Cult Justice joins the raft of true crime content over at Hulu with an eight-episode first season written by journalists Michel Bryant and Brian Ross and exec produced by the team at Law & Crime, the network founded by journalist and On Patrol: Live host Dan Abrams. Each installment highlights the personalities and practices of cult leaders, features commentary from law enforcement authorities and lawyers, and includes interviews with the cults’ victims and survivors. In the first episode, we learn how the supposed Christian ministry set up by Tony Alamo and his wife Susan transformed into a cult that justified polygamy and child sex abuse from its defiant founder, a self-described prophet of God.
CULT JUSTICE: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?
Opening Shot: “Another one half hour of the truth!” In creaky, blurry old footage, Tony and Susan Alamo appear as part of their 1970s television ministry. We then hear the voice of attorney David Carter. “There were the allegations of polygamy, the allegations of the beating of the children, and there were allegations of underage brides…”
The Gist: “If we are a cult, you’d have to say any of the fundamentalists were cultists.” It’s a pretty bold statement from Susan Alamo, especially because she goes on to compare herself to Martin Luther, the fourteenth century theologian and founder of the Lutheran faith. But what’s even more bold about the piece of archival footage is how unapologetically nasty she is. When the Alamos founded their ministry near Hollywood in the late 1960s, investigative journalist Debby Schriver says it wasn’t kindness and nurturing values that inspired them. It was grift, plain and simple, and they were aggressive and threatening about signing up converts.
The Alamos eventually migrated with their flock to a compound in Arkansas, and in 1982, when Susan died of breast cancer, Tony had her body embalmed and put on display, where he forced his followers to pray at her feet. His rule over the cult also became more extreme. As the group’s “prophet,” he said he was allowed multiple wives – but only him, of course – and also began to groom the young daughters of his followers as underage child brides. Alamo was charged with beating another child, became a fugitive in 1989, and was eventually caught and convicted of tax evasion.
But that didn’t stop the cult. Released in 1998, Alamo returned to the welcoming arms of his true believers, and targeted eight-year-old Desiree Kolbek as his next victim. Kolbek, who is interviewed extensively in Cult Justice, eventually escaped the compound, and it was her testimony that contributed to Alamo’s second arrest and conviction, this time for transporting minors across state lines for sex. “You’re the cult, not us,” grumbles a profoundly unapologetic Tony Alamo in footage from his criminal deposition. He also calls Carter, the attorney, a scumbag. The level of mean is astonishing, and that’s before Alamo even gets to defending his disgusting, unrepentant views on sex with children. It’s ugly stuff, and the federal authorities and prosecutors interviewed for Cult Justice credit Kolbek with having the courage to not only escape Alamo’s clutches, but stand up to him in court.
What Shows Will It Remind You Of? The four-part docuseries Ministry of Evil: The Twisted Cult of Tony Alamo was produced by Sundance TV in 2019; these days it’s available through Prime Video. And Hulu also features Stolen Youth: Inside the Cult at Sarah Lawrence, a three-parter that details one of the more unexpected and bizarre turns toward cult behavior to have emerged in recent years.
Our Take: Just when you think there are no more cults to be uncovered by today’s thriving true crime industry, along comes the next show to feature more of their stories. Cult Justice stays pretty bare bones with its production. There is no narrator, but nor are there the touches of directorial flair or dramatic flourishes in storytelling that have emerged as hallmarks of true crime in the Netflix era. Instead, Cult Justice keeps it journalistic. And while it seems to have spent very little on graphics and titles, and allows for way too many moments where the same photo or piece of foggy footage is used over and over again, the docuseries does build a solid frame for the cult victims interviewed to share their journeys. The visual aesthetic here is minimal. But the stories Cult Justice tells are powerful.
Sex and Skin: The court deposition of one of Tony Alamo’s child brides, in which she describes his pattern of chronic sexual abuse, is difficult to watch.
Parting Shot: “As long as we have human beings, we will have cults,” says Debby Schriver, the investigative journalist. “All of us are vulnerable, when we’re looking for something, needing something. And we’re easy marks for anyone who wants to take advantage.”
Sleeper Star: Federal prosecutor Kyra Jennings highlights the moral vacancy at work inside Alamo’s cult, which he called a Christian foundation. “The astounding thing to the prosecution team in this case is the parents knowingly put their children, meaning their girls, in the hands of a predatory pedophile.”
Most Pilot-y LIne: “Tony possesses a rare combination of some charisma, biblical knowledge, and sociopathic tendencies,” David Carter says. “And when you get that mix in a person as they come to power, within a religious group, their tendency is to get more and more abusive.” It’s the old David Koresh method, and Carter says Alamo followed it to a “T.”
Our Call: Stream Cult Justice if you’re a true crime completist. There is absolutely no wow factor to the look and feel of this docuseries. But it does uphold the importance of victims’ narratives as a bulwark against the ghastly behavior of a cult leader such as Tony Alamo.
Johnny Loftus (@glennganges) is an independent writer and editor living at large in Chicagoland. His work has appeared in The Village Voice, All Music Guide, Pitchfork Media, and Nicki Swift.
