Scamfluencers - Carl Rinsch: Lights, Camera, Fraud | 232

Episode Date: September 21, 2026

Carl Rinsch had everything Hollywood loves in an up-and-coming director: talent, charisma, and the ability to make people believe. His obsessive perfectionism was written off as the mark of a visionary. But when Netflix handed him millions for a TV series and the pandemic kept everyone at a distance, Carl went on a spree – cars, crypto, luxury mattresses – torching the money and every relationship he’d ever built. By the end, no one was buying what Carl was selling.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Audible subscribers can listen to all our episodes of scam influencers ad-free right now. Join Audible today by downloading the Audible app. A heads up to our listeners, this episode contains descriptions of domestic abuse. Please listen with care. Sachi, we've both worked in television at some point or know people who do, and one thing everyone can agree on is that it's impossible to get anything made. Oh, yeah, people love to not make anything in these industries. They are addicted to not making stuff.

And I think most people think it's just like lesser-known filmmakers who have it hard. But even like really popular, highly regarded directors can't get funding for anything sometimes. Don't forget Sarah, Zach Braff had to crowd fund for one of his movies. Yeah, let's not forget that. Today, I'm going to tell you about an ambitious filmmaker who had the type of unearned goodwill most aspiring artists could only dream of. as in he basically had a blank check to do whatever he wanted. And like so many autos before him, nothing was enough. But instead of re-evaluating his failures, he doubled down and scammed.

It's late 2019, and Gabriella Rosses is pacing the living room of her Los Angeles home, a two-bedroom on Mulholland Drive that costs $14,000 a month in rent. Gabriela is in her early 30s, a former model for her. with long brown hair that cascades over her shoulders. She seems to be living a dream life, but right now, she's worried about the man she's sharing it with. Her husband, Carl, is a director, born and raised in Los Angeles and almost a decade older than her. Gabriela and Carl just wrapped filming on a sci-fi series called White Horse that they sold to Netflix for $61 million. Carl directed, while Gabriela

Gabriella was an executive producer and costume designer. The project has been their main focus since they got married five years ago. But lately, Carl's been off, acting strange and erratic, and it's putting everything they've worked for at risk. That's why Gabriella's not alone in her living room today. She's joined by one of Carl's brothers, several members of their film crew, and a behavioral health consultant. And Kianu Reeves. Thank God. I have to say I feel immediately safer. Narratively and physically.

Kianu acted in Carl's first film and has been close with the couple ever since. And today, they're all gathered here to stage an intervention. When Carl walks in, Gabriella and his loved ones explain their concerns. First, there's the drug abuse. They suspect Carl is misusing his Vivance prescription. He says he uses it to treat his ADHD. but some of his friends believe he's exhibiting all the signs of overuse, mania, delirium, even psychosis.

Then there was his behavior on set. He was irritable and aggressive, screaming at crew members and cursing people out. He was even accused of harassment and abuse during filming. And then there's the way he treats Gabriela. Carl has screamed at her, thrown things at her, and punched walls next to her. At one point, he was so paranoid he allegedly accused her of plotting to have him assassinated. Carl's brother and Keanu say they're worried he's losing his grip on reality.

And Carl appears to listen. According to witnesses, he agrees to let a sober companion stay with him. Gabriella exhales, maybe this intervention will work. Or, hear me out, she gives up on this guy and marries Keanu. Huh? Ah, Sachi, if only this was that kind of episode. Also, Carl's cooperation is fleeting. He allegedly kicks the sober companion out of the house after just a few days.

Gabriela is left wondering if the man she married will ever return. And unfortunately, he won't. Carl is about to descend into a state of pure delusion where aliens speak to him, where Netflix funds become his personal piggy bank, and where the line between his sci-fi fantasy world and reality starts to disappear. James Arthur Ray was a charismatic self-help guru who promised his followers a path to wealth and enlightenment by becoming the best versions of themselves. But not all who followed him finished their journey.

For the best bingeable series, listen to the Audible True Crime podcast wherever you get your podcasts. Hi, I'm Candace D. Long, former FBI profiler and host of the podcast Killer Psychics. In our latest episode, I speak with legal analyst Josh Ritter to break down Luigi Manchione's stunning guilty plea in federal court. Listen to Killer Psyche on Audible or wherever you get your podcasts. From Audible Originals, I'm Sarah Hagey, and I'm Sachi Cole. And this is scam influencers. Carl Rinch had everything Hollywood loves in an up-and-coming director, talent, charisma, and the ability to make people believe in the stories he told. He was also an obsessive perfectionist with an uncompromising vision,

and for a while, his behavior was excused as that of a demandinguteur. In the peak TV gold rush of the 2010s, streamers were throwing millions at creatives. It often didn't matter how creatives like Carl behaved as long as there was a chance they'd deliver a hit. But the pandemic brought the streaming industry back to Earth, while Carl ascended into full-fledged fantasy. He blew millions from Netflix on cars, cryptocurrency, and luxury mattresses, and in the process, alienated everyone who'd ever believed in him. Carl wanted to make the next big-screen epic, but what he got was an all-time epic fail. This is Carl Rinch, lights, camera, fraud. It's the early 90s in California's San Fernando Valley. Summer here means temperatures surging

up to 100 degrees. Teenage Carl and his best friend Tim are sweating through their shirts as they trudge up the driveway of yet another home. They're going door to door, selling plumbing supplies. They're not in it for the love of waste management. They're raising money for their actual passion, making short films. Even as a teenager, Carl takes his craft very seriously. He sees filmmaking as a calling and wants to make films like Felini or Kurosawa, real art that people remember after they watch it. He's all about artistic merit, not fame and fortune, but that might also be because Carl is, by all accounts, pretty privileged.

