"i didn't think you'd come." "i, uh... had to." "push the button." "allow me." "this is the general manager of the hotel." "michael henson." "i'm deputy chief brenda leigh johnson." "this is chief pope." "hello, mr. pope." "nice to see you again, sir." "thank you, michael." "you, too." "given our clientele and the late hour, i was hoping that your people could be as discreet as possible." "our job is to be as thorough as possible to determine if this is a homicide." "i understood... i understood that this was a suicide." "we don't know what happened yet." "but right now, i need you to step out of this room, please, sir." "this is a crime scene." "thank you, michael." "of course." "so, sergeant gabriel, did our victim leave a note?" "no. no note, but no sign of a struggle or anyone else in the room." "this guy's got no luggage, nothing in the closet, or the bathroom." "not even a toothbrush." "all we found was this wallet, and this leather cigar case." "did he have a name?" "anthony larsen." "age 39." "and what do we know about mr. larsen?" "well, the address on the i. d. is a real one." "i ran a rap sheet search on him, he's been arrested a few times." "trespassing." "occupation, photographer." "trespassing photographer." "an esteemed member of the paparazzi." "so where is his camera?" "maybe he realized what a pathetic existence he lead trying to take pictures of celebrities without their make-up on and jumped." "you don't need a camera for that." "could just be an accident." "got drunk and fell." "wouldn't be the first time." "well, one thing's for sure." "he looks a lot better from up here." "shame to ruin such a nice shirt." "this guy's lucky." "i had a jumper a couple years ago." "dived right off a freeway overpass onto the 101." "he was... everywhere." "brenda:" "lieutenant tao, do not move that body!" "tell lieutenant flynn we are looking for a camera." "ok, chief." "thank you." "please, does she have to yell?" "i'm sorry, michael." "she sometimes forgets there are other people in the world." "so, mr. larsen." "were you celebrating something or drowning your sorrows?" "i'll need a list of all your hotel staff and all security video." "that's not possible." "we have lots of security, but no security cameras." "our guests choose us because we value their privacy as much as they do." "well, i'll need to speak with all your security personnel then." "and what time did mr. larsen check in?" "oh, i'd have to check the computer." "right now?" "that would be very helpful, mr. henson." "thank you so much." "all right. will: thank you, michael." "nick." "this is nicholas costa our night manager." "he can help you." "thank you." "can i speak with you for a moment?" "mm-hmm." "would it be possible to get a list of all the guests?" "oh, i'm sorry." "we don't give our guest's personal information out." "may compromise the integrity of the hotel." "how do you think my decorating this lobby with yellow police tape and frisking all the guests would affect the integrity of this hotel?" "this may take a moment." "thank you so much." "oh, uh, why don't you put that over here." "you sure?" "oh, trust me." "so, no suicide note at the house either." "but we did find some cameras." "there's no film in any of them, but we found a bunch of roles of 35mm in his fridge." "along with a jar of capers, and a 5-pack of heineken." "sounds like the fridge of a man who's either single or divorced." "divorced. 6 months ago." "the ex-wife is on her way in." "apparently our paparazzi-- paparazzo." "what?" "the singular form of paparazzi is paparazzo." "ok. well, uh... our guy was pretty good at his job." "just take a look at some of the photos he's got." "yeah. check this out." "she should not wear that bathing suit." "mm-hmm." "i remember that one." "i knew this guy had hair plugs." "also found a threatening letter from a lawyer, a court summons, and restraining order." "this is trash." "uh, this trash is probably worth hundreds of thousands of dollars." "tabloids pay good money, but i looked into anthony's finances." "closet full of prada, lots of credit card debt, no savings." "the american dream." "so we know that anthony larsen invades people's privacy, what about the hotel's guest list?" "anybody who's privacy was worth invading?" "a lot of guests are registered under assumed names." "probably celebs." "they got norman bates, archie leach, lorraine mcfly." "what about the hotel staff?" "well, it looks like the front desk only issued one key card to humpty dumpty." "a guy named manuel took up the