Rachel Williams, the former Vanity Fair staffer who was conned out of $62,000 by Anna Sorokin, known as Anna Delvey, never wanted to discuss her former friend again. She purged her recollections of the traumatic friendship in an essay for Vanity Fair and, later, a book, My Friend Anna. But when Netflix reportedly paid Sorokin $320,000 for her life rights—allowing the convicted felon to profit from her crimes after she was forced to use part of the sum to pay restitution and fines—Williams was irked. And when the adaptation of those rights and Jessica Pressler’s New York magazine feature made its way to TV screens on Friday, in Inventing Anna, Williams was shocked to see the degree to which the series sympathized with Sorokin (Julia Garner).
“I think promoting this whole narrative and celebrating a sociopathic, narcissistic, proven criminal is wrong,” Williams told Vanity Fair in her first interview about the series. “Having had a front-row seat to [the Anna circus] for far too long, I’ve studied the way a con works more than anybody needs to. You watch the spectacle, but you’re not paying attention to what’s being marketed.”
The way Williams sees it, Netflix and Shonda Rhimes were conned into believing that Sorokin was a special and even inspiring person—just like Williams was. They didn’t see her as a felon who was convicted on eight charges, including second-degree grand larceny, theft of services, and first-degree attempted grand larceny. (Sorokin was acquitted of attempted grand larceny in the first degree in regard to a $22 million loan she tried to obtain, and of stealing $62,000 from Williams. American Express later protected Williams from the Morocco hotel charges.) Sorokin was released from prison in February 2021. After overstaying her visa, Sorokin is currently in the custody of Immigration and Customs Enforcement where she is fighting deportation and offering the occasional interview to press.
Even more dangerously, Williams contends, the series recklessly blurs fact with fiction—opening each episode with a cheeky title card: “This story is completely true, except for all the parts that aren’t.” To Williams, the show could convince viewers that Sorokin is some trailblazing renegade worthy of further fascination and financial payouts in spite of her crimes. (A Netflix spokesperson would not confirm the figure to The New York Times, but did clarify that “payments were made to an escrow account monitored by New York State’s Office of Victim Services.”)
Ahead, Williams reacts to the series and its unflattering depiction of her, and shares her own truth.
Vanity Fair: I just reread Jessica Pressler’s original article about Anna for The Cut, on which Inventing Anna is partially based. In the story, you’re depicted straightforwardly. Did you have any sense that the show would portray you as an opportunistic hanger-on?
Rachel Williams: I was caught off guard when Netflix announced its description of the character Rachel. [Editor’s note: Netflix described Rachel as “a natural-born follower whose blind worship of Anna almost destroys her job, her credit, and her life. But while her relationship with Anna is her greatest regret, the woman she becomes because of Anna may be Anna’s greatest creation.”]
To say a woman is someone else’s creation is counter to a feminist narrative. I looked at it and I was like, Really? That’s where you’re going to go with this? So I had some unease, but nobody thinks that someone is going to be reckless with facts, especially when the character is given my name. To me, it’s not making a statement but convoluting truth in a way that’s dangerous.
How much of the show have you seen, and what was your viewing experience like?
I haven’t watched the whole thing yet—I’ve been skimming. I started and was like, I’m not sure I have the stomach for this. I’ve seen enough of it to know my objections. Part of the reason I didn’t want to speak up [initially] was because I think people will want to couch my statements within the Rachel-vs.-Anna narrative. And I mean, yes, I am concerned about some very obvious, refutable factual inaccuracies.
But I’m more interested in this kind of true-crime entertainment. Some people online think this is a fact-checked series. Books are fact-checked. This show is playing with a fine line—peddling it as a true story, but also [in the opening disclaimer] saying, “except for all the parts that aren’t.” I think it’s worth exploring at what point a half-truth is more dangerous than a lie. That disclaimer gives the show enough credibility so that people can believe [the fictional elements] more easily. I think that’s really dangerous territory. Plus, it affected real-time criminal-justice proceedings.
Is there any particular story point that you want to go on record to correct?
I don’t want to get lost in the weeds of what is right versus what isn’t right. But I obviously was not laid off at Vanity Fair for this. I was not complicit [in] helping my friend defraud my employer. But the second I sit down to defend myself—especially because there’s now this false narrative about me and about the broader story—then I’m just feeding into this picking-sides-ism, when this isn’t something that is actually two-sided.
One person’s a criminal. The story profits her. This is a narrative designed to create empathy for a character who lacks it. The whole thing is very problematic. If I start saying “fact” or “fiction,” I feel like my voice will be lost and also more of a distraction.