On November 18, 1978, the world learned of the tragic murders and suicides at Jonestown. Filled with shock and horror, Americans asked a series of questions: “What happened at Jonestown?” “Why did it happen?” “How could this have happened?” As people struggled to make sense of this “revolutionary suicide,” most blamed charismatic leader Jim Jones, claiming that he brainwashed his followers. This explanation shifted responsibility for the murder-suicides from members of Peoples Temple to Jim Jones, and offered many horrified observers a satisfactory explanation invoking existing stereotypes of cults and dangerous charismatic leaders (Chidester 1988: 28–46). Early press reactions to Jonestown reinforced how this movement “dissolved the thin line that separates the regions of religion and madness” (ibid.: 28). Every year in November, television networks, like the History Channel and CNN, revisit the question of religion and madness by airing specials, including “Jonestown: Paradise Lost” (2007) and “CNN Presents: Escape from Jonestown” (2008). With a focus firmly on the past, these specials seem to serve as cautionary tales to remind amnesia-prone viewers to “never forget.”
If we shift our attention to fictional television, however, we can see that Americans do not have amnesia when it comes to groups labeled “cults.” Since the late 1950s, the cult stereotype has been a staple of fictional television programming (Neal 2011: 95–9). Many of these programs emphasize the pain loved ones experience when a friend, lover, son, or daughter joins a cult, and the resulting commitment to rescue them from this tragic turn of events. Others focus on the alleged threat of ritual murder by crazy cultists or the seemingly unlimited potential for violence that these groups possess. These episodes explore the “thin line” between persuasion and coercion, religion and madness. Since the early 1990s, as the Branch Davidians at Waco and the Heaven’s Gate members in Rancho Santa Fe further cemented the questions and fears associated with Jonestown, television programs have not shied away from the topic of cult suicide.
Television is the central storyteller in American culture (Gerbner n.d.), and television tells stories about cults and religious suicide, especially Jonestown, Waco, and Heaven’s Gate. These events are not forgotten, but rather are told and retold, learned and remembered, in significant part through prime-time television shows. These narratives may not meet the standards of academic history, but as Steve Anderson writes, “American television has sustained an extremely active and nuanced engagement with the construction of history and has played a crucial role in the shaping of memory” (Anderson 2001: 20). As a result, this chapter does not focus on historical errors in television depictions of Waco or Jonestown, but, rather, examines how these traumatic historical and national moments are remembered in and through television. “Memory,” Marita Sturken writes, “is crucial to the understanding of a culture precisely because it indicates collective desires, needs, and self-definitions” (Sturken 1997: 2). Thus, how television depicts the relationship between cults, suicide, and murder—the cultural memories constructed about Jonestown, Waco, and Heaven’s Gate—makes visible this history of desire. It reveals how Americans make sense of that “thin line” between religion and madness, life and death, government authority and divine revelation.
Television wields tremendous power to “promote and prefer certain meanings of the world, to circulate some meanings rather than others, and to serve some interests better than others” (Fiske 1987: 20). Television helps create shared meanings that reinforce the existing norms of a society, including those related to religion (Carey 1988: 18; Silverstone 1988: 37). Specifically, the portrayal of cults in televisual fictions promotes a certain understanding of religion, which privileges Christianity and “enhance[s] the values and structures of American society—independence, family, capitalism, [and] government” (Neal 2011: 93–4).
While these patterns continue to characterize fictional programs featuring cult-related suicide storylines, specific episodes also provide us with insight into the dynamic relationship that exists between historical event, cultural memory, and television narrative.2 These relationships prompt us to ask what stories are told, what meanings and memories are promoted, and whose interests are being served? To answer these questions, I examined six fictional television dramas that aired in the United States between 1999 and 2010, and referenced cults and suicide.3 Cult-themed shows have aired since the late 1950s; however, episodes featuring cults and suicide do not appear prior to the early 1990s. It is only after the Branch Davidian disaster at Waco in 1993 and the Heaven’s Gate suicide in 1997 that cults and suicide emerge as themes on fictional television. Television dramas began to examine this relationship, incorporate elements from historical events, and contribute to America’s cultural memory.