champagne, said larsen seemed muy bien." "even tipped him on top of the 17 percent gratuity they add to every charge-- what is it with you?" "so, flynn, anything useful from the neighborhood canvass?" "no. but i checked with dispatch." "there was a 415 man call last night." "a guy loitering across the street from the hotel." "i'm still waiting to talk to the patrolman who answered the call." "ok, so, basically, we know... diddly." "do you think this was suicide?" "we have to look at everything." "we can do this later if you'd like." "no." "no. now is fine." "do you know if anthony had any run-ins with any celebrities recently?" "he kept all that to himself." "this actor broke his nose outside a restaurant once." "i got so upset he stopped talking about work." "i mean, these stars." "they're such hypocrites." "they hate when he takes their pictures, but they can't exist without getting in magazines." "anthony was just trying to make a living." "and when was the last time you spoke to him?" "about 4 months ago." "we argued." "he was behind making child support." "this divorce, it's been hard on everyone." "i'm sorry. you don't want to hear about all this stuff." "it's ok." "i know how painful divorce can be." "anything that helps us understand anthony might help us figure out what happened to him." "he always talked about a million dollar shot." "how that million dollar picture would solve all of our problems." "it's ok. we don't have to talk about this anymore." "i just need you to help me identify what we found in his room." "that's his wallet." "mm-hmm." "and i remember that cigar case." "we had a fight over it." "it cost $300." "ok." "thank you." "that's all he had?" "that can't be." "where's his girlfriend?" "oh, i'm sorry." "his camera." "i... i called it his girlfriend." "he would've had that with him." "no. it was a nikon." "he carried it in an old leather bag with his best lenses." "he took it everywhere." "uh, i'm sorry." "we haven't found it." "does it hold some sentimental value for you?" "uh, no. but it's worth, like, $10,000." "my kids could use that money." "i'm sure they could." "detective daniels will put you in touch with someone who understands these estate issues better than we do." "i'll be happy to." "thank you." "mm-hmm." "thank you, anna, for your time." "these fractures, contusions and abrasions are consistent with a big fall." "any chance he was killed first and dumped over the side?" "maybe drugged?" "no. no, the fall killed him." "oh, and i did find something unusual." "broken bones on his right hand." "from the fall?" "no. if these bones were broken on impact, then we'd expect to find some scrapes on the hand, but nothing." "could you flip him?" "uh, yeah." "touch him?" "there we go." "thank you." "could that be from a broken rib?" "no." "that's a bruise." "that had to happen before he fell." "some kind of external trauma." "like smacking into a railing?" "no. dogleg to the right, and you're in the rough." "too long." "the x is where anthony larsen landed." "we tried the drunken fall, and leaned over too far with the camera." "neither of which came close." "who's heather?" "provenza's third wife." "fourth." "fourth?" "i can't keep count." "here comes jumped from the chair." "you know, i'll never understand why people commit suicide." "it's just selfish." "this is hollywood." "ah, liz." "liz used to always correct my grammar." "oh, that's gonna leave a mark." "ouch, babe." "hello?" "lieutenant." "push the dummy's rib up against the railing." "flip him over, and then hang him over the side like he's holding on" "push the dummy's rib... the right hand?" "and then you want me to step on it?" "ok. got it." "flip. hold it, hold it, hold it." "right here." "here we go." "you got it?" "sorry, sharon." "see?" "nice shot." "gravity's a bitch." "just a hunch." "good hunch." "sharon always had to be right." "please leave a message." "woman: fritzy." "hey, you didn't tell me you had a new number." "anyway, if this is you,  call me." "703-555-0198." "0198." "703-555..." "703... oh, man." "oh... what a night." "10 hours." "sitting on a wire." "just to hear a guy order thai food." "who orders thai food at 2:00 in the morning?" "how long do i have to stand here half naked before you notice?" "hello." "hello." "hmm." "hey." "hey." "mmm." "i can go in a little late if you want." "oh... just... you mind if i take a nap first?" "no." "so, there's this paparazzi staying at a snooty hotel he can't afford." "the secretive hotel hates the paparazzi as do the celebrity guests who stay