He's working hard to help fund his short films, but he's also the son of a very successful insurance executive, and that gives Carl the freedom to dream big. Luckily, Carl also has genuine talent. When he's only 14, his first short film gets accepted into both in New York and Telluride Film Festivals. By the time he starts college at Brown University, he has a reputation as a quirky but dedicated artist. He's so passionate and intense that he often holds up for weeks at a time to finish his projects with zero distractions. That's probably how he completes his thesis.

a series of fake commercials for real corporations like Tampax, Pepsi, and Calvin Klein. His goal is to explore the marriage between consumerism and art. But he also might be doing something a little more strategic, because in 2000, after graduating, Carl sends a reel of those fake ads to Ridley Scott's production company. Ridley Scott is the big deal director of movies like Alien, Thelma and Louise, and Gladiator. But he got his start directing commercials, and Carl hopes to do the same by learning from him and making industry connections. Really must have been impressed because he hires Carl without ever meeting him in person. And so at 22, Carl moves back to Los Angeles and starts doing legit commercial work for companies like Heineken, BMW, and Mercedes.

Hey, that's a pretty cool way to get a job and a cool job to have. At 22. Yeah. Carl quickly becomes known for his innovative storytelling and cutting-edge visual effects. His ads are cinematic, like mini-movies. But his perfectionism is intensifying. Left to his own devices, he'll spend hours obsessing over a single frame. Ridley ends up taking Carl under his wing and becomes a mentor to him.

And their bond grows even stronger when Carl starts dating Ridley's daughter. Carl has a mentor, a pedigree, and he's about to get an opportunity that could be a major step toward directing feature films. He's on the doorstep of Hollywood's success, as long as he can stay out of his own way. It's 2010, and Carl is in his early 30s now. His hair is slicked back into a man bun, and he seems to have a permanent furrowed brow. He's been making commercials for about a decade, and it's been making commercials for about a decade, and it's paying off. With Ridley Scott's backing, Carl's name has been circulating in Hollywood and he's in the running to direct several high-profile genre movies. Warner Brothers is considering him

for a remake of Logan's run. There are talks of him directing X-Men Origins First Class for 20th Century Fox. Ridley thinks Carl should direct a prequel to Alien, his own 1979 sci-fi classic, and Universal needs a director for a big budget movie called 47 Ronan. It's based on a true story about a group of rogue samurai in 18th century Japan with fantastical elements added in, like dragons and magic. Kiano Reeves is attached along with an ensemble of Japanese stars. Universal wants to hear Carl's take.

He's thrilled and determined to get this job. He arrives at the meeting super prepared. He brings detailed storyboards and a thorough, schedule. If they give him the green light, he's ready to get started today. Carl's great in the room, charming, persuasive, confident, and most importantly, he understands the studio's vision for their next big blockbuster. Universal wants this to be their version of The Last Samurai, the hugely successful Tom Cruise film, and Carl says he can deliver. After all, his entire career has been about proving that good art and commercial appeal can coexist.

The execs love his energy. Universal offers him the directing job. They slate the movie for a holiday release in 2012 and give him a budget of $175 million. Ooh, that is too much money. That's too much money. Because now you have to make a movie that makes at least that much money. That is really setting yourself up for a really.

rough time. As a debut. Yeah, it is like impossible to imagine that happening today. The buzz is real. But then, one by one, the other projects he'd been circling failed to materialize. They either go to more experienced directors or get dropped altogether. In the end, Carl is left with one shot to prove himself, 47 Ronan. Carl has to translate his slick commercial style into a major motion picture. But with hundreds of millions of dollars riding on his ideas, the pressure will be unlike anything he's ever experienced, and how he handles it will shape the rest of his career and his life. It's January 2012 at Universal Studios in Los Angeles. Executives are watching a cut of 47 Ronan, and they are not happy. When Universal hired Carl, they believed his training under Ridley

Scott would prepare him for the big leagues. Instead, the second Carl got into the director's chair, it seemed like the power went straight to his head. The movie is a mess, and Carl can't rein in his creative impulses. He's trying to balance the true Japanese history with CGI effects and fantasy elements, but it's all too muddled. Carl later describes it as Kurosawa on meth. Yeah, I don't know that you're going to make $175 million back on

Carousel on meth. Although it does sound interesting. It sounds interesting in the right circumstance, but does it sound like a blockbuster? No, no, no. No. Reports emerge that the production has turned into a nightmare and that Carl has crumbled under the weight of the shoot.

By the time editing begins back in Los Angeles, Donna Langley, the chairman of Universal Pictures, has reportedly lost all patience with Carl. His perfectionism and indecision have cost the studio more than they wanted to spend. The film's budget has reportedly swelled from $175 to $225 million, and the release date has been pushed back twice.

