was parked on a dirt road across a nearby field, what was described as a sort of “shrine.”
In her car was a Buddhist Mala or prayer beads draped over a black journal — propped on the dashboard.
Under the visor on the passenger side was a torn photograph of me, Gina, and my ex-husband, Jeff Apple. My image was ripped off and placed beside Jeff and Gina’s intact images. It fell out in my lap in two pieces when I flipped the visor down to check my makeup in daylight on the way to the funeral days after Gina’s friend, Serena, and I retrieved the car from a police impound down in Woodstock. Guess they hadn’t checked the visor.
I was stunned, knowing she instantly, or whoever had left that photo, left it for me to find.

I habitually checked my makeup in “daylight” the second I got in the car those days. It was a “Cosmo” tip Gina always teased me about, along with my insecurities about my looks sans face paint.
I don’t know what it meant that the picture was torn like that, either. But it hit me hard. It never occurred to me that she was maybe jealous of my marriage.
She had been an influence in our first separation in 1999, which eventually became a divorce in 2004, two years after the picture fell in my lap.
After Gina was out of the picture altogether.
Gina had a bunch of brand new, size “2” and “0” clothes stuffed in the car’s trunk. I guess she was undecided about going through with any plans on wearing them anywhere.
Some DVD cassettes were labeled in Sanskrit-style cursive, marked: “Samayatara” in the glove compartment. One cassette had “Samayatara” written on one side, with “Dakini Cut…Spooky Truth” on the other.
It was her “cut” or edit pass on a Buddhist documentary we shot in India and China a few months before. Another cassette was labeled “Samaya Noir.” That one has an hour’s worth of spooky, dark-negative, static-filled images.
There was only one text message on her cell phone — from “mud flower.” I gasped aloud when I read it. I’d sent it to her days before, and I don’t know why I said, “mud flower.”
I thought she’d like it.
“Lotus Blossom” was taken. She hadn’t been talking to me much for months. Maybe she’d be alive if I hadn’t said “mud flower,” if it hadn’t rained, if I’d said “sun flower” instead.
She might have waited for a sunny day. She might have lived through the whole dreary Upstate NY winter, at least until I could go see her that Christmas.
I’ve wondered if she wasn’t already dead when I’d sent the text. That’s why she couldn’t erase it, as she apparently had all the others?
The “shrine-like” cover of the black journal was a quizzical “chart” that was not in her handwriting. The chart had been slid under the notebook’s clear, plastic front cover. It had a computer-generated date stamp on it that read: 2002.
Gina’s handwriting was on the chart in that same Sanskrit hand she used when she was “channeling”, the alter-ego Keith Raniere conveyed on her, “Samayatara.” Samayatara’s writing was an elegant cursive. The gold ink spelled out: “DREAMS.”

The journal recounts some of Gina’s thoughts, dreams, and actual encounters with her “friends.”
Gina had “worked” for all Keith’s entities as a gopher, computer programmer, and graphic designer. She also did a fair amount of hacking and cyber-stalking for Keith.

Keith had trained us both in sales early on using Neuro-linguistic programming sales methods.
But Gina never quite cut it as a salesperson or recruiter. She was not a manipulative person. Not in the slightest. She cherished her freedom and independence too much to deny another theirs. Still, she longed for a soulmate. The “chart” seems to analyze that proposition as a paradox.

I was pretty good at sales, but never worked for Keith. I never succumbed to Keith’s mandatory “hiring” policy of having sex with him. Gratefully, I almost always had other gainful employment between Keith’s frequent “get-rich” and other offers.
Whenever Keith came onto me, Gina reacted as if she were mortally wounded. I called Keith out on that a few times over the years — how it seemed he deliberately tried to hurt Gina with his obvious lusting after me while convincing Gina she was “special.”
But it never dissuaded him. Not like the swift kick in the balls, I had to lay on him once when he tried to rape me while I was sleeping.
Some of Gina’s “shrine” journal entries from her death site suggest Keith was experimenting on Gina from 1997 to 1999, while what would become “NXIVM” was under development.
I was also recruited at that time and unwittingly participated in those experiments.
Gina was officially back in school at SUNY Albany studying Humanities those years. Some of her schoolwork and class schedules are recorded in the journal.
In it, Gina describes being awoken late in the night. Gina sensed it was “some strange entity” as she described Keith, “looking in on her.” She wrote dreamy accounts of “Keith touching her to energize her,” of how he showed her disturbing “Picasso films,” one entitled “DREAMS.”