there under assumed names." "the paparazzi gets drunk and plummets 11 stories after someone smashes his hand." "now no one can find the $10,000 camera that he always has with him." "seems like larsen got a photo somebody didn't want him to get." "he was chasing a million dollar picture." "who's worth that much money?" "did we i. d. any of those aliases yet?" "oh, yeah." "i've got a couple." "norman bates is actually krusha, a rap star in from new york." "lorraine mcfly is some supermodel i've never heard of, velena." "still working on the others." "did larsen have a clear line of sight into any of those rooms?" "velena... was in room 1132." "on the other side of the hotel." "but he might have had a good view into krusha's crib." "1012." "rappers travel with some pretty serious security." "if they knew larsen got a photo-- also, larsen had a pretty good view on the room above, 1112." "i took these from anthony's balcony." "oh, ok." "any luck with larsen's nikon?" "anna larsen had the original receipt in her files, and it had the serial number on it." "we forwarded that info to the pawn detail." "they're canvassing all the shops in l. a. county." "that particular nikon camera's pretty popular among nature-- thank you, thank you." "thank you, lieutenant tao." "ok. i think i might know who another one of our mystery celebs is." "that was the officer who issued the loitering ticket." "the guy he cited... his name was elvis presley." "i swear to god, that's his real name." "when the officer asked him what he was doing there, he said he was waiting for whit coleman." "whit coleman, whit coleman?" "the movie star?" "a photo of him would be worth a lot more than krusha." "what time did the officer speak with elvis?" "between 9:00 and 10:00, he wrote him a ticket then sent him on his way, and chief, get this, elvis has racked up 72 parking tickets in front of whit coleman's house." "ok. i need the exact time that the officer told elvis to leave." "lieutenant tao, please keep looking for that camera." "and lieutenant provenza, if we could put whit coleman at the cielo, it would be wonderful." "thank you." "sergeant gabriel, lieutenant flynn, detective daniels, would y'all come with me please?" "where are we going?" "graceland." "hey, chief." "come here." "he's there every day." "i call it in, cops show up, he moves." "10 minutes later, he's back." "but as long as he stays 250 feet away, he's not violating his restraining order." "are those all pictures in there?" "whoa, whoa, whoa!" "whoa!" "whoa!" "i got it." "mr. presley, step out... did you see him the other night at the cielo hotel?" "he was cited near there." "any chance he was following your boss?" "whit coleman?" "ok. thanks for stopping by." "if you could get that freak to leave, we would appreciate that." "close that gate." "oh, jeez, you scared the daylights out of us." "look, i'm outside the 250 foot zone." "ok." "i'm ok." "ok, ok." "we just want to ask you about whit coleman." "whit's a great guy not just a great actor." "i've known him a long time." "he's my friend." "oh. friends don't usually take out restraining orders on each other." "that's not whit." "his people just don't like me." "that's what happens when lawyers get involved." "are those pictures of whit coleman?" "yeah." "i'm doing a coffee table book on whit." "the other side." "the side you don't see." "the human side." "really." "i'm looking after whit." "that's what friends do for each other." "he needs real people around him." "not all these phonies." "like the other night?" "you were cited for loitering near the cielo hotel." "were you looking out for whit then?" "i was trying." "but you people sent me away." "so whit was staying at the cielo last night?" "yeah. he stays there a lot." "under assumed names, of course." "do you know any of whit's aliases?" "yeah. i know all of them." "archie leach is his favorite." "that's, uh, cary grant's real name." "were any of the rooms that tao took a picture of registered to archie leach?" "uh... yeah." "1121." "before you were forced to leave the cielo, did you see this man?" "no. but i know him." "he's a parasite." "they're all parasites." "sticking their camera into whit's face." "trying to provoke a reaction." "these are sad, desperate people." "and that's why i need to look out for whit." "they killed princess diana." "and they got away with it, too." "well, this guy didn't get away with anything." "he's dead." "good." "he was probably sticking his lens where it doesn't belong." "the story just came out on the a. p." "saying