BAD VEGAN IS NOT A DOCUMENTARY

HELLO

These are strange days. I want to be doing good and useful things; I want to be moving forward. I want to create value and continue repaying people, and debts. I want to finish my book draft. I want to help people, women mostly, avoid the mistakes I made. Also, I want to be furthering conversations and understanding about psychological abuse. I naively thought that’s what I’d be doing on the heels of a truthful documentary.

I’ve called the ending of Bad Vegan “disturbingly misleading.” I’ve written all of these words here to show how and why it’s misleading. My book, and all the source materials that back it up, will give the full and accurate picture of what happened, but it likely won’t come out before 2023. In the meantime, I can’t not speak out.

The tabloids drove the narrative early on based on an indictment and assumptions. I thought (again, naively) that the film would finally correct that narrative. Instead, it intentionally allowed for confusion and doubt, which has enabled that false narrative to continue. My wanting the facts to be correct is not avoiding responsibility or blaming others. It’s just wanting the facts to be correct.

I argue that Bad Vegan is not a documentary. I think a new film category is needed, and/or documentaries need to be held to the same standard as respected journalism. The influx of positivity and support is coming from people who are looking past the ending—understanding that it was weird and misleading. It’s also coming from people who understand how all of this happened. All of it helps, and I’m grateful. The gross marketing campaign for Bad Vegan by Netflix has not helped.

Conflicting advice has been coming at me like a firehose, which has delayed my getting this posted. This is a long-winded post, even with many of the details pushed into footnotes. I’m not a journalist, professional writer, or editor. I’m also sleep-deprived. But I want my mistakes and downfall to be useful—to further a more widespread understanding of how it happened—and so will do what I can to pull my story back from the realm of deliberately obfuscated creepy entertainment and push it toward valuable, cautionary truth.

BAD VEGAN IS NOT A DOCUMENTARY.

From Wikipedia: “A documentary film or documentary is a non-fictional motion-picture intended to ‘document reality, primarily for the purposes of instruction, education or maintaining a historical record.’”

I’ve always thought documentaries are meant to tell true stories—hopefully with the goal of making the world a better place. For the sake of journalistic integrity, subjects are generally not paid and do not participate editorially. It is reasonable to expect such journalistic integrity in viewing or participating in a documentary.

In a world where truth is increasingly spun and twisted, where a government spokesperson can present “alternative facts,” responsibility should fall on networks to be clear about what is truth and what is fiction; or, what may fall in the mud puddle in between.

If a documentary is putting a false spin on things and confusing or misleading its audience for the sake of controversy or intrigue, then it’s not a documentary. It’s something else. Docu-tainment, maybe. There needs to be a new category, or at least some kind of disclaimer.

In agreeing to participate in and provide content for the “documentary,” I repeatedly emphasized that I simply wanted the final product to be honest and useful. With respect to the extensive written, audio, and video materials I handed over (or participated in creating, in the case of some of the calls), I made it clear that I did not mind being embarrassed (the overall situation is embarrassing enough) as long as it was, again, honest and useful.

The marketing campaign for Bad Vegan by Netflix did a good job of associating my name and brand with fraud. The “Perpetual Pups” video in particular was quite successful at mocking psychological abuse. (I wonder, would they have created the same campaign if Anthony Strangis had physically beaten me as well?)

YES, I TAKE RESPONSIBILITY. YES, I AM REMORSEFUL.

First, I feel like this should be obvious, but: I had zero input in how this “documentary” was made beyond the content I provided—which is standard and expected for an actual documentary. The content included at least 12 hours of footage from my interviews, conducted over two separate very long days. I also handed over a ginormous amount of source material. From all that input, the filmmakers plucked whatever bits they wanted and arranged them in whatever order they wanted.

I’ve seen the comment repeatedly: “she showed no remorse” or “she didn’t take any responsibility.” And, from what was shown, that might appear to be the case. What was shown was not up to me. I recorded a podcast over a week prior to my being allowed to view Bad Vegan; that podcast aired the Monday after Bad Vegan premiered. In it, I happened to address these issues, as well as others not covered in the film—at a time when I had no idea what would or would not be covered in the film. (Yes, I take responsibility. Yes I’m genuinely remorseful.)