Keith also set Gina up on “safe” dates with a gay NXIVM gentleman, “Joe,” who claimed Gina was “Simon du Beauvoir” in one of her past lives while dirty dancing with her.
That entry was in ’98, about three years before she died as “Samayatara.”
The journal also recounts arguments about Keith that upset Gina’s non-NXIVM friends and relatives, about her subtle recruitment into “the business.”
Gina notes how Keith sent her on field trips to local Indian Ashrams, about the “profound effect Keith had on her life” and how during these experiments, Gina developed suicidal ideation, along with a deepening belief that she was, in fact, the living reincarnate embodiment of the Buddhist Earth Goddess, “Samayatara.”

My first recollection of Keith was seeing his hiney stuffed through Gina’s bedroom window over Christmas break 1984. Gina was in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin over her half-naked body. I believe she was 14 but may have been 15, I’m not sure which, as her birthday is January 8 and I can’t say for certain it was Christmas Eve.
I only remember the Christmas lights were blinking — creating a strobe effect on Keith’s plumber’s crack — and me making a snarky remark about how Santa Clause normally uses the chimney, not the window.
Of course, we also had front and back doors for normal human entry.
For me, the immediate issue wasn’t about age — maybe because Keith had a chubby, boyish face and pudgy, elfin stature. Even for years after that, it seemed like Keith and Gina were closer in age than the actual 9-year difference. I was more shocked that Gina agreed to give up her virginity before marriage. And with Keith “sneaking in” like that, I thought maybe he’d raped her — not only statutorily, but must have forced himself on her.
We were brought up Mormon in our domineering Dad’s household when he was there — which was less and less each year since we moved from Utah to Mom’s childhood home in Cohoes, NY. We were planning to build a house in Clifton Park on the Pipino family land Mom stood to inherit some portion of.
Our Dad left for good in 1988, but he ruled the roost until then. Mom was lenient, but a traditional Roman Catholic girl — pious, saintly, and chaste. Virgin brides still placed white roses at the feet of the Virgin Mary statue in Catholic Church wedding ceremonies. A symbol of the bride’s “purity.”
Omitting this ritual from the ceremony meant shame to the bride and her family. Non-virgin Mormon brides and grooms were denied a prized “temple wedding” ceremony. Everyone knew what THAT meant, too. Gina had long vowed to save herself for marriage.
Gina defended Keith and confided he had “talked” her into the sex. He told her that she was a reincarnate Buddhist Goddess born to be his consort, while he was none other than the very God she was born to “consort” with. It was a pure, holy union in somebody’s — Bruce Lee’s, I supposed — religion. Keith assured me that they’d already exchanged eternal vows. In their past life.
It was a persuasive argument Keith conjured up just for Gina. Gina was already intrigued with all things Asian and Martial Arts. She had a major crush on Bruce Lee, wore our brothers’ Judo robes, punched the air with spins and kicks, and had a prized pair of numb chucks she could do stunning tricks with.
Her Asia-Fantasia began with a career military uncle of ours, a bomb detonator, who’d done tours in Vietnam and all over Asia.
Uncle J.C. fascinated us with mind-bending tales of martial arts masters who could snap telephone poles with their mind power alone. He practiced Transcendental Meditation and recited Zen.
Uncle J.C. had an arsenal of U.S., German and Japanese official military weapons, photography equipment, survival and “spy” gear, a year’s supply of dried food, and stacks of Mother Earth News. He prepared us for the apocalypse by showing us how to make a meal of a live mouse by scooping it up with one hand, while gently thumb-stroking its belly until it was subdued.
Then slicing open its innards with his thumb nail and popping them into his mouth. He was so cool.

Keith bequeathed Gina with a book titled “Sky Dancer,” about this Buddhist consort cum Goddess. There aren’t many female deities in Buddhism. This was a rare reincarnation find or “recognition.” Keith calculated the astronomically rare probability once, I think. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. Gina believed.
Gina carried a tattered, marked copy of “Skydancer” around with her everywhere for years as a teenager into her 20’s. She had it memorized, recited, and pondered on it constantly.
She found all the monasteries around, including the most ornate one, K.T.D., where she was a regular visitor. She studied other books on Samayatara and Tibetan Buddhism. She discussed her findings and queries with her Buddhist God-mentor, Keith Raniere.
They secretly consummated their eternal vows often.
Keith assured our family that he and Gina would legally marry once she was old enough to leave home. He’d made some career out of his 3 R.P.I. degrees and general genius-ness he, now notoriously, boasted of. Though only I knew Gina wouldn’t be putting any flowers at the feet of the Virgin or having a Mormon temple ceremony.
