Breaking Bad star RJ Mitte spent years privately urging Hollywood to create more opportunities for disabled actors, while sharing his heartbreak over being passed over for roles despite appearing in one of television’s most acclaimed dramas.

In dozens of text messages obtained by the Daily Mail, Mitte spoke openly about the obstacles he faced as an actor with cerebral palsy and questioned why the entertainment industry remained hesitant to cast performers with disabilities.

Mitte, who died Monday at 34, repeatedly emphasized his determination to keep working, create his own projects and challenge what he viewed as Hollywood’s failure to recognize the talents of disabled performers.

Sent to a longtime friend over an eight-year period, the messages portray a passionate, sometimes frustrated advocate who wanted to be assessed for his talent rather than his physical condition.

In a message dated April 7, 2017, Mitte recalled several uncomfortable experiences with casting directors.

‘When I go for a part, they sometimes tell me that it’s not a character with a disability, and I’m like why can’t the character be disabled?’ he wrote.

‘They get real uncomfortable when I say that.’

He argued that casting a disabled actor could bring greater depth to a role without making the character’s entire story about disability.

That distinction mattered to Mitte, who had already shown his range as Walter White Jr., the son of Bryan Cranston’s meth-dealing chemistry teacher on AMC’s critically acclaimed series Breaking Bad.

A source close to Cranston told the Daily Mail that the actor was ‘heartbroken’ and was still processing Mitte’s death.

The series aired from 2008 to 2013 and made Mitte one of Hollywood’s most recognizable actors with a disability.

Yet Mitte was frustrated that his teenage breakthrough had not led to the range of opportunities he expected.

‘I can do any role, but some of [the casting agents and directors] are a**h***s who won’t even look at me,’ he wrote in another message in April 2017.

‘I want to put them on blast, but I won’t now.’

He continued to audition and take on acting work, including productions filmed outside the United States.

In December 2017, Mitte revealed that he had worked on a television pilot that ultimately was not picked up.

‘Worked on a pilot that didn’t go, a few months ago. Brutal biz,’ he wrote.

Two years later, after finishing an independent film in Australia, he acknowledged how difficult it could be to sustain a career in the unpredictable entertainment industry.

‘I did a job in Sydney, and it was fun,’ he wrote in February 2019.

‘But it’s a film not going to be here, it’s Australian, I hope I can find stuff here. I would like to work enough to keep my [health] insurance. Pain in the ass lol.’

When the entertainment industry shut down in 2020 during the coronavirus pandemic, Mitte continued looking for opportunities. 

In June 2020, he described completing a project in Canada and doing voice work.

The following day, he expressed interest in obtaining additional publicity to remind casting directors that he was available for hire.

‘I’ve got to figure out more work,’ he wrote. ‘I need to keep myself relevant lol.’ 

He then offered to participate in video interviews and other promotional opportunities.

‘I just need to remind people to book me.’

By March 2021, Mitte believed the pandemic had created another obstacle for disabled performers, complaining that some people in the entertainment industry appeared to regard actors with disabilities as greater health or insurance risks.

‘Gotta convince people that I’m not going to die of Covid,’ he wrote.

‘There’s a backlash about people with disabilities, they think that we can’t be insured or that we are going to die in the middle of a scene, its bullshit.

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Diagnosed with cerebral palsy at age three, Mitte wore leg braces and sometimes used crutches or a wheelchair throughout childhood. By adulthood, the most noticeable effects were on his left hand and his speech.

He became a prominent advocate for greater inclusion in entertainment, serving as an ambassador for United Cerebral Palsy and Shriners Children’s.

Mitte argued that disabled actors deserved opportunities both in front of and behind the camera, and that television audiences should see people with disabilities portrayed in ordinary, multifaceted roles.

In 2016, he publicly challenged the industry to expand its representation beyond occasional disability-focused storylines.

‘I would love to switch on my TV and see a disabled person talking about something they are genuinely interested in or acting out a part that doesn’t just focus on their impairment,’ he said.

His private messages reveal that the issue remained deeply personal.

In April 2022, shortly after turning 30, Mitte complained to his friend that some of the scripts he was receiving offered little more than tokenism.

‘Looking for interesting stuff to do, getting a lot of scripts where I would be a prop and they don’t want to give any depth, 3 lines if that,’ he wrote. ‘I’m writing my own s**t now.’

Four months later, he expressed renewed frustration with the scarcity of on-screen opportunities. ‘Just doing animation, no one wants me on screen.. it’s annoying as f***.’

As recently as July 2025, he was considering a new challenge: reality television.

