In those frantic final days, Weinstein’s appearance—haggard in the best of times—was deteriorating. “He looked awful and could not focus,” said one colleague, who added that the producer was under tremendous financial pressure. “He was burning through [money]” on attorneys and other advisers and, whether related or not, was working to unload some of his real estate. (He reportedly became so strapped for funds that he requested suspension of child-support payments to two daughters from his marriage to Eve Chilton, a former assistant of his.)
Weinstein, said another close observer, oscillated between anger and acceptance, believing that he could muscle his way out of his predicament or, at the very least, contain the fallout. To some he appeared obsessed with seeking revenge. As one T.W.C. executive put it, “Harvey’s concern was who did him in, not what he had done.” Quenqua added that Weinstein was determined to find out who was providing reporters with a road map to his personal life, angrily confiding in her, she said, even as he fished for information: “Somebody is giving The New York Times everything. They’re giving them my drivers’ phone numbers. My entire address book. . . . They’re calling people from my past. They’re calling people in Italy. They’re just calling everyone.”
A Weinstein insider described a man who was “literally naked in conflict with himself. He knew how bad it was. He knew he had to do the right thing and yet it was like there was a switch that would go off and he would become a different human being.” A company veteran recalled, “For a guy who always had control over actors, filmmakers, his company, his family—everybody—this was the first time I saw that he couldn’t control a situation.” Even so, Weinstein seemed hell-bent on trying.