father

As Los Angeles city officials worked on an agreement to modernize the Convention Center, more than one member of the McOsker family was playing a key role.

City Councilmember Tim McOsker supported the $2.6-billion expansion, which could bring more tourism but threatens to further exacerbate Los Angeles’ dire fiscal situation.

Nella McOsker, his daughter, runs the Central City Assn., an influential downtown Los Angeles business group, which advocated strenuously for the project.

And his nephew, Emmett McOsker, who was an aide to former Mayor Eric Garcetti, works for the Tourism Department — handling the Convention Center.

Central City Assn. President and Chief Executive Nella McOsker.

(Juliana Yamada/Los Angeles Times)

Nella McOsker often argued for the project as her father listened with his council colleagues. In September, he cast a “yes” vote.

“It’s just a family tradition of public service,” said Doane Liu, executive director of the Tourism Department, who is a longtime friend and former colleague of Tim McOsker — and Emmett McOsker’s boss. “I wish there were more McOskers working at City Hall.”

And there are. Flying a little beneath the radar, due to her last name, is a fourth family member, Anissa Raja — the councilmember’s niece (cousin to Emmett and Nella), who is also his legislative director and president of the Los Angeles County Young Democrats.

Raja does not lead with the fact that she is the councilmember’s relative.

“I don’t mention it because I’m a staffer. I keep it professional at work,” she said.

While the interplay between McOskers can create potential conflicts of interest, Nella says she logs every lobbying conversation she has with Tim’s office to the city’s Ethics Commission, just like she does with other councilmembers.

Plus, she and her dad often disagree. And in L.A. city government, lobbying a close family member is perfectly legal, as long as neither party has a financial stake.

“As a city, we made a policy decision that it shouldn’t be just because you’re related to someone that you can’t try to exert influence over them if they’re in an elected position,” said Jessica Levinson, a professor of law at Loyola Marymount University and former head of the city’s Ethics Commission.

Councilmember Tim McOsker speaking during a 2023 meeting at City Hall.

(Jay L. Clendenin/Los Angeles Times)

For decades, the McOskers — a large, tight-knit Irish Catholic family from San Pedro — have wielded power at Los Angeles City Hall. Unlike the Garcettis and the Hahns, the McOskers have not served in citywide or countywide elected office. But their breadth of influence in Los Angeles politics over the last quarter century may be unparalleled.

The McOskers are hardly alone in making city politics the family business.

There’s Councilmember Katy Yaroslavsky, whose father-in-law Zev Yaroslavsky once held her seat. And Herb Wesson, the former council speaker, whose son was his aide and whose daughter-in-law Alexis Wesson is chief of staff to Councilmember Adrin Nazarian.

Sometimes that leads to family members bumping up against each other in questionable ways.

Eric Garcetti’s father, Gil Garcetti — perhaps best known for being L.A. County district attorney during the O.J. Simpson trial — was president of the Ethics Commission when his son was on the City Council. That led to issues in 2006, when Gil inadvertently contributed to Eric’s reelection campaign, which was not allowed. Or consider Councilmember Curren Price, who has been charged with allegedly voting in favor of development projects his wife’s company was being paid to consult for.

The McOskers’ tradition of city service predates Tim, who worked for City Attorney James Hahn in the 1990s before becoming Hahn’s chief of staff when Hahn was mayor in the early 2000s. Tim’s father, Mac, was a city firefighter, which many in the family cite as the origin of the public service bug.

To this day, the family is as much, or more of, a fire family than a politics family — and some members have combined the two.

Tim’s brother Patrick is a retired LAFD engineer who served as president of United Firefighters of Los Angeles City, the powerful firefighters union. Another brother, Mike, who died in 2019, was vice president of the same union.

Emmett, Patrick’s son, said his father was always his hero and that he wanted to be a firefighter. But when he graduated college in 2011 following the Great Recession, the fire department wasn’t hiring, so he got into politics instead.

Tim, too, aspired to be a firefighter at one point. Two of his children are firefighters, one for LAFD and the other for the California Department of Forestry and Fire Protection, while a cousin works for the county fire department.

In 2003, then-Councilmember Janice Hahn — sister of Mayor James Hahn and daughter of longtime county supervisor Kenneth Hahn — told The Times that Tim and his brothers Patrick, Mike and John (then vice president of the city’s Harbor Area Planning Commission) “are involved in everything.”

Rebecca Liu Morales, a former aide to then-Councilmember Eric Garcetti, was Nella McOsker’s close childhood friend in San Pedro.

“We grew up super familiar with public life and what it looks like. We were dragged to campaign events. We spent Saturdays volunteering,” said Liu Morales, who as Doane Liu’s daughter was also raised in a political family.

Little did Nella McOsker know that decades down the line, she would still be attending her father’s campaign events, helping him get elected to the City Council in 2022.

She worked as his operations director, referring to herself as his “Ego Killer” for always being willing to knock him down a peg. The campaign was filled out by volunteers from the family, from Tim’s wife, Connie, to brother Patrick, who was an avid doorknocker.

One politico who lives in the district noted that two McOskers separately knocked on his door and a third called him as part of a phone banking operation.

After Tim won his council seat, Nella took a job running the Central City Assn. Now, she lobbies councilmembers, including her father’s office.

Councilmember McOsker, along with Councilmember Yaroslavsky, proposed a law in 2023 that would have required lobbyists like Nella who are close relatives of councilmembers or high-level council staffers to disclose the relationship. They would have been prohibited from lobbying on land use development projects in that councilmember’s district. Because Nella works on issues involving downtown, not the San Pedro area, she and Tim would likely not have been affected. The law was never passed.

Rob Quan, who runs a transparency-focused good government advocacy group,
said there is no evidence that the McOskers have leveraged their relationships for undue advantage.

Tim said the family rarely talks local politics at dinners and holidays. First off, there are so many of them that the atmosphere can become chaotic.

Last time he hosted Thanksgiving, Tim said about 47 people showed up, and the tables stretched all the way outside onto the back patio. Mostly, they dote on the kids, and cousins reconnect.

“It’s not a lot about politics. It’s a lot about family,” Tim said.

When politics do come up, the McOskers often land on opposite sides.

Tim said he disagreed with his firefighter daughter Miranda and his brother Patrick, who believed LAFD Chief Kristin Crowley should have been reinstated after Mayor Karen Bass ousted her over her handling of the Palisades fire. The two showed up with other firefighters at the council chambers when the council was voting on the issue.

“You can’t have a mayor and a chief of fire … on different pages. It is dangerous,” Tim said.

While Tim and Nella both supported the Convention Center expansion, the two have split on other issues.

Earlier this year, Tim voted to increase the hotel and airport worker minimum wage — which Nella and the Central City Assn. fiercely opposed.

“There’s a different intensity I can get to with him [than with other councilmembers],” she said, referring to her conversations with her father about politics.

This summer, Nella McOsker and the Central City Assn. were part of a business coalition that proposed a ballot measure to repeal the city’s gross receipts tax on businesses, which generates about $800 million for the city annually. Her goal was to help struggling businesses by reducing their taxes.

“Terrible idea,” Tim McOsker said.

That was probably the most annoyed “Tim” got with her, Nella said.

She calls him Tim, not Dad — partially out of decorum in a world where she is lobbying him and his colleagues on a regular basis.

It’s also how she and her four younger siblings grew up — they’ve always called their parents Tim and Connie.

Nella’s son Omero is 4. She says he can be whatever he wants when he grows up, but some in the city family already have their eyes on him.

“I’m ready to offer him an internship,” Liu said.

Former USC and NFL linebacker Keith Browner died Tuesday morning in San Leandro, the Alameda County Sheriff’s Office Coroner’s Bureau confirmed Wednesday. He was 63.

Keith Browner Jr. told TMZ that he talked to his father Monday night when the elder Browning was having stomach problems, vomiting and feeling tired. Browner Jr. said his father told him he would go to the hospital the next morning.

Browner was getting ready to go to the hospital Tuesday morning, according to TMZ, “when he curled over the side of a chair and collapsed to the floor next to his girlfriend.” TMZ also reported that “it appears” Browner suffered a heart attack and that his death was “unexpected and sudden.”

Alameda County authorities provided no cause of death Wednesday.

Born in Warren, Ohio, Browner was the fifth of six brothers, all of whom played college football and four of whom went on to play in the NFL. A second-round pick (30th overall) for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers in 1984, Browner also played for the San Francisco 49ers, Los Angeles Raiders and San Diego Chargers during a five-year NFL career.

Oldest brother Ross Browner spent 10 years in the NFL, playing for the Cincinnati Bengals and Green Bay Packers. Jimmie Browner Jr. played two years with the Bengals. Joey Browner was a six-time Pro Bowl player who spent nine seasons with the Minnesota Vikings and one with the Buccaneers.

Browner Jr. followed in his father’s footsteps as a college and pro football player. A standout defensive end at Dorsey High, Browner Jr. played three seasons at California and one season with the Houston Texans.

A nephew, Ross Browner’s son Max Starks, played nine years for the Pittsburgh Steelers and one for the St. Louis Rams.

Browner — who was 14 when his father, Jimmie, died of cancer at age 49 — said his mother Julia was the driving force behind her sons’ passion for the sport.

“She’s the one who always urged us to play,” he told the Dayton Daily News in 2023, “and sometimes she’d be right out there with us in the yard when we were having pick-up games.”