In messages to his friend, Mitte said he had softened to the idea of appearing in a competition series that would allow him to demonstrate his abilities to an audience that might know him primarily from Breaking Bad.

He specifically mentioned Dancing with the Stars, saying that participating in the show could challenge assumptions about what performers with cerebral palsy were capable of.

But he was adamant that any appearance should preserve his dignity rather than turn his disability into a spectacle.

‘Now I would do a good reality show, was thinking that dancing would be a good fit, just to show that I can do that s***,’ he wrote.

‘But I would have to make sure that any reality would be dignity, I don’t want to be laughed at, but would consider something that could give me a platform.’

His private messages show that he believed there were many more characters he could play, stories he could tell and assumptions he could challenge.

‘There’s a lot I could do, if given the chance,’ another text read.

Mitte’s frustrations with Hollywood remained present as recently as last week when he appeared on The Joe Vulpis Podcast, where he suggested he only got the Breaking Bad role because the character was based on a real person with cerebral palsy.

‘I think casting individuals with disabilities is very tricky,’ Mitte said.

‘My character was written with someone with [cerebral] palsy [in mind]. That was from the beginning. That was always the case.

‘My character Walt Junior was based on a real person, a friend [Director] Vince [Gilligan] had in college who had cerebral palsy, who used forearm crutches and sometime after passed away.

‘And so it really felt real playing this character and getting into the groove with this character.’

In a tragic twist, Mitte was set to star in the upcoming movie Forgotten Outlaw, a Western about the life of Bub Meeks, a childhood friend of notorious outlaw Butch Cassidy. He was cast as the lead.

Director Nik Tizekker told TMZ tonight he plans to move forward with the project to honor the late actor’s wishes, which will mean eventually finding a new leading man.

Mitte died Monday in Brownsville, Texas, where he lived with his fiancée, Kennedy Suarez. TMZ reported, citing a county official, that his death was a suicide and that an investigation was ongoing.

He had proposed to Suarez in October 2025 at a charity event benefiting United Cerebral Palsy.

In a statement following his death, his representative remembered him as a beloved actor, philanthropist and passionate disability rights advocate who used his platform to promote awareness and inclusion.

A source close to his Breaking Bad co-star Bryan Cranston told the Daily Mail: ‘Bryan needs some time to process the heartbreaking loss of RJ. Throughout his career, he has been incredibly fortunate to work alongside so many talented people who have portrayed his children, but his time with RJ on Breaking Bad will always hold an especially meaningful place in his heart,’ they said.

‘The bond they shared, both on and off screen, is something he will never forget. The Breaking Bad cast has always been more than just a group of co-stars to Bryan; they are family. 

‘And as someone who was at the center of that family, seeing one of their own gone is absolutely devastating. He’s still trying to find the right words to express what RJ meant to him, but right now, he’s still processing the loss, remembering the incredible person RJ was and simply feeling obviously heartbroken. 

‘Bryan hadn’t seen RJ in some time, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t always thinking about him, it is just a really sad day.’

In his first address as Prime Minister, Andy Burnham made a striking pledge.

Standing outside No 10, the newly installed Labour leader promised to bring rough sleeping to an end.

Setting out his vision for “the kind of Britain I want us to be”, he declared: “Let’s bring back hope.”

Such words may come easily on the steps of Downing Street. They sound very different, however, when heard from the doorway of a law firm in Birmingham city centre.

Especially when that doorway has become your home. That is the reality facing Andrew, 61, a former miner who later battled alcoholism.

“It is never going to work,” he says, with the tired certainty of someone who has heard such promises many times before.

Andrew has spent several years homeless, interspersed with periods in temporary accommodation. None of those placements lasted more than a few weeks.

“They’ll put us in shared houses where people bang on your door at 2am and 4am asking for Rizla or tobacco,” he says.

“It is horrifying — the loud music and the constant disruption. You’ll do anything for a bit of peace, even if that means sleeping rough.”

This is the harsh reality at the heart of Britain’s homelessness crisis. It is a world where the weary scepticism of people who have spent years on the streets sits uneasily beside the optimism of a leader who has only just taken the keys to No 10.

Speak to rough sleepers in the UK’s major cities — as the Mail did recently — and many describe a similar experience.

People recovering from addiction may not want to share accommodation with drug users. Those still using drugs may be unwilling to spend their money on housing. Others simply want to be left alone.

There is also the increasingly difficult question of how to respond to the growing number of foreign nationals sleeping rough each night.