While most have examined the relationship between television and suicide from a media “effects” approach, which studies whether or not coverage of suicides relates to reported instances of suicide (Pirkis and Blood 2001; Stack 2000, Pirkis et al. 2007), the programs examined in this chapter lead to a different set of questions. How are historical elements of cult-related events (including suicide) incorporated into fictional television shows? What do these portrayals tell us about how American viewers are encouraged to remember these events? How do they frame our thinking about religion, violence, and the US government? These television dramas tell stories about cults and suicide that incorporate elements from Jonestown, Waco, and Heaven’s Gate. Drinking poisoned kool-aid, participating in “white night” drills, as well as dwellings that resemble the Branch Davidian compound, and references to UFO theology—all appear in one or more of these episodes. For example, in “Shooting Stars,” an episode of CSI, the plot closely resembles Heaven’s Gate, a notion reinforced when CSI Gil Grissom explains with increasing derision: “The mythology here appears to be similar to the Heaven’s Gate cult in California several years ago. They committed mass suicide to shed their earthly bodies and hitch a ride on a spaceship hidden in the tail of the Hale Bopp comet.” Further, while much of the Criminal Minds episode “Minimal Loss” echoes the events at Waco, they also include a “white night” drill and references to Jonestown. An agent informs his co-workers and the audience, “Jim Jones pulled the same stunt. They did a test run just like this years before they did the real thing.” The plots of these episodes resemble traumatic cult-related historical events, a technique that enhances the realism and credibility of the unfolding drama, even as it prompts viewers to draw comparisons; to reinterpret the past in light of this present.
As a result, in this chapter I follow Marita Sturken’s model in Tangled Memories (1997), and examine these episodes as “retelling[s] of the past in order to create narratives of closure and to promote processes of healing” (Sturken 1997: 24). This approach highlights how historical events have been re-imagined and re-told for the present (ibid.: 2). Thus, what these episodes excise and what they emphasize, what is forgotten and what is remembered, become clues in understanding what narratives are constructed about cults, suicide, and American culture. Through analyzing the episodes in this way, three dominant themes emerge—religion and madness, suicide and salvation, government authority and divine revelation—that show how Americans have grappled with and interpreted “suicide cults.” First, cult leaders, led astray by their own power and delusions, deserve to die. Secondly, cult followers are the victims of charismatic cult leaders and must find a “good death.” Third, the American government can be trusted to handle these situations in a responsible manner. Its authority, unlike claims to religious revelation, can be trusted. Through these themes, we can see how fictional stories “afford a means through which uncomfortable histories of traumatic events can be smoothed over, retold, and ascribed new meanings” (ibid.: 85).
In the aftermath of Jonestown, Waco, and Heaven’s Gate, the media’s attention and the public’s fury focused on the leaders of these movements. Allegations of corruption, coercion, brainwashing, and abuse abounded. People sought to make sense of these tragedies by assigning blame to the “crazy, charismatic cult leader,” who abused his power and led innocent victims to their deaths. Given the way television shapes and reflects culture (Forbes and Mahan 2005: 4–7), it is not surprising that news and entertainment media utilized these ideas in the creation and maintenance of the “cult leader” stereotype.
In many ways, the episodes in this study reinforce existing stereotypes of cult leaders as greedy con-men and sexual deviants. In CSI’s “Shooting Stars” episode, viewers learn that cult leader Joseph Diamond has a history of repeatedly running the same con. He recruits college-age students to his cult-of-the-moment, has them solicit money from their parents, and then when it is time for the group to commit suicide as a sign of their devotion, Diamond drugs them with hallucinogens and absconds with the money. His followers awaken to realize they have been duped. Cult leader Abraham, in the “Charisma” episode of Law and Order: SVU, is also shown to be financially corrupt. Not only does he have a history of check forgery and counterfeiting, but he murdered one of his male followers to gain access to the man’s daughter and heiress, Melanie. Both episodes depict Joseph Diamond and Abraham as sexual deviants. Abraham impregnated 12-year-old Melanie in a plot to get her money, and she is not his only victim. Later, the FBI psychiatrist tells the detectives: “A lot of cult leaders were known to have sexual relations with the children in their groups. David Koresh had a ten-year-old bride.” While not as depraved as Abraham, Joseph Diamond is no saint. CSI Catherine Willows remarks, “Well, these earthly bodies got a good workout first. Big room, big bed, light show. This cult was about getting laid.” To which, CSI Gil Grissom responds: “Well, Jim Jones and Charles Manson used sex to manipulate their followers.” The inclusion of references to historical cult leaders reinforces the sense of accuracy in these fictional cult depictions, and encourages viewers to interpret the historical past in light of the televisual present.