CORRECTIONS

I’ve called the ending of Bad Vegan “disturbingly misleading.” It seems obviously intentional, particularly when viewed in the context of the editorial choices leading up to it, at least one of which is also misleading, if not patently false. I figured the film would inevitably get minor details wrong here and there, since my story is a complicated and confusing one. But I thought any errors, big or small, would have been honest ones. Below I point out three, starting with a minor one, then a worse one, and then…. the ending.

1. In the first episode, the film is edited such that I say I worked in investment banking for two years, and then left finance to go to culinary school. In reality, I worked a total of roughly five years in finance at three different firms (including Bain Capital and CIBC). I assumed it was just somehow smoother to cut that way. It was a small detail, one not particularly relevant to the overall story, so… no biggie.

2. More concerning is where the film shows me discussing getting married. The fact is, I did not marry Anthony Strangis so he could give me his fictional money. I did not want to marry him. The joke my accountant had made about how I should marry him is not what led to my marrying him. The marriage happened many months later. He badgered me into marrying him, and before I could think too hard about it, we immediately went to get the marriage license; after the 24-hour waiting period we were married. The way my interview was edited creates a false impression of what really happened.(a)

3. The most destructive misrepresentation comes via the audio clip at the very end of the film, and I argue it was intentionally dishonest. Knowing what I know, there is no way the filmmakers did not know what they were doing in this case. Since I stated online that the ending was “disturbingly misleading,” one news article after another has since come out with quotes from the Director and his partner defending their editorial choices. Each new one I read I think: Good. You’re helping me prove my point. Go ahead, keep talking.

THE CALLS

Among the source material I gave to the filmmakers was a recording of an audio call from 2014—the one that included the audio featured in the trailer (when Anthony Strangis says, “If I tell you to go take all your money out of the bank and light it on fire, do it,”) I describe the circumstances and entire contents of this call, in detail, in my book draft.

The filmed call: In the film’s opening, I’m on the phone with Anthony Strangis in front of the entire film crew. The call is being recorded and filmed without Anthony’s knowledge, of course. Clearly I did this for the documentary. I say, “I would never do this to someone, record them without their knowing. But that motherfucker? Fuck him.” This part is accurate and makes clear that I’m doing this for the film and very much in the spirit of fuck that guy. (This call occurred in October 2019)

Likewise, the call from which they took the ending clip was also made in the spirit of fuck that guy. The call was recorded by me. The Director, Chris Smith, had advised me which mobile app to use to make the recordings. My goal was to get Anthony Strangis to say as much as possible so that it would be immortalized on tape. These long conversations were not fun for me. I had to effectively push myself into a sort of dissociated state to get through them. (For the filmed call, a production assistant ran out to get me beers to drink because I was so nervous.) On these calls, I tried to steer the conversation to get him to repeat some of the weirder things he’d said in the past, about his supposed immortality and so on. For me, this was both an opportunity to get him back just a tiny bit, and to effectively gather more evidence. Everyone involved (except Anthony Strangis) knew I was playing a part.

These recordings exist because I deliberately made them for the filmmakers, to whom I turned them over immediately, unedited. I trusted they would use the content honestly. They did not.

By putting that particular short clip at the end, it implied that I’m on friendly terms with that monster, and worse, that I would be laughing with him about everything—my business and brand obliterated; my mother, employees, investors, all out money because of me; my home and its contents gone; getting dragged across the country for nearly a year, throughout which I was periodically sexually violated by the fat smelly guy I hated; going to jail—HAHA so funny!

