Corey Scott Feldman entered the entertainment industry at the age of three, a golden-smiled, charismatic child who quickly became a massive asset to Hollywood. By age ten, he had earned over a million dollars, but this fortune became the tool of his destruction. This is the story of how the industry’s machine systematically devoured its most innocent star.

The Childhood That Was Stolen

Feldman’s success was built on a foundation of parental exploitation and abuse. His mother, Sheila Goldstein, transformed into a relentless stage manager, subjecting him to physical abuse with curtain rods and emotional manipulation when he failed to book roles. He grew up knowing “no time for playing with friends,” with every moment dedicated to work.

When Feldman legally emancipated himself at 15, he discovered his parents had spent all his earnings, leaving him with a fraction of his fortune. Free from his parents, he became more vulnerable than ever to the predators who surrounded the child star circuit.

The Predatory Network and the ‘Two Corys’

Unprotected and isolated, Feldman was groomed at “networking events” that were often fronts for predatory behavior. He identified several figures, including an assistant named John Gryom, talent manager Martin Weiss, and Alfie Hoffman, who ran the Soda Pop Club. Feldman claims these men formed an organized network, sharing victims and exploiting the children through the introduction of illicit substances.

In 1987, Feldman met Corey Haim on the set of The Lost Boys. The two bonded instantly, both survivors of profound childhood trauma. They became “The Two Corys,” a famous teenage duo, but their friendship quickly became codependent, with both young men turning to addiction to numb the psychological pain of their abuse. Their use of drugs escalated, leading to their swift decline in Hollywood’s eyes.

The Ultimate Cost: Corey Haim’s Death and Advocacy

By the late 1980s, the careers of the “Two Corys” had collapsed under the weight of addiction. Feldman was arrested multiple times. The same industry that exploited them as children now abandoned them as “damaged goods.”

The ultimate devastating blow came on March 10, 2010, when Corey Haim died at 38. While the official cause was complications from an enlarged heart, Feldman views his friend’s death as the final victory of the predators. This loss spurred Feldman’s transformation from victim to unrelenting advocate.

Feldman began speaking publicly about the systematic pedophilia in Hollywood, directly confronting the institutions that ignored the abuse. His claims were often met with hostility, notably when he appeared on The View and was accused by Barbara Walters of “damaging an entire industry.”

Public Ridicule and the Fight for Justice

In 2016, Feldman’s attempt at artistic reclamation—a performance with his band, “Corey’s Angels,” on the Today Show—was brutally mocked across social media. Feldman attributed the bizarre performance to the psychological damage of his trauma, seeing the public reaction as a further form of ridicule aimed at a non-conforming abuse survivor.

In 2020, Feldman released his documentary, My Truth: The Rape of Two Cory’s, where he claimed that Charlie Sheen was the person who allegedly assaulted Corey Haim. Sheen and Haim’s mother immediately denied the allegations.

Despite Feldman’s years of detailed testimony, police reports, and the release of his memoir, Coreography, no one has been prosecuted for the crimes he described. The systematic institutional protection of powerful figures, coupled with the expiration of the statute of limitations, has ensured that justice remains elusive. Feldman’s personal life reflects this deep psychological damage, with his three marriages (to Vanessa Marciel, Susie Sprag, and Courtney Anne Mitchell) ending in separation.

Today, Feldman continues his fight, advocating for child protection and legislative change. His son, Zen, remains his primary motivation, offering hope that he can break the cycle of abuse that destroyed his own life. The tragedy of Corey Feldman is a stark reminder of an industry that, for decades, has valued profit over the welfare of its most vulnerable performers.