Marlin: “We had no idea how vulnerable she was. We thought class was this, like, idea, that you could change, that you could cast off. We genuinely didn’t get it. She didn’t have the tools we did. No home at Christmas was the tip of the iceberg. She didn’t have the basic building blocks of what you need to be a successful person—time management, emotional regulation, the ability to reflect on hindsight…” Marlin trails off. “She was not emotionally adept, or mature, in the ways we had been raised to be. She lived in one long reaction. That was invisible to us at the time. All we saw was how charismatic she was.”

Tyler: “I was so in love with her.”

Jes: “She was my best friend.”

Marlin: “I mean, I was in love with her. In the beginning. Like crazy.”

Jack: “We lived together, you know? We took care of each other. It felt like it was meant to be.” He lights another cigarette. “That’s probably the thing I want my children to understand. I loved her.”

Jes, briefly pictured picking up trash on the shoulder of the thruway in an orange vest labeled DUTCHESS COUNTY CORRECTIONS: “Oh. The practical stuff? When we signed with the gallery, I hacked into the recently connected Dutchess County public records database. I made a birth record for Carey for the same town Maria was from, so it would be easy for her. Same birthday, but 1970.” She spears a seltzer can, pushing until it crumples against the dirt. “That was a crime. I freely admit that. The DA gave me three months of community service.” She looks out at the highway. “We never registered Carey for a Social; we used the business tax ID for everything. Maria used her own ID whenever, booked her own travel. In public, she paid for things in cash or charged it to the company. That part—that part was easy. It’s astonishing how willing people are to believe in someone. Anyone.”

The film cut through a composite of Maria’s early days as Carey. Her first show, BODYWORK, was followed by CAREY 2. There was footage of Pine City making the work, filmed by Jes on a Handycam. Maria comes in the door and coos. She’s wearing a frilly, frothy dress—very un-Carey.

“It looks so good,” she said. “What should I wear tonight?”

Marlin throws her a plain t-shirt and jeans. Maria sticks out her tongue. “Carey Logan is boring,” she yells, right before shutting the bathroom door.

Jack: “She moved into the loft in Long Island City. We were all in love with each other.” He exhales and looks offscreen.