My reason for being in touch with him at all after he was released from jail—which happened before I had to go serve my own sentence—had everything to do with my dog Leon and his safety (as well as mine, later on). I summarize this reasoning in the footnotes. (b)

I spoke to Anthony, I think, one more time after those recorded calls. This is also described in the footnotes. (c)

STORYTELLING TACTICS

A Vox article, “What’s the point of all these scammer stories?” (3/17/22) points out that, in Bad Vegan, Director Chris Smith “paces its reveals expertly, so every time you kind of think where this is going, it takes a screeching left turn.” The article later describes how Smith “pulls a cool trick” by bringing in an actor to play Will Richards, who turns out to not exist, so that, “When the truth about the character is revealed, suddenly we feel at least a bit gaslit as Melngailis did.” In this case, the cool trick is just a nifty device to illustrate a factual point—that Will Richards didn’t exist. No real harm to anyone here, except maybe a startled audience.

However, the article continues, “Bad Vegan isn’t quite content to let us rest there. After four hours of the show—listening to Melngailis explain her story, seemingly as a reliable narrator—the series takes a turn, and spends its last 10 minutes casting doubt on the whole thing. Is the tale we were told the full truth? Or have we, too, been a bit scammed?”

Here is the problem: the filmmakers knew the true story based on all the inputs I gave them. Granted, it’s a confusing-as-fuck story and sometimes they’d ask me questions I couldn’t quite answer, because I didn’t know the answer—questions to which I still want answers to myself, and they usually related to Anthony Strangis’s motives for doing or saying one thing or another, and what parts of what he told me might have been true. But these were things that didn’t put into question his or my overall motives.

And yet, the filmmakers, knowing the truth, created an ending “casting doubt on the whole thing.”

Why? For what purpose? To add a flourish of mystery? A narrative twist? Is it still a documentary if they do this, knowing it’s not the truth? It’s not.

I’d not have agreed to participate—turning over all control to them and relinquishing my own—if I’d known my shame and abuse (along with the pain and losses of my family, employees, and other good people involved) would be fodder for their profit margin.

CHRIS SMITH’S MEDIA DEFENSE TOUR

After I stated publicly that I would be writing this post, articles appeared quoting Director Chris Smith and his partner (and executive producer) Ryann Fraser proactively defending themselves. Their overall defensiveness speaks for itself.

As the Vox article points out, I had come across “seemingly as a reliable narrator” until the ending, when that reliability was flung out the window.

Chris Smith told The Guardian (“’Everything is shades of grey’: inside the bizarre world of the Netflix hit Bad Vegan” 3/22/22), that he was “confused,” saying: “I’m unclear as to why that phone call is ‘disturbingly misleading.’” In response to the question of whether the portrayal was fair, he does that political thing of demurring on the “Yes” or “No,” instead providing a wishy-washy non-answer: “Look, everything is shades of grey,” he said. “We tried to represent it as accurately as we could from the information we had through the documentation that was presented to us and through the interview.”

After reading this, I wanted to ask the supposedly confused Chris Smith: What then, precisely, did you intend by using that audio at the end? Especially in the context of immediately following his inclusion of Allen Salkin saying how some people were asking, “Was she in on the con?” and one of my former employees saying, “She was too smart to not know what she was doing.” More on this quote from Maiquen in the footnotes.(d)

Before I could finish this essay, ping! Another article texted to me, in which Chris Smith attempts to answer this very question. Reading what he told Newsweek on my laptop, I nearly barfed on my keyboard.

From Newsweek, “’Bad Vegan’ Director Explains the Phone Call at the End of Netflix Documentary” 3/22/22

In conversation with Newsweek, Bad Vegan director Chris Smith and executive producer Ryann Fraser explained why they opted to include the phone call. They stated it portrayed Melngailis as “confident and strong” and was not intending to imply the pair were still in contact.

They said: “The inclusion of the last phone call isn’t to imply that Sarma and Anthony were still close. The call is dated “22 Months After Prison” – and Anthony clearly says at the end of the call “it was nice to hear your voice”—which we feel shows that communication between them is not common.

“In this call, we found Sarma to be confident and strong—making fun of the tales Anthony had spun, telling him that he had to show up on a unicorn for there to be any reconciliation (meaning there is no reconciliation).”