A three-sport standout at Warren Harding High, Browner spent four seasons at USC (1980-83), overlapping with brother Joey for the first three. He was named a captain for his final season and finished his college career with six interceptions in 34 games played.

Browner made the NFL’s all-rookie team in 1984. After three years with the Buccaneers, he split the 1987 season between the 49ers and Raiders before spending his final NFL season with the Chargers.

He finished his NFL career with 10.5 sacks, four interceptions (including one returned 55 yards for the Chargers against the Seattle Seahawks in 1988) and five fumble recoveries, then played two seasons in the Canadian Football League and six in the Arena Football League.

Browner is survived by his son and four daughters.

DUBAI, United Arab Emirates — Donald Trump Jr. on Wednesday mocked protesters who took part in “No Kings” demonstrations across the United States while praising his father’s business-first approach to the Middle East during a visit to Saudi Arabia.

Trump spoke before business leaders and Saudi officials at the Future Investment Initiative, the brainchild of Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, who feted President Trump during his Mideast tour in May to the kingdom, the United Arab Emirates and Qatar.

Trump backed the prince during his first presidential term even after the killing of Washington Post columnist Jamal Khashoggi by Saudi officials at he kingdom’s consulate in Turkey. Prince Mohammed plans a trip to Washington next month as well.

Speaking alongside Omeed Malik of 1789 Capital, Donald Trump Jr. criticized Democratic Party policies and protesters targeting his father. Trump invests in 1789 and continues to work in the real estate arm of the family, the Trump Organization, which has expanded its Mideast offerings even as his father serves his second term in the White House.

In particular, Trump mocked the “No Kings” protests which drew millions of people to demonstrations across the U.S., claiming it was “not an organic movement, it’s entirely manufactured and paid for by the usual puppets around the world and their” groups.

“If my father was a king, he probably wouldn’t have allowed those protests to happen,” he said. “You saw the people that were actually protesting — it’s the same crazy liberals from the ‘60s and ’70s, they’re just a lot older and fatter.”

Trump made the comments while visiting a nation ruled by an absolute monarchy where dissent is criminalized.

The “No Kings” demonstrations, the third mass mobilization since his father’s return to the White House, came against the backdrop of a government shutdown that is testing the core balance of power in the United States in a way protest organizers warn is a slide toward authoritarianism.

Trump separately acknowledged it was his first trip to Saudi Arabia and praised the changes he saw in the kingdom.

“When my father came here, unlike the last presidents who visited here, it wasn’t an apology tour,” Trump said. “It was, ‘How do we work together? How do we grow our respective economies? How do we create peace and stability in the region?’”

“There can be ‘America-First’ component to that, but there also can be a ‘Saudi-First’ component to that and everyone can actually benefit,” he added.

Gambrell writes for the Associated Press.

Oct. 28 (UPI) — A Mexican father and son duo residing legally in Alabama were arrested and charged with allegedly trafficking of hundreds of weapons, as well as magazines and ammunition.

Emilio Ramirez Cortes and his son, Edgar Emilio Ramirez Diaz, were stopped Thursday by U.S. border agents as they approached the Juarez-Lincoln Port of Entry in Laredo in two separate vehicles loaded with more than 300 hundred weapons, magazines and rounds of ammunition.

“This seizure of an immense quantity of firearms illustrates the Southern District of Texas’s full-spectrum approach to fighting the cartels,” U.S. Attorney Nicholas J. Ganjei said.

“We will attack every facet of their operations until they are wiped off the face of the earth,” he added in a statement.

Ramirez Cortes, a Mexican citizen who legally resides in Alabama, reportedly drove a Chevrolet Silverado with a Mexican license plate while his son sat behind the wheel of an Alabama-plated Chevrolet Tahoe and appeared to drive in tandem.

Both vehicles were seen hauling enclosed white box utility trailers in which authorities found false walls hiding well over 300 rifles and pistols “as well as various caliber ammunition and magazines,” federal officials allege.

Court records allege the men were paid for the smuggling attempt and made similar trips on multiple occasions.

U.S. border officials said this summer that CBP officers near the U.S.-Mexico border in Texas continue to seize a “large” number of outbound firearms in scores of attempted smugglings to other countries.

In the last two years, U.S. Customs and Border Protection seized over 400 handguns and long arms, nearly 1,000 magazines and gun parts, and nearly 52,000 rounds of ammunition.

Ganjei said those who “illegally traffic guns to Mexico empower cartels to terrorize the innocent.”

Meanwhile, Ramirez Cortes and Ramirez Diaz made initial court appearances in a federal court in Laredo.

Both men were charged with smuggling firearms, ammunition, magazines and other accessories as well as firearm trafficking.

They remain in custody pending a detention hearing scheduled for Friday.

Alex Murdaugh

Richard Alexander Murdaugh came up in a prominent family, both in the legal and social realms of Hampton County, S.C. He attended the University of South Carolina and graduated from its law school, just like his father. Three generations of Murdaugh men served as the circuit solicitor, the South Carolina equivalent of a district attorney, for a region spanning five counties in the state. Randolph Murdaugh Sr. was the first in the family to assume the role in 1920. The family held such power in the region that many locals called the district “Murdaugh Country.”

Alex was a respected personal injury attorney before being convicted of the murders of his wife Maggie and youngest son Paul in 2023. He will spend the rest of his life in prison for the killings but maintains his innocence and is currently appealing his conviction. He also admitted to committing a slew of financial crimes, for which he was cumulatively sentenced to more than 60 additional years in prison.

The family law firm he previously worked for, Peters, Murdaugh, Parker, Eltzroth & Detrick, was renamed the Parker Law Group. Alex’s older brother, Randolph “Randy” Murdaugh IV, still works at the firm.

Maggie Murdaugh

Margaret Kennedy Branstetter Murdaugh, who went by Maggie, was mother to sons Paul and Buster. She met her husband Alex when she was a student at the University of South Carolina in 1991, and they married in 1993.

She was 52 when she and Paul were shot and killed in 2021 at the family’s hunting property in Colleton County. Alex and Maggie were reportedly living separately at the time of her death.

Paul Murdaugh, pictured here in court in a still from the documentary “Low Country: The Murdaugh Dynasty,” faced significant prison time for allegedly boating under the influence.

(HBO Max)

Paul Murdaugh

Paul Terry Murdaugh was born on April 14, 1999, to Alex and Maggie. He grew up with a love of the outdoors and enjoyed hunting alongside his father and older brother. He was 22 and in his junior year at the University of South Carolina when he was killed.

Paul reportedly abused alcohol as a teenager and young adult, and his friends have said they called his intoxicated alter ego “Timmy” because his behavior changed significantly when he was drinking. In February 2019, Paul was accused of being behind the wheel of his family’s boat while drunk, crashing the boat into a bridge in the early hours of the morning. There were five other people on board with Paul, and one passenger, 19-year-old Mallory Beach, was killed in the crash.

Paul, who was also 19 at the time, had a blood-alcohol level three times over the legal limit when he was hospitalized after the crash. He was charged with felony boating under the influence two months later. He was murdered alongside his mother in 2021 before the trial for the charges he faced in connection with the crash could begin.

Buster Murdaugh

Born Richard Alexander Murdaugh Jr., the eldest Murdaugh son went by “Buster.” He attended Wofford College for his undergraduate studies and went on to study law at his parents’ alma mater, the University of South Carolina. By the spring of 2021, Buster had been kicked out of law school, reportedly for low grades and plagiarism.

Following the deaths of his mother and brother, Buster surfaced in news reports after increased interest in the family unearthed a loose connection between him and a man named Stephen Smith, a former classmate who was killed in 2015. Rumors of an intimate relationship between Smith and Buster, and of the Murdaughs’ involvement in his death, swirled, but Buster denied the allegations.

When his father was on trial for the murders of Paul and Maggie, Buster testified as a witness for the defense, saying that his father’s behavior on the night of the killings and the following weeks was not abnormal. He also said Alex was “heartbroken” on the night they died.

Buster married his longtime girlfriend Brooklynn White in May 2025. His wife is an attorney, but Buster never returned to law school.

Buster Murdaugh, left, and his then-girlfriend Brooklynn White at the double murder trial for his father. He testified in his father’s defense.

(Jeff Blake / Associated Press)

Randolph Murdaugh III

Randolph Murdaugh III was Alex’s father and one of the men who established the Murdaugh family’s legal prominence. Like his father and grandfather, Randolph served as the solicitor of the 14th judicial circuit in South Carolina, which serves Allendale, Colleton, Hampton, Beaufort and Jasper counties. In addition to Alex, Randolph had three other children with wife Elizabeth “Libby” Alexander Murdaugh: Lynn Goettee, Randolph Murdaugh IV and John Marvin Murdaugh. The couple had 10 grandchildren.

When Paul got into the boat crash in 2019, Randolph was his first call. A year earlier, Randolph was honored with the Order of the Palmetto, the highest civilian honor awarded by the governor of South Carolina. A testament to his influence, the award recognizes lifetime achievements and contributions to the state.

He died in June 2021 after a long period of health problems — three days after Paul and Maggie were murdered.

Mallory Beach and her family

Beach was a teenager from South Carolina who was described by friends and family as a loving young woman with dreams of becoming an interior designer. She and her boyfriend, Anthony Cook, were friends with Paul, and in February 2019 the couple boarded the Murdaugh family boat with a few other friends before it crashed into a bridge in Beaufort, S.C.