At this point, they just need to finish the movie. It's rumored that Donna kicks Carl out of the editing room and works with the editor herself. But Universal must know they have a flop on their hands, so they decide to take a write-down, a move where, for tax purposes, a studio publicly acknowledges a movie isn't going to make as much as initially projected. It's embarrassing for everyone involved, Carl most of all. Before the public has seen a single frame, the studio is telling the world that his big debut is a disaster.

This is so embarrassing. Can you imagine being humiliated like this on a tax level, a public tax level? It really does sound like the worst type of stress dream. And, as expected, 47 Ronan has an abysmal opening at the box office. In its first five days, it barely makes $20 million. One reviewer for the LA Times said it was, quote, an over-long, underwhelming movie that certainly wasn't worth the weight. On Rotten Tomatoes, it has a score of 16%.

Carl's first big shot has gone about as bad as it possibly could. If Carl has any hopes of repairing his reputation, he's going to have to come up with something so original that Hollywood will be willing to overlook this massive failure. It's January 2014, a month after 47 Ronan's release, in a church in Montevideo, Uruguay. Millies and candles are everywhere. An organ plays and wedding guest's

as Gabriella Rossi's Betancourt walks down the aisle. She's 28 with her dark hair in an updo and the veil trailing behind her. At the altar, Carl is waiting. Gabriela met Carl four years earlier when he was shooting a commercial in Mexico. She was a model on the set. Eventually, he asked her to join him in London while he shot 47 Ronan. After filming wrapped, Gabriella followed him to Los Angeles. After about a year, she decided to give up her modeling career to support Carl.

So far, all the sacrifice has been worth it. And it means a world to her that they're back in Uruguay getting married. Some of their friends from the States even made the trip, including Keanu Reeves. Gabriela is friends with Keanu now as well. But that's about the only good thing that came out of 47 Ronan. Fortunately, Carl has a safety net. When his father passed about a decade earlier, he left Carl a $4.8 million inheritance. So Carl can still bankroll their lifestyle, which will eventually include first-class flights,

five-star resorts, a housekeeper who comes six days a week, and a personal assistant and personal trainer for Gabriela. Carl is persona non-grata in Hollywood right now, but he's determined to prove he's worth a second chance. and he seems to be taking a lesson from his teenage days, come up with a great original idea, fund it yourself, and try to get people on board based on artistic merit. He wants to make a TV show with 13 short episodes, each between four and 14 minutes long. So about two hours of content total.

It's like a film, just in tiny chunks that are way easier to fund piecemeal. After the wedding, Gabriella and Carl fully commit to working on the project. It's called Whitehorse, and it's about the battle between humans and artificial humans. Sachi, can you read this quote from Carl explaining the origin of the idea? Oh, brother, yeah.

He said, quote, I thought, would it be possible for us to ever communicate with God? And if so, could we do it through technology? So is AI in the future going to allow us to communicate with God? And that was sort of the big idea. that we would need somebody in between us and the highest powers. Hey, this is stupid. This is psychosis.

It's total nonsense. But also, this is before people were talking about AI the way they are now. So I feel like he thinks it's probably the most original idea in the world. And Carl plans to direct while Gabriela takes on multiple roles, including executive producer, bookkeeper, and costume designer. They can only afford a couple of other crew members because they're self-fundings. the whole thing, presumably so they have complete creative control. But that means stretching their money, so they decide to film in Europe and Africa,

where unions are less powerful, casting crew rates are lower, and working hours can be longer. But without strict guidelines, Gabriella has trouble reining Carl in. He doesn't always follow things like outlines and schedules. Sometimes he just says, fuck it, and films whatever's in his head without much of a plan. Not only is this unprofessional, it's also dangerous. At one point, while filming in Kenya, Carl insists the cast and crew shoot for 24 hours straight. Later in Romania, he has a lead actress shoot a scene bare-legged in the snow. It's so cold she catches hypothermia and has to be rushed to the hospital.

I'm really tired of the difficult male autore, because it seems like the person he hurts. is always like some nice lady he works with. He's never hurting himself. It's all about sacrifice, and he has to sacrifice the least amount, right? As a project's bookkeeper, Gabriela's the first to notice they're running out of money. If they want to keep working on Whitehorse,

they're going to need outside help. And Carl's just going to have to deal with the compromise and accountability that comes with it. Gabriela and Carl start looking for investors. They line up a big-time producer, a billionaire entrepreneur, Carl's agent, and of course, their good friend, Keanu Reeves. All of them see potential in Whitehorse, especially because the entertainment landscape has shifted. This is the height of Hollywood's streaming frenzy. Netflix, Amazon, and HBO are all throwing millions of dollars at fresh new voices,

hoping to find the next Game of Thrones or House of Cards. With their new influx of cash, Gabriella and Carl finished the first six episodes. Then they decide to pitch the project so they can get a big studio or streamer to fund the remaining episodes. Gabriela hopes all the effort has been worth it. She knows this might be their last shot

at resurrecting Carl's career. You'd think they'd have trouble convincing a major studio to greenlight this project after the 47 Ronan disaster, but these new streaming services are willing to take risks the traditional Hollywood Guard wouldn't and Gabriella and Carl plan to use that to their advantage. But in the process of helping her husband fulfill his dreams, Gabriella's about to watch him become a complete and total nightmare. Imagine you're reading Pride and Prejudice,

except you're not reading it. Harris Dickinson and Marissa Abella are reading it to you on Audible. Her barbs sting you. His coldness sends a shiver up your spine. Your heart aches, your ears burn. You yearn for Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy to profess their undying love for one another. You can't bear it any longer. Well, maybe a chapter longer.

