Three information bullets about the murder of Rob Reiner and his wife Michele, which happened either yesterday morning or afternoon (Sunday) or late Saturday night.
Bullet #1: Nick, the alleged murderer, was living in a guest home at his parents’ sprawling Brentwood estate. Bullet #2: On Saturday night (12.13) Rob, Nick and Michelle reportedly got into a howling argument at a Christmas party at Conan O’Brien‘s Amalfi Drive home. Although Rob and Michele left the gathering soon after the blowout, one presumes that whatever the fight was about (what kind of parents bring their troubled, volatile son to a lah-lah industry soiree?) it continued at their home. Bullet #3: Rob and Michele weren’t stabbed to death Julius Caesar-style, or at least not conclusively — apparently their lives ended due to their throats being slit.
A 32 year-old dude grappling with raging, sputtering anger and major drug issues for 16 or 17 years (over half his life, endless rehab stints) is almost certainly not going to heal or fix himself. The odds are obviously against it. Some people are so stricken or cursed or generally miserable there’s just no basis for hope.
This is Monday-morning quarterbacking, of course, but if I’d been in Reiner’s shoes and clairvoyant besides, I might have tried to figure some way to ease poor miserable Nick off this mortal coil. Gently. Compassionately. Kevorkian-style. I might be anrrested and prosecuted, but I would be totally at peace with what I did. Because I could at least have spared my beloved wife from being murdered by this vile fuck, not to mention myself.