“Lastly, this call was one of the few pieces of audio we found of them communicating in a way that helped us understand their relationship in the first place.”

Where do I even start with the above? Confident and strong? Are they joking? Also, it’s not audio they “found”—it’s audio I made for them and immediately turned over to them.

Before I address their lame statements, I’ll share the categories of reactions I’ve received to the ending of Bad Vegan:

1. Weirded out and confused, and needing an explanation.

2. Seeing through a deliberate move to confuse the audience by the filmmaker.

3. Upset and concerned, as if after everything I went through, I still could be under the spell of Anthony Strangis.

4. Concluding that, as per the title, I really am the con-artist and was in on it all along. Further, that my laughing with him about it all shows I have no remorse for all the harm done to my employees and others, including my own mother. “I fully believed her until I heard that phone call,” is one quote I grabbed quickly just now from the last few minutes of comments on my Instagram feed. There are a ton of these, except many of them berating me in more colorful language specifically referencing the ending. Another, after claiming I was in on it all, wrote: “HUGE giveaway is her calling her ‘abuser, brainwasher’ 22 months after prison & the two of them LAUGHING.” There are so many of these messages, rolling in with upsetting regularity. A screenshot of a personal text message sent to a friend of mine from a friend of his (who was unaware we are friends) stated: “She is a fucking con who is full of shit. Clearly, She knew what she was doing.” And my friend maintains that his friend is an objectively intelligent person. Ouch.

That list of reactions includes no one saying they thought it showed me as confident and strong. I’d gladly poll hundreds of random viewers and would be wholly shocked if that was anyone’s takeaway.

Smith and Fraser’s quotes make no sense. They’re hiding behind something that, perhaps on another planet, could be plausible. They say the call wasn’t mean to imply that Anthony Strangis and I are still still close—yet it very plainly does. Chit-chatting with the man who ruined me and catalyzed so much destruction, as if he did nothing wrong, does not translate to strong and confident.

They point out that his saying, “it’s nice to hear your voice” implies we’re not in touch regularly. Oh okay, so we casually catch up and talk now and then?

They say it was one of the few pieces of audio they found (hello, I made it for them!) in which we’re communicating in a way that helped them understand the relationship in the first place? I don’t get that. They knew I was pretending.

Chris Smith knows my call to Anthony Strangis was made for the project. His project. Chris Smith knows the truth, but the audience doesn’t—and obfuscating that truth was Chris Smith’s choice.

The audience should know: I way playing a part, for the project, simply to see what I could get Anthony Strangis to say. Even if none of the audio was usable, I wanted to get him on tape confirming many of the things he’d said in the past, even if just to corroborate everything else I’d given them and told them. It’s not like someone overheard me and caught me on tape, it was all deliberate. I hope a media publication will ask Chris Smith about this, specifically.

I find Smith and Fraser’s explanations so weak and implausible (as well as deceitful and disingenuous) that it’s almost baffling they even offered them.

TRUST AND TRUTH

Chris Smith exploited the trust I had in him and Ryann Fraser, and in the integrity of the documentary filmmaking process overall. That he did this makes the comments he and Fraser gave in an earlier interview to IndieWire particularly gross, about “how they built trust” with me.

The IndieWire article, ’Bad Vegan’ Director in the Idea Behind the Netflix Series’ Biggest Creative Swing—Chris Smith and executive producer Ryann Fraser also outline how they built trust with former restaurant owner Sarma Melngailis (3/16/22) discusses the filmmaking process and how much information was gathered for the film. An irritating quote comes from Ryann Fraser, “As someone who has had hours and hours of conversations on this subject and over the course of the project, it’s a gray area. It’s complicated. And I think that’s really hard.”

That’s an impressively non-answer answer. Really, it’s a gray area? It’s not.

Chris Smith then says, “The thing I would say definitively is I do not believe Sarma would have ever been involved or resorted to any criminal activity on her own. That was one conclusion I came away with from this entire process, spending time with her, getting to know her, looking at her history, and looking at what had happened.” He continues, “One of the things we found interesting was just how many people had different points of view on her culpability. We were just trying to represent that. You present everything as well as you can and allow the audience to come to their own conclusions.”