Furthermore, even if the cult leader has not committed any sexual and financial misdeeds, deception and abuse of power remain prominent elements. Not only do Joseph Diamond and Abraham deceive their followers and wield unchecked power, but so too does Brother David, the cult leader in “Into the Fire,” an episode of Touched by an Angel. As new convert Melina obeys Brother David’s request to burn the mail, angel Monica challenges her unquestioning obedience. “These letters are addressed to people here, but Brother David never allowed them to be delivered.” Melina responds: “Distractions from our past life confuse us, you know.” Monica retorts, “He wants to control you like he controls everybody here. That’s how cults work.” However, Melina remains unconvinced.
Given the prominence and frequency of cult-themed television episodes, these stereotypical characterizations attract viewers (Neal 2011). This repetition also suggests that cults continue to be seen as deviant and or dangerous—that their stories have not been sufficiently “smoothed over” and “retold” (Sturken 1997: 85). More specifically, cult leaders remain problematic figures as their ability to wield seemingly unquestioned power and control over people’s lives exists in stark contrast to the autonomy and individualism prized in American culture. How do these cult leaders gain power? Do they believe what they are saying? Does sincerity matter? Fictional television shows offer viewers a window into the cult leader’s mind and motives.
As television shows attempt to render the “thin line” between religion and madness more visible, the depiction of the cult leaders’ sincerity and ultimate fate is telling. One might imagine sincerity in a cult leader would highlight the religious aspects of these fictional cults; however, sincerity often becomes evidence of the cult leader’s madness. This is most clear in “Charisma.” During her interrogation of Abraham, Detective Olivia Benson has a stunning realization:
You know, I thought that you were just another con-artist seeking out people who were starved for anything that would give them meaning in their life. They’re easy marks. You talk about God and the apocalypse and they give you all their money. But you are much more pathetic than that. You actually believe your own hype. You’ve conned yourself.
This is confirmed through Abraham’s maniacal appearance and his claim, at the end of the episode, that “I am greater than man … I am greater than God.” Whereas Joseph Diamond was a conman and criminal, he was not crazy, but Abraham, a man who believes in his own message, is much more dangerous. He crosses the line between religion and madness. This crossing also occurs in “Minimal Loss” and “Into the Fire.” In both episodes, the cult leaders continue to quote biblical passages until the end, which demonstrates their continued delusion.
In all of these cases, the cult leader’s belief in his own message precedes his death. After claiming that he is “greater than God,” Abraham’s young wife and victim Melanie shoots him because she recognizes his lie. “He said he was greater than God, but nobody is.” In a similar way, after quoting from the gospel of Matthew, Ben Cyrus explains to Agent Reid that “No one had to follow. God could have stopped me.” As he utters these words he is shot by a government agent, and Agent Reid provides the audience with the preferred interpretive lens: “He just did.” Despite Monica’s explanation that God has not forsaken Brother David and her attempt to save him, he remains in the burning building resolute in his belief that “I’m destined to sit at the right hand of God. I know he’s coming for me.”
Abraham and Ben Cyrus are shot, Brother David commits suicide, and Joseph Diamond is murdered. No matter their manner of death, these fictional television episodes affirm the stereotypical attributes of cult leaders, show that their religiosity is a form of madness, and portray death as a viable solution to the problem these men present. As Agent Derek Morgan explains in “Minimal Loss,” “Cults are structured like pyramids. Got the leader at the top, die-hard believers, underneath, biggest group the base—the followers—women and children. These [the women and children] are the people we can save.” Cult leaders because of their crimes, depravity, and their crazy religious beliefs deserve to die.
This message also emerges in episodes that do not specifically equate religiosity with mania. For example, even though Joseph Diamond does not believe his own con, he becomes a victim of it. He is murdered by devout follower, Abigail, for his lack of belief. She explains, “He always said we’d be tested,” and a flashback shows her discovery of Diamond’s duplicity as well as her response (hitting him over the head with a tire iron). Similarly, an episode of Flashpoint entitled “The Farm,” features a “secular” cult that revolves around drug rehabilitation—the group resides on a secluded farm, has cut off ties with family members outside the group, and adheres to the rules of cult leader Charles. An exchange between members of the Strategic Response Unit makes this clear: “You should hear how they talk about this guy Charles, they’re totally devoted to him,” to which another agent responds, “This is sounding like a cult mentality.” In many ways, “the farm” resembles a secular version of Jonestown complete with questions about the cult leader’s sanity. Charles’s behavior appears erratic, increasingly paranoid, and the threat of mass suicide looms. In addition, viewers see that Charles is taking some kind of drug. Reminiscent of debates about Jim Jones’s state of mind in 1978, Charles’s delusional and dangerous acts emerge from the realization that he is going to die from terminal cancer and his belief that mass suicide will keep his followers safe. While the Strategic Response Unit prevents the mass suicide, Charles, like Brother David, kills himself. Thus, even though Diamond does not believe in the religious teachings he promotes and Charles has transformed the “secular” enterprise of rehab into one that resembles a “religion,” both still die.