Beach’s body was missing after the crash and was recovered about a week later. Her family brought a wrongful death lawsuit against the Murdaughs, which eventually cracked open inquiries into Alex’s finances. The family later settled with Maggie’s estate and Buster in 2023 for an undisclosed amount. They were brought into the case because Paul used Maggie’s credit card and Buster’s ID to buy alcohol. The Beach family also reached a multimillion-dollar settlement with the convenience store chain where Paul purchased the alcohol, and in 2024, Alex’s insurance company agreed to pay the family $500,000.

Gloria Satterfield

Satterfield was the Murdaugh’s longtime housekeeper and nanny, who had a maternal-like relationship with Paul and Buster. She was the widow of David Michael Satterfield and had two sons, Michael “Tony” Satterfield and Brian Harriott.

In February 2018, Satterfield allegedly tripped and fell at the Murdaugh’s home and was hospitalized for weeks before she died at 57. Alex and Maggie were mentioned by name in Satterfield’s obituary as “those she loved as her family.”

When the cause of Satterfield’s death was being investigated, Murdaugh claimed Satterfield tripped over the family’s dogs, causing her to fall and hit her head, and he encouraged her two sons to bring a wrongful death claim against him. Murdaugh introduced Satterfield’s sons to Cory Fleming, a fellow lawyer, who represented them in the case and schemed with Murdaugh to collect on his homeowner’s insurance policies. The settlement was reportedly more than $4 million, none of which Satterfield’s sons saw.

Fleming was sentenced to nearly four years in prison for his involvement in the scheme and Murdaugh admitted to orchestrating the plot and intercepting the insurance payout meant for Satterfield’s family, depositing the money directly into his personal account. He was sentenced to 40 years in prison for that crime, plus a slew of other financial crimes he pleaded guilty to in 2023.

Stephen Smith

Smith was born in Lexington County, S.C., and attended Wade Hampton High School, where he was classmates with Buster Murdaugh, graduating in 2014. He was found dead on a rural road in Hampton County in July 2015, and his death was initially ruled as a hit and run.

In 2021, South Carolina law enforcement reopened Smith’s case based on leads uncovered in the Murdaugh double homicide investigation. The Murdaugh name was mentioned over 40 times throughout the course of the investigation, according to a report from FITSNews, a local outlet. Detectives reportedly looked at Buster as a possible person of interest in the case, who was rumored to have been romantically involved with Smith, but the connection was never proved and Buster was never named a suspect.

The image of a grieving parent is not an uncommon sight on the dramatic stage. Euripides, whom Aristotle called “the most tragic of the poets,” returns to the figure of the grief-stricken parent in “Hecuba,” “Hippolytus” and “The Bacchae,” to cite just a few disparate examples of characters brought to their knees by the death of their child.

Shakespeare offers what has become the defining portrait of this inconsolable experience in “King Lear.” Cradling the lifeless body of his murdered daughter, Lear can do nothing but repeat the word “never” five times, the repetition driving home the irrevocable nature of loss.

In tragedy, the protagonist is often plagued by guilt for his own role, however inadvertent or inescapable, in the catastrophe that befell his loved one. Theseus in “Hippolytus” and Agave in “The Bacchae” both have reason to feel that they have blood on their hands. Lear, though “more sinned against than sinning,” recognizes only after it’s too late the error in judgment that led to the devastation from which there can be no return.

The difference with “Guac,” the one-man performance work at the Kirk Douglas Theatre, is that Manuel Oliver isn’t just playing a bereaved father. He is one.

Manuel Oliver in “Guac.”

(Cameron Whitman)

Oliver’s 17-year-old son, Joaquín, known as Guac to family and friends, was one of the 17 lives lost in 2018 at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Fla. The production, written and performed by Oliver, turns a parent’s grief into a theatrical work of activism.

Co-written by James Clements and directed by Michael Cotey, “Guac” has been sharing the story of Joaquín’s short but vividly lived life with audiences around the country. Oliver didn’t just love his son. He liked him. Guac was his best friend. He was also his trusted guide to American culture.

Immigrants from Venezuela, the family had made a new start in a country that Guac helped them feel was their home. To convey the meaning of Guac’s life, Oliver introduces his family members through a series of photo images he has crafted into artworks.

The last picture, and the one that remains staring at us throughout the performance, is of Guac. Oliver continues to enhance the portrait. While adding flourishes to the background and making adjustments to what his son is wearing, he tells us about the life they shared before it was tragically stolen.

Manuel Oliver works on a portrait of his late son in “Guac.”

(Donna F. Aceto)

The tragedy is overwhelmingly real. Oliver bears the weight of it by transforming his grief into fuel for activism. The performance makes the case for stricter gun law in America with the heartbreaking eloquence of a father whose life changed permanently after dropping his son off at school on a Valentine’s Day that started so promisingly.

What happened to Joaquín could happen to any of us, anytime, anywhere, in a country that has allowed its elected officials to deflect responsibility for their repeated failure to pass common sense gun legislation. While taking money from the NRA, these cynical politicians offer empty “thoughts and prayers” in place of meaningful reform. The result is that no one can go anywhere in public without eyeing the emergency exits and scanning the crowd for trouble.

Oliver isn’t a polished theatrical professional. He’s a dad, first and foremost. But it’s his comfortable ordinariness that allows him to make such a powerful connection with the audience. He’s onstage but could very well be exchanging a few neighborly words with us on our street.

Oliver summons his son by joyfully remembering his virtuosity on air guitar. Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Free Bird” resounds throughout the Douglas while he enlivens the portrait with impassioned strokes. The words “I wish I was here” are added to Guac’s T-shirt, and it’s a sentiment we all devoutly, agonizingly share as Oliver brings his wife, Patricia, onto a stage that has urgently become an extension of our national reality.

In honor of Joaquín, the couple formed Change the Ref, an organization dedicated to raising awareness about mass shootings and empowering the next generation of activists through “creativity, activism, disruption and education.” “Guac” is a potent example of what can be done in the wake of a tragedy that can no longer be described as unthinkable.

Ben Stiller has made a lovely, dreamlike film about his parents, the comedian-actors Jerry Stiller and Anne Meara, which is also a film about himself, his sister, Amy Stiller, and his own fatherhood as reflected back by his children and his wife, the actor Christine Taylor. Premiering Friday on Apple TV, “Stiller & Meara: Nothing Is Lost” is a show business story, in large part, but will be emotionally familiar to anyone who has had the occasion to wonder about their parents’ lives, in their parents’ absence.

Though both had set out to be actors — “I carried Eleanora Duse’s life under one arm,” says Anne, “and ‘An Actor Prepares,’ Stanislavski, under the other” — Jerry had been thinking of getting into comedy when he met Anne. They married in 1954, but it wasn’t until 1963 that the conjoined career of Stiller and Maera took off, with an appearance on “The Ed Sullivan Show.” They might play the last two people on Earth meeting for the first time, or an Irish girl and a Jewish boy matched by computer dating. He was a fretful perfectionist who would endlessly rehearse; Anne was naturally funny; she flowed.

As documentary subjects go, the Stillers were not remarkably dysfunctional — no violence, no skeletons — past the not uncommon situation of parents whose work, or fixation on work, often took them away from their kids, physically or mentally, with the added fillip of that work having made them famous. (There are references to Anne’s drinking, which bothered Jerry, but this is not a hole the film runs down, and there’s nothing here to suggest it diminished her life or work.) As different people with different goals — “My mom wanted to be happy independent of performing,” says Ben, “and I think for my dad performing was so important to him it was part of his happiness” — there was tension, but they loved each other, and they loved their kids, and stayed married for 62 years, until Anne’s death in 2015.

Stiller frames the film with his and Amy’s return to the Upper West Side apartment where they were raised in order to clear it out to be sold, providing the opportunity to see what their parents had left behind. (Jerry died in 2020.) And it was a lot — nothing is lost if nothing is thrown away. There are love letters, diaries, scripts, manuscripts. (Anne: “I think Jerry has a need to keep his name going and for some reason he thinks that when we check out and pass over that the Smithsonian institute is going to want his memorabilia.”) Jerry had a habit, amounting to a compulsion, of documenting their life on film and tape; some of their conversations, and arguments, would turn into routines. (“Where does the act end and the marriage begin?” Anne wonders.) Raised voices in another room might be rehearsing or fighting. One routine consisted of escalating declarations of hate: “I hated you before I met you.” “I hated you before you were born.”

They quit playing nightclubs in 1970 (they drove her “meshuggah”), but remained in public view — in guest appearances, game shows and talk shows, where, unlike the highly managed appearances of today, they seemed ready to dish the dirt on themselves, providing Ben Stiller with material for this film. And they went to work as actors, each amassing a long list of screen and stage appearances. Jerry, of course, is now best known from “Seinfeld,” where he played George’s father, Frank Costanza, and “The King of Queens,” acting in nearly 200 episodes.

Much of it has to do with Ben and Amy as children of famous people, of family vacations that became working vacations, and growing up on display. In one clip from “The Mike Douglas Show,” the siblings perform “Chopsticks” as a screechy violin duet. Young Ben, already interested in film and asked by an interviewer if his parents will feature in his movies, says that they won’t: “I’ll be making adventure or a murder or something like that, but never a comedy. I don’t like comedy.”