that the death at the cielo has been officially ruled a homicide." "we haven't officially ruled it anything." "have you narrowed down the cause of death?" "falling." "anything more specific?" "our dummies suggest homicide." "your dummies?" "what i really need is to talk to whit coleman." "the whit coleman?" "what does he have to do with this?" "i have a witness who saw him last night at the hotel." "our dead... paparazzo may have taken some compromising photos." "why do we think this?" "because there was no camera." "who's your witness?" "elvis presley." "he's also a suspect." "let's just tell the press no comment." "right." "the room across from larsen's balcony was registered to archie leach." "that's one of whit's common aliases." "i need to talk to him, will." "if the good lord himself descended to earth and demanded that whit coleman speak to you, you'd still get tom blanchard." "who's tom blanchard?" "his lawyer." "this is brenda." "hi, this is brenda." "i'm, um, just calling." "uh, yeah." "hi, this is... yeah, hi. it's brenda." "i got--we got your call today." "woman: hey, it's me." "leave a message." "9:45." "what?" "9:45 is when the officer's log says elvis left the building." "so he couldn't have tossed the paparazzo." "but whit coleman's bodyguard says that elvis always comes back after he's sent away." "and anthony didn't fall until 10:05." "chief, we got a hit on that camera." "what?" "you're kidding." "that pawn detail actually came through?" "the camera's at santa monica jewelry and loan at 5th and wilshire." "get over there quick. i want that camera in my hands before i talk to whit coleman's lawyer." "i don't think that's going to happen." "get me a camera and bring it to my office in 10 minutes." "i don't think i can get the camera that fast." "it doesn't have to be the camera." "just a camera." "thank you so much, lieutenant tao." "whit's a big fan of the l. a. p. d." "he played a detective a couple of years ago." "we worked really closely with the department-- to get the character right." "i'm so glad we could be of service." "so i know he'd be really bummed if we were forced to bring a harassment suit against you." "asking someone for help in an investigation hardly rises to the level of harassment, mr. blanchard." "miss johnson, whit's a public figure." "bad p. r. has financial and emotional implications that people like you can't even fathom." "could you please tell me about your client's whereabouts and actions last night?" "you know, it looks like you have a really good thing here." "big office, lots of guys working for you." "i'd really hate to see you screw that up by being the latest in a long line of women fixated on whit coleman." "if you want an autograph, there are easier ways." "i don't care about autographs." "but i do care about your client, as do you which is why you're here." "to find out what i know." "now... while i'd love to do lunch and talk it over, i think i'll just tell you." "we know that your client was at the hotel cielo last night." "we know that a photo was taken of him by a paparazzi, and we know that paparazzi is dead." "what i'd like you to tell me is why was he there?" "who was he meeting?" "what was he doing?" "if you had that paparazzo's photo, you wouldn't be asking me these questions." "pardon me one moment." "you were right." "if i had the victim's camera, i wouldn't need to ask you all these questions." "so thank you so much for your time." "i'm just gonna have this film developed, and we'll be in touch." "thank you so much." "lucky you." "lucky me." "stupid, stupid, stupid." "dumb. stupid, stupid." "chief!" "just a second." "chief!" "what is it with you people and the ladies room?" "excuse me, i am terribly sorry." "but this is anthony larsen's nikon camera, and the serial number matches." "oh, tell me the film's still in it?" "no film. it's digital." "tell me the digital thing is still in there." "the memory card is gone." "but i do have the pawn slip with the name, address, and signature of the guy who pawned it-- nicholas costa." "the night manager of the hotel." "oh, thank you." "lieutenant?" "man:" "how dare you accuse me." "i've done nothing wrong." "well, you can see why i'm having such a hard time believing you." "that is a pawn slip for anthony larsen's camera with your name on it." "ok." "so it wasn't cool of me." "i saw an opportunity, i took it." "but i had nothing to do with tony falling." "how did you happen to wander into suite 1116 at exactly the right moment?" "and how long have you been calling