Performance is so good, you'll give love a second chance. Audible. Stories that speak to you. James Arthur Ray was a charismatic self-help guru, who promised his followers a path to wealth and enlightenment by becoming the best versions of themselves. But not all who followed him finished their journey.

After Ray appeared on Oprah, thousands flocked to his events. But what many people didn't know about were his more extreme methods, methods that push his followers to their limits, giving some the transformative experience they envisioned and killing others. For the best bingeable series,

like the one I just told you about, listen to the Audible True Crime podcast wherever you get your podcasts. Audible subscribers can get all episodes early and ad-free right now. Join Audible in the Audible app or by subscribing on Apple Podcasts. It's February 2018 and Cindy Holland is sitting in Keanu Reeves's living room reading a draft of the White Horse script, which he's attached to produce. Cindy is the head of original content at Netflix.

She has dirty blonde hair and an ever-present pantsuit. She's been at Netflix for 16 years and has overseen big hits like Orange is a New Black, House of Cards, and Stranger Things, and she's always hunting for the next big thing. Cindy already saw a trailer of the first six episodes of the show which piqued her interest. But now, reading the full-season script,

she is genuinely impressed. It's well-written, compelling, and most importantly, she can see its franchise potential, multiple seasons, spinoffs, prequels. This could be her next stranger things. Even this short episode format is intriguing. It's basically Quibi before Quibi was even a thing. Cindy leaves Cano's house that day, wanting the project for Netflix.

But she's not the only one who's interested. Amazon, HBO, Hulu, Apple, and YouTube all put in eight-figure bids on Whitehorse. Amazon's offer is the highest, and it seems like they've clinched it. But Cindy has one last trick up her sleeve. On a Sunday night, she calls Carl directly. She tells him she's willing to pay him millions more than Amazon for Whitehorse. But more importantly, he can have full control over the final cut of the series. Final cut isn't something studios grant lightly,

especially not to a director with Carl's track record. But Cindy's thinking big, and it works. Carl says yes. Uh, yeah, I bet he did. That is the sweetest deal I've ever heard in my life for Carl. Yeah, and let's just say there's a reason why people aren't doing that. With her eagerness for the next big thing, Cindy overlooks some major red flags. First, Carl is on the outs with one of his investors over missed deadlines.

Netflix is going to have to pay $14 million just to get that investor off the project. But in Hollywood, investors get bought out all the time. The second flag is that while Carl has an idea of the season's plot, the script Cindy Red is just a draft. It's not actually done. But Netflix buys shows off pitches without a script all the time. The last flag is Carl's reputation, one of the executives who clashed with Carl's.

on 47 Ronan now works at Netflix in the movie division. But Cindy must not have consulted with him before buying Whitehorse. If she had, he might have given her a big heads up. Yeah, but you know what? This was probably some sort of an open secret. And maybe she thought, like, I can wrangle him. I can get him under control. Classic, I can fix him, right?

Well, Cindy finalizes a deal in November 2018. for $61 million. The money will be doled out as Carl hits various production milestones on the remaining seven episodes. Cindy is excited to see what Carl makes and hopes it'll be another massive hit to add to her resume.

But while she might see this as a creative risk, it's really a bet on Carl. And that bet is about to become the gamble of a lifetime. It's February 2019 in Los Angeles, just three months after Netflix shells out tens of millions for Whitehorse. Gabriela is sleeping peacefully in her L.A. home

when Carl suddenly startles her awake. He's angry with her, and she has no idea why. She glances at the clock. It's 5 a.m. He must have stayed up all night riding again. Carl is manic, ranting and not making sense. Gabriela has been trying to be supportive of her husband, but lately he's been scaring her.

In recent weeks, he screamed at her in public and thrown things at her in private. He even punched holes in the wall of their home in fits of rage. To treat these episodes, Carl was referred to a psychiatrist who prescribed medication, including Vivance for his ADHD.

It was supposed to help with the mood swings, but they seemed to be getting worse. Wow, this is not somebody that I would trust. Just to be in a managerial position anywhere, never mind on a movie set for something that's very high pressure and very high budget. Yes, and has a lot of people working on it who rely on sanity. Yeah. Despite Carl's deteriorating mental state, production on the remaining episodes of Whitehorse officially begins that summer in Brazil. At this point, the show has become Gabriella's project as much as Carl's.

She believes in it and wants it to be great. She also feels a deep responsibility to the cast and crew. So even though she doesn't feel safe being alone with Carl, she flies to the set in Brazil and make sure to request separate hotel rooms. One day, filming gets behind schedule, likely because of Carl. His vision for Whitehorse keeps expanding and it's clashing with the reality of production. He seems to have no concept of what anything acts. actually costs or requires.

