From homeless child to career sales of $2B, Marco Robinson‘s website trumpets a remarkable rags-to-riches journey. Beaming out at visitors in his black-rimmed glasses, he claims to have channeled childhood trauma into a comeback that has helped thousands of people “transform their lives.”
The self-styled business guru imparts wisdom to his 290,000 Instagram followers, extolling the success of his dizzying array of ventures, including bestselling author, philanthropist, property tycoon, motivational speaker, TV star, and film producer. In his own words, this man of many faces is a “global icon.”
The trouble is, once you start examining Robinson’s words in any detail, his claims and inconsistencies unravel so quickly, and on such a bewildering scale, it’s like teasing on a thread of the Bayeux Tapestry.
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His website touts “#collabs” with people like Russell Crowe, but in reality, the stars interacted with him once on social media. Robinson recently claimed to have been personally invited by Sir Richard Branson to speak at Necker Island, but Branson had extended no such offer. He once started a charity to “end homelessness,” but FreedomX’s financial filings put its donations at little more than £4,000 ($5,450).
Robinson’s braggadocious nature met its match last year when he began selling film development masterclasses to writers eager to bring their stories to the screen. He advertised himself as the mastermind behind Netflix hit Legacy of Lies, only for his students to revolt when they discovered that there was just a kernel of truth in the claims he had made about his involvement in the British action movie. Three writers took him to court – and won.
In correspondence through a lawyer, Robinson denied “any and all allegations of impropriety.” His position is that the questions about his professional conduct have been made by a small group of people seeking to “advance their grievances.”
Robinson may be different things to different people, but the image he projects is always the same: a successful man, capable of opening doors to people’s dreams — and all for a fee. This is the story of how that self-portrait is in question.
Marco Robinson: Knight Of The Realm
Mark Lawrence Robinson, to give him his full name, styles himself as “Sir,” an honorific that denotes credibility and trustworthiness in three letters. The title is foundational to the image Robinson projects of being an entrepreneur of sound social standing.
He likes to tell a grand story about how he came into possession of his knighthood, but it does not involve a visit to Buckingham Palace. Robinson claims he received his honor from the King of Malaysia, which is part of the Commonwealth, made up of nations once belonging to the British Empire.
The businessman says he was personally contacted by the monarch after campaigning against guide dogs being barred from public spaces through the online film Are You Blind?. He claims the video had 15M Facebook views (the producer’s official version has just 1,300 views), embarrassed authorities, and paved the way for changes to the law in Malaysia.
Robinson did have a hand in Are You Blind?, but in a fleeting acting role in which he helped a blind man cross a road. The film was made by Jason Lim, a Chinese director. Stevens Chan, the subject of the film and a disability rights campaigner alongside his late guide dog LaShawn, struggled to remember Robinson when contacted by Deadline. What’s more, Chan says the laws around guide dogs have not changed in Malaysia, despite his lobbying efforts.
Malaysian authorities say Robinson’s title is not recognized in the country, per emails seen by Deadline. A Malaysian law firm, acting on behalf of an associate of Robinson, was also unable to find any evidence of the honor.
Robinson insists his title “Dato Seri” is recognized in Malaysia. The evidence he produces to support this includes a document purporting to be from a sultan in Indonesia, a different nation in Southeast Asia, as well as images of a ceremony at which he received a red certificate, which he regularly posts on social media while bragging about his achievements.
In summary, Robinson claims to have been knighted for events that have not happened, in a country that has no record of his honor.
But even if you accept his story as fact, Robinson has no right to use the title “Sir” in the UK. Under a decree from Buckingham Palace, “British nationals who have been awarded an honor by another country may not use any associated title.”
Robinson’s position is that he has never hidden that he was honored outside of the UK. He denies that the honor was purchased.
Marco Robinson: Film Producer
Striding along the French Riviera in a double-breasted tuxedo, Robinson’s carefully curated Instagram profile would have you believe he is a mover and shaker at the Cannes Film Festival. But his claims to be a film producer are hotly contested.
As recently as this summer, Robinson boasted about his role in co-creating, bankrolling, and starring in Legacy of Lies, an action movie headlined by John Wick martial artist Scott Adkins. The movie gained traction when it was released on Netflix in 2021, climbing the ranks of the streamer’s Top 10 lists globally.
Robinson has relentlessly capitalized on Legacy of Lies’ moment in the spotlight, repeatedly describing himself as the producer of a “#2 Netflix movie,” a claim that has been ventilated by media outlets like GB News. Once a boy who says he daydreamed about James Bond to escape childhood deprivation, Robinson tells his followers that he is now a man capable of making his own spy movies.