Didn’t stop me or some of Gina’s Mormon friends from trying to convert Keith to Mormonism.

[…] Heidi Hutchinson wrote about her sister: […]
The women who believe in Raniere, who believe he is innocent, has anyone ever shared any of this information with them?
There are actual news articles many of which predate the Frank report with research and interviews that have been out there for years. Do you honestly not know about any of this? You always comment like you’re such an authority on all things surrounding this cult. Haven’t you ever Googled to even see what kind of information has been put out there in the decades The Cult existed?
I’m not an authority on this group, and I never said I was. I know little to nothing about it, outside of what’s been documented in the press, and not all of which I believe.
Based on what I’ve read, I believe that a select number of people who played small roles in the organization and had little to no managerial authority have been made into the scapegoats for what the bigger players did. The bigger players, some of whom are now suing them.
The scapegoating, shaming and public humiliation of these women, who have lost everything they’ve ever worked for, serves no purpose other than to draw them closer to what’s left of the organization. So my question is simple; what do they know about KR, and how much do they know? Maybe Mr. Anonymous spends all day and night researching Raniere’s life, and who am I to judge if that’s what you do? I’m here, too.
But a Doctor, an educated professional trying to rebuild her life in the face of a civil lawsuit after having lost everything, who has no legal representation, do you think that’s what she does with her time? She doesn’t. She has more important things to worry about, like where she’s going to live and how she’s going to make a steady income without having to break her back in her 40s.
So why is it out of line to suggest that there are things about this man that maybe they don’t know or haven’t heard? And coming from a source that isn’t suing them and isn’t looking to profit from this or harm them in any way, perhaps they’d listen?
Okay, Nicki/Kevin
You post book length comments all of the time. Especially defending Danielle. And Brandon. You say VILE things about Sarah Edmonson’s children being in danger from their own mother.
You don’t report this alleged abuse iof these very young children. You just make horrible comments on Frank Report about it. How brave! So responsible. Involving someone’s young children for sick fun. Just because you hate their parents. Very ethical.
Now you claim to know absolutely nothing through actual first hand knowledge . But that hasn’t stopped you from making outrageous, damaging statements as thought they were factual. About children.You are disgusting.
Where did you find proof of Sarah’s children being in peril? Why didn’t you report it to the proper authorities?
If Sarah was being held to the same standards as the Dossier women, and she should, considering she outranked each of them by a country mile in the parent organization, a lot of people would be asking about Sarah’s collateral, about whether she said anything about her spouse or any of her adult relatives abusing her kids. If she used her children as leverage as part of her collateral, that should be as much of a topic of discussion as anything else on here.
I don’t know Sarah. I’ve never met her. I wouldn’t ever want to meet her. I just think it sucks that she points fingers at other people for doing things that she may have done herself.
And none of this addresses my main question, which is whether or not the women who remain loyal to Raniere are fully aware of the abuse allegations from the 80s involving lower profile accusers. Accusers who might appear more credible than the ones from the TV shows.
Don’t try to change the subject Kevin.
You made previous claims that Sarah edmonson’s children were in peril because of their mother. Do you have proof of this egregious statement?
If you honestly believe that Sarah and Nippy’s young children are in danger because of their own mother and you did not report it to authorities you are an a******.
If you are just putting out a false claim with no basis in order to smear Sarah because you don’t like her you are also an a******.
No decent human being brings up the very young children of an adult they hate just to further their own agenda.
Making false accusations against people is a horrible thing to do. The internet is forever and you know exactly what you’re doing by making these statements and then disappearing without backing them up orr just moving on to another post topic and hoping that no one notices that you just keep making allegations falsely.
The second question is…where is your proof that India was trafficking young undocumented teenagers? And forcing them into unpaid labor? That is another egregious over the top claim that you have made and have yet to provide any proof of its veracity.
The third question is your alleged employment on Smallville and we’ll save that for another time.
Where is your proof that Sarah’s children are in danger at Sarah’s hands?
Just one quick point on Sarah. Before the NY Times came out, I often talked to Sarah, and I knew how busy and attentive she was to her child. This was 2017. And I mean, her whole life revolved around the child.
Her calls, even important ones, had to wait till the baby went to bed, or between his games and his lunch or whatever. You don’t fake that kind of thing.
Frank
Heidi told us in Dillon- she NEVER went to the crime scene, and didn’t know where Gina was. YOU can’t have it both ways LIAR- she keeps getting caught in her LIES.
Gina was NOT in NXIVM – and NEVER knew my sister, Kris. Heidi stated “the cops never found the weapon” they assumed it was a rifle to the mouth”. Why tell other LIES now ?