It falls to Gabriela to tell Carl they have to wrap for the day. Now that they're filming for Netflix, they're supposed to abide by union rules, which includes ending at reasonable times. But Carl refuses to stop. He grabs her by both arms, picks her up, and physically moves her out of the way,

telling her to, quote, get out of my fucking set. Gross. Gross. scary. Yeah, and Gabriela is not the only one feeling the brunt of Carl's aggression. He screams and swears at the crew too. It gets so bad that a local film union representative warns Netflix that Carl is mistreating the team. Reportedly, Netflix addresses the issues directly with Carl, but it doesn't seem to fix anything. Gabriela is getting more and more

worried, but she doesn't voice her concerns to the studio. She's still trying to protect her husband and salvage the project. But soon, she won't be able to hide his behavior, and Netflix executives will no longer be able to sit back and chill. It's September at Netflix's Los Angeles headquarters, and Peter Friedlander is in his office answering emails. Peter is the VP of Original Series reporting to Cindy Holland. He's bald with perfectly manicured stubble and kind eyes behind his hipster glasses.

Then a new email hits his inbox. It's from Carl. Sachi, can you read what Carl wrote? Yeah, he wrote, quote, Despite our best efforts and meticulous planning of schedule, budget, pre-pro, once we have landed abroad, the budgets have exploded on us. There is no reason to believe that this pattern will change moving forward or that we will be able to hold the line financially.

Hey, this is the worst email to write and receive. It is bad news bears for everybody. Yeah, and it's written in such weird, passive language. It's like the budgets have exploded and not I put T&T in the budget and exploded it. Exactly. And Carl goes on to say that they now have two options. Either he only delivers the first half of episodes, or Netflix increases the budget to get ever.

everything they agreed to. Peter reads over the email again, just to make sure he's getting this right. He's genuinely confused about where all the money has gone and why Carl thinks he's in any position to make these kinds of demands. Peter asked to see the footage of Carl's shot so far, plus storyboards for future shoots. But Carl refuses to share them. Since he has final cut, he doesn't think he should have to show his work until he says it's ready. He believes Netflix should just agree to all of his creative decisions, including his budgetary demands. If Peter had hair, he'd want to rip it out. That's just not how final cut rights work.

Netflix still has to be involved in any decisions that affect the production and budget. Peter tries to stay calm. One of his colleagues suggests places to trim in the script to cut costs, but Carl refuses to listen. He says he's, quote, not interested in that kind of relationship that Netflix was proposing. The next time someone charges me for anything, like the next time I get filled like a late fee because I didn't cancel a workout that I slept through as is my want,

I am going to write back, I'm not interested in that kind of relationship that you are proposing one where I give you money. It is beyond comprehension that someone could send that email to someone who's funding their work. Peter gets tired of the back and forth over email, so he gets on a plane and flies to Budapest where the production is now filming.

When he arrives, he finally sees some footage. But when he tries to sit down with Carl to go over the budget, Carl refuses to engage. He literally walks out of the meeting. Peter doesn't understand this erratic behavior. He's flown halfway around the globe, and Carl won't even talk to him. It's ridiculous.

Ultimately, Netflix agrees to a compromise and transfers $5.3 million to Carl to keep filming. But they make it clear this isn't extra money. It's a chunk of the $61 million they already agreed to just advanced early. Peter hears from business affairs that Carl is not happy about that. He wanted more money on top of the original 61. million dollars. Filming finally wraps up in Budapest in late 2019. Peter hopes the chaos is now behind

them and they can finish the project. But Carl's demands are about to get even more out of hand. It's February 2020 and Carl is meeting with Cindy at the Netflix offices. She's expecting to see footage from the season he's just shot. Instead, Carl presents her with some Star Wars coffee table books. It's his way of reminding her that Whitehorse could be just as big for Netflix. She should be envisioning a multi-season franchise and basically give him a blank check to make it happen. He's been incessantly emailing her about a season two. He wants Netflix to fund it without even seeing the first one. Does he think everyone's an idiot? He must. He must think everyone's an idiot. And that everyone should just believe in him no matter what. A few weeks later,

Cindy tells Carl that Netflix will take five weeks to decide whether they want a second season. In the meantime, they'll wire him $11 million to continue production. He can use some of it on pre-production for an expanded script. But if Netflix passes on another season, Carl needs to put his head down and finish the first. He agrees. In March 2020, Netflix sends Carl an email laying out this new agreement. But later, Carl will claim he thought the entire $11 million was his to use however he wanted. So Carl transfers almost all of it into his personal accounts and starts investing in the stock market.

In what world? You know what, actually, that's not fair. It's not fair for me to say, in what world would that ever be the way that a movie production works, except he's never made anything before. So to his credit, how would he know? How would he know that you can't use the network's funds to gamble on the stock market? He's creating his own world both on screen and off, I guess. Also, this is right around the same time COVID-19 shuts down the U.S.

and the pandemic hits Carl hard. His already fragile mental state continues to deteriorate, fueled by widespread conspiracy theories. Carl becomes convinced that a company called Gilead Sciences is going to make, the COVID cure and obsessively researches them for weeks. He puts huge seven-figure option bets on Gilead's stock going up, while also betting that

the S&P 500 will keep falling. According to court documents, Carl believes he's hedging the market, saying, quote, in the instance that we had a total calamity where millions of people died, we would be able to continue working on this show.

Okay, so he's forecasting, what if this plague really does wipe out enough of society where millions of people die, which is what happened to be clear. That is exactly what happened. But his number one concern is, can we finish making this stupid show that I don't know how to make? Yeah, that's exactly it. And unfortunately for Carl, he loses $5.9 million on those bets. He seems to think he can make it all back by making more investments. It doesn't work. He's making such terrible decisions

that his Wells Fargo broker, who's making a commission off him, actually tries to stop Carl from continuing. But Carl just tells him, quote, I can afford to lose the money. No greater bottom than a broker telling you to get a grip. I can't fathom.