We get glimpses of Stiller’s own prolific career — in comedy, mostly, as it turned out — as well as confessions of his own failings as a family man. (His children, Quin and Ella, get to have their good-humored but penetrating say, as does Taylor, from whom he separated in 2017, and with whom he reunited during the pandemic.) But there’s no evident resentment on the part of Ben and Amy, just curiosity and self-examination as adults whose own lives have taught them something about being adults, amid the knowledge that their parents had parents, too, and some of their imperfections became imperfections of their own.

Both Anne and Jerry had come from dark places. “Their lives were always reaching for the light,” says the playwright John Guare, whose black comedy “The House of Blue Leaves” Anne performed in off-Broadway. “Why don’t you become a stagehand?” Jerry’s father told him when Jerry first told him of his ambition. “Where do you get off trying to be Eddie Cantor?” Anne’s mother died by suicide. “Your father was kind of a saint, you know,” Christopher Walken tells Ben.

Stiller’s approach is musical; his assembly of clips and photos is musical — poetic, not prosaic. He ends his film with a conversation between Jerry and his aged father, Willie, cut to a montage of the family through time.

“Isn’t this better than anything, just being alive?” says Jerry. “When we go, we’ll go together, you and me”

Willie: “Yeah, OK, hold hands and everything else.”

“You’ll take me to shows again when we get up there?”

“Yeah, when I go I’ll take you any place. … What is this?”

“It’s a tape recorder. … Whatever you say is on that tape. They’ll hear you forever. You’ll never be lost.”

And we see young Ben, filming a camera that’s filming him, as his father steps in behind him.

His father says it all the time.

Anthony Frias II will suffer a setback, like those scary months when the UCLA running back was stuck in transfer portal limbo, unsure if his college career was over, and he’ll hear those familiar words.

It’s part of the movie.

He’ll strain in anonymity, police repeatedly coming to the door of his home at 2:30 a.m. because neighbors kept complaining about the sound of weights slamming onto the floor of the garage after another sweaty deadlift, and here comes his father’s favorite phrase again.

UCLA running back Anthony Frias II’s family gathers for a photo in front of the Rose Bowl before cheering for him and the Bruins.

(The Frias family)

It’s part of the movie.

Then there’s moments like last weekend, when something happens that makes this whole improbable journey feel like it’s just getting started, like there’s so much left to do and so many people to inspire for the kid from a tiny town in the San Joaquin Valley who once had no college scholarship offers.

Having been made a bigger part of the offensive game plan against Maryland, Frias bolted for his first career touchdown run. Later, with the Bruins needing to reach field-goal range in the game’s final moments, he chugged ahead for 35 yards, dragging defenders with him to set up the winning score.

When Frias emerged from the tunnel inside the Rose Bowl afterward to reconnect with his family, having starred inside the stadium where he once stood as a teenager with a sign proclaiming that he would play there one day, it was only a matter of time before he heard that refrain once more.

“Every time something happens, he mentions it,” the namesake son said of his father, “and it gives me a little bit more belief each time that he’s right.”

For many years, the genre of Anthony Frias II’s story seemed uncertain.

Would it be a hero’s tale? A drama about unfulfilled dreams?

The only sure thing was the conviction of the boy and his father who believed their journey would take them well beyond the confines of Le Grand, Calif., population 1,592.

Little Anthony wanted to play football so badly growing up that after suffering a hairline fracture in his knee that was supposed to sideline him for the rest of the season, he made his own rehabilitation plan.

He was only 9.

Setting his alarm for 5:30 in the morning, he’d wake his father and they would go for a 1½-mile run to a relative’s home for workouts before running back. With his team on the verge of its championship game, Anthony needed a doctor’s clearance to return ahead of schedule.

One morning, he took a crumpled piece of paper to his mom in bed. When she awoke unexpectedly, he ran away nervously. Sabrina Frias looked at the paper, which outlined his recovery and mentioned that he had been waiting for this moment his whole life.

Anthony Frias II was in high school when he stood in front of the Rose Bowl while holding up a sign that read, “One day I will play here!” and featured the Stanford logo. He realized his dream of playing in the Rose Bowl, although it was for UCLA.

(The Frias family)

Anthony left his fate in his mother’s hands, asking her to make a choice — circle the “Yes” he had written alongside a happy face or the “No” alongside a sad face.

Her heart breaking at the thought of denying her son, she circled “Yes.” Anthony went on to score every point in his team’s 20-19 victory.

By the time he was 13, Anthony had modeled his playing style after Christian McCaffrey, the dynamic Stanford running back who was making a strong push for the Heisman Trophy. That made the Christmas present he received that year — tickets to see Stanford play Iowa in the Rose Bowl — an all-time favorite.

Before the game, Anthony’s father painted a giant red “S” on his son’s bare chest. Together, they made a sign that Anthony held above his head while standing outside the stadium. It read, “One day I will play here!”

Looking back, Anthony said the sign was mostly his father’s idea.

“He just knew,” Anthony said, “that I was gonna be so special.”

Few shared that belief when Anthony was coming out of high school.

Starring for Turlock High, which was not known for producing high-level college prospects, wasn’t enough to draw interest beyond a few Division II schools. What was the recruiters’ biggest hang up?

“When they looked at him,” Anthony’s father said of someone who now stands 5-foot-10 and weighs 225 pounds, “he wasn’t the guy they wanted.”

Enrolling at Modesto Junior College, Anthony quickly rose from fourth-stringer to featured tailback during the 2021 season, topping 100 yards rushing three times and leading all California junior college players with 17 rushing touchdowns.

It was enough to earn him a scholarship offer at Kansas State.

Kansas State running back Anthony Frias II catches the ball during a game against Tulane on Sept. 17, 2022, in Manhattan, Kan.

(Colin E Braley / Associated Press)

Buried on the depth chart, he redshirted during his first season with the Wildcats. The next season, playing mostly on special teams, Anthony rarely got more than a carry or two in any game. As confident as he was in his ability, it was impossible to keep out the doubt.

He forged ahead, bolstered by his religious faith and conversations with the father who also happened to be his therapist and best friend, telling him not to worry, that things would eventually pay off.

“You know, we talk it through, I’m there for him all the time,” the elder Frias said. “I’ve been there through the tears, I’ve been there through the needing to hold my son, through the questioning, ‘What more can I do, dad?’ But he never faltered, never quit.”

He did seek a new football home.

Kansas State running back Anthony Frias II carries the ball while running into the Central Florida defense on Sept. 23, 2023, in Manhattan, Kan.

(Travis Heying / Associated Press)

Before Kansas State played its bowl game at the end of the 2023 season, Frias entered the transfer portal. Then he waited. And waited. Months went by without a new offer to play elsewhere.

“Nobody was coming, nobody was calling, there was a moment where we were just like, ‘Man, what are we going to do?’” Anthony’s father said. “We just prayed and had faith, like it’s going to work out, don’t worry.”

Sure enough, the new coaching staff at Arizona, which had pursued Anthony when it was at San José State, offered a spot as a preferred walk-on. That meant Anthony was going to have to take out student loans and pay for his own apartment in Tucson.

About a week before he was scheduled to move in, Anthony received a call from Marcus Thomas, UCLA’s running backs coach. How would you like to become a Bruin? Anthony told him that he’d need to be more than a preferred walk-on because otherwise he was just going to go to Arizona.

Less than five minutes later, UCLA offensive coordinator Eric Bieniemy called. The team agreed to cover his tuition and living expenses through name, image and likeness funds, even though he wouldn’t be on scholarship.

Done.

When Anthony giddily walked into the Rose Bowl for the first time as a player, during a practice before the 2024 season opener, he FaceTimed his parents, even going over to the seat where he and his father had watched that Rose Bowl game.

“That,” Anthony said, “was like the first full-circle moment that I had.”

Anthony’s first season as a Bruin largely mirrored his final season as a Wildcat. There was a lot of special teams work and only a few carries before an expanded role in the season finale against Fresno State.

Entering what’s likely to be his final college season, the redshirt senior earned a scholarship but no guarantee of emerging from the shadows.

As usual, his father wore his son’s No. 22 jersey last weekend when he settled into his seat in the family section inside the Rose Bowl, never imagining the name on the back would be one of the most talked about inside the stadium.

When Anthony took a handoff early in the second quarter, cutting one way and then the other before breaking a tackle on the way to a 55-yard touchdown run, his every movement was accompanied by his father’s voice in the stands.

“I’m like, ‘Oh, oh dang, oh dang!’ ” the elder Frias said. “And then I stand up, like, ‘Oh!’ and I see that [defender] chase him and I’m like, ‘Come on, Ant, turn it up!’ and then he beats the guy out to score the touchdown and I just went crazy.”

With fellow running backs Anthony Woods and Jaivian Thomas later sidelined by injuries, Anthony Frias got a few more carries. His last one, on the game’s final offensive play, captured the essence of someone who refused to quit.

Running away from one defender who tried to grab him by the shoulders, he spun away from another before finally getting dragged down at the five-yard line to set up the winning field goal on the next play.

“Just all the pain, all the suffering, all the longing, all the workouts, all the late nights, all the no-love, no-opportunity, that run signified the release of that,” his father said. “And when he came out of there, he let out his roar. He was like, ‘I won’t be denied any more.’ ”

In one game and only four carries, Anthony had piled up 97 rushing yards — exceeding the 91 yards he had tallied in the three previous seasons combined.

“He made the most of the situation,” UCLA interim coach Tim Skipper said. “He made critical plays — I mean, we’re not just talking he got some first down or something, he made critical, impact, explosive plays that changed that game and for that to happen for him, it couldn’t have happened to a better person.”

