In the rugged wilderness of Utah, a controversial rehab program promised salvation for troubled teens but delivered a nightmare of abuse and neglect. Second Nature, an extreme outdoor therapy camp, has come under fire as former patients reveal harrowing experiences that echo the struggles of Nick Reiner, son of Hollywood director Rob Reiner. Sent there at 16 by his desperate parents after early brushes with drugs, Nick later reflected that the program might have done more harm than good, inadvertently planting the idea of heroin in his mind through connections formed amid the isolation.

Former attendees paint a grim picture of life at Second Nature. Teens were forced to endure three months outdoors, braving freezing winters with only basic survival gear. Hourly frostbite checks became routine to prevent losing toes, while hygiene was a luxury—bathing limited to sporadic bucket rinses after grueling seven-mile hikes with heavy packs. Meals were unappetizing canned or freeze-dried rations, requiring campers to master fire-starting skills; failure meant cold food and “fire isolation,” leaving some shivering and starving. Counselors, often young and unqualified, allegedly wielded power sadistically, bullying participants and dubbing them “dirt urchins.” Therapy sessions were sparse, with weekly professional visits supplemented by group readings of personal trauma letters, where vulnerabilities were met with dismissive responses rather than empathy.

The intake process was equally traumatic, described as “gooning”—a midnight abduction involving blindfolds, zip ties, and threats to ensure compliance. Stripped of possessions and dignity, teens underwent invasive searches and cold showers in a bid to break their spirits. One survivor, who attended around the same time as Nick, recounted being flown across the country, only to face a regime that prioritized endurance over emotional healing. Boys reportedly faced harsher treatment, amplifying the program’s reputation for corruption and greed, as consultants preyed on parents’ fears with dire warnings: “Send your child or they’ll die.”

Nick’s journey into addiction deepened post-rehab. At 18, in sober living, he reconnected with a fellow Second Nature alum—a “hardcore” acquaintance from the camp—who introduced him to heroin near Los Angeles’ Skid Row. Nick described the encounter vividly: the seed of opioid use was sown during those wilderness days, blooming into a cycle of dependency. Over the years, he cycled through at least 18 rehab stints, battling heroin, cocaine, and methamphetamine. Periods of sobriety alternated with homelessness, as his high-profile family grappled with desperation, often overriding his pleas that traditional programs weren’t working. His parents later admitted regret, acknowledging they should have listened to their son instead of credentialed experts who labeled him manipulative.

This wilderness approach, founded in 1998, touts a nomadic backpacking model for behavioral reset, but critics argue it traumatizes more than it treats. Mixed reviews from alumni highlight a divide: some credit it with life-changing discipline, while others decry the psychological scars. For Nick, the experience underscored a broader truth about addiction recovery—rigid, punitive methods can backfire, exposing vulnerable youth to influences that exacerbate their issues.

As Nick’s story unfolds amid recent tragedies, including his arrest following the shocking deaths of his parents, questions linger about the long-term impact of such programs. Did Second Nature save lives or shatter them? The survivors’ voices demand accountability, urging a reevaluation of how society addresses teen addiction. In a world where parental love meets institutional failure, Nick’s path serves as a cautionary tale: true healing requires compassion, not coercion.