Yes, people did have different points of view, based on a lack of information or inaccurate information. But Chris Smith did know the facts, and yet chose to cast doubt on my credibility anyway. Despite knowing the full story and forming the obvious rational conclusion about my culpability, he created a narrative with missing and inaccurate information to “represent” this public confusion, rather than presenting complete and accurate information so the viewer could base their conclusions on facts, after eliminating the confusion. The former (what Bad Vegan is) isn’t a documentary; the latter would be.

FURTHER CONSIDERATIONS

Additional factors that support Smith’s intention to mislead and confuse the viewer—to allow for the conclusion that I was, or could have been, somehow in on it all along—include the following:

1. The aforementioned clips, just prior to the very end, from Allen Salkin and Maiquen Saez, which suddenly question whether I was in fact really a victim. Chris Smith placed these just before I’m heard laughing on the phone with Strangis. The intention here is obvious. As Vox stated, the film “spends its last 10 minutes casting doubt on the whole thing.”

2. The choice of the title, “Bad Vegan,” as if the whole point is that (surprise!) I turn out to be the bad one after all. Meanwhile, I’d thought they chose it simply to be provocative, or based it on the tabloids’ prior characterization of me, which the film would have—had it been honest—definitively disproved. I was wrong.

3. Expert analysis was left on the cutting room floor. Dr. Evan Stark, who literally wrote the book on “coercive control” and indeed is credited with having coined that term, was interviewed for the film. The entire crew spent a full day at his home, and I was told the footage was compelling, including one part where Dr. Stark said, “If I’d had any involvement in her case, she never would have gone to jail.”(e) The inclusion of this expert’s words would have gone a long way towards obliterating any doubt that I was being truthful, yet the filmmakers, I believe, intended to leave doubt.

4. Hoyt Richards is an amazing guy I’ve befriended who was, many years back, in a cult. He also gave a day-long interview that was left out. Hoyt and I had been introduced via cult-expert Steve Hassan (who I’d suggested as an additional expert to interview—Smith declined) and in phone conversations, we instantly bonded, since we immediately understood what the other went through. A Princeton graduate, well-spoken former male model, Hoyt Richards no doubt spoke compellingly about the reality that even smart and successful people can have their minds manipulated into believing strange things. His own story of psychological abuse is a fascinating one. But, yet again, including this interview would have also backed up the reality that I was severely psychologically abused.

5. Letting the audience know that my employees had been paid in full was excluded. I was allowed to think that the film was going to include, at the end, notification that my employees had been repaid in full back in early 2020 via proceeds from my participation in the film, and that otherwise, I did not profit from Bad Vegan. This omission has caused me grief and hassle in other ways, but for the purposes of this article, I barely need to point out that had they kept this in, it would have conveyed to the audience true information, which would have further discouraged the false—yet uncomfortably frequent—conclusion that I’m a remorseless, con-artist, sociopath.

6. I turned over my entire journal, unredacted, to the filmmakers. I could have easily gone through it myself and presented to them only the bits I’d have wanted them to use. In it, there was a lot of compelling content which spoke to my ongoing confusion and fear of Anthony, as well as my desires to protect and grow my business. But some of quotes they chose to include are ones that, presented alone, could instead cast doubt on my character. (f)

7. As with the journal, I turned over reams of g-chat communications as well as texts and emails. It’s too much to sort through but there was incredibly impactful content left out. (Content which I include in my book draft.) Part of my intention in turning over as much as possible was to show my own credibility.

8. I was glad for the inclusion of a few clips from a handful of videos that Anthony Strangis had taken of me (without my knowing) in which I was crying and clearly distraught. All of it spoke to my misery and disoriented state. In some part of these videos, I scream at Anthony about his having taken so much money from me. But this too wasn’t used.(g)

9. I’ve not yet had time to re-listen to the lengthy audio calls that I made for the film (which I don’t look forward to as it creeps me out), but I will, at some point. I would bet there was content that a truthful documentarian would have included, or at least relied upon in conveying the truth. As with all the content mentioned in this article, I have copies of all of it (except the interview footage).