Later, emerging from the tunnel leading to the same spot outside the Rose Bowl where he had held that sign over his head almost a decade earlier, Anthony flashed a smile that his father had never seen before when he reached a jubilant throng of family and friends.

“It just was all the years of the grinding and the behind-the-scenes stuff that I’ve been going through,” Anthony said, “and you know, getting opportunities here and there doing different things and showing that I could do more.”

Everyone shouting his name, waiting their turn for a hug, the only thing missing was a climactic score and rolling credits.

You know what his father would say about that.

It’s confusing enough that senior Maggie Kearin attends Louisville High in Woodland Hills and will soon attend the University of Louisville in Kentucky on a full scholarship.

Let’s forget about the two Louisvilles for a moment. Did you know she has a scholarship awaiting her based on her skills in field hockey? And the high school she attends doesn’t have a field hockey team.

She earned the offer based on her play in club field hockey. At Louisville High, she’s perfectly happy playing volleyball and soccer when outsiders have no idea she’s one of the top field hockey players in Southern California.

Her father is Jeff Kearin, the former Loyola High and Cal State Northridge football coach who’s the JV football coach at Crespi and has been transporting her for years to competitions. He consulted with others about whether Maggie should go to a high school that has field hockey, and they told him being good in several sports will help her versatility in field hockey.

Maggie has been playing the sport since she was 5.

“She came home one night from a sleepover, ‘I want to play the game with a stick.’ I thought it was lacrosse,” her father said.

Now she has a way to pay for her college education. “No one is happier than Mom and Dad,” her father said.

This is a daily look at the positive happenings in high school sports. To submit any news, please email [email protected].

Trigger warning for any daughter who has ever had a fraught relationship with their mother: Gish Jen’s remarkable and heartbreaking latest book, “Bad Bad Girl,” may prompt a flood of feelings not felt since adolescence. This marvel of a mash-up — part novel, part memoir, part effort to reconnect with a dead parent who never uttered an “I love you” — has as many pain points as life lessons. Quite a few of the latter — mostly delivered in the form of Chinese proverbs — are dropped by the author’s parents, Chinese immigrants who met in New York as graduate students. Among the pearls of wisdom that stick with Jen, their eldest girl and a keen observer of her parents: “When you drink the water, remember the spring.”

In this, Jen’s 10th book, she wistfully, unsparingly commemorates that “spring” — a punishing mother she nevertheless credits for “biting my heel.” A master of the art of withholding when it came to praise or affection, her mother had no compunctions about delivering ego-shattering put-downs and physical punishments to Jen for being “too smart for her own good.” And yet, Jen writes: “I have thrived.”

Gish Jen has brilliantly structured “Bad Bad Girl” so that invented exchanges with her mother keep returning us not only to the relationship between mother and daughter, but to the present.

(Basso Cannarsa)

Still, she is not at peace. Even after her mother’s death in 2020 at 96, that censorious voice remained “embedded in my most primitive responses, in my very limbic system.” “You were a mystery Ma,” Jen writes. “Why, why, why were you the way you were?” The writer’s instinct kicks in: “If I write about you, if I write to you, will I understand you better?”

“Bad Bad Girl” constitutes a heroic effort to do just that. But soon after Jen embarks on that quest, she realizes that while many mothers want their daughters to show interest in them and listen to their stories, “they were not my mother.” Without much to go on in the way of shared memories or documentary evidence, Jen decides to recalibrate. Instead of writing a straight memoir, she’ll chronicle what she can and construct a fictional narrative around the rest. The result is a heart-piercingly personal work that also imparts universal truths about the immigrant experience — and what it is to be a daughter, a mother and a woman in a world where men are the more valued of the sexes. If there is such a thing as an intimate epic, this is it.

Jen’s mother Agnes — Loo Shu-hsin, as she was originally named — was born in 1925 Shanghai to a wealthy and prominent banker and his much younger wife. In Part I, we are introduced to the lush beauty and extraordinary privilege Agnes was born into, sequestered in a mansion situated in the “international” section of Shanghai, staffed by maids, cooks, nursemaids, chauffeurs and bodyguards. “Proper though she may have been,” Agnes’ mother “did smoke opium.” Apparently, it was good for cramps.

Agnes was the firstborn child, a disappointment in her gender. As tradition dictated, her placenta was hurled into the Huangpu River; when it floated away, it was deemed that she too “would be raised and fed, only to drift away.” Agnes’ mother never bonded with her daughter and showed her little attention except to object to her daughter’s clear intelligence and closeness with her nursemaid. (By age 6 and beginning to read, Agnes still hadn’t been weaned.) By contrast, her father delighted in his daughter’s zeal for learning. The prevailing view was that “to educate a girl was like washing coal; it made no sense.” Still, her father enrolled her in an elite Catholic school where she was nurtured by Mother Greenough, a nun with a doctorate. She praised Agnes for her intellect and encouraged her to be ambitious. After completing her undergraduate studies amid the Japanese invasion and World War II, in the fall of 1947, after peace had finally descended, Agnes declared her intention to leave for the United States to pursue a PhD. Her father embraced that decision, in part because the communist takeover loomed and he hoped at least his eldest child could escape what was to come. “My favorite daughter, so smart and brave,” he pronounces, as the ship she boards sets sail for San Francisco.

Jen has brilliantly structured “Bad Bad Girl” so that invented exchanges with her mother — post-death, printed in bold type and interspersed throughout — keep returning us not only to the relationship between mother and daughter, but to the present. That dialogue is conversational and often funny, in contrast to the unfolding chronicle of Agnes’ journey as a stranger in a strange land. She finds her new countrymen puzzling in nearly every way. For example, “That was how lonely Americans were,” she observes, “that they should not only feed their dogs but walk them every day, rain or shine.”

Initially, Agnes’ spirits are bolstered by her privilege and her parents’ checks. Soon after arriving in New York City to begin graduate school, though, the money stops coming. The communist takeover is complete and, as she gradually discovers through their letters, now they seek financial support from her. Agnes, who’s never boiled an egg, sets to work typing and translating for her still-rich Chinese classmates. She meets and marries fellow student Jen Chao-Pe, and together they move into a dilapidated walk-up in Washington Heights, where Agnes learns to scrimp and save and paint her own walls. Her husband teaches her to cook. When she gets pregnant with her son, Reuben, she is laid low and takes a temporary leave of absence from school. Soon she is pregnant with Lillian, later nicknamed “Gish” for the silent film actor, and motherhood overwhelms her. Three more children come. Of the five, Gish is her least favorite, a girl every bit as clever as she was — a reminder of what she’s permanently put on the back burner. Whatever maternal feelings she has for her other children are missing when it comes to Gish, who becomes her mother’s scapegoat and punching bag.

Miraculously, Gish appears to have been mostly a happy child who excels socially and academically. After being accepted to every university she applies to, she chooses Harvard. She attends graduate school at Stanford and begins to pursue a writing career. She meets her husband, David, to whom she’s been married ever since — for 42 years. They have a son, Luke, and a daughter, Paloma. Jen’s children know how difficult their grandmother has been, and Paloma offers this to her mother by way of consolation: “The effects of trauma can’t be washed away in a generation,” something she’s read in a book. “You can’t get rid of it all, but you did a good job,” she adds.

How rich this book is, and how humane. Unlike, for example, Molly Jong-Fast’s merciless “How to Lose Your Mother,” “Bad Bad Girl” doesn’t read like a hit job. It’s suffused with love and a desire to finally understand. “You shut me out the way you shut your mother out. … What was my crime?” Jen challenges her mother in one of their imagined exchanges. “You were a pain in the neck,” Agnes observes, in another.

“She does not say ‘I love you’ back; she never has,” Jen writes. She doesn’t put those words in Agnes’ mouth here, even when she has the chance. But Jen does venture this about her mother: “I like to think (she) would finally agree both that this book is a novel and that there might be some truth to it.” And then in their final imagined exchange: “Bad, bad girl! Who says you can write a book like that?” Jen laughs. “That’s more like it.”

Haber is a writer, editor and publishing strategist. She was director of Oprah’s Book Club and books editor for O, the Oprah Magazine.

Lacking confidence as a 14-year-old freshman, Melion Busano entered high school with one thought in mind.

“Just get the four years over with,” he said.

In September 2022, while getting 30 minutes to try out for the basketball team at Eagle Rock High, his confidence was shaken even more.

“They said if we send you a text, you made the team. I never got that text,” he said. “I was in denial. ‘Maybe they forgot me.’ After the third or fourth week, I was [thinking], ‘Maybe they didn’t send that text.’”

Rejection left him adrift, but then came the moment that changed his life. While carrying around a camera for film class, the JV football coach, Vince Vergara, noticed him, pulled him aside and asked, “Hey, do you want to play football?”

He joined the JV team as a sophomore. His mother had refused to let him play football years ago after seeing the 2015 film, “Concussion.” This time, she told him, “Be careful.”

He started from scratch.

“I had to learn on the fly,” he said. “I didn’t know what type of run plays or nothing. Never played youth football, never played flag.”

Last season as a junior, he made varsity and had 211 yards rushing and two touchdowns. This season, as a much improved 5-foot-10, 195-pound senior, he’s become so valuable that coach Andy Moran said he’s the best running back in the City Section, having rushed for 824 yards and 13 touchdowns going into the Northern League title decider against Franklin on Friday.

