When two young Brazilian women were reported missing in September 2022, their families and the FBI launched a desperate search across the US to find them. All they knew was that they were living with wellness influencer Kat Torres.

Torres has now been sentenced to eight years in prison for the human trafficking and slavery of one of those women. The BBC has also been told that charges have been filed against her in relation to a second woman.

How did the former model who partied with Leonardo DiCaprio and graced the cover of international magazines come to groom her followers and lure them into sexual exploitation?

“She kind of resembled hope for me,” says Ana, describing her reaction on stumbling across Torres’ Instagram page in 2017.

Ana was not one of the missing women targeted in the FBI search - but she too was a victim of Torres’ coercion and would be key to their rescue.

She says she was attracted to Torres’ trajectory from impoverished Brazilian favela to international catwalks, partying with Hollywood A-listers along the way.

“She seemed like she had overcome violence in her childhood, abuse, all these traumatic experiences,” Ana told BBC Eye Investigations and BBC News Brasil.

Ana was in a vulnerable situation herself. She says she had suffered a violent childhood, moved alone to the US from southern Brazil, and was previously in an abusive relationship.

Torres had recently published her autobiography called A Voz [The Voice], in which she claimed she could make predictions as a result of her spiritual powers, and had been interviewed on reputable Brazilian media shows.

“She was on the cover of magazines. She was seen with famous people such as Leonardo DiCaprio. Everything I saw seemed credible,” she says.

Ana says she was particularly taken with Torres’ approach to spirituality.

What Ana didn’t know was that the inspirational story Torres told was based on half-truths and lies.

Torres’ ex-flatmate in New York, Luzer Twersky, told us that her Hollywood friends had introduced her to the hallucinogenic drug ayahuasca, and she was never the same again.

”That’s when she kind of… started going off the deep end,” he says.

He said he also believed that she was working as a sugar baby - paid for romantic involvement with wealthy and powerful men who were also paying for the flat they shared together.

Torres’ wellness website and subscription service promised customers: “Love, money and self-esteem that you always dreamed of.” Self-help videos offered advice on relationships, wellness, business success and spirituality - including hypnosis, meditation and exercise programmes.

For an extra $150 (£120) clients could unlock exclusive one-to-one video consultations with Torres during which she would claim to solve any of their problems.

Amanda, another former client who lives in the Brazilian capital, says Kat made her feel special.

“All my doubts, my questions, my decisions: I always took them to her first, so that we could make decisions together,” she says.

But it appears that advice had a dark side. Ana, Amanda, and other former followers say they found themselves becoming increasingly psychologically isolated from friends and family and willing to do anything Torres suggested.

When Torres asked Ana in 2019 to move to New York to work as her live-in assistant, she agreed. She had been studying nutrition at university in Boston, but arranged to study online instead, and says she accepted the offer to look after Torres’ animals - and do her cooking, laundry and cleaning - for about $2000 (£1,564) a month.

When she arrived at Torres’ apartment, though, she quickly realised it did not match the curated perfection projected on the influencer’s Instagram.

“It was shocking because the house was really messy, really dirty, didn’t smell good,” she says.

Ana says Torres seemed unable to do even basic things without her, like taking a shower, because she couldn’t bear to be alone. She describes having to constantly be available for Torres, only being allowed to sleep for a few hours at a time, on a sofa covered in cat urine.

She says some days she would hide in the apartment building’s gym, grabbing a few hours’ sleep rather than working out.

“Now, I see that she was using me as a slave… she had satisfaction in it,” Ana says.

Ana says she was never paid.

“I felt like, ‘I’m stuck here, I don’t have a way out,’” she says. “I was probably one of her first victims of human trafficking.”

She had given up her university accommodation back in Boston, so she had nowhere to return to, and no income to pay for alternative housing.

Ana says when she tried to confront Torres, she became aggressive, triggering Ana’s painful history with domestic violence.

Eventually, after three months, Ana found a way to escape by moving in with a new boyfriend.

But that wasn’t the end of Ana’s role in Torres’ life. When the families of two other young Brazilian women reported them missing in September 2022, Ana knew she had to act.

By this point, Torres’ life had grown in scale. She was now married to a man called Zach, a 21-year-old she had met in California, and they were renting a five-bedroom house in the suburbs of Austin, Texas.