At this point, the five weeks are up and Netflix still hasn't made a decision about a second season. He does keep working on storyboards and visuals for the future season, things that can be done remotely. He emails Cindy saying that the work on Whitehorse is, quote, awesome, other level, and game-changing good. Carl may not be letting on to his employers that he's starting to unravel,

but one person knows him better than anyone, and she's growing more and more concerned. It's now June 2020 in Los Angeles, three months into the pandemic. Gabriela's been quarantining with her family in Uruguay, but she's back stateside because Carl's brother reached out, saying Carl needed help. He said the changes in Carl were unlike anything he'd seen in him before.

Gabriela's tried her best to help Carl. About six months earlier, she staged the intervention from the beginning of this episode, but it didn't work. Then in February, she and Carl went to couples' therapy, which also didn't work. But Gabriella still loves Carl and worries about him.

She wants to help him get better. Today, when Gabriella checks on Carl, he insists on taking her to a scenic lookout in the Hollywood Hills. Once they get there, he points to the plains streaking through the sky above. He tells Gabriella they aren't actually planes, they're organic, intelligent forces that have come to say hi to him. Oh, okay, so he has really started to lose the plot here.

Now it's sad. Yeah, I mean, it sounds an awful lot like the plot of Whitehorse, and that's when Gabriella realizes she's completely lost Carl. It's one thing to create a sci-fi TV show. It's another thing to believe you're living it. For the rest of the month, Gabriella witnesses the extent of Carl's delusions. He sends her texts claiming he can predict lightning strikes and volcanic eruptions. One day, she catches him staring directly into the sun.

Another time, when she tries to talk to him, he shushes her and says, quote, Mama's Talking, which Gabriella believes is his new nickname for God. Very tragic. Unfortunately, the best comeback I've ever heard, and I will be using it immediately. It all finally becomes too much for Gabriela. That summer, she separates from Carl, and as their marriage ends, so does her time working on Whitehorse. Shortly after they split,

Gabriella tells Netflix executives Cindy and Peter about Carl's true mental state. Turns out, this explains a lot. Carl has been sending Cindy strange texts and emails. Some were incomprehensible doodles and annotations. Others were wild, rambling claims about Trump and China. Two days after she speaks with Cindy and Peter, Gabriella officially files for divorce. A few months later, Netflix goes through a reorg.

Cindy leaves a company and Peter is left scrambling. He and another executive try to get updates from Carl, but when he's uncooperative, they reach out to Gabriella, who's technically still a producer on the project. They ask if she can get access to the show's footage. Gabriela wishes she could help, but she's worried that if she goes behind Carl's back,

he'll fly off the handle. Gabriela's reaction concerns the Netflix execs who are now worried that Carl might be unstable, even violent. They allegedly reach out to the LAPD's threat management unit for help. But after reviewing Carl's texts and emails, The department's psychologist determines that Carl isn't a danger to himself or others. By November of 2020, Netflix officially decides they don't want a second season of Whitehorse.

Gabriela understands why, but she's still heartbroken. The show was her baby too, and she sacrificed so much for it. She left her family, gave up her modeling career, moved to a foreign country, all because she believed in Carl and his vision. Now she has nothing in her own name. It's all tied to him. She'll have to fight for her peace. But if she knows anything about Carl,

it's that he's not going to let her go easily. You stepped out for your morning jog. Except it's not your usual morning jog. You started listening to an epic sci-fi book on Audible. 30 chapters later, you've accidentally run a half marathon. You lost track of how far you've run somewhere just past the city limits. You can't stop. You have to find out what happens next.

Then it's over. The universe seems bigger. You feel different. You feel like you have no idea where you are. Audible. Stories that speak to you. In December 2024, United Healthcare CEO Brian Thompson was gunned down on a Manhattan sidewalk in broad daylight. Five days later, police arrested.

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It's March 2021, a full year since Netflix sent Carl 11 million. While he waited for their decision on Whitehorse, he spent that money as if it were his own, because as he later claims, he genuinely believed it was. But today, he finally gets an email from Netflix's Business Affairs team, and it's a death sentence. They say that not only do they not want a second season, now they don't even want the first. Carl is pissed. He immediately writes back addressing the email, quote, Dear coward, and insisting they can't do this.

When he doesn't get the response he wants, Carl goes back to spending money. While he claims he always thought the money was his, it sure seems like he's blowing through it out of revenge. Around this time, Carl also unilaterally closes all of his and Gabriela's joint bank accounts and cancels all their credit cards. He claims it's because of an identity theft issue, whatever the reason, Gabriela and, is now completely cut off. Over the summer, Carl's emails to Gabriella and her attorneys get more aggressive and erratic. He tells her lawyers he wants to book long calls with them just so they'll have to charge Gabriella for their time.

He asks if Gabriella is bankrupt yet or has fled the country. He also suggests she's been unfaithful and asks her to identify which STDs he should be tested for. Meanwhile, Carl's spending money like he's spending money like he's purposefully trying to drain his accounts. Sachi, will you read this text he sent to his personal assistant? He wrote, Get all that Hermes stuff now.