The difficulty of the task, of course, is not a reason to abandon it — and many people living on the streets do want support.

But Burnham has made an unequivocal commitment, whether judged admirable or unrealistic, to end all rough sleeping.

Earlier this week, Housing Secretary Angela Rayner reinforced that pledge, saying she was “very confident” that everyone sleeping rough would be offered accommodation by Christmas.

That promise will provide the standard against which they are ultimately judged.

So, can Burnham succeed against the odds, or will he simply become the next Prime Minister to break a promise made on the steps of Downing Street?

Burnham has backed his ambition with cash – £442million of it, spread over three years.

That includes £102million, announced earlier this month, to fund medical care, addiction support and emergency accommodation to meet his pledge to ‘get everyone in for Christmas’.

The trouble is, few of those he is trying to reach believe he will do it.

Steven Marshall, 62, who is sleeping rough in Trafalgar Square, central London, says the Prime Minister is in ‘dreamland’.

Marshall says he chooses to be where he is, and breaks down exactly why.

His Universal Credit was cut from £380 to £340 per month when he was last moved off the streets into shared accommodation.

His £1,050 rent was covered but he had to pay £125 in council tax each month, plus electricity costing £45, leaving him with £170 left over.

‘It’s more affordable to be here,’ he explains.

Bryan, 58, who has been living on the streets of Birmingham for the last six months, is even less credulous.

‘The Prime Minister must be on drugs himself if he thinks that’s going to happen,’ he scoffs.

His objection – heard among many – is not the lack of accommodation, but the nature of it.

‘It is not impossible to get somewhere to stay,’ he says. ‘But I don’t want to be in an HMO surrounded by junkies. If Andy Burnham thinks that’s going to happen, he’s on a different planet.’

Living in drug-addled, shared accommodation is notoriously difficult for recovering addicts who are trying to stay clean.

Others have the opposite problem. Damien, 48, who is sleeping rough outside a Primark in Manchester, says street life feeds his addiction.

He says he spends around £50 a day ‘on heroin, crack and cannabis’, funded mainly by begging.

Damien is living proof of how Burnham has failed before. In 2017, he was elected as Mayor of Greater Manchester on a pledge to end rough sleeping by 2020.

Numbers fell significantly before the pandemic, but have risen every year since 2022 and are now down by only 26 per cent compared to the start of his mayoralty.

When the Mail visited Manchester this week, there were signs a renewed clean-up was under way.

Locals said about ten tents full of Eastern European migrants had been moved on from the outskirts of the city’s trendy Northern Quarter in the last week.

Noticeably, a small encampment next to the proposed site of Burnham’s new ‘No 10 North’ had also been shut down.

It is thought many have been moved to the Etrop Grange Hotel, a Grade-II listed Georgian building near Manchester Airport now pressed into service as an emergency homeless hostel.

But the streets do not stay empty. ‘Homelessness won’t go away no matter what Burnham says,’ Damien says. ‘People have been moved on from the city centre but they just find other places.’

Take the controversy surrounding the clearing of a homeless encampment, made up mainly of refugees from Sudan and Eritrea, near Manchester Town Hall last year.

The camp was originally set up as a protest against the war in Gaza and attracted a mix of activists and refugees who had been granted asylum.

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But as the activists left, the refugees remained, until the city council took legal action to retake land.

A furious row broke out between those who said the refugees had refused accommodation offered to them by the council and campaigners who alleged the authorities had not done enough to help them.

In the end, John Leech, leader of the Lib Dem opposition, branded the eviction a ‘waste of time’ as the tents merely reappeared ‘a few hundred yards away’.

The debacle highlighted another glaring issue that Burnham has so far been quiet on: the rising number of foreign nationals sleeping rough on our streets.

There are currently an estimated 4,793 rough sleepers on any given night in England, according to the official annual count. Of those, around 1 in 4 (1,168) are foreign nationals, with a further 11 per cent whose nationalities are unknown.

The government estimates that supporting the average rough sleeper costs the taxpayer an average £14,204 a year in services including shelter, hospital visits and substance treatment.

That means it could be costing around £16.5million a year to sustain the country’s population of rough sleepers from abroad.

There are two caveats to this. The first is that the cost estimates come from a survey of rough sleepers, but only 18 per cent of those polled were non-UK nationals, so a smaller proportion than the national average.

The second is that many came here legally, worked, but fell on hard times just like anyone could.

But the annual rough sleeping snapshot shows something else startling. The number of non-EU rough sleepers has grown by 396 per cent since 2021.

This reflects broader immigration trends since Brexit.