Repeating the pattern she had begun with Ana, Torres had targeted her most dedicated followers, trying to recruit them to come and work for her. In return, she had promised to help them achieve their dreams, capitalising on the intimate personal details they had shared with her during life-coaching sessions.

Desirrê Freitas, a Brazilian woman living in Germany, and Brazilian Letícia Maia - the two women whose disappearance would go on to spark the FBI-led search - moved to live with Torres. Another Brazilian woman, who we are calling Sol, was also recruited.

Posting on her social media channels, Torres introduced her “witch clan” to her followers.

The BBC has discovered at least four more women were almost persuaded to join Torres in the house but had pulled out.

Some of the women were too scared to appear in the BBC’s film - afraid of receiving online abuse and still traumatised by their experiences - but we have been able to verify their accounts using court documents, text messages, bank statements, and Desirrê’s memoir about her experiences - @Searching Desirrê, published by DISRUPTalks.

Desirrê says that in her case, Torres had bought her a plane ticket from Germany, having told her she was suicidal and needed Desirrê’s support.

Torres is also accused of persuading Letícia, who was 14 when she started life-coaching sessions with her, to move to the US for an au pair programme and then drop out to live and work with her.

As for Sol, she says she agreed to move in with Torres after becoming homeless and was hired to carry out tarot readings and yoga classes.

But it was not long before the women discovered their reality was very different to the fairytale they had been promised.

Within weeks, Desirrê says Torres pressured her into working at a local strip club, saying if she did not comply Desirrê would have to repay all the money she had spent on her: flights, accommodation, furniture for her room, and even the “witchcraft” Torres had performed. Desirrê says not only she did not have this money, she also believed at the time in the spiritual powers Torres claimed to have, so when Torres threatened to curse her for not following orders she was terrified.

Reluctantly, Desirrê agreed to work as a stripper.

A manager from the strip club, James, told the BBC she would work extremely long hours, seven days a week.

Desirrê and Sol say the women in the Austin mansion were subjected to strict house rules. They describe being forbidden from speaking to each other, needing Torres’ permission to leave their rooms - even to use the bathroom - and being required to immediately hand over all earnings.

“It was very difficult to, you know, get out of the situation because she holds your money,” Sol told the BBC.

“It was terrifying. I thought something could happen to me because she had all my information, my passport, my driving licence.”

But Sol says she realised she needed to somehow escape after overhearing a phone call in which Torres was telling another client she must work as a prostitute in Brazil as a “punishment”.

Sol was able to leave with the help of an ex-boyfriend.

Meanwhile, the guns Torres’ husband kept began to regularly feature on her Instagram stories, and became a source of fear for the remaining women.

Around this time, Desirrê says Torres tried to persuade her to swap the strip club for work as a prostitute. She says she refused and the following day Torres took her on a surprise day out to a gun range.

Scared, Desirrê says she eventually gave in to Torres’ demand.

“Many questions haunted me: ‘Could I stop whenever I wanted?’” Desirrê writes in her book.

“And if the condom broke, would I get a disease? Could [the client] be an undercover cop and arrest me? What if he killed me?”

If the women didn’t meet the earning quotas that Torres set, which had risen from $1,000 (£782) to $3,000 (£2,345) a day, they were not allowed to return to the house that night, they say.

“I ended up sleeping on the street several times because I couldn't reach that,” Desirrê adds.

Bank statements, seen by the BBC, show Desirrê transferring more than $21,000 (£16,417) into Torres’ account in June and July 2022 alone. She says that she was forced to hand over a substantially higher figure in cash.

Prostitution is illegal in Texas and Desirrê says Torres would threaten to report her to the police if she ever talked about wanting to stop.

In September, friends and family of Desirrê and Letícia back in Brazil launched social media campaigns to find them, having become increasingly concerned following months without contact.

By this time, they were barely recognisable. Their brunette hair had been dyed platinum blonde to eerily match Torres’. Desirrê says by this point all her phone contacts had been blocked and she obeyed the influencer's orders without question.

As the Instagram page @searchingDesirrê gained momentum, the story dominated news outlets in Brazil. Desirrê’s friends even worried she might have been murdered, and Letícia’s family put out desperate pleas for their safe return home.