If we think about these episodes and their portrayal of cult leaders as a form of cultural memory, as a mechanism by which we make sense of the past for the present, then we must ask what memories are being constructed? How are the histories of traumatic events like Jonestown, Waco, and Heaven’s Gate being “smoothed over”? These episodes emphasize at least three ways of thinking about and remembering cults, both fictional and historical. First, by drawing comparisons between fictional and real-life cult leaders, these programs not only enhance the realism of their fictional plots, but also affirm that Jim Jones and David Koresh, like Brother David, Ben Cyrus, and Abraham, were deceptive, deviant, and dangerous in numerous ways. As a result, they do not deserve concern, nor do their beliefs merit understanding. Secondly, these episodes make it clear that cults are not “real” religions. Rather, cults are creations of power-hungry men who distort the ideas and ideals of religion(s) for their own selfish reasons. Cults are shown to be flawed and dangerous human creations. The episodes make an implicit contrast with “real” religion, which presumably is divinely instituted, devoid of corruption, and safe. This message not only reinforces the illegitimacy of “cults” more broadly, but also promotes specific interpretations of Jonestown, Waco, and Heaven’s Gate as the delusional creations of power-hungry men. These were not religious communities seeking enlightenment or salvation, but rather people led astray, brainwashed, and victimized, by charismatic leaders who perverted religion for their own ends. Third, just as the cult leaders in these episodes deserved to die, so too did Jim Jones, David Koresh, and Marshall Herff Applewhite. Whether their manner of death was murder, suicide, or the bullet of a government agent, these men needed to die. As cult leaders, these men are identified as responsible for the tragedies that occurred. The threat of their deviance can only be counteracted with deadly force. Ultimately, these cult leaders are consumed by the violence and havoc they caused. The episodes construct a cultural memory in which only Jim Jones, David Koresh, and Marshall Applewhite are to blame for the tragic events that occurred. Neither the government nor the public is responsible. Culpability resides solely with the leader. As a result, these programs discourage empathy toward charismatic cult leaders, while promoting an understanding that men like David Koresh and Jim Jones deserved to die for their religious deviancy and abuses of power.
The cult leader’s responsibility for the events that unfold is further emphasized by the portrayal of cult followers as victims, rather than willing participants. This emerges clearly in how episodes portray their manner of death. None of the dramas examined in this study include an example of an adult cult follower committing religious suicide (an individual at least 21 years of age knowingly and willingly making the decision to take one’s life for religious reasons). Three general patterns emerge that firmly situate cult members as victims. First, suicidal acts by cult members are explained by their victimization at the hands of the leader. Secondly, apparent suicides are revealed to be murders, and third, attempted mass suicides are thwarted.
In only two of the dramas, Criminal Minds and Charisma, is a suicidal action taken by a cult member. In both cases, the actions are committed by young women under the age of 21 who have been the victims of the cult leaders’ sexual perversions. In the Criminal Minds episode “Minimal Loss,” 15-year-old Jessie, the “wife” of Ben Cyrus, remains loyal to him, and at the end of this Waco-like scenario, Jessie sees Cyrus’s dead body, picks up the detonator that has fallen from his hand, and blows up the building. She is seemingly the only victim left in the residence—a symbol of youth and innocence permanently scarred by the delusions and depravity of Ben Cyrus. In “Charisma,” the investigation reveals that after the initial conflict with police, a 20-year-old female follower of Abraham shot the children and then killed herself. However, her actions are never depicted. She emerges in the story only as a corpse and a victim, a status that is heightened when Detective Munch remarks, “Abraham had total control over all of these kids. He orchestrated all of this.” Like Jessie, this unnamed young woman represents innocence lost, normal childhood disrupted, and right religious thinking unraveled.
While Cold Case and CSI also depict cult followers as victims, they show this in a different way. In these episodes, initial interpretations of events are challenged to show that cult suicides did not really occur. For example, in Cold Case’s “Blank Generation,” the team re-opens the case of Matthew, a young man who belonged to a cult and apparently committed suicide in December 1978. The episode firmly situates this case in the aftermath of Jonestown as an early scene indicates:
Beth [Matthew’s sister]: “This was ‘78, Jonestown had just happened.”
Detective Valens: “The kool-aid?”