Josh Nicholson, head of housing at think tank the Centre for Social Justice (CSJ), says there has been a shift from largely Eastern European workers, who tumbled into destitution, to asylum seekers who have walked straight out of Home Office accommodation and onto the streets.

Last year, London alone recorded 1,037 rough sleepers whose last settled home was asylum accommodation, according to data from the Greater London Authority.

And 946 people were seen sleeping rough in the capital who were in the UK illegally, while a further 798 had no clear status.

This matters because non-EU migrants are more likely to have restricted or no recourse to public funds, either as a condition attached to their visa or because they are here illegally.

These people do not have access to welfare benefits or local authority housing, so spend their time circling in and out of charity shelters.

A quarterly government snapshot of rough sleeping – separate to its annual count – states that 754 rough sleepers had unknown, restricted or no eligibility for public funds in June this year.

Nicholson, of the CSJ, explains that if Burnham wants to end rough sleeping for good, he would either have to pursue voluntary returns, or extend statutory support to those currently ineligible.

Some on the left have argued that he should do the latter. But this would come at a cost.

There are no official estimates as to what this would be, although evidence suggests longer-term solutions to rough sleeping are cheaper than the current sticking plaster approach.

But others fear expanding eligibility would also risk creating a ‘pull factor’ for further immigration. ‘Everything for free if you come by boat,’ as Nigel Farage put it.

Nicholson says admirable efforts to end rough sleeping must go hand-in-hand with a concerted effort to enforce immigration law.

‘Some people in the sector wince at reconnection work,’ he says. ‘They think it’s right wing. But it is often the most compassionate policy because there is simply no path to a long-term, healthy future for these people in the UK.’

The alternative is a growing underclass of people who are trapped, unable to work, unable to go home, circling endlessly through winter shelters and the pavement.

So, given all this, what hope does Burnham really have?

As Mayor of Greater Manchester, he argued issues beyond his control stopped him from fulfilling his pledge, such as the underlying housing shortage.

Now, as Prime Minister, he can set a national strategy.

He has pointed to the success of the ‘Everyone In’ scheme launched during the first Covid lockdown as proof that it can be done.

But getting everyone in by Christmas is one thing. Making sure they’re not back on the streets by mid-January is another.

Take it from Mark McKay, 50, who is begging in a wheelchair in Birmingham city centre after losing a leg to drug abuse.

‘They are actually good at getting people off the street,’ he says. ‘But then they put them in places where people can’t cope, and they have to get out, and they are back on the street again.’

Burnham, however, appears to recognise this. As part of the £442million programme, £178million has been set aside to deliver more than 1,000 settled homes to get people off the street for good.

Privately, government insiders recognise this is unlikely to be enough, given nearly 5,000 people are counted sleeping rough on any given night.

But Deborah Garvie, policy manager at Shelter, says it is ‘a very good start’, with the expectation of more to come.

Charities have also praised the expansion of the Housing First model, which provides a permanent home and tailored support to address individual needs.

Pilots in England show 84 per cent of service users were still in a stable home after three years, while research by the University of York suggests the programme costs an average of £9,492 per person a year – around a third less than what it currently costs to support someone in and out of temporary accommodation – with the cost supposed to decline over time in line with people’s needs.

Give people a stable home rather than a chaotic HMO and the whole grim cycle could, at last, be broken.

Easier said than done, of course, given the chronic housing shortages – not to mention the difficulties in getting a job – that remain.

But maybe there is hope for people like Aaron Rigby, 37, a former cannabis dealer sleeping on a mattress of flattened cardboard laid out in a Birmingham doorway. Rigby, a former heroin addict, now on methadone, is on the waiting list for a flat.

‘I hope Andy Burnham succeeds,’ he says. ‘But it will be difficult. I want to get off the streets.’

Whether he does or not by December 25 will show whether some promises are easier to make than to keep.

Additional reporting: Ross Slater and Matt Young

Barry’s Bootcamp is marketed as a high-energy refuge where Sydney’s fitness crowd can burn off stress.

Yet beneath the red lights and booming music of the so-called Red Room, tensions are reportedly building. A controversial appointment and a series of instructor exits have put the premium fitness chain under renewed scrutiny.

The company has recruited Ash Ruscoe, the former partner of Olympic boxing champion Harry Garside, as it contends with an apparent exodus of Sydney-based trainers.

Ruscoe’s addition to the Sydney coaching team has prompted concern among some long-serving staff. She previously pleaded guilty to domestic violence-related offences, and the decision to hire her is understood to have been questioned internally.