The trouble is, those actually credited with producing Legacy of Lies have shot down his claims, recently sending him a letter demanding that he stop overstating his role in the feature. The entertainment industry is no stranger to individuals who espouse contested stories about screen hits, but the producers of Legacy of Lies have grown tired of his brags.
Grant Bradley, Krzysztof Solek, and Alla Belaya say Robinson was not involved in the creative process of developing Legacy of Lies. They add that he failed to deliver his full financial investment of £445,000 (they say he provided around $70,000), invalidating his executive producer credit. Robinson insists he was never formally stripped of this title, though he only appears in the credits in the minor character role of Burns. Deadline has seen emails in which Robinson agrees to the termination of his investor deal, which entitled him to an executive producer credit.
Robinson’s disputed claims did not stop him from parlaying his involvement in Legacy of Lies into movie-making masterclasses, which include lessons on how to secure film financing and develop a Hollywood script. This is despite a Legacy of Lies producer saying he knows “nothing about nothing” in the film business.
Budding screenwriters signed up for the masterclasses after being contacted by Robinson on Instagram, spending up to £10,000 to access his so-called expertise in script development. He pledged to produce their projects through his outfit, Undisputed Films (a “#1 film production company” per its website). Five writers who attended the masterclasses allege that Robinson relied heavily on ChatGPT to answer their questions and hone their writing.
The writers’ scripts were in their infancy, but this did not stop Robinson from brashly approaching agencies, including respected UK outfits like Independent Talent, to sound out actors. Robinson told the agents that the films were funded and that actors would need to submit self-tape auditions, blithely explaining to experienced reps that “this is standard practice,” per emails seen by Deadline.
As his Legacy of Lies boasts unravelled, writer Anu Verma sued the businessman, alleging fraudulent misrepresentation. A UK small claims court ruled in her favor in May, and Robinson was ordered to refund her. Robinson was defeated in two similar cases in recent weeks brought by Jess Peters and Andrea Whelan, other writers who attended his masterclasses. The ruling in favor of Whelan explicitly stated that her contract with Robinson was rescinded “on the ground of fraudulent misrepresentation.” In total, he repaid £33,314 to the writers, including legal fees and interest.
“As someone who has experienced deceit and betrayal through my dealings with Marco Robinson, I can say that the impact goes far beyond financial loss,” Verma explains. “The manipulation, false promises, and deliberate misrepresentation I endured reflect a pattern of narcissistic abuse, where charm is used as a weapon, and accountability is continually evaded.”
“This has been a long and difficult process, but I’m relieved that the court has finally recognized that Marco misrepresented himself and failed to deliver anything on the contract,” Peters adds. “I also hope that our victories will inspire others who have been scammed by Marco to come forward and fight for what’s right.”
Robinson has since doubled down on his Legacy of Lies claims, writing on Substack last week that he “brought in the investment, the industry relationships, and the global marketing strategy that turned a concept on paper into a movie that would go on to reach millions worldwide.”
Deadline experienced Robinson’s fabrications first-hand as part of the court proceedings. In September last year, we presented Robinson with a series of allegations and gave him a right of reply. Soon after, Robinson was hit with the court claims from disgruntled writers. We paused our work to await the outcome of some of these claims, but in a sworn statement to a UK court, Robinson wrote that Deadline retracted and apologized for the planned article. Deadline, and this author, made no apology to Robinson.
When Deadline pointed out that the falsehood in Robinson’s statement could represent contempt of court, Robinson (through his attorney) “vehemently denied” writing the statement, saying he “did not advance, nor maintain that he received an apology.” Robinson then changed his story again when we furnished him with a copy of his own statement, insisting that Deadline had made an apology.
The legal defeats have not stopped Robinson from continuing to pose as a film producer. He was in Cannes this year during the film festival. He claims to be casting for a feature titled Stolen, for which he has published a poster carrying the names of Ben Kingsley and Imogen Poots. Reps for Kingsley and Poots confirmed the actors have no involvement in the project.
Marco Robinson: TV Show Creator
Film is not the only screen Robinson claims to have conquered — he also styles himself as the creator and presenter of TV shows. This persona is not without legitimacy, even if Robinson appears to have embroidered the facts.
The 57-year-old was the focus of Get a House for Free, which screened on UK network Channel 4 in 2017. Produced by a now-defunct label owned by ITV Studios, the documentary followed Robinson as he gave away a £120,000 apartment in the north of England to a person desperate to get on the property ladder.
