(continued)

One of the alleged victims was identified as Mike E. The slim, dark-haired 14-year-old, who attended a small private high school in the Valley, befriended Chad's brother Scott, who led him to DEN. Mike had an interest in acting, so when Collins-Rector outlined the possibilities for stardom offered by the site, the boy began spending time at the mansion, where there was one key rule. He recalls: "If you were going to sleep over, you had to get into either the pool or the hot tub—and you had to be naked to do so." In an exclusive interview, Mike E. confirms having been forced to engage in anal and oral intercourse with Collins-Rector, Shackley, and Pierce while under the influence of drugs that he claims were fed to him without his knowledge. At the same time, he says, Collins-Rector and Shackley were pushing him to become a legally emancipated minor. Although Ronald Palmieri, Collins-Rector's lawyer at the time, dismisses the allegations, saying, "There was never any such discussion that I know of," Radar has obtained correspondence sent by Shackley to Palmieri's law office requesting an update on the status of Mike E.'s emancipation filing.

Meanwhile, in addition to paying the boy $1,000 a week, Collins-Rector dangled a starring role in a DEN series called The Royal Standard, which was being developed by Randal Kleiser, the director of Grease and The Blue Lagoon.

Another alleged victim, Daniel, tells a similar story. After being subjected to sexual abuse at M&C, he wrote a suicide note: "I can't stop crying! Please God help me. I can't go on. I let them use me as a sex tool. I let those assholes do all those terrible things to me. Goodbye." His brother found the note and alerted their parents before Daniel made any attempt on his life.

Another young man who frequented the estate, Alex B., was not a minor at the time, but also eventually became a plaintiff against the men. Alex claims he was threatened with physical harm, often after being given drugs. At one point, Alex secretly shot a video inside the M&C estate to document what was going on. In a jittery scene, he removes a canvas bag from a closet and shows off a massive stash of drugs in amber vials—Percocet, Vicodin, Xanax, Valium, marijuana, and ecstasy among them.One industry observer describes the series as "a gay pedophile version of Silver Spoons," adding, "it was a case of art imitating life."
Another former DEN employee tells of receiving and rejecting numerous sexual advances at the M&C mansion—until one evening when he was surreptitiously drugged and woke up nude in Collins-Rector's bed, with Collins-Rector asleep beside him.

In addition to the money and promises of stardom, Collins-Rector allegedly used physical threats to keep the boys in line. One tactic, according to several victims, was to brandish a gun. "Do you know what I can do with this?" he would say, leveling the barrel at them, "and get away with it?" He also threatened the lives of their families. On one occasion, Alex recalls, Collins-Rector asked a bodyguard to stand in the room wearing earmuffs. The DEN chairman told Alex the guard would choke him if he didn't consent to sex. (Radar tracked down the guard in question, who had gone on to do security work for a big Hollywood talent agency. He confirmed the basics of the boy's account and seemed disgusted by the memory. "Marc told me to put on the earmuffs and stand in the room facing him and Alex," he says. "I was there for about two hours, but that is all I want to say about what happened.")

As the lawsuits against the company mounted in early 2000, DEN—in which Pierce held nearly one million shares and Collins-Rector still owned a majority stake—began to hemorrhage money. The planned IPO, which was postponed after the first abuse allegations surfaced, was permanently shelved. A crumbling Nasdaq didn't help the situation. By May 2000, the start-up was bankrupt. Before long, its headquarters were gutted, the expensive computer equipment and office chairs sold off for a fraction of their original cost. Around Hollywood, rumors flew that Collins-Rector, Shackley, and Pierce were about to be arrested on embezzlement and sexual offenses. Before any charges were filed, though, the three men disappeared.

They didn't turn up again until May 2002, when a tip to Interpol led authorities to raid their luxury villa in Marbella, on the Spanish Riviera—an area British tabloids have dubbed the Costa del Crime due to its high population of English-speaking fugitives. Among the items recovered from the residence were guns, machetes, a trove of jewels, and child pornography. Pierce and Shackley were held for about a month by Spanish police and then released.