I am NOT afraid to open up on Heidi and refute what she is saying now. It is ALL crazy stuff.
Heidi YOU need to go back and remember what YOU told my mother & me here in Dillon, and stop the crap 💩. NOW-!!!!!!
Kim your a big fat liar yourself! Leave Heidi 😔 alone
Kim-
Blah, blah, blah!
Go suck on your husband’s [redacted]. Oh wait, you don’t have a husband….
……Cuz no man can put up with you longer than the time it takes to ej***late……
***
Guess who’s back assholes?!??!?!!!!?
Kim-
—YOU told my mother & me here in Dillon, and stop the crap.
Sounds like you’re a ne’er-do-well, who lives with mommy. Poor, poor Kim I bet you buy your clothes at J.C. Penny.
How ugly are you — uglier than a dead opossum or Suneel?
***
Heidi may have some issues, but she ain’t a loud mouth cunt like you. You’re the pile of 💩
NiceGuy- I saw a photo of [redacted] and she is [redacted]. I wonder if she was [redacted]
or is [redacted]
Frank Parlato should investigate whether or not [redacted] is [redacted].
I had to redact portions of your intelligent comment, because [redacted] is so [redacted] that she thinks I make up the comments that says she is an [redacted.] And I do not want [redacted] to be butt hurt all night long.
Frank,
[redacted] [redacted] investigate the Nonbinary [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] Kim. [redacted]
If Kim wants to pick on Heidi – Kim should be able to handle getting picked on.
Kim [redacted].
Frank maybe your butt [redacted] if [redacted] Bangkok’s mom [redacted] used [redacted] lube [redacted] when she [redacted] pegged you.
Try Preparation-H for ass chafe. It’s what Bangkok’s Mammy uses when she does anal with the Honduran landscaper on Tuesdays.
[redacted] Nice Guy. But [redacted] and keep in mind [redacted]. In every man’s life [redacted] and the truth is that [redacted] Never forget this and tell it to [redacted.]
Frank says:
“[redacted] Nice Guy. But [redacted] and keep in mind [redacted]. In every man’s life [redacted] and the truth is that [redacted] Never forget this and tell it to [redacted.]”
I say to Frank:
“LMAO [redacted.]”
NiceGuy
twoleftsticks.com
The Vow Season 2 Possible Release Date, Cast, Trailer & More
Mellisa Richards
By
Mellisa Richards
July 27, 2022
The Vow’s second season is now expected to air on Sunday, October 16, 2022, rather than the previous Sunday, October 16 date.
https://twoleftsticks.com/the-vow-season-2-possible-release-date-cast-trailer-more/
We know you are too chicken shit to post all of this Frank. You claimed you would never cut a plea deal and would be found innocent at trial. The dox prove how much of a liar you are. Even if you only do a short stint in a Club Feb facility there are going to be some of Vanguard’s Mexican friend’s associates ready to give you a very warm welcome. Bring condoms.
https://www.courtlistener.com/docket/5304724/289/united-states-v-parlato/
Since you are too afraid to post this unredacted, imagine what prison will feel like. LOL. We are enjoying you getting your due.
Dear Little Anonymous Coward
Did I butt hurt you? I never meant to. I compliment you. You are the solid proof of evolution. You have proven to the world that manure can sprout hands, use a keyboard, and even write a comment.
If you want a substantive answer from a man, ask like a man – put your name on it, weasel, and request an answer and I will gladly explain. I have nothing to hide. You do, evidently. When you become an adult, come back and ask again.
It appears the document proves Frank is negotiating a plea. He previously stated on numerous occasions he would never plea. So, Frank, please, elaborate on this discrepancy.
Mr anonymous could have been more diplomatic, but the fact of the matter is he did some pretty good research unearthing this legal document about Frank’s plea negotiations.
Instead of calling mr anonymous a “Weasel” it would be of more interest for his readers if Frank addresses the discrepancy.
Anonymous cowards who insult me do not get anything but my scorn. Mr. Anonymous is a total weasel coward. That’s not just natural cowardice either. He has some personal motive, but is too cowardly to use his own name.
I plan to do a book and a major documentary on my case.
Unlike the first set of prosecutors on my case, the new ones seem to have integrity. After 10 years, a new US Attorney and new Assistant US Attorneys bring a different perspective. They seem interested in the truth. I can’t give away the punch line yet, but stand by. I think you will see how everything is resolved.
AS W.B Yeats wrote “A terrible beauty is born”. So, it was with the short, beautiful life but brutal death of your beloved sister.
