A Deadly Influence (Abby Mullen Thrillers, #1)

by Mike Omer

All a cult needed was a very devout following centered on one thing. Sometimes it was a religious belief. Sometimes it was a person. And yes, sometimes it could even be a diet.

Some cults caused no damage. But often, they became destructive. And usually, all it took was that the leader would become, as the woman in the forum put it, difficult.

They should insist all prospective negotiators have kids. Nothing prepared you better for crisis management.

When convincing anyone to change their point of view, silence was the most important tool. It gave them time to think about what was said, about the implications, hopes, and fears.

The occasional fake pumpkins and spiders that decorated the front yards and fences in the street struck Carver as oddly inappropriate. The local residents didn’t need to furbish their neighborhood with fake spookiness. Not when true fear had seeped into their lives.

Cult members were incredible liars because they believed everything they said. Even when they knew they were lying, they were certain they were doing it for a greater good, so the lie, in a way, became the truth.

The deadliest thing to a cult was its ex-members. People who left realized that almost everything they’d been told was a lie. The world didn’t end if you left the cult. Not everyone was out to get them. Life outside still had meaning. In fact, life outside could be better. So the first thing almost every cult did when its members left was to sever all connections and demonize the people who’d left. Painting them as selfish traitors, as collaborators with the enemy. That way the cult leader made sure no one would be influenced by them, and it also made it harder for additional members to leave.

Long sermons were used by some cult leaders to induce a trancelike state in their members. During such a state it was much easier to plant ideas in their heads. Reverend Jim Jones, whose cult had ended in the Jonestown mass suicide, had been known to talk for hours, intermingling his Bible preaching with his social agenda while constantly hammering in the importance of single-minded loyalty.

Cults could recruit anyone. Rich, poor, educated, ignorant, religious, atheist, it didn’t matter. Coming from a loving, caring family didn’t protect you. Being skeptical didn’t protect you. Having firm beliefs didn’t protect you. The misconception that people held, that “it would never happen to me,” was the cults’ best asset. Because there was only one vaccination against cult recruitment—being on guard. And if you assumed you were already immune, if you underestimated cults, then you were at risk.

No matter how much regret you poured into a single moment, it never changed its outcome. Time moved only in one direction.