Moving closer, he saw there was no one in or near the vans. The crime-scene tape had been taken down from the area, and this corner of the cemetery had been restored to its former desuetude and abandonment. So where were they? He located the tomb of the angel with upraised arm, where the abduction had occurred—but there was no one there, either.
He paused to listen. And now, in the gathering silence, he heard faint voices coming from the overgrown area beyond the angel. He moved closer. Crouching and peering from behind a tomb, he realized the group had penetrated the abandoned section of the cemetery. Keeping out of sight, he worked his way closer until he had a clear view of the crew. They were busily setting up lights and a generator near an old mausoleum, overgrown with vines, door partly open. The generator fired up. And there was Moller, the charlatan: suitcase open, black velvet spread over the ground, laying out his bogus equipment.
Wellstone settled down behind a large tombstone, camera in hand, and waited with anticipation. Since they thought they were alone, they might feel freer to engage in open fakery. The 200mm f/2 telephoto lens on his Canon R5 would be able to capture almost anything, even in low light. And there was always the chance they might have some other plan in mind that would, even temporarily, leave Moller’s camera exposed. If he had the chance, this time he’d just take the damn thing and run—later he could work out any necessary excuses.
The golden light disappeared from the upper tree branches and the cemetery filled with twilight. Now they began filming. It was obviously just B-roll at first, establishing shots among the gravestones. Moller was still messing around with his equipment. Betts and the muscleman were pushing on the door of the mausoleum, trying to get it to open farther. He watched as they tapped on the hinges with hammers and tried to force it using a crowbar—a disgraceful violation of the privacy of the dead. Their faint curses echoed through the tombs. But the door refused to be forced.
Having no success, the two of them went deeper into the abandoned area while the rest of the crew remained behind, shooting B-roll. Rising, camera in hand, Wellstone followed the pair at a cautious distance. He looped around, then drew closer as it became easier to stay hidden in the thick brush. Here the tombs were even older and unkempt, many listing or broken. Looming through the vegetation ahead, he could now see a semiruined mausoleum, incongruously large. As he crept closer, he saw that it was constructed in the Gothic style, surrounded by a wrought iron fence of spikes, gate open. The bronze door that once shut up the mausoleum lay on the ground, leaving a gaping rectangle of darkness in its place. The mausoleum had been neglected even by the standards of this decayed region of the cemetery: its granite construction was cracked, streaked with damp and covered with splotches of lichen. Ivy climbed up its face. High on either side, the mausoleum had windows that, instead of glass, were covered by a grillwork of bronze. Marble urns had once decorated the pediments on either side of the door, but they had fallen and were scattered about the ground in pieces.
Wellstone watched as Betts and the muscleman ducked through the hanging vines and went inside the mausoleum. For a few minutes, he could see their flashlights flicking around. Then they came out, looking pleased, and began walking back to where the crew was filming. Wellstone followed at a distance.
The B-roll shooting was apparently finished. He could hear Betts talking enthusiastically about the location they’d just found, giving orders to break everything down and move it to the new site.
With remarkable efficiency, the crew disassembled and carried everything deeper into the cemetery, Betts leading the way. Reaching the old mausoleum, they fired up the generator and began setting up once again, hanging lights on tripods and shouting back and forth as twilight gave way to purple darkness. The lights snapped on, casting dramatic shadows. The muscleman set up two odd-looking machines on either side of the shooting area, obscured behind tombstones. Wellstone wondered what they were for—until they both began to spew fog. The mist drifted through the air in sheets and ribbons, looking remarkably realistic, and in the raking lights it blossomed like a lamp lit from within, creating an effect both spooky and dramatic.
Wellstone took pictures of all of this, and a few short snippets of video as well, documenting the transformation of an ordinary, if creepy, abandoned cemetery into something out of a horror film. While this wasn’t yet proof of fraud, it certainly gave a sense of phony manipulation. So far, so good.
And now the crew started setting up a shot with Moller. The DP issued a stream of orders about the lighting and fog machines, while Betts and Moller went over some scene they were about to shoot, the director showing the fraudster where to stand, where to walk, what to do.