connection

Two former USC football players and another man pleaded guilty to lesser charges Tuesday and were sentenced to 15 years in prison for a series of robberies and beatings last April.

Superior Court Judge David Perez accepted the plea-bargain offered by Danette Meyers, a Los Angeles County deputy district attorney.

The players, Howard McCowan, 19, of Carson and Marcel Brown, 20, of San Diego, were redshirt freshmen last year and expected to play pivotal roles in USC’s football program. Brown’s childhood friend, Garylan Coleman, 19, of San Diego, also was sentenced.

The plea-bargains were accepted shortly before the jury trial was to begin in Santa Monica Municipal Court. The compromise involved reducing a kidnapping charge, which carries a life sentence, to simple kidnapping, a felony with a 15-year maximum.

The defendants also were charged with assault and robbery for incidents April 23 in which Donald Christal, James Van Adler, Norm St. Landau and Lester Lawless were attacked and robbed in Westwood and Redondo Beach. In most of the attacks, the victims’ automatic teller machine cards were taken.

Brown and Coleman, who were charged with the kidnapping, are also being tried in San Diego on assault and robbery charges. McCowan had no other arrests.

If convicted by the jury, they might have received 20 years in state prison, said Michael Brush, McCowan’s lawyer.

In accepting the reduced sentence, Brown broke down in court, telling Perez, “We’re not murders or nothing. (We get) just a couple of minutes to decide on 15 years.”

Brown and Coleman, who was planning to play baseball at Southwestern College in Chula Vista before his arrest, were ready to accept the deal Monday. McCowan balked because the prosecution’s case against him was not as strong as those against the others.

But McCowan changed his mind after Perez ruled Monday that written confessions by Brown and Coleman could be used as evidence by the prosecution.

McCowan is a former standout at Carson High, walked over to his mother, Thelma, who was sitting nearby. He gave her his dark blue blazer, tie, dress shirt and dress shoes. He hugged her, his sister and a friend before returning to enter a guilty plea.

He and the others could be paroled within six or seven years, Brush said.

Thelma McCowan blamed USC officials for her son’s fate, saying that Howard had asked to move away from Brown, but was told he had to stay in the dormitory.

“I know the boys are 19 years old and are considered grown, but they’re not grown,” she said.

“They don’t need baby-sitters following them around, but they do need a little attention and advice once in a while.

“When they come and ask to move, someone should come and ask them why, what’s wrong. But they don’t do that.”

William E. Davis III, Brown’s lawyer, said USC offered no support for the players once they were arrested. Davis, the brother of Anthony Davis, a former USC star running back, said he represented athletes in the past. He said he took the case because Brown had no family support and the school was not willing to do anything.

Like many of you, I don’t need another good Italian cookbook. Yet I’ve found Amber Guinness’ “quanto basta” or “just enough” approach in her newest book “Winter in Tuscany: Cozy Recipes and the Quanto Basta Way “ (Thames & Hudson) immensely appealing — and useful when I’m looking for dinner ideas. A vegetarian take on the Tuscan beef stew peposo? She captures the original’s hearty flavors with chestnuts, mushrooms, red wine and lots of thyme. Despite her “House of Guinness” lineage, this Guinness, who grew up in Tuscany, has an easy, approachable style. Consider “emergency rosemary and garlic spaghetti,” a 10-minute preparation from Siena that is more in the vein of the un-recipe approach that her fellow Florence-based author Faith Willinger favors. Sometimes, in the “one’s own way is usually the best” philosophy she advocates, I’ll use Guinness’ recipes as good suggestions to tinker with — as I did the other night with her orecchiette with Brussels sprouts and pancetta. Other times, I’ll relax and just follow her conversational instructions for say, “Good Time” radicchio, Gorgonzola and walnut lasagne, which includes the line, “remove any sad outer leaves from the radicchio.”

I think about Rob Reiner almost every time I put on my socks.

I am old enough to remember the famously hilarious (and largely improvised) bit from “All in the Family” in which Reiner’s Mike “Meathead” Stivic and Carroll O’Connor’s Archie Bunker argue about the correct order of donning footwear — both socks first (Archie’s method) or sock/shoe, sock/shoe (Mike’s).

The straight-faced back and forth was, and is, a pitch-perfect exhibition of how much time and energy we waste judging, and arguing about, personal differences that are none of anyone’s business and matter not at all.