This is your job. We have to do this. Or else the money goes bye-bye. Get it. You know, what's interesting about this, other than the fact that Carl is being demonstrably evil, is that he's been saying this whole time that he thought it was his money. He thought it was his money.

If that's true, why would he be spending it so furiously right now? And being very explicit in print, in text to his assistant, if you don't do this, money goes bye-bye. He's yelling the quiet part loud. Yeah, it doesn't really make sense at all based on anything he's claiming. And then Carl buys a Ferrari as a birthday present to himself. He also spends hundreds of thousands of dollars on jewelry and art. He pays off $1.8 million in credit card bills, including nearly $500,000,000. Postmates and Uber Eats orders over a six-month period.

He also buys a fleet of five Rolls-Royces. But his wildest spending is in the bedroom. His next impulse buy is luxury mattresses. Specifically, the Heston's Grand Vividus mattress in the Black Shadow Colorway. It costs almost $440,000, making it the most expensive mattress in the world. It comes with a base and leather headboard, plus a bed doctor who visits your house to massage the mattress. And of course, Carl doesn't stop there.

He ends up buying a second one in a different color. Can you read what Carl said in a later deposition when he was asked why he needed these mattresses? Yeah, he said, quote, Because it retains value. And a mattress that you spend $30,000 on is worth silch, but a mattress that you spend $450,000 on, Guess what? It's worth a hundred grand more now. So, hey, what are you going to do?

As ever, I am bad at math, but I do not think this math is mathing in any capacity. Also, the second you sleep on it, I think it's kind of like a car where it just will decrease in value, right? Immediately. I think it's like a toothbrush. Honestly, I do want to try this mattress badly, though. I do want to know what it's like. There's obviously a lot going on with Carl. He's experienced. extreme mental instability, but he's also just being a dick. In May 2021,

Carl receives discovery requests from Gabriella's legal team, but refuses to cooperate. And mind-bogglingly, he sues Netflix for further payments he believes he's still owed. Carl thinks he's the victim here, but he's the one screwing himself. He's alienating and hurting the one person

who's always advocated for him, and he's antagonizing the company that gave him a chance to resuscitate his career. He's become his own wrist enemy, and the consequences of his actions are finally about to catch up. It's May 2023, a little more than two years since Netflix pulled the plug on Whitehorse, and Carl is fighting two legal battles. The first is with Netflix. The second is his divorce from Gabriella. The judge in his divorce case orders him to pay him to pay him.

pay $275,000 to cover Gabriela's legal fees and to pay her forensic accountant so they can uncover where all the money went. Carl tells the court he doesn't have that kind of cash saying, quote, I'm trying to survive here. He's got a real mother-bluth, it's a banana, how much could it cost kind of energy with this. Yeah, that's exactly the energy because in reality, Carl has about $500,000 left in his checking account. But as the proceedings continue, he claims he's in severe financial distress. He claims all the assets he has left are some kitchen appliances and about $5,000. And it turns out he put a bunch of money back into the crypto market, which crashed. So the $27 million he once had is now only worth $68,000. But Gabriela and

and her team point out, Carl is paying more than $16,000 a month to live in an ultra-luxury apartment building in West Hollywood. He's also spending $3,500 every month eating out at restaurants. That's kind of amazing he has an appetite considering all the financial duress that he's under. I know. I'm like, how are you going out to restaurants? Like, how are you not so stressed out? Mm-hmm. While Carl's divorce proceedings continue through the courts, he's also facing arbitration with Netflix. And unfortunately for Carl, that case isn't settled in his favor. An arbitrator finds that Carl owes Netflix the $11 million. Following that decision, Carl finally gets professional help for his mental health struggles and medication problems. Friends and

families say he eventually returns back to his normal self. Unfortunately, that doesn't erase everything Carl's done. And now, the federal government wants a piece of him too. In March 2025, the Justice Department files an indictment against Carl claiming his dealings with Netflix constituted fraud. Despite the mountains of evidence against him, Carl's so confident he'll be exonerated that he refused to even consider a plea deal. It's really hard to know what his motivations are with this, with, you know, refusing to even consider the plea deal. You can only guess that this is like him in his right state. This is him mentally well.

And so he's making that decision of sound mind. But then is he doing this because like he can't admit that he did something wrong because then he definitely will never work in this town again. But, you know, maybe if he just like was a scam artist, he'll get another job. That's what known to happen. Yeah, I think he's just got too much pride. The two-week trial kicks off in December 2025. Several Netflix executives testify, including Cindy and Peter.

The prosecution argues that Carl knowingly and purposefully committed fraud. Carl's defense lawyer paint him as an artist who is just in over his head. They also blame executive group think and the pandemic for exacerbating the issue. Eventually, it's Carl's turn to address the jury. He's in a suit and tie, his long hair slicked back with lots of product. Unfortunately for Carl, this time he's not so good in the room. The jury doesn't buy what he's selling. They find him guilty.

