“Have you ever met revenge porn kingpin, Hunter Moore, and if so, what happened?”
It seems inquiring minds want to know. This is a question I hear as often as my neighbor’s noisy pool equipment. Then, the interrogator gets all bug-eyed, as if hoping to hear about covered wagons, gun-slinging, watering holes and a Wild West showdown on a dusty street in Anytown, USA.
Let me introduce myself. Some people call me the “Erin Brockovich of revenge porn” because I help revenge porn (RP) victims all over the world get their compromising nude photos removed from the Internet. I also uncovered a hacking scheme associated with Hunter Moore’s website, instigated a federal investigation (which led to Moore’s arrest) and work with legislators to pass anti-RP laws. I am a boardmember of the Cyber Civil Rights Initiative; thus, I am connected to a team of caring advocates who are also dedicated to this cause.
Revenge porn is defined as sexually explicit media that is shared without consent of the depicted individual; and it usually contains personally identifying information, such as a victim’s name, employer and social media link. Ninety percent of revenge porn victims are female.
Hunter Moore ran the most notorious RP website called Isanyoneup (dot) com. He enjoyed humiliating women and said, “If someone killed themselves [over being on my site]… do you know how much money I’d make?” The media labeled him “asshole”, “scumbag”, “Public Enemy No. 1”, “life-ruiner” and “the most hated man on the Internet”.
Symbolically speaking, Moore was featured on “Most Wanted” posters long before I rode into town. He threw his weight around like an outlaw, terrorizing and victimizing thousands. It was only a matter of time before a disgraced victim—or an incensed mom like myself—devoted the hours necessary to investigate him, expose his criminality and urge the FBI to throw him in the slammer.
Moore recently pleaded guilty to hacking and identity theft in association with his now defunct, slut-shaming website. Thank goodness. He will go to prison. His sentencing date is June 24, 2015, so if you are a casualty of this unpleasant man, please let me know. I am helping the FBI and prosecutor’s office compile victim testimony. You can speak anonymously in person or via a letter to the judge.
Back to the question at hand: Have I ever been face-to-face with Mr. Nasty? The answer is yes, three times. But, Moore only knows about the two of these “interactions.” He is unaware of the time in mid-2012 when I went undercover at one of his parties. I wore pasty white face makeup, a black wig, sunglasses, a 1980s velvet jacket and a vintage beatnik beret. I looked bizarre, and thankfully unrecognizable, since Moore was all too familiar with my face.
Moore’s cult, “the family,” was thriving in 2012, and some of his most-devoted minions told him (their “father”) that they would kill for him. I was bombarded with computer viruses and death threats during this period because I was the only cowgirl daring enough—or reckless enough—to try to lasso him.
The party was held at a sprawling motel in Long Beach, California, and I was there at the request of a victim. She had hired a process server to hand Moore legal documents and wanted me to play witness. I parked my Nissan in the massive parking lot, exited my car in my outlandish attire, locked the door, turned around, and bam! I was shocked and horrified because I was face to face with my nemesis: Hunter Moore. It was a bizarre coincidence. Moore was accompanied by three other scene kids, and he stared at me inquisitively for three long seconds before heading toward a parked van. I took a deep breath and scurried into the lobby.
There were numerous bands at this event, and they were peppered around the premises. Moore had been assigned to a second floor conference room where he was to assume the role of disc jockey. There were few attendees at Moore’s “show,” which surprised me because he had 600 thousand followers on Twitter.
At the start of the gig—and in a less-than-brilliant move—Moore threw a cup of beer into the air. When the liquid came down, it landed right in the middle of his open laptop, ruining it. He seemed flustered and stared at his Mac, puzzled. Then he tinkered with the device in a desperate attempt to get it to operate. His songs, which were designed to play from the computer, sputtered and stammered for the rest of the evening.
I tolerated the on-again, off-again music, while I waited. Nothing happened, so I ducked into a quiet hallway and called the victim on my cell phone. “Where’s the process server?” I asked.
“I cancelled him because I don’t know what Hunter Moore might do,” she confessed. “He’s dangerous.”
I hung up and wandered back into the conference room, where a guy stared at me suspiciously. Then he whispered to Moore, and I hightailed it out of the event. As I climbed into my car, I saw this guy in the distance peering at me.
I phoned a friend on my cell, but was forced to leave a message. “Where are you? I think one of Hunter’s friends may have recognized me. I’m getting out of here as fast as I can.”
My other two face-to-face encounters with Mr. Nasty—along with the totality of my experiences fighting the seedy world of revenge porn—are detailed in my new memoir, Rebel in High Heels.
Although Moore is heading to prison, I am not yet prepared to remove my cowboy boots and follow John Wayne’s advice to “Talk low, talk slow and don’t say too much.” Instead, I plan to saddle up again, gather together a posse and join the showdown in Washington, D.C. when Representative Jackie Speier (CA) introduces a federal, anti-revenge porn bill later this year.
Victims need to be protected from every “Mr. Nasty” in the world.
Charlotte Laws, Ph.D. is a TV commentator and the author of Rebel in Heels. She has been an actress, California politician and private investigator.