I also think about Reiner whenever my now-adult children and I sit down for a movie night. When all other suggestions fail, at least one of his films — ”Stand by Me,” “The Princess Bride,” “A Few Good Men,” “When Harry Met Sally…,” “Misery” — will achieve consensus, in large part, because of that same understanding.

Reiner was, above all, a compassionate filmmaker, willing to excavate all manner of conflict and tension in search of the essential humanity that connects us all.

Reiner helped shape the culture of my youth and early adulthood with such brilliant empathy that his random appearances on television — as Jess’ (Zooey Deschanel) father in “New Girl” or, more recently, Ebra’s (Edwin Lee Gibson) business mentor on “The Bear” — sparked immediate reflexive delight, as if a beloved uncle had shown up unexpectedly at a family dinner.

It helped, no doubt, that I share his political leanings. Reiner’s advocacy for gay marriage and early education were well-known, as was, in recent years, his unvarnished criticism of President Trump, who Reiner, like many others, considered a danger to democracy.

That criticism should have prepared me for the chilling invective unleashed by some, including Trump, in the wake of the news that Reiner and his wife, Michele Singer Reiner, were found dead in their home on Sunday night, victims of a knife attack, and that their son Nick, who has a history of drug addiction, was in police custody.

Even as the millions who were touched by Reiner’s work struggled to process their shock, grief and horror, Trump responded with a post in which he claimed that the Reiners’ murders were “reportedly due to the anger he caused others through his massive, unyielding, and incurable affliction with a mind crippling disease known as TRUMP DERANGEMENT SYNDROME, sometimes referred to as TDS.”

Horror unfolds around the world on a daily basis. This weekend, a father and son opened fire on a Hanukkah celebration in Australia, killing 15 and wounding many others; a gunman killed two and wounded nine at Brown University; and two members of the Iowa National Guard were killed and three others injured by gunmen in Syria.

Even so, between the shocking news of the Reiners’ deaths, the possible involvement of their son and the unhinged and cold-hearted response of the president of the United States, it is difficult to know how to react, short of tearing out one’s hair and screaming up to an indifferent sky.

No person’s life means intrinsically more than any other — many people are killed by violence each and every weekend, often by family members; that we seem to have become inured to mass shootings is another sort of horror.

But Reiner’s work, in film, television and politics, affected millions around the world personally and culturally. In “All in the Family,” his young leftie was far from the hero of the piece — Mike’s values were more humane and progressive than the bigoted Archie’s, but he could be just as narrow-minded as his father-in-law and just as capable of change.

As a director, Reiner championed independent filmmaking, which is to say smartly written movies that told interesting stories about characters that were recognizable in their humor and humanity (which is one reason he was so successful in adapting Stephen King’s work, including the novella “Stand by Me” is based on and “Misery”).

His political activism too was grounded in the desire to make life better for those historically marginalized by policy and culture. He campaigned against tobacco use and for Proposition 10, which increased the tax on cigarettes, and funded early education. In 2009, he used his considerable influence to co-found the American Foundation for Equal Rights and successfully fought to legally challenge Proposition 8, which banned same-sex marriage in California.

As an artist and a public figure, he put his money where his mouth was and remained invariably sincere, a powerful and compelling trait that has become increasingly rare in a time of the sound-bite inanities, muddy thinking, obvious contradictions and outright falsehoods that threaten our public and political discourse.

Reiner mastered many mediums and wielded a broad palette but his signature artistic trait was empathy. No story was too small, or too brutal, to be examined with kindness and an understanding that the most grave injustice we can commit is to choose apathy or revenge when connection and transcendence are always possible.

The news cycle surrounding the Reiners’ deaths is likely to get worse, as details emerge and reactions of all kinds continue. For a long while, it will be difficult to think of Reiner and his wife as anything but victims of a brutal crime of truly tragic proportions and the regrettable heartlessness that our political divisions have created.

Ironically, and mercifully, solace for this loss, and so many others, can be found in Reiner’s work, films and performances that are impossible to watch without feeling at least a little bit better.

As Hollywood and the world mourns, I will try to think of Reiner as I always have. After all, no matter the order, we all put on our shoes and socks one at a time.

And then, as his artistic legacy teaches us, we stand and try to do the best we can with whatever happens next.