The "#MeToo" Movement is in full swing.
As one female star after another steps forward, it's clear to anyone with a discerning eye—Harvey is finished.
Even NBC, which had long excused his behavior, has now joined the chorus of condemnation.
Soon after, Harvey's trial began.
In court, Judy and Ronan presented a large body of evidence, and numerous women bravely testified against Harvey. Among them was documentary producer Sibel Newsom.
In 2005, she was raped by Weinstein in a hotel room.
Her fierce and emotional testimony—beautiful, articulate, devastating—became one of the most dramatic moments of the trial.
An Italian model and actress testified that Weinstein showed up uninvited at her hotel room during a 2002 film festival and raped her.
A massage therapist testified that he assaulted her following a session that same year.
Lauren Young, a model with dreams of acting and screenwriting, recalled meeting Harvey at a hotel to discuss a script. Instead, he trapped her in a bathroom, exposed himself, and molested her.
These women all came forward publicly.
More than 40 others, choosing to protect their identities, also filed accusations against Harvey under confidentiality.
That day, Harvey, forced to appear in court, trembled like a dying old man.
Of course, to the public, this was clearly a ploy for sympathy.
Later that same day, at 6:30 p.m., the board of Weinstein Films announced that company founder and chairman Harvey Weinstein would take an "indefinite" leave of absence.
His brother Bob Weinstein and COO David Glasser confirmed they would temporarily assume his duties.
At the same time, the board launched an independent investigation into the sexual harassment allegations against him.
Out of the nine board members—Harvey included—only four, including his brother Bob, supported the decision.
Three others resigned under pressure, wanting no part in the coming chaos.
Of the remaining two, one expressed reservations.
And the last?
Harvey himself.
...
"Harvey is finished!"
Martin, now back in Los Angeles to preparing for this year's Oscars, threw a grand party.
At the party, Will Smith declared loudly.
He was chatting animatedly with Martin, Leonardo, Matt Damon, Ben Affleck, Jack Nicholson, and Orlando Bloom—like old friends, no pretense between them.
As a well-known figure of "black skin, but has a white heart" in Hollywood, Will Smith often preferred the company of white elites. While his wife and most of his core fan base were Black, Will didn't exactly go out of his way to show closeness to the Black community.
It all traced back to his roots.
Will was born into a well-off Black family. His father, Willard Carroll Smith Sr., was an Air Force officer who later became an electrical engineer.
Though his father had a temper and was known for domestic violence, he treated Will—his son—strictly but supportively.
Will attended the private Catholic school Our Lady of Lourdes for elementary school.
At 10, his father hired a private tutor to nurture Will's love for rap. By 12, he was already performing in Philadelphia.
He later attended Overbrook Middle School, another private institution.
After high school, he was admitted to MIT's pre-college summer program but declined in favor of pursuing music. During high school, Will briefly experimented with marijuana, which led his father to drive him through a Black ghetto and warn him, "If you keep doing drugs, that's where you'll end up."
So Will's upbringing was entirely rooted in white elite education, worlds apart from the stereotypical inner-city Black experience.
In that regard, he had more in common with someone like Denzel Washington.
Due to his father's discipline, Will rarely associated with street culture, even after entering showbiz.
His wife, however, was the opposite.
Jada Smith once introduced psychedelics to their son, Jaden Smith—a decision that enraged Will.
Jaden later said in an interview, "Actually, I think it was my mom. She was the first one to take that step—taking LSD—for our family. For a long, long time, it was just her. Then eventually, everyone found it in their own way."
Will, meanwhile, preferred chatting with white elites like Martin and Leonardo.
He had far more in common with them than with his wife. Truthfully, if it weren't for public image and needing to maintain support from the Black community, he probably wouldn't have married a Black woman at all.
"Harvey brought it on himself," Will said, wine in hand, his tone animated. "He was arrogant and reckless. In this industry, there are countless ways to get women—using force is the dumbest."
Leonardo agreed. "Yeah, it's just pathetic. Harvey was like a male dog in heat. I remember once at a dinner party, he got drunk and started groping Kate [Winslet]. I stopped him. If Kate hadn't calmed me down, I probably would've punched him."
Jack Nicholson swirled his wine and added with a sigh, "Harvey wasn't always like this. When he was younger, he was humble—gentlemanly, even. Polite. People praised him."
The younger crowd was surprised Harvey had ever been described that way.
Martin shook his head. "Power corrupts. The guy let it go to his head."
"That's why it's rare for someone as powerful as you, Martin, to still have a level head," Will said, smoothly flattering him.
Ben Affleck's smile tightened. That line was supposed to be his.
Orlando Bloom spoke up. "You guys hear about Judy? The reporter? And her partner Ronan Farrow? Word is, they're contenders for the Pulitzer."
"They deserve it," Matt Damon added. "They took down a giant. And Ronan—he's in his early twenties? That's genius-level stuff."
"Genius?" Will laughed. "No one's more of a genius than Martin. I don't believe it."
Ben Affleck, already on edge, clenched his fists.
...
"I don't like that guy," Ben said to Matt Damon on the way home.
"Who?" Matt asked, puzzled.
"That slick bastard. Will Smith."
"Oh. Yeah, he's a smooth talker. Probably trying to get close to Martin. But don't worry—Martin's not the kind of guy who's swayed by flattery."
"I know. Still don't like that sycophant."