10. My detailed account of the grotesque and ongoing sexual abuse Anthony put me through was left out. In conversation with someone who had seen the footage, I was told this particular part was “really SO compelling.” For this reason, I assumed it was in the film and was surprised it was not. Recalling how awkward and agonizing it had been to describe this part of my story (during my very first interview, to a room full of mostly strangers, mostly men), part of me was relieved that the world didn’t see me ugly-crying after all, as I’d feared. But I’d trade my vanity for a truthful, complete, and useful telling of my story. I was initially confused as to why this footage was cut, and only the briefest (and vague) mention of it was left in. Now, I see why.

11. Finally, I could write an entire separate essay about the Pet Immortality marketing campaign created by Netflix, but for now will just point out that I know Chris Smith and Ryann Fraser were 100% aware of it weeks ahead of the film’s release. I was told by Ryann on a Zoom call (with a handful of the Netflix PR team on the screen) that Chris usually hated the marketing campaigns for his films, but in this case, he really liked them. The pet immortality campaign was discussed specifically. I genuinely urge everyone to listen to the one-minute audio in YouTube parody clip (which also appeared among promoted Tweets). This campaign makes fun of my entire story, and, more importantly mocks psychological manipulation overall. As if it’s all a big joke, and as if destructive controlling abuse (coercive control) is not a real thing. I wonder what kind of mental gymnastics the Netflix decision-makers have to do in order to rationalize having signed off on this, while they tuck their kids in at night.

12. I really want to be done with this essay, but I just remembered another entire category of material I gave over to Chris Smith and the production team. My defense attorney submitted a package to the judge which included a forensic psychologist’s evaluation of me, along with over 25 letters, many of them from former employees (some among those who weren’t paid after my disappearance in 2015) and from investors who had lost money. All of them spoke to the fact that I would never willingly destroy my own business, and/or cause them harm.

13. Trust me, I really want to be done with this. Yet just now I was texted an image of the doors of my former restaurant, Pure Food and Wine. They are covered in murals made by Netflix promoting “The Bad Vegan Kitchen” along with the slogan, “All Food. No Fraud.” So, thanks Netflix. Go ahead and imply I was a fraud on the grave of my dead restaurant-child.

14. Someone in LA texted me a photo of a billboard put up by Netflix on Abbot Kinney, of me, looking villainous, eating a cash salad, underneath the title Bad Vegan, and the words, Fame. Fraud. Fugitives. Are they done yet? There’s another from Sunset Boulevard, same idea, below.

15. Speaking of Netflix, I now see why they refused to allow me to view the film even after it was “locked”—meaning edits could no longer be made, until so close to the film’s release. On a Zoom call with two people from Netflix, in explaining how stressful it was for me to not know what’s coming and not be able to prepare, I actually cried. These two people used the journalistic integrity argument—stressing how important it was that it didn’t appear that I was involved editorially in the film. Meanwhile, journalists—even pop-culture podcasters—were given access to see it weeks before I was allowed to see it. During that time I received multiple inquiries from press outlets saying, “Hey I’ve watched the doc, can you come on my podcast? Do an interview? Etc.” This was painful.

16. Finally, (and I mean finally), during the weeks and months I was first out on bail, having woken up from one nightmare into another, I wrote a letter on my phone, “Dear Mr. Fox.” A copy of this letter was among the first things I sent to Chris Smith and his partner when he was considering whether to come on as a director to this project. Nearly everything I write in that letter was corroborated by source materials. The filmmakers knew the contents of that letter to be genuine and true, yet still created a film that casts doubt on the truth.

