Curse of Durst

Stories that take a life of their own usually are the product of journalistic innovation rather than the natural flow of events. (An interview with Charles Manson 20 years after the Tate-LaBianca murders is journalism, but it isn't news so much as a stunt.) The Robert Durst saga continues apace three years after his death, and it's the rare bird that continues to fly because it produces real news.

The story of the real estate heir/convicted murderer - convicted in one case, acquitted in another, and charged in a third - continues with two jaw-droppers coming in the past two weeks. One relates to Durst by association, the other is almost inexplicable.

First, the inexplicable. Mere months after successfully engineering Durst's conviction in the then 20-year-old murder of Durst's friend Susan Berman, the prosecutor and his daughter spent a night or two at the Bridgehampton house owned by Durst's widow, which was purchased with Durst's money. Durst's widow was at the house during the stay. The prosecutor, John Lewin, said he had a "lovely" time and denied the visit was illegal or unethical.

That may be, but it sure looks bad. Durst married his second wife a day before he flew to San Francisco as part of a California vacay which included murdering Berman in Los Angeles. The generally excellent HBO documentary series The Jinx alleges Durst's nuptial was a marriage of convenience and while his second wife, Debrah Chataran, isn't accused of any crime, the nicest thing that can be inferred from their arrangement is she was a particularly savvy enabler. As for Lewin's sleepover, that arrangement is so bizarre it's difficult to know what to infer. (George E.O. Johnson never crashed on Mae Capone's couch after her husband went to Alcatraz.)

Perhaps it was a thank you gift from Charatan for ridding Durst from her life.

The message it sends to the family of Durst's first wife, whom he's accused of murdering, is decidedly mixed. Lewin - who comes across in the doc as confident prosecutor with no shortage of self-esteem, though in a charming manner - obtained the only conviction against Durst and the conviction was predicated on convincing a jury Durst's motive was covering up the murder of his first wife, Kathie Durst, nee McCormack. Score one for the plus column!

But Kathie McCormack's brother is suing Durst's estate, which is controlled by Charatan, for $100 million. Charatan is playing hardball; she says she won't give the family "one dolla," according to Jinx filmmaker Andrew Jarecki, mimicking Charatan's New York accent. It's almost impossible to understand why the man who prosecuted Durst would spend a night at the home of the only woman who could provide some restitution for a death the prosecutor said Durst caused, particularly when he appears in a film that alleges the woman facilitated Durst's wrongdoing. Minus one!

"In my mind, this does not pass the smell test," Pace law school professor and ex-prosecutor Bennett Gershman told News12 in New York, which broke the story*. "I just don't get it. It strikes me as foolish and terrible judgement.

"It raises all kinds of questions. You know prosecutors shouldn't be in a situation where their judgment, where their conduct could be called into question. He made a terrible mistake... Are there going to be any consequences?"

The consequences for both the McCormacks and Lewin are anyone's guess. The family hasn't commented as far as I can tell - it doesn't seem anyone's asked - while the Los Angeles County DA's office told News12 it is aware of "the allegation" but wouldn't comment further.

The sleepover was revealed in depositions for the civil case, though it's not clear which side brought it up. (The reporter characterizes Lewin's reaction to the query as "visibly uncomfortable," but I didn't see it quite that way.) It certainly gives the defense the effective rhetorical argument that Charatan shouldn't be forced to pay for the misdeeds of her late husband when the guy who prosecuted him wasn't averse to associating with her.

The second Durst byproduct is simply bizarre; two criminal sagas colliding. Andrew Jarecki's father, Henry - psychiatrist, Yale faculty member, commodities trader, co-founder of Moviefone, and all-around successful/wealthy guy - is accused of rape in a civil suit by a European model who says she was sent for treatment to Jarecki by the world's most famous perv, Jeffrey Epstein. The accusations are lurid, and Henry Jarecki has denied them, saying the relationship was consensual and non-secretive.

It's a classic "who knows?" lawsuit. Every assumption going one way is easily countered in the other direction. How could an all-around successful/wealthy guy be so depraved? You could ask Jeffrey Epstein (if he were alive)! How could a man in his late 70s and early 80s rape a woman 50 years younger? Perhaps someone who co-authored Modern Psychiatric Treatment might have certain professional skills that would create the conditions for just that! The whole alleged mess seems unlikely at best. Unlikely at best doesn't mean impossible! I would not want to be on that jury.

What's odd is Andrew Jarecki made his bones producing and directing Capturing the Friedmans, a documentary which captures how murky sexual misconduct allegations can be. (The film is effective, though not without controversy. Some say it's skewed in favor of the accused, while others would characterize it as a filmmaker having a legitimate point of view.) Further leavening the situation is Andrew's stint as an executive producer of an episode of Catfish, a "reality show" about people pretending to be other people.

All this is more ironic than illuminating - a son is not his father - and I can only imagine the pain everyone in the case's orbit is suffering, regardless of the allegations' veracity.

There is a considerable amount of unfinished business with Robert Durst - and Jeffrey Epstein, for that matter. Courts are slow and positions are entrenched. A king's ransom is being spent. It's a lamentable situation. Unless you're involved, bland truisms are all that's left to say.

*Nice scoop from the station in Da Bronx!

A typically flattering photo of late-period Robert Durst, courtesy of Wikipedia.