Five Years Ago Today Raniere Was Arrested
Five years ago today, Keith Alan Raniere lost his physical freedom. March 25, 2018. He never had it again.
Down Mexico way in 2018, Raniere enjoyed his seaside villa in Chacala, a small fishing village about an hour and a half outside of Puerto Vallarta.
He had been staying in a gated community. Keith invited different NXIVM members to come during the weeks before March 25.
It was a work vacation focusing on marketing and enrollment strategies for NXIVM, a company virtually destroyed.
About a week before Easter, which was April 1, that year, everybody left except Lauren, Loreta, Daniella, Nicki, and Allison.
Keith and the women moved to another house.
On the morning of March 25, Keith wasn’t feeling well and napped with Lauren. He woke up not well. Lauren went to the kitchen and brought him food. She returned to the kitchen when Loreta came running and said the police were at the door for Keith.
Lauren ran to his room and tried to get him to leave through the window. Instead, he told her to call Jack.
Lauren didn’t have a phone and didn’t know how to work Keith’s phone. She locked the suite and closed the doors and the blinds.
Outside the house, federal police with machine guns and bulletproof vests, some wearing masks, were surrounding the property. Daniella, Allison, and Nicki were outside.
The police surrounded the property and searched it until they found that the only place they couldn’t search was the room that Keith and Lauren were in. They came to the door, and started banging.
Keith disappeared into the next room, into a walk-in closet. Lauren went to the door and asked the police if they had a warrant. They went back and forth.
The police said, “You open the door, and we’ll show it.”
Lauren said, “I’ll open the door, if you show the warrant to me.”
They asked Lauren if anyone had weapons. Then they kicked down the door, grabbed Lauren, held her on the floor with four machine guns pointed at her, and asked Lauren if there was anybody else in there with her.
Lauren did not answer.
Finally fearing they would shoot her, she called out Keith’s name.
At the same time, in the walk-in closet where Keith was hiding, the police kicked down the door. Keith came out of the room.
They held him on the floor, handcuffed him, then let him stand up and showed him a piece of paper. Raniere told Lauren the paper said the Eastern District of New York accused him of sex trafficking.
Then the police took him.
Within hours, the authorities deported him to Texas, where FBI agents were waiting. He was held in custody and arraigned but not granted bail.
The US Marshal’s service brought Raniere to Brooklyn within a few weeks, where he remained in custody at the Brooklyn MDC through his six-week trial, which ended on June 19, 2019.
Jury deliberations began at 10 AM, and around two [and this included lunch in between], they came into the courtroom.
Raniere was unshackled and brought in, exclaiming, “This is not justice.” Then the foreman read off guilty on all charges – every count and every predicate act.
Judge Nicholas G. Garaufis sentenced Raniere on October 27, 2020, to 120 years in prison.
Following sentencing, the BOP transferred him to USP Tuscon, where he currently lives in the SHU.
Half a decade came and went.
Raniere has another 97 years to go. Unless the Supreme Court hears his appeal or wins his Rule 33 motion or some other motion, Raniere’s release date is June 27, 2120.
Should he survive, he would be 160 years old.
For all the kvetching and cynicism, this all had a happy ending. This is why I regard it like a classic comic tale. The sonofabitch got his just desserts.
Raniere was a despicable man, make no mistake about that. Rotten to the core. A petty, vindictive bully who particularly targeted women. Selfish and sex obsessed. He cheated and lied his way through life and never did an honest day’s work. And make no mistake, he was a lifelong criminal. A con artist and a blackmailer, who eventually ventured into sex trafficking. That proved his undoing.
He went so far he had multiple women branded with his initials. That hit the front page of The New York Times and the Feds went after him.
The scumbag fled to Mexico to evade arrest but he was apprehended, put on trial, and convicted by a jury. Then the judge threw the book at him.
Good.
Some would like to make Raniere the poster boy of government repression or some such plaint. He seems a piss poor choice, spectacularly so.
Poor people get screwed by the system. Minorities. Raniere is a white boy with millions of dollars at his disposal. His trial lasted six weeks. He had a team of expert lawyers. He got publicity.
He got to appeal his case. The appeal failed of course, because there’s a mountain of evidence against him. Much of it he stored on his own phone, the dumbass.
He’s got three legal teams working for him, at my count. For the past five years I think he’s never had fewer than two legal firms working his case. Yet absurdly, he claims he’s being deprived of his constitutional right to representation. This is another reason why I regard this story as comedy; it’s hilarious!
And there are people who take his bullshit seriously! Still!
Raniere and two of his loyal lieutenants are now in prison. And he’s never getting out. Yippee! Light the fireworks and drink a toast to Justice!
To Moira Penza and Judge Garaufis, a big Thank You!