THE AFTERMATH

After writing all of this, I can’t help feeling like a loud and whiny complainer. But my goal is not just to clear my name. I agreed to participate in the “documentary” so that it might help to prevent others from making the same mistakes I did in naively trusting and allowing myself to preyed upon by a sociopathic conman. I’m now speaking out about how this “documentary” was really made, so that it might help prevent others from making the same mistakes I did in naively trusting a well-known director, and a powerful entity like Netflix.

The particular slice of audio included at the end of the film, as if I’m laughing about the entire ordeal and on good terms with that monster, is, unequivocally, wildly dishonest. I don’t currently have the time to go into how this has affected me—maybe later in some other forum I will. However, on behalf of all the women (and some men) out there who have experienced enough abuse to have related to my story—I’m angry that Chris Smith has, in a grossly disturbing way, hurt all of them, too. When you’ve been through mind-bending manipulation and you’re watching something similar and being triggered left and right, it’s disturbing to then have the Director manipulating your mind, throwing out the provocative and wholly false idea that maybe I was in on it all along—as if things aren’t really what they seem, the world is topsy-turvy, don’t believe your own mind.

For years I was dogged by the misleading tabloid headlines. It’s been painful having people think I could be anything remotely like a Vegan Bernie Madoff. As many understand, to be accused of perpetrating the thing of which you were in fact the victim is acutely painful.(h) For Chris Smith to have ended the film the way he did, he opened the door (and shoved many though it) for this same attack on me to continue.

I was prepared for some barrage of the “how could you be so stupid” comments, but I wasn’t expecting so many people to watch a film about what happened to come away declaring that I’m the con-artist, I got what I deserved, and/or should still be locked up, behind bars.

Even after all this, there’s still so much I want to say, and correct. If you’re reading this sentence, please know that I’m truly grateful you’ve taken the time to get this far. Below are some David Foster Wallace-length footnotes.

Love,

Sarma

FOOTNOTES

(a) As with most everything in my story, how he was able to convince me to marry him was complicated and confusing. I recall it had to do with him saying I’d be protected in some way, as if I were more vulnerable to the vague nebulous threats at which he hinted and marrying him would keep me safe. Whatever word salad he served me, one way or another I recall finally agreeing with an, “Ugh, fine!” or, if I didn’t say those actual words, that was the sentiment. I participated in lengthy fact-checking calls after the film was completed but before it was “locked” (meaning before the time for making edits had passed). During these calls the fact-checker reviewed with me dates (including my Wall St. work history) and names and far more information than I’d expected they’d be checking. It felt exhaustive. Yet, they went ahead with their narrative anyway.

(b) Why was I in touch with Anthony at all? To summarize as briefly as I can, for now, Anthony remained in jail for a year following our arrest, during which time I was out on bail, and did not ever speak to him. By the time I took my plea, and was sentenced, he was being released. This meant that he would be out and free before I went in to serve my time, and of course would remain free while I was locked up for the entire summer. My reason for allowing contact—at a time when I was aware how psychologically dangerous it would be—had everything to do with my worry over Leon’s safety. And, later, my own. I’m happy to discuss the details of this elsewhere, and it’s in my book draft. I did not ever see him in person and would not have. Having an open channel of communication, one in which I cautiously and strategically played a role, was, despite the psychological complications, safer than not doing so.

(c) After I made those recorded calls, Anthony called me once unexpectedly many months later. I ended up screaming at him. It was entirely unsatisfying because he gives precisely zero shits about anyone’s pain. I realized it was easier to pretend to tolerate him than it was to yell at him. After I yelled, he said something about how it was bullshit. I hung up. I then sent him a text message, an angry screed, because I couldn’t help myself and that was it. I never spoke to him again and have no intention of speaking to him again and yes, I remain afraid of him, now more than ever with all this out in the open.

(d) When Maiquen Saez said, “she was too smart to not know what she was doing,” it felt like a punch in my stomach. Having worked at the restaurant for so long he’d have known I wouldn’t have intentionally destroyed it. Later, it seemed odd that immediately after he viewed the film he IG-messaged me and said “Come see me in Harlem and thank you for everything you did for me.” Then, “I just saw the doc. You’re a champ.” Then signed off with “Ciao love.” I’m not sure what he was thinking at the time he gave his interview. But I also want to point out that, with the exception of Bonnie, none of them had any information about what had really happened beyond what they may or may not have read in the tabloids or existing press. They didn’t know the facts. If Chris Smith claims he was trying to be balanced, how is it balanced to get input from people who have very little of the verifiable truths about what happened?