The appointment follows the back-to-back departures of two of Barry’s most recognisable Sydney instructors. One referred to concerns about the company’s culture, while the other attributed the end of his seven-year run teaching Saturday classes to “management and business needs”.

A Barry’s insider told the Mail that the exits were connected to Ruscoe’s appointment, which is understood to have unsettled a number of trainers.

The dispute has prompted current and former instructors to speculate about working conditions at the boutique gym chain, with the discussion now extending to Reddit.

Ruscoe first attracted widespread attention after an altercation involving Garside at a Bellevue Hill property in March 2023.

The incident led to a closely followed legal case, although the initial domestic assault allegations against Garside were later withdrawn.

Ruscoe subsequently faced charges including common assault, stalking or intimidation, and distributing intimate images.

In late 2024, she pleaded guilty at Sydney’s Downing Centre Local Court to domestic violence-related assault and stalking or intimidation.

She was given a 12-month conditional release order without conviction and placed under a two-year apprehended domestic violence order.

When the Daily Mail sought comment in July 2023, Ruscoe avoided questions by running down Park Street in Sydney’s CBD.

Barry’s has cultivated an image of exclusive, high-end fitness, drawing an affluent membership base and employing trainers who have developed celebrity-style profiles of their own.

Now, beneath the signature red lighting, relentless playlists and gruelling treadmill workouts, Barry’s is facing difficult questions over staff morale and its workplace culture.

The Daily Mail has approached Barry’s Australia multiple times for comment.

In September, veteran trainer Nicole Swift (née Christey) announced in an Instagram Story that she was leaving Barry’s Australia ‘for good’, adding a cheeky ‘for real this time lol’.

But it was her explanation that really caught the attention of fellow instructors.

‘I cannot continue to align myself with a brand that has allowed certain behaviours and actions to take place,’ she wrote.

‘After a lot of thought, I’ve realised that I can’t continue to be part of a business when I no longer feel that alignment exists.’

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Swift did not name anyone or specify the conduct she was referring to. However, the Mail understands her concerns about the company were linked to Ruscoe’s hiring.

Her post was subsequently circulated among fellow trainers, prompting speculation about what had led her to walk away.

After the Mail reported on her departure, Swift took to Instagram to criticise the article, describing it as ‘trash’ and questioning why the publication had contacted her for comment.

Days later, another popular instructor delivered a blow to his loyal Saturday-morning following, revealing he would no longer be teaching the weekend sessions after more than seven years with the business.

‘Unfortunately I won’t be teaching anyone ever again on Saturdays for a @barrysaustralia session,’ he wrote.

‘This is due to “management and business needs”.’

‘Wild to me seeing as I’ve done the same Saturday classes for over seven years.’

The trainer, described by one longtime fan as ‘a legend’, has since landed a new gig at buzzy Pilates studio Body by Berner, where he is set to become its first male instructor.

The departures have intensified concerns about the atmosphere inside Barry’s Australia, although neither instructor has publicly detailed the full circumstances behind their exit.

Meanwhile, Barry’s Melbourne operation has been attracting attention of its own, with its South Yarra studio at the centre of questions about staff dynamics.

The studio is managed by Ariel Kaplan, the former Neighbours and The Saddle Club actress who swapped Ramsay Street for the Red Room.

Kaplan has faced questions from the Mail about concerns reportedly raised by staff over the appointment of a trainer who has since left Barry’s and moved to another gym in Perth.

We understand the recruitment decision was among the issues discussed by staff, although the full circumstances remain unclear.

When contacted last month, Kaplan was not willing to discuss the matter.

‘I have nothing to say,’ she said before abruptly ending the call.

There is no suggestion Kaplan has been accused of any personal wrongdoing, nor is there any indication the issues at the Melbourne and Sydney gyms are connected.

In a recently deleted Reddit thread discussing the behind-the-scenes drama at Barry’s, one user wrote: ‘There is one trainer in particular that has a little posse of clients / loyalists who thinks she’s top s*** because she has an almost monopoly of peak times slots. [She] brags about how full her classes are to members and tries to benchmark herself to other trainers who have less desirable slots that their classes “should be as full as hers”.’

Founded in Los Angeles in 1998, Barry’s Bootcamp has become an international fitness institution, with its signature combination of high-intensity treadmill work, strength training and nightclub-style lighting attracting a devoted following.

Its Australian studios have become a favourite among influencers, socialites and the well-heeled fitness crowd.

But with longtime instructors walking away and concerns mounting over staff morale, the brand’s carefully polished image is beginning to crack.