Beth: “We were scared that they were going to do the same thing.”
As the investigation unfolds, the detectives discover that the cult had no mass suicide plan, and Matthew’s status as a victim becomes clearer. He has not committed suicide for any reason. He is a sincere, yet troubled young man seeking answers—a spiritual journey cut short by his tragic death, his murder. The detectives discover that after a conversation with his family, Matthew rejected the group’s violent plans and went back to the cult residence to “save” his girlfriend. There he fell victim to her perfidy: cyanide in his drink. Matthew tells his lover Allison, “I came back … to save you,” only to be met with the reply: “I’m saving you.” Thus, Matthew finds a “good” death. He is the victim of murder, but at least he has not committed suicide, which in the episode is described as a “defective thinking,” “narcissism,” and a “screw you to the world.”
Similarly, in “Shooting Stars,” what appears to be a mass suicide for religious reasons is revealed to be something else. The CSIs discover that, like Matthew, the cult members were victims of an overzealous fellow member, Abigail. While they were willing to commit suicide, the audience learns that these followers were only supposed to be the victims of a hallucinogenic drug. It is Abigail, a sincere believer in Diamond’s teachings, who commits the crime. She replaces the hallucinogen with a lethal drug cocktail, and then watches her fellow cult members die. After her own unsuccessful suicide attempt, Abigail continues to believe in Diamond’s teachings and her murderous actions: “I know they’re all up there—happy, healthy, perfect.” This plot frames Abigail as both a victim of Joseph Diamond, and the perpetrator of horrific violence caused by her deluded belief in a conman. At the same time, this depiction reframes the deaths of the eleven cult members. They may have been willing to take their own lives, but, in fact, they were the unknowing victims of Abigail. If Diamond had executed his con, then these young people would have had the chance to learn from their mistakes, to continue their life journeys. With this opportunity precluded, their deaths are framed as a tragedy, but ultimately the show undermines the idea that they committed religious suicide.
In Touched by an Angel and Flashpoint, one sees a different framing of events. In these two episodes, none of the cult followers die. All are rescued, by angels and government agents, respectively. In these scenarios, viewers also see these cult followers question and protest the cult leader’s actions. Toward the end of Flashpoint’s “The Farm,” cult leader Charles has led everyone into a barn, barred the exits, and his minions begin releasing poisonous gas. However, most of the followers are restive, fearful, and questioning (“What’s happening?” “Why are you locking us in?”). As the gas spreads, people do not meekly acquiesce to their deaths, they struggle, demand to be let out, and pound on the barn door seeking an exit. The Strategic Response Unit arrives in time and the followers are saved. In Touched by an Angel, though Brother David’s followers have clearly rehearsed for mass suicide with “drills” and pitchers of kool-aid, they change their minds when angel Monica reveals herself and shares her message:
I am an angel from God, the true God, the Alpha, the Omega, Jehovah, creator of heaven and earth. Listen to me. This act, this taking of your own lives is not an acceptable sacrifice to God. Would it not be better to break the bonds of oppression? To feed the hungry, to clothe the naked, to let the homeless into your homes? Then will the glory of God break forth for you. Then will you cry out to Him and He will answer, here I am. Believe it. He is waiting for you here—in life—not in death as blind followers and the murderers of little children.
Monica assures Brother David’s followers that life, not death, is God’s plan for them, and they slowly, one by one, throw away their cups of kool-aid. Even when Brother David sets the building on fire, Monica uses her angelic powers to unlock the chained doors and lead the victims to safety.
Through these three patterns, we see cult followers defined as victims of cult leaders and fellow followers. These deluded zealots bear the ultimate responsibility for violent actions and tragic events. Thus, in these depictions, cult or religious suicide remains implausible. No sane adult would do such a thing. As a result, cult followers find a “good” death. The stigma of “suicide” is removed by the tragic, but more “acceptable” fact of murder, or the attempted “suicides” are thwarted by intervening forces so that the cult members can reclaim normal lives and die a “good” death in old age. As re-envisionings of Jonestown, Waco, and Heaven’s Gate, these narratives create a preferred story that “smooths over” the possibility that some adults do, in fact, kill themselves for religious reasons. These fictional television shows create a past in which participants are absolved of responsibility by virtue of their victimization. They provide viewers with a history of desire, one in which the people of Jonestown fought back, threw down cups of kool-aid, and walked out. A past where most of the Branch Davidians survived, and those in Heaven’s Gate were victims of a murderous conspiracy, rather than willing participants in their own deaths.