“He doesn’t go down and everybody has prepared to stop him and hasn’t,” Moran said.

He had 143 yards rushing against Granada Hills Kennedy, 108 yards against Monrovia, 146 yards against Bell, 141 yards against Marquez and 107 yards against L.A. Marshall.

His father was a Marine for 20 years and came here as a teenager from Belize. His mother is from the Philippines.

“Sadly I have not gone to either but would love to go,” he said.

His first name stands for “My Lion.”

“You’re a lion, so you’re fierce,” his father tells him.

With renewed confidence, Busano has discovered a love for football and a belief he can keep getting better with experience.

He even tried out for basketball again and made the team, then decided to focus on football.

His father told him, “Try again, work harder, make yourself a better person.”

It’s all part of the high school experience — experimenting, exploring and dealing with the positives and negatives that happen to everyone in their teenage years. His younger brother also made the football team.

“Now I’m kicking myself why didn’t I do this my freshman year,” Busano said. “Now I appreciate the little things, about discipline, always do your job, don’t do someone else’s job. It’s helped me grow up as a person. I was very ignorant and blind walking into this. I felt I probably won’t be the worst player but probably second string, but I came onto the field and started. It was, ‘Wow.’”

Soon he hopes to visit Belize or Manila to learn more about his parents’ home countries.

“My dad says my grandma has a house where you can wake up and look out the window and the beach is right there,” he said. “I want to visit both.”

He’s a 17-year-old seeing a whole different world and a whole different future with the help of his football experiences.

There are several Nike-sponsored billboards popping up around town featuring Long Beach Poly freshman 800-meter runner Laila Kirk, who is a two-time national AAU champion.

It’s setting the stage for her high school debut this spring for the Jackrabbits.

She certainly has lots of ties to track and field.

Her mother, Angelita, ran track at Poly and Washington State. Her father, Lamarr, ran track at Dorsey and Washington State. Her grandmother, Margaret Hemmans-Green, ran track at Manual Arts and El Camino College. Her grandfather, Ted Green, was a long jumper at Manual Arts.

Laila had a best 800 time of 2:07 last spring. She also ran the 400 in 54.72.

Long Beach Poly has a long history of producing outstanding track and field athletes, but few 14-year-olds have appeared on billboards before their first race in high school.

This is a daily look at the positive happenings in high school sports. To submit any news, please email [email protected].

WASHINGTON — The Supreme Court on Tuesday rejected an appeal from conspiracy theorist Alex Jones and left in place the $1.4-billion judgment against him over his description of the 2012 Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting as a hoax staged by crisis actors.

The Infowars host had argued that a judge was wrong to find him liable for defamation and infliction of emotional distress without holding a trial on the merits of allegations lodged by relatives of victims of the shooting, which killed 20 first-graders and six educators in Newtown, Conn.

The justices did not comment on their order, which they issued without asking the families of the Sandy Hook victims to respond to Jones’ appeal. An FBI agent who responded to the shooting also sued.

A lawyer who represents Sandy Hook families said the Supreme Court had properly rejected Jones’ “latest desperate attempt to avoid accountability for the harm he has caused.”

“We look forward to enforcing the jury’s historic verdict and making Jones and Infowars pay for what they have done,” lawyer Christopher Mattei said in a statement.

A lawyer representing Jones in the case didn’t immediately respond to an email seeking comment. During his daily show on Tuesday, Jones said his lawyers believed his case was “cut and dry,” while he had predicted the high court wouldn’t take up his appeal.

“I said no, they will not do it because of politics,” Jones said.

Jones mocked the idea that he has enough money to pay the judgment, saying his studio equipment, including five-year-old cameras, was only worth about $304,000.

“It’s all about torturing me. It’s all about harassing me. It’s about harassing my family. It’s about getting me off the air,” said Jones, who urged his listeners to buy merchandise to keep the show running.

Jones filed for bankruptcy in late 2022, and his lawyers told the justices that the “plaintiffs have no possible hope of collecting” the entire judgment.

He is separately appealing a $49-million judgment in a similar defamation lawsuit in Texas after he failed to turn over documents sought by the parents of another Sandy Hook victim.

In the Connecticut case, the judge issued a rare default ruling against Jones and his company in late 2021 because of what she called Jones’ repeated failure to abide by court rulings and to turn over certain evidence to the Sandy Hook families. The judge convened a jury to determine how much Jones would owe.

The following year, the jury agreed on a $964-million verdict and the judge later tacked on another $473 million in punitive damages against Jones and Free Speech Systems, Infowars’ parent company, which is based in Austin, Texas.

In November, the satirical news outlet The Onion was named the winning bidder in an auction to liquidate Infowars’ assets to help pay the defamation judgments. But the bankruptcy judge threw out the auction results, citing problems with the process and The Onion’s bid.

The attempt to sell off Infowars’ assets has moved to a Texas state court in Austin. Jones is now appealing a recent order from the court that appointed a receiver to liquidate the assets. Some of Jones’ personal property is also being sold off as part of the bankruptcy case.

Sherman writes for the Associated Press. AP writer Susan Haigh in Hartford, Conn., contributed to this report.

Diane Keaton, the actor who made film history — and won an Oscar — as the title character in Woody Allen’s beloved 1977 romantic comedy “Annie Hall,” died Saturday. She was 79. Tributes poured in from those who worked with and admired Keaton, including Bette Midler, Kate Hudson, Steve Martin and Josh Gad.

Here are some notable social media posts:

Bette Midler, the actor, singer and comedian who starred with Keaton and Goldie Hawn in the 1996 comedy “The First Wives Club,” about three divorced women who seek revenge on their ex-husbands: “The brilliant, beautiful, extraordinary Diane Keaton has died. I cannot tell you how unbearably sad this makes me. She was hilarious, a complete original, and completely without guile, or any of the competitiveness one would have expected from such a star. What you saw was who she was …oh, la, lala!”

Kate Hudson: “We love you so much Diane ❤️🕊️”

Steve Martin, who co-starred as Keaton’s husband in the “Father of the Bride” films, reposted an exchange between Keaton and Martin Short:

Short: “Who’s sexier, me or Steve Martin?

Keaton: “I mean, you’re both idiots.”

Martin then commented on the post: “Don’t know who first posted this, but it sums up our delightful relationship with Diane.”

Josh Gad: “What a monumental loss. Diane Keaton in many ways defined my love of movies. From Annie Hall to the Godfather films, from First Wives Club to Baby Boom, from Father of the Bride to Something’s Gotta Give, here resume was nothing short of iconic and hall of fame worthy. I was very fortunate to work with her many years ago on an unproduced HBO pilot and what I found was one of the most humble, ruthlessly funny, and unbelievably talented human beings I’ve ever come across. In many ways, this year will be defined by the loss of a Hollywood we will never again see. There simply are no replacements for a Gene Hackman or a Robert Redford or a Diane Keaton. They were the mavericks who helped redefine movies for a generation. … My heart goes out to Diane’s entire family during this impossible moment. RIP”

Kimberly Williams-Paisley, the actor, author and director who played Keaton’s daughter in the “Father of the Bride” films: “Diane, working with you will always be one of the highlights of my life. You are one of a kind, and it was thrilling to be in your orbit for a time. Thank you for your kindness, your generosity, your talent, and above all, your laughter. 🙏🏻🕊️💔❤️❤️❤️”

Rosie O’Donnell: “oh this breaks my heart – love to her children- what style what grace – she will be missed #ripdianekeaton”

Octavia Spencer: “Today we lost a true original. @diane_keaton wasn’t just an actress: she was a force. a woman who showed us that being yourself is the most powerful thing you can be. From Annie Hall to Something’s Gotta Give, she made every role unforgettable. But beyond the screen, she brought joy, laughter, and style that was all her own… Thank you, Diane, for reminding us that authenticity never goes out of fashion.”

Elizabeth Banks: “She was beloved in her industry. Every one of us idolizes her. Her influence on culture, fashion, art and women can’t be overstated. She was a delight. I am proud I have a career that allowed me to meet her and breathe her air.”

Viola Davis: “No!! No!!! No!! God, not yet, NO!!! Man… you defined womanhood. The pathos, humor, levity, your ever-present youthfulness and vulnerability — you tattooed your SOUL into every role, making it impossible to imagine anyone else inhabiting them. You were undeniably, unapologetically YOU!!! Loved you. Man… rest well. God bless your family, and I know angels are flying you home”

Diane Keaton, the actress who starred in some of the biggest movies of the last half-century, including the “Godfather” and “Annie Hall,” while serving as a style trend-setter and a champion of Los Angeles’ past, has died. She was 79.

Her death was first reported by People and confirmed by The New York Times.

In an extraordinary run during the 1970s when she was dominant, her career spanned the high points of American cinema: Francis Ford Coppola’s mafia saga and several of Woody Allen’s urbane comedies, climaxing in an Oscar win for her culture-changing turn as the title character in 1977’s “Annie Hall.” Keaton’s catchphrase, “Well, la-di-dah,” became iconic.

Over her career, she received four Oscar nominations for lead actress, winning for “Annie Hall.”

Born in Southern California, Keaton achieved fame in the 1970s through her frequent collaborations with Woody Allen and Francis Ford Coppola. She appeared in three “Godfather” movies as well as eight Allen films. Her star turn as Annie Hall earned her critical raves and made her a fashion icon of the era with Annie’s fedora hats, vests, ties and baggy pants. The Times once called her look “fluttery, vulnerable, almost unbearably adorable.”

