At last comes the terrible day. Broomfield makes his way through the crowd outside the prison - protesters, journalists, all gossiping. He seems quieter than usual. You get the impression he didn't really want to make this film very much at all, that he has spent the long drives to speak to a shackled Wuornos, or to record images of the Michigan forest where she slept rough as a child, gnawing and gnawing his thumbs.