The prosecution of Collins-Rector also proved difficult. He remained in a Spanish jail for almost two years, fighting extradition, before finally being brought to the United States, where he pled guilty to eight charges of child enticement, a comparably minor offense. He was soon out of prison—receiving credit for the time he'd served in Spain. Since most of his alleged crimes took place at the mansion in Encino, it was up to L.A. County prosecutors to make any further charges stick, but the DA never took steps to do so. (The L.A. County district attorney's office refused to comment about the status of any DEN investigation.) The victims sought justice in the civil courts, however, winning a total of $4.5 million in summary judgments. Except for a small side agreement with Pierce, the award has yet to be paid, lawyers say.

And like O.J. Simpson, who wound up in a similar legal situation—unpunished for criminal wrongdoing but subject to a large civil judgment—Collins-Rector seems to have little incentive to earn enough money to start paying the plaintiffs. At least, not in his own name. Evidence uncovered by Radar suggests the dot-com pedophile may once again have struck it rich, this time concealing his wealth through a new Internet venture controlled by Brock Pierce. As founder of IGE (Internet Gaming Entertainment), Pierce has made a killing selling broadswords, battle axes, and other assets to enthusiasts of multiplayer online games like EverQuest and World of Warcraft. Headquartered in Hong Kong, the company hires gamers—thought to be Chinese nationals working in virtual sweatshops—to rack up items inside the games and sell them for real-world dollars to participants who have more money than skill. While not illegal, such deals do run afoul of game rules and are detested by many players.

Sales of digital assets could soon be a $7 billion-a-year industry, according to IGE. Pierce, it's safe to assume, has made a fortune. Upon his return from Spain, he made out-of-court settlements for his role in the M&C debauchery.

There is good reason to believe, however, that Collins-Rector also has a stake in the company. Daniel Cheren, a lawyer who represented three of the boys in their civil suits, openly voices his suspicions about Collins-Rector's involvement, and suggests that money from the new venture should go to the victims. Among other indications, when IGE first surfaced, it listed an address in Marbella, Spain, the town where the trio hid out. Paperwork for the company's incorporation in the United States was filed by Matt Rector, Collins-Rector's brother, along with Collins-Rector's former business partner, attorney Randy Maslow—then IGE's executive vice president.

The company is under no legal obligation to publicly disclose its finances or investors, and the bulk of its operations remain in Hong Kong. Without a court order obliging IGE to open its books, it's impossible to know whether Collins-Rector is in on the action. The company didn't return calls seeking comment.

Meanwhile, Collins-Rector appears to be up to his old tricks in London. In 2006, a U.S. District Court judge granted him "emergency" permission to leave the country to receive treatment for a brain tumor. Every week, his physician must assure a U.S. probation officer that the medical leave is vital. A spokesperson for the U.S. Attorney's office in Newark, New Jersey, which prosecuted the case against him, acknowledged being aware of Collins-Rector's residence in London, but said his parole was being handled by court officials in Florida and refused further comment.

After Collins-Rector made his cameo in the Sun, it appeared that officials were losing patience with the arrangement and making an effort to bring him back to the United States. "It's a slap in the face to the victims," says attorney Brian Brandt, who represented Daniel.

In a 2007 motion requesting termination of Collins-Rector's supervision requirement, his attorney argued that "life-changing medical events he has experienced have profoundly affected him and augur well for the success of his rehabilitation." In its response to the motion, the U.S. Attorney's office revealed that Collins-Rector had come up with what it called another "ploy to circumvent British immigration law," by claiming he "fell in love" and will form a civil union with a British citizen—which would allow him permanent residence status. As it happens, his love interest—who also works as his personal assistant—is a young man who just turned 18.

This article is from the November issue of Radar magazine. Click here to get a risk-free issue.

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