The portrayal of the US government, usually represented by some form of law enforcement, heightens the culpability of cult leaders and the victimization of cult followers. Caution, procedural adherence, and efficiency characterize their entrance into these cult events, and religious deviance never constitutes part of the rationale for their involvement.
In contrast to the irrationality and chaos caused by cult leaders, government agents and law enforcement do their jobs efficiently. They follow procedure, approach situations using logic and reason, and keep their emotions in check. For example, in Flashpoint, the Strategic Response Unit (SRU) takes every precaution to prevent loss of life and escalation of events. Throughout, the agents remain calm and in control. They exhibit empathy and understanding even as they wield guns and power. For example, when SRU Agent Lane is taken hostage, he attempts to reason with cult leader Charles’s son Isaac. Lane pleads with Isaac:
I understand that you love your father and you have been raised to follow him without question, but there comes a time in all our lives, son, when we have to think for ourselves. Now what your father’s doing is wrong. Your mother knows that. Now, if you can help me, I can stop him. I can fix it.
Agent Lane doesn’t denigrate “the Farm” or deride Charles, but rather rationally tries to talk with Isaac and convince him to claim his autonomy. Throughout, Lane remains calm knowing that his team is ultimately in control. By the end of the episode the SRU has indeed “fixed it.” Charles is the only casualty.
The government’s procedural carefulness and efficiency also emerges in CSI, SVU, and Cold Case. Every week, Cold Case highlighted the ability of the detectives to solve previously unsolved crimes. The case of Matthew’s apparent suicide is no exception. Despite the passage of twenty years, these detectives find answers, and they continue to do their job even when threatened. For example, after a cult member breaks into Detective Rush’s home, she remains unflappable and determined to find the perpetrator. Similarly, in CSI, despite the horror of confronting eleven deaths, the CSIs remain dedicated to the task of figuring out what happened and who was responsible for it. Furthermore, when an excess of emotion threatens one of these agents of the law, the episodes emphasize the agents’ ability to overcome this threat or the system’s ability to effectively deal with the problem. CSI Nick Stokes exhibits nervousness before entering the bunker containing the victims’ bodies. For knowing viewers, his fear of going underground makes sense as he was buried alive in the previous episode; however, Stokes takes a deep breath, shakes off the fear, and does his job. Likewise, the detectives in SVU are not unaffected by seeing the dead bodies of Abraham’s children, and are required to undergo therapy. Not only does this plot device make the detectives more three-dimensional and sympathetic, but it also emphasizes the checks and balances that exist within law enforcement agencies. In SVU, Detective Tutuola voluntarily removes himself from the case, while Detective Stabler’s mental state is questioned and he is removed from the case. Similarly, in Cold Case, Detective Valens is required to hand over his gun and go on leave until he can better handle his emotions and job as an officer of the law. Thus, viewers see representatives of the government successfully handle their emotions, and if they fail to do so, viewers learn that mechanisms exist to prevent these individuals from participating in active cases.
In addition, the episodes clarify that religion is not the cause of these violent confrontations between government agents and cults. In Criminal Minds and SVU, concerns for and crimes against children prompt law enforcement to become involved. In Flashpoint and CSI, the authorities’ response to one crime leads them to investigate the cults in question. In some episodes, the cults’ violations of the law, justified by claims to religious authority, demand governmental action. For example, in Cold Case and Touched by an Angel, both cult leaders assert that their authority comes from God and takes precedence over the laws of the land. In Cold Case’s “Blank Generation,” when asked about tax fraud and statutory rape, cult leader Warfield explains that “those are your laws,” and “I don’t accept your authority. I consider myself wrongly detained.” Similarly, when confronted by the Department of Children Services in “Into the Fire,” Brother David refuses to cooperate using a religious justification: “I answer only to God.” Both episodes show these claims to divine revelation to be manipulative and self-serving. Warfield continually lies to the police and angel Monica challenges the authenticity of Brother David’s link to God. She asks, “Brother David, what does God’s voice sound like? Is it male or female? Or does it sound just like your voice?” Monica’s incisive critique of Brother David’s claims to authority and his defiance of the government highlight the madness and chaos created by cult leaders. Thus, the episodes firmly situate any government involvement as a necessary and expected response to violations of the law. They show viewers that law enforcement deserves one’s trust and respect, while claims to divine revelation, often the basis of charismatic religious authority, should be met with suspicion.