“Annie’s style was Diane’s style — very eclectic,” designer Ralph Lauren said in a 1978 story in Vogue, soon after the movie came out. “She had a style that was all her own. Annie Hall was pure Diane Keaton.”

She was often asked if she got tired of the notoriety “Annie Hall” brought her, including the magazine covers, think pieces and fashion homages.

“No, I’m not. Everything is because of ‘Annie Hall’ with Woody. He has a great ear for women’s voices. I’m so grateful to him; he really gave me an opportunity that changed my life,” she told The Times in 2012. “I’m never disappointed about people talking to me about ‘Annie Hall.’ But I will say, a lot of people don’t know ‘Annie Hall’ exists, and that’s just the way it goes — goodbye! It’s bittersweet.”

She managed to capture the cultural zeitgeist in later films. In 1987, she played a successful businesswoman who upends her life to care for a relative’s baby in “Baby Boom.” In 2003, she won acclaim in “Something’s Gotta Give” for playing a successful writer navigating with romance in her 50s.

Keaton also got Oscar nominations for “Reds” (1982), “Marvin’s Room” (1996) and “Something’s Gotta Give.”

Keaton was a patron of the L.A. arts scene and also gained note as a champion of architecture preservation, remaking grand homes across the region. In collaboration with the Los Angeles Public Library, she edited a book of tabloid photos called “Local News” that ran in the Los Angeles Herald-Express.

In a 2018 interview with The Times, she said she felt privileged to still be working.

“I know what I am by now,” she said. “I know how old I am. I know what my limitations are and what I can and can’t do. So if something appeals to me, I’m definitely going to go for it.”

Later in life, Keaton became a major voice in architecture preservation.

She grew up Santa Ana during the post World War II housing boom in the 1950s and told The Times in an interviews she loved going to open houses with her father

“My father took me to see model homes, which I thought were palaces,” Keaton said.

She began buying and fixing up landmark homes around L.A., especially those of the Spanish colonial style.

“You have to get to know a house and try to keep its integrity. I try to honor the architect,” she said. “I love to go into an empty house. You look at the house and start to feel what it might need.”

“There are so many house treasures, unsung gems, all over Los Angeles,” she said.

Explaining how she came to edit the book of L.A. tabloid photos, Keaton told The Times the L.A. city library came up to her at a swap meet.

The librarian said, ‘There’s these files in the basement of the Central Library’ — the most beautiful building. I took a look. There are books and books to be made out of those images. This is a brilliant archive.”

In recent years, Keaton had become a hit on Instagram, posting photos of architecture, fashion and more. In an interview in 2019, she said she was still very active, eager to work and try new things but was also thinking more about her mortality.

“Of course, you think about it. How can you not?” she said. “I mean, I’m 73. How long do you live? It’s really important what those years are like.”

Keaton death brought tribute across Hollywood and beyond.

“She was a very special person and an incredibly gifted actor, who made each of her roles unforgettable. Her light will continue to shine through the art she leaves behind. Godspeed,” said Nancy Sinatra.

Billionaire Larry Ellison ponied up the money for his family to acquire the controlling stake in Paramount two months ago, and the tech titan would need to write another huge check should Paramount buy Warner Bros. Discovery.

So, in Hollywood circles, the question has been: How involved is the elder Ellison in Paramount’s strategy and operations?

Paramount Chief Executive David Ellison said he speaks with his father every day, but he drew an important distinction:

“Look, I run the company day to day. Make no mistake about that,” David Ellison said Thursday at Bloomberg’s Screentime media conference in Hollywood, adding that his father had been a “phenomenal” mentor and “we couldn’t have a better relationship.”

“He is the largest shareholder in the business,” Ellison said. “What’s important for everybody to know is the way he approaches this is: How do we maximize value for our shareholders? … I think he’s best in the world for doing that.”

Since the Ellison family and RedBird Capital Partners acquired Paramount in August, its stock is up more than 50%. Much of the run-up came last month after news leaked that Paramount was interested in acquiring Warner Bros. Discovery, which owns CNN, TBS, Food Network and one of Hollywood’s most prolific film and television studios.

Ellison refused to comment on Paramount’s pursuit of Warner Bros. Discovery or whether his team had already made a bid.

But he did shed light on the business strategy behind any pursuit, while trying to tamp down fears that another big merger would result in more cost-cutting, more job losses and a reduction in content spending.

“The way we approach everything is, first and foremost: What’s good for the talent community, what’s good for our shareholders and value creation, and what’s good for basically storytelling at large?” Ellison said. “We’re looking at actually producing more movies [and] more television series … because you need that content.”

Paramount staffers are bracing for a massive workforce reduction next month, part of the company’s goal of finding more than $2 billion in spending cuts.

But, since the takeover, Paramount’s Ellison has made a priority of beefing up relationships with talent through a series of big bets, including agreeing to pay $7.7 billion for media rights to UFC’s mixed martial arts events in the U.S. in a seven-year deal with TKO Group Holdings.

The company also invested in the construction of a Texas-based production hub for prolific “Yellowstone” creator Taylor Sheridan and agreed to pay $1.5 billion over five years for streaming rights for “South Park,” the Comedy Central cartoon. And Paramount lured Matt and Ross Duffer, who created “Stranger Things,” away from Netflix with an exclusive four-year television, streaming and film deal.

Earlier this week, Paramount spent $150 million to acquire Bari Weiss’ the Free Press news site, while also naming Weiss editor in chief of CBS News.

Warner Bros. Discovery, led by Chief Executive David Zaslav, also has declined to discuss Paramount’s interest, although people close to the company have suggested Zaslav would like to see bidding war.

No other studios have publicly expressed interest and, on Wednesday, Netflix Co-Chief Executive Greg Peters downplayed such speculation.

“We come from a deep heritage of being builders rather than buyers,” Peters said during a separate appearance at the Screentime conference, adding the track record for big mergers was not great.

But Wall Street widely expects more consolidation among entertainment firms.

“Ironically, it was David Zaslav last year who said that consolidation in the media business is important,” Ellison said, adding “there are a lot of options out there.” But he declined to elaborate.

Analysts have speculated that, beyond Paramount, few other media companies have financial firepower to pull off a bid. And Paramount has an “in” that several other media companies, including Brian Roberts’ Comcast, lack: a good relationship with President Trump and his administration.

Trump has called Larry Ellison a good friend. After David Ellison spoke with Trump at a June UFC fight, the previous managers of Paramount got traction in their efforts to settle Trump’s lawsuit over a “60 Minutes” interview last fall with Kamala Harris. Paramount paid $16 million in July to settle the suit and weeks later the Federal Communications Commission approved the Ellison takeover of Paramount.

“We have a good relationship with the administration,” David Ellison said.

Ike Turner Jr., the son of Ike and Tina Turner who won a Grammy for traditional blues album in 2007 as a producer on his father’s album “Risin’ With the Blues,” has died. He was 67.

Turner died Saturday at a Los Angeles hospital from kidney failure, family member Jacqueline Bullock told TMZ. She said the musician had been battling heart issues for years and had a stroke last month.

“It is with great sadness that we announce the passing of my cousin, Ike Turner, Jr.,” Bullock said in a statement to the New York Post. ‘”Junior’ was more than a cousin to me, but rather a brother, as we grew up in the same famed household together.”

“As the son of Tina and Ike Turner, from an early age, his talents were evident as there wasn’t an instrument he did not want to play,” the statement continued. “Eventually, Junior would end up helping to run Bolic Sound Studios, the recording studios founded by his father, Ike Turner.”

Ike Turner Jr., and friend Mary Ellis at a memorial service for his father in 2007.

(Damian Dovarganes / Associated Press)

A musician, producer and sound engineer, Turner was pulled into the music business by his father when he was 13.

“My father took me out of [the] house and out of school and I traveled [with them],” Turner said in a 2017 interview on “The Bobby Eaton Show.” “That wasn’t no easy work.”

In that same interview, he also shared the role his mother Tina played in the instruments he picked up in his youth.

“My first instrument was drums, until my mother started making me break my drums down every day,” he said. “The piano was always there in the family room, so I started playing piano. I play guitar and bass. Everything except horn because horn used to make me dizzy from blowing air.”

Turner was one of four children associated with Ike Sr. and Tina Turner’s famed union, which ended with the latter filing for divorce in 1974 (finalized in 1978). The couple performed together from 1960 to 1976 as the Ike & Tina Turner Revue, but their musical achievements were often overshadowed by the former’s abuse.

Born in 1958 to Ike Turner Sr. and Lorraine Taylor, Ike Jr. and his brother Michael were adopted by the “What’s Love Got to Do With It” singer upon her marriage in 1962 to their father. Their siblings also included Ronnie and Craig.

“Tina raised me from the age of 2,” Ike Jr. told the Mail on Sunday in 2018. “She’s the only mother I’ve ever known.”

Over the years Turner had commented a number of times on his estrangement from his mother since his parents’ divorce. In 2018 he said he had not spoken to her in nearly 20 years.

Turner was preceded in death by both of his parents and two of his siblings. His father died in 2007 of a cocaine overdose and Tina died in 2023 after a long illness. Craig Turner died by suicide in 2018 and Ronnie Turner of complications related to late-stage cancer in 2022.

On the eve of the release of her 12th album, Taylor Swift received a thank-you note from George Michael’s estate for including his work in her version of “Father Figure.”

