By the time he handed her over to Oktar, she would
already be broken.
“It’s like a race, like you always set a new target and
she’s trying to catch up with the targets,” he says. “And
then at the end of the race you introduce her to Adnan
Oktar ... at that point Oktar knows what to do.” He
would take the women aside and sexually abuse them.
Then their lives as captives of the cult would begin.
They called it the turnstile system — and they had
it down to a fine art. Over the years hundreds of girls
and young women were brought into the cult this way,
though some, like Ozgul, were recruited through
other channels and not sexually abused.
Sahin says he brought about 200 women into the
cult. When I ask why he did it, he says that he had been
so brainwashed that he believed he was doing the right
thing. “I saw that as a religious practice at the time.
You can picture it like this: there’s a fire in the building
and there’s a girl inside the fire and she doesn’t want
to get out. And you do everything to take her out.”
Eventually, Sahin grew disenchanted with the cult
and turned against it. With a handful of other former
members he provided information to the police and
prosecutors that led to the cult’s demise. In the trial he
was given immunity from prosecution for his crimes.
Three years after he turned against the cult,
Sahin is no longer recognisable as the manipulative
lothario who ruined so many women’s lives. Now 37,
overweight and dressed in a tracksuit, he has dark
shadows under his eyes. Just as I am about to leave,
he says something that sticks in my mind: “I’ve seen
a lot of girls who were really smart and really beautiful
who joined this cult. It could have happened to you as
well, no matter how smart you are.”
It seemed a good point. But the next day it rang

differently. Sahin’s friend Ozkan Mamati, another

former cult member who was also given immunity

from prosecution after co-operating with prosecutors,

contacted Beril to tell her he was going to denounce

me to the authorities for an unspecified crime. Unsure

of what we might be facing, my lawyer advised me to

leave the country for a while.

I

returned to Turkey determined to finish the

story. It was this culture of threats and coercion

that had allowed the cult to survive for so long.

They attacked journalists who wrote about them,

trolling them online and filing bogus lawsuits

against them. They also cultivated top politicians

in Turkey: Oktar and his followers have been

linked to a number of Erdogan’s allies, and Oktar

often praised the president on his TV channel.

According to testimony from former cult

members, cash was flowing in from a range of

businesses across the world and from the personal

wealth of the cult’s supporters.

The cult seemed impenetrable. But in the end

it was taken down from the inside. Ozgul, who had

once been one of its most recognisable female faces,

was at the centre. By 2018 she had spent more than

a decade with Oktar. In public she appeared devoted

to him. But for years she had been looking to escape.

It wasn’t easy. Her “outspokenness” constantly

landed her in hot water with Oktar, which led to her

freedoms being restricted. She had no phone, no

laptop that wasn’t monitored. On the rare occasions

when she left Dragos she was dogged by other cult

members — some of whom, she says, were armed.

The cult had forced her to break contact with her

family but in the summer of 2018 she found a way back

to them — and to freedom. She used a smart TV in her

room at Dragos to contact her father. Despite all the

years of separation, he was ready to help. One morning

Ozgul said that she wanted to go to the doctor.

Then she walked out of the door and jumped into

her father’s car. All she had with her was her identity

card. She went straight to the authorities. Three

months after she escaped, teams of police from the

city’s financial crimes unit raided Dragos and other

properties belonging to the cult across the country.

In the autumn of 2020 Oktar and his followers

went on trial at Caglayan courthouse in Istanbul

and a few months later they were sentenced. Ozgul,

Mamati and Sahin’s testimonies played a vital role

in taking Oktar down. Despite the convictions,

a significant number of people — including some

women — remain devoted to Oktar. They say that he

and his supporters were mistreated during the trial

and their imprisonment, and that their human rights

were violated. Soon, they believe, Oktar will be

released and return to his rightful place among them.

It sounds like wishful thinking by brainwashed

people. But several very senior Turkish lawyers

familiar with the case told me they believed that

Oktar could be released within the next few years.

They said that disputes over the trial procedures, or

with the collection of evidence, could be used to

try to overturn many convictions.

Even being sent to prison for more than 1,000

years might not be enough to stop him n

It is not known whether the unidentified women in the

photographs that accompany this article were abused.

Additional reporting by Beril Eski

From top: Oktar’s

luxury farmhouse

in Silivri, west of

Istanbul; cult

members Ugur

Sahin and Ozkan

Mamati turned

against their leader

THE MESSIAH AND HIS KITTENS

Louise Callaghan hosts this

four-part series on Adnan Oktar

and his cult. Out now and every

Friday on the Stories of our times

podcast feed — listen wherever

you get your podcasts

The Sunday Times Magazine • 27