All of these elements combine in the Criminal Minds episode “Minimal Loss.” When BAU agents Prentiss and Reid go undercover as “child victim interview experts” in Ben Cyrus’s cult, they explicitly deny any anti-cult or anti-religious motives. As Agent Prentiss explains, “We are not here because of your religious beliefs.” However, when a mistake does occur and a siege ensues with Prentiss and Reid trapped inside, Prentiss and Reid’s co-workers must put aside their concerns, control their emotions, and work the case. Agent Hotchner insists that Agent Rossi act as lead negotiator because of his expertise. When Rossi protests that he is too emotionally involved, Hotchner quickly responds: “This outcome depends as much on our ability to predict the moves of Prentiss and Reid, as Cyrus. That’s why you’re the best man for the job.”
This scene assures viewers that government agents can control their emotions, and that their personal connection to the case could even be advantageous. Rossi’s ability to handle this position is further enhanced by his character’s negotiation experiences at Waco, Ruby Ridge, and the Freemen’s stand-off. However, unlike these historical events, the episode places the blame for this debacle on state government, specifically a governor seeking reelection who ordered the raid leading to the hostage situation. The BAU, which represents the federal government, must rectify this state-level political corruption, rescue their trapped friends, and resolve this stand-off. As negotiations ensue, Agent Rossi remains calm and sympathetic, and, like Agent Prentiss, he assures Ben Cyrus that “I have no issue with your beliefs,” and later tells a worried Cyrus that “This isn’t Waco.”
However, even as the Rossi insists that “this isn’t Waco,” Waco permeates the episode. The dusty isolated “compound” resembles the Branch Davidian headquarters at Mt. Carmel. Cult leader Ben Cyrus echoes the words of Branch Davidian leader David Koresh: “We’re believers, Dave. We believe that God says what he means and means what he says.” Cyrus also explains: “They stay for now while I pray for God’s guidance. Please don’t try to force us out.” And later, “Tell them I’m not crazy. Tell ‘em I’m just a man living by God’s law.” Further, the episode features a little girl on the phone with negotiators asking in a plaintive voice: “You killed my Mommy and Daddy. Are you goin’ to kill me too?” Similarly, the Waco negotiation tapes include the voice of a little girl asking negotiator Jim Cavanaugh, “Are you comin’ to kill me?” And Agent Rossi, like real-life Jim Cavanaugh, assures her “no one is going to kill you, honey.” Even the climax of the episode, in which Jessie pushes the detonator and fire engulfs the building, resembles the flames that consumed Mt. Carmel. The scene is shown to viewers through the camera lens of a news crew covering the Ben Cyrus cult similar to the way Americans saw the events at Waco end on 19 April 1993.
The resemblances between the fictional and the historical affirm the episode’s status as a retelling of the past, as do the alterations to this history. For example, Rossi’s insistence that power not be cut off to Cyrus and his followers is the opposite of what happened at Waco. Similarly, Rossi and Hotchner’s orders to de-escalate the situation differ drastically from the tactics utilized in the Branch Davidian siege. Throughout the episode, the BAU continues to act cautiously and patiently. They do not rush to judgment, nor do they act recklessly.
The episode constructs a history of Waco in which the federal government acted with care and lives were not needlessly lost. It is a cultural memory in which government intervention in cult affairs remains guided by logic, procedure, and due process. Rather than ask what the government could have done to prevent Jonestown or Waco, these television shows offer a narrative of the past that affirms one’s faith in the nation-state. These episodes assure viewers that the government acts justly, that the good of law enforcement will triumph over the evil of crazy cult leaders, and that one should trust in the government’s authority. Further, these episodes “smooth over” any suspicion that the government unduly targets minority religious groups by framing involvement in terms of violations of the law. The checks and balances on law enforcement agents within these episodes emphasize the trustworthiness of the system, as well as its efficiency in solving highly emotional and dangerous situations. Thus, these television shows construct a vision of history in which viewers are taught to question claims to religious authority and divine revelation (especially those that justify defiance of the law), while simultaneously exhibiting unquestioning obedience toward governmental authority. Through this lens, these plots demonstrate to viewers that despite the tragic events at Jonestown, Waco, and Heaven’s Gate, the government acted as it should. It did what needed to be done, and by framing the past in this way, these episodes highlight the government’s commitment to the First Amendment and its ability to balance religious freedom with protecting citizens from harm.
Thus, these episodes reinforce a central motif in American culture—the triumph of religious freedom and liberty. These shows demonstrate that religious freedom is not about blind obedience to a crazy, deceptive cult leader, who causes death and destruction, but rather it is represented by the courageous men and women of law enforcement who put their lives on the line for their country. These are the people who risk their lives to ensure that religious freedom remains triumphant. In this history of desire, viewers are encouraged to re-interpret potentially problematic past governmental actions as the tragic consequences of events caused by crazy, charismatic leaders. In the end, it is not government authority and power that should be in doubt, but rather claims to religious revelation and defiance of laws that create violent confrontations and endanger religious freedom.
