In mid-1995, Rocancourt was released. Park was stunned; the F.B.I. had said he would be imprisoned for life. From France he sent her a plane ticket. Against her better judgment, and because she didn't want him to return to California, Park flew to Paris to see him. Amazingly, their romance rekindled. Days turned to weeks. Rocancourt, now bulked up from a prison weight-lifting regime, took her to Honfleur, where he introduced her to a man he said was his brother.

"He was just the same, really loving," she recalls. "He pledged honesty and faithfulness, you know, the whole bit, how he wanted to go straight, how he wanted to take care of my daughter. Was I swept away? No, I wasn't, and yes, I was. Intellectually I knew, but emotionally … Oh, it was complicated. He made me feel very, very, very loved. He said he would die for me in a minute.… [He also said,] 'If I ever find out you divorced me, I'll kill you.'" Park thought it best not to tell him she had already had their marriage annulled.

She told him to stay in France. But when she returned to Los Angeles, he followed. They reunited briefly, then broke up. He was penniless, living hand to mouth, pelting her with phone calls, promising his undying love. Then, one evening in late 1995, he showed up at her house while Park was holding a prayer meeting. "That night he just lost it," she recalls. "He started crying, [saying,] 'My life is horrendous, my life is a living hell. I need God.'" Park was unmoved. She threw him out. He sat on the sidewalk, crying for what seemed like hours. Finally a missionary in attendance named Marjorie took pity on him. She told Park she would take him in.

"Marjorie took over his life, for like six months," Park remembers. "They had no money, they just moved from couch to couch, you know, at friends' houses. She [called and said,] 'Omigosh, he goes to Bible study, he goes to church. He's a totally different man.'" One day Park reluctantly accepted Rocancourt's invitation to visit him at a church in Pasadena, where they sat as he once again poured out his heart to her, telling her how God had changed his life. She didn't believe him.

Within a year he had married a Playboy Playmate and moved into the Regent Beverly Wilshire.

Rocancourt's ticket back to the good life came thanks to his budding friendship with Shahram Moussazadeh, the backgammon-playing boutique owner who for a time bankrolled his lush lifestyle. He met his future wife, Pia Reyes, when she was a hostess at a now defunct restaurant on Santa Monica Boulevard and intervened on his behalf when a "problem" developed with his credit card. After a whirlwind romance, they were married in Las Vegas in May 1996.

Even after he was married, however, Gry Park was never far from Rocancourt's thoughts. On the day Reyes went into labor with Zeus, in 1997, Park says, Rocancourt called her, and they had lunch. The next day, not 12 hours after the birth of his son, Rocancourt called once more, beseeching her to run off to Hong Kong with him. "Can you believe that?" she asks today. "I was like, 'Who are you? Are you on drugs?'"

Each time Rocancourt called, Park implored him to leave her alone, once and for all. "If I would cry, and he would see I was sincere, he would leave me alone," she says. "I told him, 'You're hurting me, you're hurting my children. If you really understood life, if you really understood what your daughter needs, you would leave us alone. If you insist on being in her life, she will be like you. Give her a chance to have a normal, nice life.' And he would leave me alone for six months. But he would always come back."