Actress Emily Willis checked in to luxury celeb clinic. Now a devastating chain of events has left her paralyzed, 'locked-in' and only able to grunt: Family reveal bedside horrors... and agonizing sign that she knows she's trapped

Emily is under round-the-clock care. She cannot survive without the feeding and breathing apparatus fitted into her neck.

Though her eyes are open, it is unclear what she can understand after a catastrophic heart attack in January 2024 rendered her almost brain dead, and unable to communicate beyond grunts and moans.

At just 27 years old, it's not much of an existence for a young woman – especially one with such ambition.

Emily Willis is the small-screen seductress who broke into the Hollywood mainstream with a role in the 2023 sci-fi movie Divinity alongside actress Bella Thorne.

She earned accolades from gentleman's magazine Penthouse and several million dollars from her work in the adult film industry, but in early 2024, a worsening ketamine and alcohol addiction saw Willis (real name Litzy Lara Banuelos) check into Summit Malibu, a luxury rehab clinic in California.

She texted her younger brother, Michael Cooper, to say she would be 'detoxing' for 21 days – no phone, no substances – on a $45,500 treatment program.

But nine days in, she was found unresponsive in cardiac arrest and fell into a coma.

Michael, 24 and living in Utah, choked up as he told the Daily Mail how 'excited' Willis had been to get help at Summit Malibu.

'She said it had a lot of amenities, and a lot of celebrities went there and they make sure you come out well. She was strong going in and had a path forward,' he said. 'I had zero reason to think anything would go wrong.'

He is now haunted by what he imagines she endured there, unable to contact loved ones while suffering from what a civil complaint claims were night terrors, a severe urinary tract infection, and dehydration so severe that a nurse was unable to read her blood pressure.

All the while, staff at Summit Malibu allegedly assured Willis's family that she was well, according to the complaint filed by her mother Yesenia Cooper.

Michael says his 5'6" sister weighed 111 pounds before checking into the clinic. By the time of her cardiac arrest, she was down to 83 pounds, yet the complaint alleges she was not seen by a nutritionist or dietitian during her stay.

On day one, she had refused medications and was showing multiple withdrawal symptoms, according to notes from her medical chart as described in the complaint.

Three days in, she was described in those medical notes as 'disheveled, frail, disoriented', suffering 'difficulty walking' but refusing hospitalization.

After five days, another note allegedly described her as 'anxious, distressed, barely eating, not showering or getting dressed and was experiencing aches, tremors, spasms and weakness.'

On the ninth day, the complaint says a nurse found her unresponsive and not breathing. Paramedics allegedly had to revive her for nearly an hour before detecting a pulse.

It took almost three weeks for Willis to emerge from her coma, by which time doctors said the brain damage caused by a lack of oxygen was irreversible.

Summit Malibu stands accused in the complaint of admitting Willis 'merely for profits'.

'Defendants failed to provide her the care she needed for her physical and mental symptoms,' the complaint adds.

The rehab denies all allegations.

A $3 million settlement was reached this July, which after legal fees and other obligations has left a trust of around $1.25 million for Willis's ongoing care.

Summit's parent company Malibu Lighthouse Treatment Centers does not admit to any liability or wrongdoing.

Willis's own lawyer acknowledged in court filings that the case 'was no slam dunk' and that no one knows exactly what happened before his client stopped breathing.

For his part, Michael struggles with 'still having no clue what happened'.

'That's what is so frustrating is that this didn't happen to her at home or anything. It happened under the care of medical professionals who were acting under California law as her legal guardians,' he told the Daily Mail.

It also irks him that online trolls, including some of Willis's former classmates from high school, are now mocking her.

'It's heartless because she can't defend herself,' he said. 'Maybe some people can't comprehend this kind of pain.'

His mother Yesenia – who has since moved her daughter to Mexico, where she receives constant care from family at the home of a relative – believes Willis remains aware of her condition even in semi-consciousness, sometimes screaming and even kicking her out of frustration.

Yesenia says she now plans to buy a house in Mexico, where she has support from extended family and nursing care is more affordable than in the US.

She also wants to take Willis to Spain for experimental treatments she hopes might help her move and eat unaided.

'They do things there that aren't available here. Maybe she can become more independent,' Yesenia Cooper told the Daily Mail.

Michael fears his mother will burn out caring for his sister.

Contrary to Willis's past claims that she was Argentinean, her brother has revealed that she was in fact born in Mexico, where their mother also grew up.

Willis's biological father wasn't in the picture. And as Michael told it, Yesenia was caring for her young daughter alone when she met his father, Michael Cooper Sr, an American visiting Mexico.

Though he never adopted Willis, he raised her as his own along with Michael Jr, who was born when his half-sister was three.

The family moved in 2005 to Utah, where they were all able to secure US citizenship.

Eventually, they settled in the tiny town of Fillmore, a place Michael Jr describes as 'the middle of nowhere.'

And yet Michael says his sister was 'always independent,' snagging a job at a burger joint at age 14 so she could buy her first smartphone.

Their parents separated when Michael Jr was 13 and Willis 16, and the family moved to St George in Southern Utah, where Willis would drive her little brother to school in a beat-up green Pontiac Grand Am.

'It was ugly, but she loved it,' Michael Jr said.

Willis left home at 17 and soon moved to Los Angeles. She entered the adult film industry and by 2022, she had accrued some 450,000 likes on OnlyFans.

She was generous with the riches she earned, offering to pay to send her brother to college. But he refused.

'She was the most generous person ever, trying to take care of the people she loved - my mom, my dad and me. We never asked her for money. We just loved her for who she was,' he said.

His father, who now lives on a farm in Missouri, told the Daily Mail that it took a long time to accept how his daughter was making a living in LA.

'I didn't like what she was doing, but instead of trying to criticize her and lose her, I kind of embraced her so she didn't push me away,' Mike Cooper Sr said.

'Nobody wants their daughter to do that. People will criticize, but they'll watch somebody else's daughter doing that, no problem.'

Michael Jr and his sister remained particularly close, talking on the phone several times a week, going to amusement parks and taking trips to Hawaii together.

'It was me and her against the world. That was something we'd always say,' said Michael Jr, who works in an electronics and merchandising job.

Willis also spoke with her brother about her going to acting school, or even quitting the adult film industry altogether to go to college and study psychology.

'We'd talk to her, try to help her, urging her to move out of Hollywood and those influences and come closer to us,' he said.

But Willis stayed in LA, and the emotional damage began to show.

In the year leading up to her January 2024 admission into rehab, legal records state that Willis had been taking five to six grams of ketamine each day. Just one gram can tranquilize a horse.

Over $120,000 has been raised for Willis's care on a GoFundMe.

'People have already been very generous,' Michael Jr said. 'But if anyone feels inclined to keep giving her the best quality of life possible, it would be more than appreciated.'

In two and a half years of wondering, if anything, what his sister knows and feels about her dire situation, Michael said one occasional gesture keeps him hopeful.

'Sometimes I'll blow her a kiss and she'll sort of pucker her lips like she's blowing one back,' he said.

'It's a struggle for her, and it doesn't always happen. But it has me thinking she's in there.'