In this particular guise, Robinson was a real estate guru with a “global property empire” worth £25M, according to the documentary. Robinson told Deadline that he ran the £25M portfolio through Wealth Creation, but a financial filing for the UK-registered company put its fixed assets at £5.4M, with revenues of just £8,747, in the year the documentary aired
Get a House for Free filmed him gifting a property to Holli, a single mother. Along the way, he promised to pay the deposit on a new home for Jo, a woman suffering from a degenerative eye condition. He also pledged to give a family of Syrian refugees the license to use one of his properties while they applied for asylum.
Deadline asked Channel 4 a series of questions about whether Robinson fulfilled these promises, but it did not respond. Holli and Jo did not respond to requests for comment. Four producers involved in Get a House for Free either did not respond or declined to answer Deadline’s questions about the documentary. Robinson says Channel 4 carried out “extreme due diligence” on him as part of the show, and he did hand Holli the keys to an apartment.
What we can say with certainty is that Robinson’s boasts about Get a House for Free do not align with what was shown on Channel 4. On his website and in his book, he claims he “gave three houses away on TV.” The documentary only captured him giving away one home. The show also does not credit Robinson as “creator,” despite this claim appearing on his website.
Robinson’s position is that he gifted other properties on “unaired productions,” but did not provide further details on these projects. This contradicts his claims on his website and social media, where he has repeatedly stated that he gave the homes away on Get a House for Free.
Marco Robinson: Bestselling Author
Robinson has spent years trumpeting his status as a “number one bestselling author” after publishing The Financial Freedom Guarantee in 2016. His receipts for this claim? A screenshot of the search term “financial freedom” on Amazon, in which his book is unsurprisingly the top result. He has also posted screenshots from Malaysian retailer MPHOnline, showing another of his books topping a bestseller list.
Robinson has deployed his “bestseller” moniker in recent months to encourage aspiring writers to join his “Start Over” movement. Connecting with collaborators over Instagram, he asked them to write about their life stories for a book collating the experiences of people who have turned a “loss into a sensational comeback.”
The website promoting the opportunity was remarkably similar to a co-authoring site launched by Kevin Harrington, one of the original investors on Shark Tank. Indeed, Robinson’s website contained the statement “leverage Kevin’s 40+ years of fame and experience.” Asked whether Robinson had literally copied and pasted Harrington’s idea, his website was taken down. Harrington did not respond to requests for comment.
Start Over’s blurb touts tales including a “suicidal teenager who became a Hollywood star” and a “cancer patient who defied death to become a world-class athlete.” The volumes are introduced by Robinson, who reflects on his experiences being homeless and bullied as a child. All involved in the project can claim to be co-authors, but not without charge — some have invested thousands of dollars for the privilege of their name being on the Start Over cover.
In the space of five months, Robinson published four Start Over volumes, showcasing the stories of more than 50 authors. Some have taken to TrustPilot to share glowing reviews about their experiences and the philanthropic network Robinson created, but others left the initiative, citing discontent with his methods.
He heralded Volume 1 as “number one” on Amazon all over the world. The truth is a little more nuanced. Start Over did figure highly in certain Amazon rankings, but only under niche categories, such as Women’s Spirituality or Indigenous Health & Healing. The books are actually hundreds of thousands of places down the Kindle Store bestseller rank.
Co-authors allege that he coordinated orders of Start Over and took a screenshot of Amazon as the algorithm propelled it to the top of certain categories. Amazon declined to comment on the alleged gaming of bestseller lists. Robinson acknowledges efforts were made to secure “the best ranking” for the Start Over books using the Amazon algorithm. He does not accept that certain categories are niche. Writing on TrustPilot, he said the books “secured #1 bestseller status through legitimate efforts, reflecting their excellence and impact.”
Marco Robinson: Russian Target
In recent weeks, Robinson has been touting other ventures, including a “tequila empire” and a coaching business. But it is Start Over Volume 1 that reveals what is perhaps Robinson’s most eye-catching persona: he claims to have been a person of interest for Russian intelligence. He tells a “true story” about how a beautiful Russian spy seduced him with a hidden agenda to stop him from making a film about the Kremlin bombing Kyiv.
As we have seen, Robinson often walks a fine line between fact and fiction, but only he really knows if an FSB agent, whom he claims was a cousin of Vladimir Putin, whispered warnings about his safety from between the bed sheets.