It stands on an old movie backlot where Hollywood legends once walked.

Anne Bancroft, Rita Hayworth, Natalie Wood.

It was a place where famous directors created celluloid dreams.

Think John Ford, Igmar Bergman, and Billy Wilder.

And now it's a mall, a monument to commercial splendor that caters to the daily desires of anybody with a credit card.

But as in days of old, the celebrities here still have their names up in lights. It's just that the

marquee's names now are Nordstrom, Macy's, Bloomingdale's. It was here that this 1,300,000

square foot open-air shopping mecca in the Century City area of West L.A., that in February 2003,

21-year-old Christy Johnson was approached by a man who seemingly materialized like a ghost from the

mall's backlot days, a talent scout, on the prowl for a fresh face.

I began with him portraying himself as some kind of entertainment producer

involved in the entertainment industry.

He's a con man, and he's very, very good at it.

He was a smooth talker.

He probably told the young woman she was pretty,

said she ought to be in pictures,

and then, of course, he told her he could make her showbiz dreams come true.

Everybody thinks they could be a great actor.

You know, we can all act.

They want to believe.

And if you want to believe, you're going to fall for this.

Yeah, he looked good.

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