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When you got back to the U.S., what came next?

Dillon: I read books on human trafficking by Gary Haugen and Kevin Bales. I called both organizations [International Justice Mission and Free the Slaves] and said, "I'm a musician in California. I'm not famous and I don't know anybody, but I want to help." They said, "Maybe you could fundraise for us." So I did some fundraiser concerts, sold out a couple of venues in San Francisco. I called them back and said, "Okay, I did that. I want to do some more. But I don't want to keep fundraising. I want to be involved." Most people would probably have dropped off at that point, but I'm a bit of an obsessive freak.

In this case, that's a good thing?

Dillon: I just kept pursuing it, trying to figure out ways to connect. Look, as much as I'd like to be the guy that knocks down the doors of child brothels and beats up pimps, that's not a reality for me. So I'm just going to do what I'm good at and see if I can get some energy for this movement. And nobody in the music community was doing anything about it. No one even knew about it. So I just had to work on this.

Child sex slaves in Southeast Asia

I contacted a friend at Walden Media, because they were putting out a film out about the end of the British slave trade—Amazing Grace. I said, "What if I did a benefit concert around your film and it didn't cost you anything? And you control the content and it becomes a promotion for your film?" They agreed, and I found a production company who would do all the filming for free. I had everything but the talent—the musicians to do it. Walden gave me two months to meet their deadline, and we didn't quite make it. So they dropped it. Totally understandable. But I said, I'm not going to stop. Something's supposed to happen with this.

Then you decided to take on the project yourself?

Dillon: Yes, even though I'd never made a film before. I talked to some friends who'd made commercials and music videos and I said, "How do you do this?" They said, "You need favors and a little bit of money and some miracles." I said, "Okay, the first two I can try to get. The other, I'm going to have to wait and see."

I went to some private family foundations and said, "I'm trying to make this thing and connect art and music and justice. If you donate money to this, I promise I'll get you ten dollars back on every dollar worth of activism around this issue." Crazily, people agreed to it. It wasn't a ton of money, but I wasn't able to raise it quick enough. So the first day we shot, a full film shoot of all these artists, is all on my credit card. And as they're rolling the cameras, I'm in the basement writing grants trying to get donations. It was absolutely bedlam.

What did your wife think? Did she think you'd lost it, maxing out the credit card?

Dillon: Well, that part wasn't fun. But she's had an incredible amount of faith in me and in this project. We just knew we needed to go forward. It wasn't just me. It wasn't just my wife. It was musicians. It was crew. It was donors. It was incredible.

Natasha Bedingfield is among the artists in the film

And all the talent performed for free?

Dillon: Everybody performed for free. They're giving their songs. The publishing companies are giving this incredible deal to use the songs. It's an incredible act of generosity, and it's all based off of the idea that goes back to my moment with U2—that art really can be used for good and tangible and track-able results, not just awareness or promotional reasons. Art can really attach itself to something that's going to shape some real change.

You did all the interviews in the film?

Dillon: Yeah. I've never interviewed anyone before, and I couldn't believe they let me do it. They let me into their homes. They let me into their lives, in their offices. They're so passionate about this issue they're willing to sit down with a freaky artist like me.

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