mr. larsen "tony?"" "there are several kinds of trouble for you to choose from, mr. costa." "stealing a camera off a dead man is one." "also on the table, murder." "ok. ok. all right." "so i know him." "knew him." "a year ago, i used to work at this club where larsen got a lot of his pictures." "he would pay me a finder's fee every time i'd call him when celebrities would show up." "so the other day, i called larsen when i recognized the check-in alias of archie leach." "ok?" "that's one of whit coleman's go-to names." "so, usually, that was no big deal." "he liked to have business meetings there all the time, but this didn't seem like business." "why not?" "because he booked room 1121." "that's the governor's suite." "then he orders a bottle of champagne." "some roses and chocolate and an intimacy kit." "what's an intimacy kit?" "a box of condoms." "do you have any idea who whit's guest was?" "what did larsen say when you called?" "i just, uh, left messages on his cell and home numbers." "i told him which room to book." "how much were you supposed to get?" "5,000." "that's a big tip for setting up a photo shoot." "picture must've been worth a whole lot more than that." "how much did you get for the photo?" "nothing.  i didn't sell the photo." "i never had it." "the memory card was gone when i got there." "when i heard that somebody fell off that balcony, i went straight up to check up on tony." "listen... when i got off the elevator, whit coleman and his bodyguard were getting on." "oh, that's very convenient for you." "you better hope they back up your story." "in the meantime, you are under arrest for grand theft." "and if there's anything i can do to make your stay here more enjoyable, please don't hesitate to ask." "thank you." "woman: hello?" "hello?" "who is this?" "whoo!" "whit coleman's bodyguard is on his way in." "um... do you need to get that?" "no. what about whit coleman?" "he's shooting." "but i'll be glad to pass along anything you want me to." "what are you doing here?" "i represent hoyt here as well." "brenda: isn't that a conflict of interest?" "i would say it's rather a convergence of interest." "synergy, miss johnson." "see, whit's not just a person." "he's an industry." "that generates almost $40 million a year, and employs over 100 people." "and each and every one of those people depend on me for the safety and security of whit coleman." "is there anything in your job description about making sure that no photographs are taken of your boss that might be damaging to his reputation?" "don't answer that." "how much can you bench press?" "don't answer that." "are you strong enough to throw a 170 pound man off a balcony?" "oh, my." "don't answer that." "are you aware that a witness saw you and whit getting on the 11th floor elevator" "3 minutes after anthony larsen fell to his death?" "that's enough. seriously." "this is what i'm talking about when i say conflict of interest." "when i charge both you and whit with murder, who do you think mr. blanchard's gonna protect?" "you or the multi million dollar industry that pays his retainer?" "hoyt-- shut up!" "i'm sick and tired of covering for whit." "i've spent too much of my life standing outside doors while that asshole screws around on his wife." "i have the camera." "i know whit wasn't alone." "i just need a name." "jose diaz." "oh!" "what?" "shut up." "no." "how long have... jose and whit been intimate?" "hey, don't answer that." "she's been bluffing us all along." "she doesn't have the picture." "all she has is what you tell her, so let's get out of here." "why don't you get out of here?" "are you saying mr. blanchard no longer represents you?" "that is correct." "then why don't you get out of here?" "fine." "those confidentiality agreements you signed were no joke, buddy." "you be very careful what you say in here." "you take care." "oh, you, too, sir." "don't worry about him." "no civil confidentiality agreement can stop you from answering questions in a criminal investigation." "now... how long have jose and whit been together?" "6 months." "when did jose arrive at the cielo?" "i picked him up at his place at 6:00." "dropped him off at the cielo 20 minutes later." "i sent him up to the suite ahead of me." "and did whit and jose leave the suite?" "i don't know." "i couldn't just stand there listening to the both of them." "so i took a walk." "i came back around 10:00." "just as diaz was leaving." "he was upset." "i went in to see what happened." "and coleman... was just sitting there." "crying." "they had a