The Coaching Mirage: When the Mentor Dies, Who Pays the Price?
Introduction
When I first read the headline— “Motivational speaker Kerwin Rae’s sudden death leaves followers’ grief-stricken—and still paying”—I stopped. I wasn’t taken aback, but I anticipated the next move.
There it was. Followers were in mourning, contracts remained active, and payments continued to be collected. One man, Peter Remfrey, told news.com.au he’d invested over $250,000 into Rae’s coaching empire.
After Rae’s sudden death, Remfrey found himself continuing to pay for a product that no longer had its creator.
This incident is not an isolated event. It’s part of a much larger problem.
I’ve met hundreds of so-called coaches in my career—many charismatic, some genuinely helpful.
But often, I’ve watched this scenario unfold: a heavily marketed conference, steep ticket prices, and a backstage “VIP” session where for $50, you can shake the coach’s hand.
Maybe you’ll ask a question, but more likely, you’ll be redirected to the lady beside the ATM with the warm smile and laminated brochures—encouraging you to invest in the next step of your “breakthrough.”
I always declined.
I’m a military man. I was trained in structure, in consequence, and in building up raw recruits—people with no prior experience—into specialists through grit and systems. You don’t fake leadership in war.
You don’t bluff expertise under fire.
But in the coaching world, there are no such safeguards.
There is no minimum age. There is no requirement for a qualifying certification. No regulation. There is no central authority responsible for verifying credentials.
Anyone can print a business card and call themselves a coach.
Today, you can take a six-hour online course—or none—and start charging clients thousands of dollars for your “wisdom.”
Unregulated Coaching Space
Across the globe, this unregulated space has bred not just confusion but outright abuse.
In Canada, a self-styled trauma recovery coach was investigated after several clients reported emotional distress following unlicensed therapy-style sessions.
Kat Tores a well-followed mindset coach promised healing breakthroughs through intense retreats—only to abandon client’s mid-course due to “spiritual exhaustion.” Payments, of course, were non-refundable.
In the United States, a prominent “high-ticket coach” vanished after collecting over $100,000 in prepaid mastermind fees.
Clients took to social media to demand refunds, but the coach had already deleted all digital footprints.
No legal recourse followed, because technically—no laws were broken. It wasn’t fraud. It was “business.”
This is the risk associated with operating in the grey area. Coaching is not therapy.
It’s not consulting. It’s not education.
And because it is not officially classified as either of those things, it can be defined in any way that someone chooses.
Still, let’s not be cynical.
Why Do We Need Coaches
Coaching exists because we, as humans, often need guidance. I’ve seen men broken by war rebuild their lives because one person chose to listen, to mentor, to lead.
We need coaches not because we are weak, but because life doesn’t come with a manual.
First, we need someone to offer clarity. Life can feel like walking through fog with no compass.
A good coach doesn’t just hand you answers—they help you ask better questions.
Second, we need accountability.
Left to our devices, we often delay change. We promise ourselves we’ll start “tomorrow.” Coaches, at their best, don’t let tomorrow steal today.
And finally, we need belief.
This belief should not be blind faith, but rather a mirror that someone else can hold when we forget who we are. The right coach reminds us of our potential when we can’t see it ourselves.
But here’s the line: a real coach will empower you to one day walk without them.
A false coach will convince you that without them, you are nothing.
What if Coach is no longer with us?!
This brings us back to Kerwin Rae’s empire.
His sudden passing left behind a question few want to ask publicly:
If the coach is no longer with us, what exactly are we still paying for? Could you please clarify what you are currently paying for?
When a business solely relies on the personality of its founder, the loss of that individual not only causes emotional distress.
It creates a contractual and ethical vacuum.
Some companies scramble to restructure. Others just keep charging clients, assuming terms and conditions will protect them legally—even if morally, they are now bankrupt.
In military operations, if a commander falls, the mission still goes on.
There’s protocol, doctrine, and succession. In many coaching businesses, when the leader disappears, there’s no plan. Just echoes.
And this phenomenon isn’t unique to Australia.
In India, “spiritual business coaches” sell enlightenment packages with tiered pricing, only to ghost clients once payments clear.
In Brazil, social media is flooded with “emotional intelligence mentors” who target the vulnerable, promising mental healing in just three sessions—sometimes for the equivalent of six months’ wages.
No one regulates them. No one stops them. No one clearly defines the true nature of coaching.
The truth is simple, although it is rarely expressed: in a world filled with uncertainty, coaching has emerged as the modern-day oracle. People want answers.
And coaches—real or fake—sell the illusion that they have them.
Conclusion
What I want readers to remember is this: the coach may be the voice, but the system must be the value.
If the business collapses when the leader dies, then it was never a system. It was a shrine.
I honour the grief of those who followed Kerwin Rae.
I’ve lost comrades in war. I’ve buried friends who led by example, who never left their men behind. But we must also learn from loss.
Let this moment be a reckoning for the coaching world.
Let it raise questions—not about one man—but about an entire industry built without walls, without watchdogs, and often, without a soul.
Grief ultimately fades. But the bill? That always arrives on time.
This post was written by Mario Bekes