At his sentencing, his good friend Keanu Reeves sends a letter to the court. Will you read it for us? He wrote, quote, In my opinion, Carl can self-sabotized by amplifying the scale, scope, and landscape of what had been negotiated. I have seen Carl bring exceptional joy and warmth to the people around him. I have seen him bring creative inspiration to others through his creativity and vision. I have seen and been a part of wonderful artistic environments

where exceptional work was done with him. I hope you are able to find leniency for this man. I mean, this is disappointing, Kianu. You know, I would say it's mostly a victimless crime because he just ripped off some big company, but what about his ex-wife? Yeah, and all the people who worked on it. Yeah, honestly, Kiano's sweet for that,

but I'm questioning his job. judgment big time. Bad judgment. Nice letter. Between his conviction and sentencing, a judge grants Gabriela her divorce and orders Carl to pay all of the spousal support and legal fees he had refused to pay, a total of about $1 million. As of today, Gabriella seems to have moved past any hope of reconciliation. She's a creative director for her own company, and she's with a new partner. In June In 20206, Carl is sentenced two and a half years in prison. As of this recording, he's due to report to prison this month. Apparently, this time, not even his good friend Keanu Reeves can save him from his fate.

Sachi, isn't it so awesome how things work? I love infrastructure. It makes me feel safe. I think for a lot of creative work, like obviously you have to be skilled, there's luck. but there was something about Carl's Ascent where everything was at the exact right time in the culture and filmmaking and funding. He did this at a time when it was easier to get recognized

for your short film. And then it's like, oh, he did this when streamers were throwing money at everyone. It just baffles me that he fumbled so badly when like everything lined up entirely for his success. Yeah, as usual, we have an artistic scammer who like probably could have just kept things moving if they didn't go full evil guy.

If he had been a little more nice on his sets, if he had been a little nicer to his ex-wife, if he had been a little more careful about him like taking studio money and spinning it out into the stock market, you probably would have gotten some stuff made. I think it was also his extreme entitlement. It really bothers me when people think having an opportunity guarantees their success

and that they deserve to be somewhere and keep doing the work they want to do when it's like, if you mess up and they don't want you to make something again, there's no law saying that you have to do filmmaking. The entitlement makes my head want to explode. This idea that everything has to work out because it's your dream. Yeah, just because you like something doesn't mean that you get to have it. There's also this pervasive idea that in order to create something worth watching or worth understanding or that has a deeper meaning,

there has to be like a lot of suffering attached. Yeah. And that people will have to suffer and work their asses off. And it'll all be worth it because in the end, you've made something. And I just, I reject that so much. I hate that people think you have to be tortured in order to make something work. And they have to torture people in order to make something work. So many people got fucked over because of him.

Yeah. I think you can be a tortured, artist, but you don't get to torture other people. So if you want to be a tortured artist, you can punish yourself. That's your business. Seems like a lousy time. But unfortunately, Carl did nothing but like spew that energy outwards and make it everybody else's problem. Well, oftentimes that is what happens when people want to be tortured. It does not ever end with them. And again, all for what white horse? Yeah, I mean, the real crime here is that the show itself sounded bad. The way Hollywood works is really random, and a lot of it is based on, like, precedent and taking chances.

And I think these people who invested in him really bet on the wrong horse, but if it were to work out and this turn into the next stranger things or whatever, their lives would have been made. So there was, like, very little incentive to actually stop him and stop giving him chances and giving him money. And I think as much as it is Carl's fault this happened, it kind of also isn't. Like, he just was asking and they were saying yes. So in my mind, I'm like, your fault too, Netflix? Yeah, there were a thousand points where they probably could have stopped him. But the reality is, is that, like, if it makes a little money, it's all worth it.

Like, down to him being cruel to the people that he works with and giving a woman hypothermia. As long as it gets done, and they all turn to profit, it's worth it. So I think at that point, they're just playing with sunk-cost fallacy, which is something that we talk about a lot on our show in a lot of ways,

that all these execs were just following sun-cost fallacy. Yeah. I think the real scam is believing in yourself. I keep saying that. Don't believe in yourself and don't expect me to do it either. I think a huge thing of believing in yourself is knowing when to stop. To stop believing.

Yeah. You know, it's like, that's what being self-aware is in art. Yeah, that's really beautiful advice. I love that. Quit. Quit. All that for a guy named Carl. Follow Scampillencers on the Audible app or wherever you get your podcast. You can listen to all episodes of Scamphillencers ad free by joining Audible. For Audible originals, this is Carl Rinch. Netflix and Swill for Scampillcers. I'm Sarah Haggy. And I'm Sachi Cole. If you have a tip for us on a story that you think we should cover, please email us at scamfluencers at audible.com. We use many sources in her research. A few that were particularly helpful were Jacob, Shamsian and Laura Italiano's reporting for Business Insider, The New York Times is The Strange $55 million saga of a Netflix series you'll never see by John Carreyu. And extensive court documents from Carl Rinch's trial in the Southern District of New York.

Alex Burns wrote this episode, additional writing by us, Satchie Cole, and Sarah Hagee. Olivia Briley is our story editor. Our senior producers are Sarah Eni and Jenny Bloom. Our associate producer is Charlotte Miller. Our managing producer is Desi Blaylock. Fact-checking by Gabrielle Drole. Sound design by James Morgan. Additional audio

assistance provided by Augustine Lim. Our music supervisor is Scott Velasquez for Frieson Sink. The executive producer for Audible is Jenny Lauer Beckman. The head of creative development at Audible is Kate Nevin. The head of Audible originals, North America, is Marshall Louis.

The chief content officer is Rachel Giazza. Copyright 2026 by Audible Originals LLC. Sound recording copyright 2026 by Audible Originals LLC. Watch in.