So truly evil beings like Keith seem to be bent on twisting and destroying the beautiful and pure that cross his path. Ironic with all this bullshit about a couple photos. Keith was never charged for his real crimes in the Capital District. To many important people up here on Clare’s payroll, Plan worked till his little minions and trolls who call them men did some minor things in Brooklyn. Guess that didn’t realize they weren’t in Kanas {Capital District} anymore
I still remember in the days of Saratoga in Decline when I went to the monastery in Woodstock. I found it one of the creepiest places I visited. At first my guide was all smiles until i began asking tough questions. His entire veneer changed. He went back to the Monastery and returned with black robed security {who the fuck would think a Buddhist Monastery would have muscle}. I game out and asked about Gina but by then a Sheriff had arrived with a due not trespass order>
I went on to write a scathing expose about the place with the help of an insider but alas that along with most of my work was destroyed by the State Police
But as they say ‘Thats a story for another day””
John Tighe
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Thank you, Heidi and John. Keeping the faith against the passionate intensity of The vengeful and litigious.
Yup. Where Keith is concerned, don’t we know it, John?
As for creepy Buddhist encounters – last time I was at Woodstock monestary (KTD) snooping around with a video camera and asking too many questions they tried to hypnotize me. Had a few other close calls with the robed ones since, recently as last summer when one ran stark raving out of a McDonalds clean across a parking lot as soon as I pulled up, soon to be flanked by a caravan of apparently hungry local cops.
Might interest readers to know that Kris Snyder’s Mom showed me some Buddhist-style writings in Kris’ journal that are eerily similar to Gina’s writings, as well.
And I recently read where Sara Bronfman was so mesmerized by her monk interest she redecorated her house to resemble a monestary with a saffron/red color scheme.
Keith did pattern a lot of his program on co-opted Buddhist rituals – many of which he learned of through Gina. Gina was making a documentary about the schism among Buddhist sects involving some of their top leaders and authorities when she passed. I packaged and distributed her final or last “dakini cut” (she called it) among her Buddhist friends, like John, at some gatherings and monestaries she’d visited to honor her work. None of which negates Keith & Co. potential role in her death. On the contrary, IMO.
In any case, comforting to hear from you, JT. Pray for you often.
Thank you, Heidi. You were one of kindest most gentle people I’ve met. I hope you find peace
Hi,
I have known of your site for some time, and this seems to be the time to respond to your ongoing investigation of the life and death of Gina Rose Hutchinson.
I worked with Gina at Pema Osel Ling retreat center from approximately March to July 2002. She was taken on as a cook, and I worked with her in the kitchen. While working late with her cleaning up, we had a number of conversations.
I met her sister Heidi when we had a small memorial around November of that year. I also briefly met with her in Los Angeles when I was visiting later.
Anyway, I found 2 notes Gina had made which I am willing to share. I can send copies if you like.
She never mentioned Raniere to me, at least by name, but there were shadows in her life that she hinted about. The crisis she was involved with at the time, which was disturbing her, was the problem she had with KTTD, the monastery where her body was found, concerning the issue of the two Karmapas. That whole situation was traumatic for her. She also shared a video she made with her sister about that controversy when they were in India, if I remember correctly. Gina was an influence in my life for good, and if I can pass on any information, no problem.
Incidentally, the photo of the Drubchen page sites the very summer retreat I attended with her in 2002.
Leonard Michael Ross
Yes, Leonard, please send me the notes and any photos you have. Please send them to me at frankparlato@gmail.com
Thanks.
Hi Leonard, thank you for coming forward! How are you? Yes, we were working on a very controversial documentary in India and Hong Kong, traveling in the company of very high ranking Rinpoches, including the Karmapas, and it was all very disturbing for Gina.
There IS compelling evidence that Keith Raniere and NX played into all that long before, during and after Gina’s demise.
Please do share your notes. Feel free to call, too. Frank has my number.
Thank you! And Namaste 🙏
Heidi, what is the purpose of this article and why are you writing it now?
Are you looking for catharsis? Sympathy? Rage at Raniere? They DA to ope a murder case? An escape from your own guilt?
Why now, 20 years later? What are you looking for?
Answers, Anonymous. Why is the main question for me. It was for Gina, too.
“I was fresh from a semester in Washington, D.C., where I worked on the Reagan-Bush campaign for college credit.”
What went wrong to abandon Reagan-Bush to follow Joe Biden, the most wicked American politician since Benedict Arnold?
“Sweeny Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street.” .
An appropriate production for Keith Raniere.
Some advice for Heidi H., stay away from religions like Buddhism and Mormonism that promote magic and suicide.