(e) I did not see this footage myself, but it’s what I’m told he said in his interview and that this was a powerful bit of footage. I had spoken with Dr. Stark by phone and had emailed him a lot of my source materials, so he was relatively familiar with the more important details of my case.

(f) The quotes shown in the film came from a journal that the prosecuting DA in my case had recovered. Very oddly, it had turned up among Anthony Strangis’ belongings. He had taken it from me, and I’d assumed he threw it in the trash, after telling me I shouldn’t be writing things down. Yet he had it. When I was finally given access to a PDF copy of it, via my attorney at the time, I cried while reading it. I assumed, naively, that surely now no one would question my motives. But the parts of the journal Chris Smith chose to highlight were ones that were embarrassing, and in isolation, misleading. I would gladly share the entire journal with an actual journalist.

(g) There were about five or six clips of iPhone footage that I was given access to only after my case, after I was released from jail. I’m considering posting them all online somewhere.

(h) When I say “victim” it’s not to negate my own responsibility in the situation.

Wait, there’s more?

A FEW MORE ANNOYING CORRECTIONS

There’s plenty that Bad Vegan does get right, and I am glad that my story is at least out there in whatever form so that more people—women mostly—who have experienced anything like I did will feel less alone. There have been and will continue to be conversations about this, even if it’s to argue whether I’m a criminal.

Still it’s kind of frustrating that the narrative has persisted that I “stole” millions from investors and employees, and presumably, gleefully spent it all. Also, that I shafted my employees out of their paychecks, and then ran off or fled with Anthony Strangis, presumably for a nearly year-long cross-country spending spree. There is no concise way to properly correct these narratives. However, the first time my restaurant shut down, Anthony Strangis sent me to Florida. Yes, he sent me. (I’m aware I could have refused, but to not understand why I did not refuse is to not at all understand the entire situation of this kind of mind fuckery abuse.) He also told me to stay “off comms.” Finding out the restaurant had shut down, and employees unpaid, was a nightmare come true. I spent the following many months working like crazy to quickly repay the employees and then to raise money to get the restaurant reopen, which I did. Nearly all these funds raised from investors in 2015 to reopen the restaurant went towards reopening the restaurant. As in, paying back rent, any outstanding employee pay, vendors, tax payments, repairs, pre-opening expenses, and more. After it was reopened, I tried to take myself off of the bank accounts and replaced by one of the investors—we went to the bank to do this, but hadn’t yet put in place an operating agreement for the corporate entity and so were not able to get it done. I had wanted to be off the bank accounts so that Anthony Strangis would not, one way or another, be able to get funds from me via the company. In the meantime, he was able to get some more funds from me and also sent me on a fucked up goose chase to Miami, claiming he was going to buy out all the investors. From there, I never went back to the restaurant again. I did not leave town willingly. Once I finally realized I was being taken away, it was among the most surreal and traumatic moments of my life. I had worked so hard to get the restaurant back open. To think I’d then abandon it makes no sense. The narrative that I ran off with Anthony Strangis, as if lovers, like Bonnie and Clyde, is painful. He was the one spending, lighting on fire, or gambling away the funds. Maybe I’ll put up the full collection of those charming videos he took of me.

Anyway.

I’ve not yet re-watched Bad Vegan since the first super-awkward time while the filmmakers stared at me and I cried, and yelled “I hate that ending!” at the end. For the purposes of fact-checking all that I’ve written here, I should re-watch it. Probably I will find more annoying things I feel compelled to correct, or clarify, or give context to. I’m tired. I want to be useful again. I’m also grateful. One way or another I’ll make this all useful. And keep moving forward.

Leon says hello, and thanks for all the follows and love.