fight." "what about?" "probably something like, why does this have to be a secret?" "why can't we have dinner downstairs together like a normal couple?" "how long do i have to put my life on hold... for a few nights a month in a hotel?" "is... is that a fight that you've had with whit?" "that's why you went for a walk, isn't it?" "so, for all you know, whit could've gone into larsen's room and thrown him off the balcony?" "no. whit's not like that." "what about jose?" "i can't be objective." "do you remember jose's address?" "could you write it down for me please?" "shoot!" "shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot." "we missed jose diaz by 6 hours." "the doorman said that the moving van showed up and cleared his stuff out." "no forwarding address." "just an envelope full of cash for a year's worth of rent." "tom blanchard probably got to him right after our first meeting." "i'd be surprised if jose's still in this hemisphere." "ahem." "might not have been blanchard who financed this relocation." "looks like jose diaz may have sold himself a very valuable photo." "pbbth." "ahh." "the notorious coleman photo, huh?" "if you had taken that picture, would you willingly open the door to one of its subjects?" "i don't know." "maybe it was a set up." "maybe the boyfriend was working with the photographer and then turned on him." "a lot of money involved." "maybe." "coleman's lawyer's been on tv saying the whole photo is a fake." "it's been retouched." "looks pretty real to me." "i don't know if i told you, some friends from the office are getting together after work tonight." "might be late again." "really?" "you're welcome to join us." "no. no, i gotta work." "are you mad about something?" "is there something you want to tell me?" "i, uh, i don't think so." "ok." "listen, i heard that message." "what message?" "woman: fritzy." "fritzy." "she calls you fritzy." "what am i supposed to think?" "you're listening to my messages?" "i was here when the phone rang." "and the machine went off." "i'm not deaf." "ok, ok." "she is michelle-- is michelle one of the people that you're going out with tonight?" "i invited you to join us." "knowing i'm too busy." "how come you haven't mentioned michelle before?" "hey, hey, she is a u. s. attorney, and i" "did you listen to the whole message?" "michelle and i are so close, she mentions i didn't even give her my new phone number." "did you hear that part?" "oh." "right." "why-- why didn't you tell michelle you had a new number?" "because we're not that close." "but you're going out to dinner with her tonight." "with 3 other people. yes." "oh, wait. no, no, no." "you start this conversation then you walk away?" "no, no. i'm sorry." "look, i-- i don't care. really." "i just-- i shouldn't have even-- really, i just, i... i just... i realized something, and i have to go." "i'm already late." "wait. you're not late." "you're jealous." "i'm both." "you bitch!" "hey, hey!" "you let them publish that filthy picture." "do you have any idea what this is gonna do to whit?" "elvis, i need your help." "why should i help you, huh?" "all you're gonna do is keep harassing me." "you're both liars!" "liars!" "elvis, if you don't want to help me, help whit." "listen, man, there are a lot of people who are gonna think he's got something to do with this murder." "but you can help him, elvis." "now you said you didn't get any decent pictures of whit because they kicked you out." "but you went back." "didn't you?" "and you got some pictures because you photograph everything he does." "and i need those pictures." "not to embarrass whit, not to show the world, but to help him." "do you know jose diaz?" "who?" "have you seen the papers?" "i haven't seen anything." "i've been in jail!" "oh." "they feature a rather scandalous picture of jose diaz and whit coleman in what appears to be the governor's suite." "how much did the tabloid pay you, nicholas?" "you told me you had an arrangement with larsen." "yeah." "and that arrangement was that you would call and leave a message on his home and on his cell?" "yeah. that's correct." "did you have those numbers memorized?" "no. he gave me his business card." "would you happen to have that business card in your personal belongings?" "you realize this proves you're connected to larsen." "is there anything else you want to tell me, nicholas, this is your last chance." "yeah. i want a lawyer." "i think that's a good idea." "ok, the estate is responsible for your back alimony, but only after anthony's other creditors are