“I think that there’s a fine balance,” she says. “These women are victims, but they’re also incredibly strong and have to own their own narrative.” Morris’s research calls with the three women featured in her film were “extensive”. “It wasn’t just about understanding what happened in the story,” she says, “it was also about understanding who these women are”. 

Ayleen Charlotte, Morris tells me, was reluctant to relive her 18-month relationship with Leviev. While the other two women go into a great deal of detail about the early stages with Leviev, and falling in love, Charlotte was – understandably – less forthcoming. “So we said, OK,” says Morris, “what we’ll do is we’ll just bring you into the story where you feel strong, and when you feel powerful.” As a result, most of Charlotte’s story in the film is centred around bringing Leviev down. 

In a satisfying montage soundtracked by Le Tigre, we find out how Charlotte – on realising Leviev’s deception – gets hold of piles of his designer clothes, and sells them on eBay. Her story is one of revenge. The entire documentary, in fact, in no small part an act of revenge. Or perhaps – seeing as Leviev has faced so few legal repercussions for his serial abuse and deception – a fairer word would be “justice”. 

“People like this operate much better when they’re in the shadows,” says Morris. And what she’s done, with the cooperation of Leviev’s victims, is “spread his face across a vast global platform”. “Now, if you Google Simon Leviev, Cecilie and Pernilla’s story comes up. So he can’t do what he’s done before, which is meet women in bars or on Tinder”.