After the arrest, Alissa was forced to appear in court, and later pay a fine. A meager punishment, but one that went on her permanent record. Creating physical, concrete proof that she was trouble. And soon after, Claire started to look for help.
This is how the Troubled Teen Industry typically recruits families. A harmless, cursory Google search will spin into inquiries on a website for various facets of the industry. An educational consultant, who masquerades as a college counselor type, is often essential to the equation. They guide parents—like Alyssa’s and Elissa’s, who both employed them—through finding the best wilderness program, then therapeutic boarding school, for their child.
The Troubled Teen Industry plays on parents’ vulnerability. Claire was at the end of her rope: so worried about Alissa’s future and well‑being that she was desperate for some relief, any solution. According to many parents who have sent their teens to these programs, the educational consultants and program directors appear hyperaware of their concerns.
In the weeks that followed the film’s release, an entire generation of former Troubled Teen Industry students began coming forward on TikTok. They shared their own stories of abuse, neglect, and trauma. The hashtag #TroubledTeenIndustry has since garnered over 337 million views. But, as I’d later learn, these conversations weren’t just happening on TikTok. I also found that some of Elissa’s former classmates had started to identify as survivors rather than graduates.