The episodes encourage viewers to let go of the historical past and embrace this history of desire through their blending of elements. By combining fictional plots with elements mined from Jonestown, Waco, and Heaven’s Gate, the shows highlight their verisimilitude and encourage viewers to interpret the fictional and the historical in light of one another. Further, these dramas not only blend the historical with the fictional, but they also combine features of different cult events. “Minimal Loss” moves back and forth between elements from Jonestown (“white night” drills, loyalty tests, and comparisons of Cyrus with Jones) and Waco (weapons, a Mt. Carmel-like setting, and comparisons of Cyrus with Koresh). The blending that occurs in this episode and others fosters a homogenization of these religious movements and their histories. Jonestown, Waco, and Heaven’s Gate become equivalent events in this pick-and-choose past, rather than distinctive historical moments.
This erasure of historical context and nuance promotes a cultural memory in which the act of cult suicide is relegated to the realm of a few crazy, charismatic cult leaders. These fictional television shows deny the possibility that cult followers would willingly take their own lives for religious reasons. Rather, these innocents are the victims of foul play or fortuitously rescued by trustworthy government agents (or the occasional angel). These television shows assure viewers about the role of both religion and government in American society. Through these fictional scenarios, the audience learns and re-learns that unlike cults, “real” religions do not require individuals to commit acts of violence against themselves or others, that claims to revelation and hearing God’s voice are more likely signs of delusion than proximity to divinity, and that religious rationales for violating the law should be met with suspicion. Further, these episodes reinforce the idea that cults are not real religions unfairly persecuted by law enforcement, but rather harmful scams which necessitate governmental intervention. And government authorities can be trusted given their rationality and efficiency, as well as the checks and balances that govern the system. Thus, any fears that “real” religion requires extraordinary measures of devotion, disrupts the norms of family life, leads to violence, or questioning of the law are alleviated. Concerns that the government unfairly targets minority religions or that government agents abuse their power are written out of the cultural memory. These television dramas create a history of desire—a past in which both religion and government adhere to the ideals of rationality and moderation while upholding the value of religious freedom.
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1 An earlier version of this chapter was published as Rebecca Moore, “Rhetoric, Revolution, and Resistance in Jonestown, Guyana,” Journal of Religion and Violence, 1(3) (2013): 303–21.
2 Throughout this chapter, I use Marita Sturken’s definition of cultural memory. In Tangled Memories (1997, 2-3), she writes that cultural memory is “a field of contested meanings in which Americans interact with cultural elements to produce concepts of the nation, particularly in events of trauma, where both the structures and the fractures of a culture are exposed. Examining cultural memory thus provides insight into how American culture functions, how oppositional politics engages with nationalism, and how cultural arenas such as art, popular culture, activism, and consumer culture intersect.”
3 I used internet databases, TV.com and the International Movie Database (IMDb), to locate television shows featuring suicide-cult storylines. I then viewed the episodes and further narrowed the pool based on each episode’s plot, the salience of the suicide cult theme, and genre. I limited my findings to television drama, although some episodes of South Park and Family Guy contain suicide cult references. In what follows, all descriptions and quotes come from the shows as cited here. Touched by an Angel, “Into the Fire,” Season 5, Episode 20, first broadcast 4 April 1999 by CBS. Directed by Tim Van Patten and written by Brian Bird. Law and Order: Special Victims Unit, “Charisma,” Season 6, Episode 7, first broadcast 16 November 2004 by NBC. Directed by Arthur W. Forney and written by Michele Fazekas and Tara Butters. Cold Case, “Blank Generation,” Season 2, Episode 11, first broadcast 9 January 2005 by CBS. Directed by David Barrett and written by Meredith Stiehm and Chris Mundy. CSI, “Shooting Stars,” Season 6, Episode 4, first broadcast 13 October 2005 by CBS. Directed and written by Danny Cannon. Criminal Minds, “Minimal Loss,” Season 4, Episode 3, first broadcast 8 October 2008 by CBS. Directed by Felix Enriquez Alcalá and written by Andrew Wilder. Flashpoint, “The Farm,” Season 2, Episode 19, first broadcast 18 June 2010 by CBS. Directed by Erik Canuel and written by Ian Weir, Melissa R. Byer and Treena Hancock.