paid." "anna." "i've got good news." "walk with me." "oh, go ahead. we'll figure this all out later." "well, it's good news, and not exactly good news." "we found anthony's camera, and we found the person who killed him." "great." "we even have a picture of the killer." "hold on. i need to set this down." "here we go. so... let's see. oh, uh, do you recognize this man?" "no." "uh, what about this one?" "no." "oh, i almost forgot." "is this the camera?" "yes. where did you find it?" "this man from the hotel pawned it." "he had a deal with your ex-husband." "you can't trust anyone, i guess." "oh, and, um..." "these are pictures that were taken the other night at the cielo hotel by a stalker." "is that whit coleman?" "right. and that's his bodyguard, and... do you recognize this person, anna?" "that's you." "you have the right to remain silent. anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." "you have the right to an attorney." "if you can't afford one, one will be appointed to you by the court." "do you want to talk to a lawyer, anna?" "what is going on?" "what are you doing?" "i'm trying to help you." "i didn't do anything." "yes, you did!" "this man... left messages on anthony's home and cell phone's telling him that whit coleman was gonna be at the hotel cielo." "but nicholas costa didn't know that anthony had moved." "so you heard the messages that were intended for your ex-husband. am i right?" "no, i... and then there's the question of this $300,000 put into your bank account this morning." "it wasn't the million dollars that anthony was hoping for, but not bad." "what are you talking about?" "murder one." "but there are some alternatives, anna." "if this wasn't pre-meditated." "if it was an accident." "we're talking manslaughter." "that's a whole different ball of wax." "of all the people that i've spoken to about anthony, you're the only one that seems to care about him." "which makes me think that... you didn't go to the hotel intending to kill him." "did you?" "did you go to the hotel intending to kill your ex-husband?" "no." "i just wanted to talk to him." "i heard the message, so i went to the hotel." "i went up to anthony's room." "he was drunk." "and really happy." "he told me he was sorry for not paying child support, but now that he'd got his million dollar picture, that wouldn't be a problem." "that must have been a relief." "i didn't want his money." "i wanted him." "did you tell him that?" "yes." "he said that was never going to happen." "after all i'd been through for him, he was such... he picked up his checkbook and started writing me a check." "it was like i wasn't even there." "so i grabbed his precious camera." "his girlfriend?" "and when he saw that i had it, he got this look on his face." "he cared more about that stupid hunk of metal than he did about me." "he told me to put it down." "but i stepped on to the balcony, and i held it out over the edge." "and that's when he came at me." "so, what did you do?" "it happened really fast." "we struggled, he hit the railing, then he went over the edge and i..." "watched him fall." "oh, that must have been horrible." "you have no idea." "he was the only one that i ever loved." "i did not mean for him to fall." "it was an accident." "you'll notice right here... anthony's right hand." "bones are broken." "it's from where your foot accidentally smashed down on them." "he didn't fall right away." "he was hanging on to the balcony railing." "you could've saved him, but you killed him." "and then you moved a chair over to the balcony railing to make it look like he jumped." "you didn't love anthony." "you told me yesterday, that you thought celebrities were hypocrites." "well, what about you?" "you told me you didn't care about the money, but you stole the memory card out of anthony's camera, and sold it for $300,000." "you killed him for the money, didn't you?" "i don't care about the damned money!" "but you did kill him." "yes, i killed him!" "i loved him." "he was supposed to love me back no matter what." "i didn't want to come to this place." "he did, and... these people took him from me." "his obsession with these people." "it ruined our lives." "i just... i want him back." "i want..." "i want him... i want him back." "oh, hi." "hey." "you pressed it." "yeah. i learned." "so, you and fritz have big plans for the evening?" "no. actually, he's going out with some work people." "hmpf." "good night." "good night." "um..." "yeah?" "i don't suppose you might want to, uh... get a bite of dinner or something?" "oh...|"