“When we heard the track we had no hesitation in agreeing to this association between two great artists and we know George would have felt the same,” the “Freedom!” singer’s estate posted Thursday on X.

Taylor’s take on “Father Figure” incorporates an interpolation of Michael’s 1987 song from his album “Faith.”

Both songs share a common thread of telling the tale of a specific relationship. In a 1987 interview with ET, the former Wham! singer turned solo star — who died over the Christmas holiday in 2016 — vaguely discussed the meaning behind his track.

“‘Father Figure’ is just a very, without going into too much detail, it’s just a very specific experience that I wrote about a specific relationship with one person,” Michael said.

“I think there’s a definite pattern in people’s lives where they move away from their parents, then they spend time on their own and then they look for that replacement,” he added.

Similarly, the fourth song on Swift’s album “The Life of a Showgirl,” which was released on Thursday, tells the experience of a specific relationship between a mentor and his protégé.

Hmmm. Who could it be? Are the lyrics imaginative or are the details too specific to brush off as fiction? Let’s dissect.

Swift opens her track with: “When I found you, you were young, wayward, lost in the cold / Pulled up to you in the Jag’, turned your rags to gold.”

There is one person who turned her into the gold standard of pop — music executive Scott Borchetta, who signed her to his Big Machine Records label back in the day.

Swift worked with Borchetta on her first six albums until she wanted to buy her master recordings from the label, which led to the end of their partnership.

The song initially takes the perspective of the mentor who sees potential, profit and the opportunity to be a father figure for the protégé. In the tail end of the track, the point of view changes to the other side.

“You want a fight, you found it / I got the place surrounded / You’ll be sleeping with the fishes before you know you’re drowning.”

Again, the details seem too specific to write it off as pure fiction, but Swifties may have to stick to speculation unless Swift goes on the “New Heights” podcast to discuss the meaning behind her lyrics with her future husband, Travis Kelce, and soon-to-be brother-in-law, Jason Kelce.

Don’t hold your breath — there’s probably a better chance she releases a new version of “Life of a Showgirl” first.

Tony Shalhoub is loath to compare his upcoming CNN series, “Breaking Bread,” to the travel food shows hosted by his frequent collaborator Stanley Tucci, who directed him in the gourmand classic “Big Night.”

“I don’t consider myself a foodie,” Shalhoub says in a video interview. “He is the ultimate foodie, amazing chef. He really knows what he’s talking about and I don’t know anything.”

But Shalhoub, best known these days as one of the stars of “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel,” makes up for his lack of knowledge with utter enthusiasm. As host and executive producer of “Breaking Bread,” premiering Sunday at 9 p.m. Pacific, he traipses the globe trying different breads and bread-related products while uncovering stories of how these staples relate to migration, labor and his own family history. In fact, the legacy of Shalhoub’s father, who settled in Wisconsin after leaving Lebanon, is present in multiple episodes. The elder Shalhoub’s love of the stuff served as one of the inspirations for the whole enterprise.

“We were eating most often bakery bread rather than just commercial store-bought packaged bread, and he really had a great appreciation for it and wanted to model that for us,” Shalhoub says.

Still, Shalhoub’s goals go beyond food porn. Days before the premiere, Shalhoub spoke about why he sees “Breaking Bread” as being about something bigger. This conversation has been edited for clarity and length.

How did doing a food show even come to you?

Well, I was so enamored of Stanley [Tucci’s] show.

I was going to ask if Stanley had something to do with it.

We never really talked about it a lot, but I’ve been inspired by Stanley for so many things. But even prior to his travel food show [“Searching for Italy”], a nephew of mine [Michael Matzdorff], when I lived in Los Angeles, came to me and he was making bread at the time. This was way before the pandemic, when that became the thing to do. We got into talking about bread, and I was so impressed by what he was doing in his own kitchen, and he just casually mentioned, “Wouldn’t it be cool to explore bread making all over the globe?” We got a pitch together. It didn’t really get a lot of traction then, and this was a couple decades ago, but the idea stayed with me. I mentioned it to another friend who’s a producer on the show, Tamara Weiss, and she just kind of had this great idea to reformat it, and I guess the timing was right.

Was this your nephew that appears in the Tokyo episode or a different nephew?

This is an older nephew than that. I have many nephews and many nieces and they’re all geniuses. But there’s another leg to this too, aside from my fascination with bread and bread around the world. I’ve been acting for so many years and felt very fortunate with all of the breaks that I’ve gotten. But I’ve been starting to feel a little bit like I wanted to reconnect to the world again, in some way. When you are working and your experiences are mostly coming through scripted, mostly fictional stuff, after a while, there’s that possibility that you start to feel a little disconnected from actual life and the world. That also was one of the main drivers here. I wanted to meet new people, travel to new places or even familiar places, but with a different point of view. In a lot of ways, it’s been eye-opening. The food component aside, I’ve found it’s been really good for me. You get out of your own head and out of your own sphere, and you’re reminded that there’s so much else going on out there.

How did you choose where you were going to go? So many of the places have a personal connection for you: You said you wanted to start in Lebanon, where your father is from, but the political situation didn’t allow for it so you went to Brazil, where there is a large Lebanese population. You spend time in New York, where you live, and Wisconsin, where you are from.

We initially had a list of about 12 different locations, and some of those were locations that I just thought, “Boy, it would really be fun to travel there.” When we got into it with CNN, you know, especially for the first season, they wanted for me to have a personal connection to each of these locations. We gave them a list of about 10 places, and they chose six. So obviously New York, because this is now my second time living here in the city, and I love it. I consider it my home and where so much of my career has taken place. I think Marseille, because even though I traveled to France several times, is a place where my father, when he was immigrating from Lebanon over a hundred years ago, as many immigrants did, had to stop in Marseille in the process. We’ve always been curious about that part of his journey because we knew about his departure from Beirut, and we knew about his arrival in Ellis Island, but we didn’t know about the middle part of his journey. So we were able to explore that and get some more new information about that.

Members of your family also show up, including your daughter Josie Adams and another nephew. Why did you want to involve them?

Whenever there’s a discussion about bread or about food in general, it mostly stems from or grows out of my childhood, growing up, my parents, my other older relatives, and I guess that’s the closest connection for me. It has been such a part of what connects us all.

Tony Shalhoub with his daughter Josie Adams and pastry chef Pierre Ragot in the Marseille episode of “Breaking Bread.”

(CNN Original Series)

How did your relationship to bread, clearly something you love, change over the course of making the show?

The main takeaway was that the show, for me, really became more about the people that I met than the product itself. There were familiar things, some of them done in a kind of innovative and new way and other things that I had not experienced before or tasted before, but [it was] really more about the people and their devotion to that work and the reasons that they become so obsessed and so devoted to that kind of work. For me, the show really becomes about those stories and those histories, whether it’s a family history or a story about immigration or a story of a war-torn country. To be really frank about it, bread is really more the vehicle that brings us into these other discussions.

I want to say this in a very tactful way, but the risk of doing this kind of show is that there is a point, I believe, of diminishing returns when we talk about food. This is my fear. It was like, will someone stand up and say, “Stop it.” There’s so many important things that are going on that deserve our focus and our attention, but because we’re talking about food, it’s inevitable because we have to have it every day. It sustains us, and that’s all fine and good, but I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and I want bread to be that thing that sparks other conversations.

In the Marseille episode, you uncover part of your father’s story, discovering details of his trip to America in the municipal archives. What was that experience like?

It was quite moving and also doing it with my daughter and having those discussions with my daughter. She didn’t know my father because he passed away before she was born. But I don’t think I would’ve had the opportunity or the access to uncover these things had I not been doing this show at this time in that city. It would’ve just gone undiscovered and unknown.

Obviously, you’ve eaten on screen before, that’s part of an actor’s job, but did you think about how you were going to react to what you try?

I didn’t really think about it or plan it. I wanted to figure out ways to avoid or sidestep stock reactions. “God, that’s delicious.” Of course, that’s what everyone says when they’re eating something exciting and new. But I was really trying to stay open and rather than using words, a lot of times I just felt I let it go into my body and my body kind of did the work.

There’s a moment when you almost do a little dance.

Because some of this stuff just transcends words.

Was there something you tried that truly surprised you?

Certainly, I think given the amount of pastry I consume and have consumed in my lifetime, I thought that Mary O’s Irish Soda Bread scones were kind of a revelation. I’ve made scones. I’ve had scones. I love them, but this was revelatory. In Brazil they couldn’t grow wheat for a time, and before they were importing it, they were relying on cassava flour everywhere. They make a cheese bread. They were making it out of cassava flour, which is delicious, not heavy, and no gluten and all of that, and with cheese. Somehow miraculously, you’re eating these things and you’re never feeling full or bloated.

Ricky Hatton won 45 of his 48 professional bouts during a 15-year boxing career, and was world champion at light-welterweight and welterweight. He last fought professionally in 2012, though had planned to return to the ring in October.

Nicknamed ‘the Hitman’, Hatton established himself as a hugely popular fighter with character inside and outside the ring – an estimated 30,000 fans travelled to watch his title fight against the great Floyd Mayweather in Las Vegas in 2007.

Campbell was also a professional boxer and won his first 14 professional fights. He retired earlier this year.

Hatton’s family issued a statement on Monday in which they spoke of the outpouring of love and support towards him.

“He had a heart as big as his smile, and his kindness, humour and loyalty touched everyone who was lucky enough to know him,” it said.