Ana, having lived with Torres in 2019, said alarm bells rang as soon as she saw the news stories. She says she immediately guessed that “[Torres] was keeping other girls”.

Along with other former clients, Ana began to contact as many law enforcement agencies as possible, including the FBI, in an attempt to get the influencer arrested. Five months earlier, both she and Sol had reported Torres to the US police - but say they weren’t taken seriously.

In a video she recorded at the time for evidence, since shared with the BBC, a distressed Ana can be heard saying, “this person is very dangerous and she has already threatened to kill me”.

Then the missing women’s profiles on escort and prostitution websites were discovered. Suspicions of sexual exploitation, shared on social media, appeared to be confirmed.

Panicked by the media attention, Torres and the women travelled more than 2,000 miles (3,219 km) from Texas to Maine. In chilling Instagram videos, Desirrê and Letícia denied being held captive and demanded people stop searching for them.

But a recording, obtained by BBC News, gives an insight into what was really happening at this time. By now the US authorities were aware of the concerns about the women’s safety. Homeland security had tipped off a police officer who managed to FaceTime Torres to check on the women. But just before this starts, Torres can be heard saying on the video:

“He will start asking questions. Guys, they are full of tricks. He’s a detective, be very careful. For God’s sake, I’ll kick you out if you say anything. I’ll scream.”

In November 2022, the police finally convinced Torres and the two other women to attend a welfare check in person at Franklin County Sheriff's Office in Maine.

The detective who questioned Torres, Desirrê and Letícia - Detective David Davol - told the BBC he and his colleagues had been immediately concerned, noticing a number of red flags, including a distrust of law enforcement, isolation and their reluctance to speak without Torres’ permission.

“Human traffickers aren't always like in the movies, where you have… a gang that kidnapped people. It's far more common that it's someone you trust.”

By December 2022, the two women had been safely returned to Brazil.

Det Davol says, in his experience, human trafficking is on the rise. His observation is backed up by the UN, which says it is one of the fastest growing crimes, generating an estimated $150bn (£117bn) in profits a year worldwide.

He believes social media gives it a platform on which to thrive, making it much easier for traffickers to find and groom victims.

In April this year, our team was granted a rare court order to interview Torres in a Brazilian prison - the first media interview with her since her arrest. At that point, she was still waiting for the verdict of a trial against her relating to her treatment of Desirrê.

Smiling, Torres approached us with a calm and collected demeanour.

She was adamant that she was completely innocent, denying that any women had ever lived with her or that she had ever coerced anyone to take part in sex work.

“When I was seeing the people testifying, they were saying so many lies. So many lies that at one point, I couldn't stop laughing,” she told us.

“People are saying I am a fake guru, but at the same time, they are also saying that… ‘She is a danger to society because she can change people’s mind with her words.’”

When we confronted her with the evidence that we ourselves had seen, she became more hostile, accusing us of lying too.

“You choose to believe whatever you choose to believe. I can tell you I'm Jesus. And you can see Jesus, or you can see the devil, that’s it. It's your choice. It's your mind.”

As she got up to return to her cell, she issued a parting threat, claiming we would soon find out if she had powers or not. She pointed at me, and said: “I didn’t like her.”

The BBC can reveal that earlier this month Torres was sentenced by a Brazilian judge to eight years in prison for subjecting Desirrê to human trafficking and slavery. He concluded that she had lured the young woman to the US for the purpose of sexual exploitation.

More than 20 women have reported being scammed or exploited by Torres - many of whom the BBC has spoken to and are still undergoing psychiatric therapy to recover from what they say they experienced as a result of her treatment of them.

Torres’ lawyer told the BBC she has appealed her conviction and maintains her innocence.

An investigation into the allegations from other women is ongoing in Brazil.

Ana believes yet further victims may come forward, once they read about Torres’ crimes. This is the first time Ana has spoken publicly.

She says she wants people to recognise that Torres’ actions amount to a serious crime and not some “Instagram drama”.

In the closing pages of her book Desirrê also reflects on her experiences.

“I’m not fully recovered yet, I’ve had a challenging year. I was sexually exploited, enslaved and imprisoned.

“I hope my story serves as a warning.”