meyer

It’s a mystery that has transfixed Hollywood:

How did Jeff Shell, who is seven months into his tenure as president of Paramount Skydance, get entangled with a professional gambler with a penchant for controversy?

Shell looked to be on his way to a high-profile comeback after losing his job as NBCUniversal chief executive three years ago over an inappropriate relationship with an underling.

Now he’s facing new scrutiny after his Paramount bosses hired a law firm to investigate his surreptitious dealings with a Las Vegas high-roller and self-styled “fixer.” Investigators are reviewing whether Shell leaked sensitive corporate secrets, according to two people familiar with the matter who were not authorized to comment.

The real-life drama features accusations of betrayal, vengeance and an alleged promise of a TV show deal.

Paramount declined to comment. An attorney for Shell also declined to comment, citing the ongoing review.

How this plays out for Shell remains to be seen, but the ongoing tempest has created a headache for Paramount’s leaders, coming just as David Ellison’s company was clinching its nearly six-month pursuit of Warner Bros. Discovery.

Last week, Paramount toppled Netflix with its $110-billion deal to claim HBO, CNN, Food Network and the storied Warner Bros. movie and TV studios, a key piece of Ellison’s ambitions to create a Hollywood behemoth by combining two century-old firms.

“The timing is terrible,” said Stephen Galloway, dean of Chapman University’s Dodge College of Film and Media Arts. “The last thing Paramount wants when closing this deal is for one of its [corporate] officers to be faced with allegations, true or false, from a professional gambler who calls himself Robin Hood.”

An unusual meeting in 2024

This account is based on interviews with nearly a dozen industry insiders who are familiar with the players and details of the increasingly ugly dispute. The Times granted anonymity to the sources, most of whom were not authorized to speak publicly.

According to these people, Shell’s dealings with the blackjack player began with an odd meeting in August 2024.

At the time, Shell was just joining Ellison’s team as the technology scion was preparing to build a new Hollywood empire.

But Shell was facing a serious problem. Someone was trying to plant unfavorable stories about him from his NBC days just as he was poised to stage his second act, two of the sources said.

Enter Patty Glaser, the high-powered entertainment litigator who represents Shell, and, as it happens, the person they suspected was behind the whisper campaign: Robert James “R.J.” Cipriani.

Patty Glaser wanted to defuse the tensions between R.J. Cipriani and Jeff Shell.

To defuse the tensions, Glaser convened a meeting at her Century City offices between Shell and her other client, Cipriani, who is a self-professed whistleblower and high-stakes gambler who goes by the handle RobinHood702 (the Las Vegas area code). Shell attended the meeting at Glaser’s recommendation.

Cipriani wanted to meet the executive. He had been angry ever since Shell sacked his friend Ron Meyer, former vice chairman of NBCUniversal, in 2020.

One of the founders of talent giant CAA, Meyer filled a unique role at NBCUniversal as the self-deprecating and beloved sage in a wool vest who was often called on to finesse frayed relationships with producers, agents and talent.

But Meyer was bounced by NBCUniversal, then led by Shell, after he made a secret settlement to keep a lid on a nearly decade-old tryst with British actor Charlotte Kirk.

Ron Meyer, former vice chairman of NBCUniversal, remains beloved in Hollywood.

(Kevin Winter / Getty Images for AFI)

Kirk had an affair with another studio boss, Kevin Tsujihara, who resigned as Warner Bros. chairman in 2019 after it was revealed that he tried to help her get parts in movies and TV shows.

Meyer had said that after the payment was made, associates of Kirk allegedly demanded more money to keep the affair quiet.

Kirk’s associates denied any wrongdoing, but those dealings ended Meyer’s 25-year tenure at Universal.

Cipriani, according to a source familiar with the situation, was galled that Meyer had been unceremoniously dumped, particularly after it was revealed that Shell also had been engaged in an improper relationship — with a CNBC anchor.

Other Hollywood friends shared the sentiment — a form of schadenfreude — after Shell got his comeuppance nearly three years later.

Jeff Shell in 2015.

(Rick Loomis / Los Angeles Times)

During the meeting at Glaser’s office, the two men discussed their families. Cipriani appeared to have a change of heart.

He told Shell that he would be his friend and personal “crisis PR” agent helping him with damage control, one of the sources said.

It was an unlikely pairing; the two men came from entirely different worlds.

Shell, 60, is a Los Angeles native — a relentlessly driven son of a Cedars-Sinai cardiologist and a teacher turned stay-at-home mom. Although only about 5-foot-9, Shell secured a spot on the University High varsity basketball team after spending long hours perfecting his jump shot.

He earned a degree in economics and applied mathematics from UC Berkeley, then an MBA from Harvard University.

“He’s often the smartest guy in the room,” a former high-level NBCUniversal executive said.

Jeff Shell previously ran NBCUniversal.

(Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)

Shell has worked in the entertainment business more than 30 years, first at Walt Disney Co., then Rupert Murdoch’s Fox, where he briefly ran its cable networks. The TV executive moved to Philadelphia in 2004 to join Comcast, when its business was selling cable channels to subscribers.

When Comcast bought NBCUniversal in 2011, Shell’s stock was on the rise. He ran NBC’s international operations in London, then moved his family back home to Los Angeles when he became chairman of Universal’s prestigious film unit.

Meyer, who previously ran the studio, was tasked with showing Shell the movie business ropes.

Cipriani, 64, knew Meyer from gambling circles. The two men are friends, the sources said, although Meyer was not involved in the current dust-up, according to several of the people.

Cipriani grew up in Philadelphia, where his dad had worked for the Uniroyal tire company, according to an obituary.

It’s unclear when Cipriani came to L.A., but eventually he became a whistleblower who frequently made contact with journalists. He’s married to a former Brazilian model and actor/musical artist, Greice Santo, who had a small role in the CW’s “Jane the Virgin.”

Cipriani’s name went from the Vegas casinos to the headlines in 2017 when he was a key player in the arrest and conviction of a USC quarterback-turned global drug kingpin, Owen Hanson, who was sentenced to 21 years in federal prison.

Robert James “R.J.” Cipriani in Amazon Prime Video’s 2025 series, “Cocaine Quarterback.”

(Courtesy of Prime Video)

Cipriani tipped off the FBI in the case. Hanson allegedly gave Cipriani $2.5 million to launder but instead Cipriani lost the money in a blackjack game. In a YouTube interview, Cipriani claimed Hanson threatened him.

Cipriani has publicly taken issue with his portrayal as a money launderer in the popular Amazon Prime Video series “Cocaine Quarterback,” which brought the scandal to the screen. It’s a production of Mark Wahlberg and others.

Although Cipriani is often referred to as an “FBI informant,” the moniker rankles him. He prefers being called a “confidential human source for the feds,” who “goes after the bad guys,” according to those familiar with his thinking.

And Cipriani is not afraid to tangle with powerful people.

“Jeff Shell may have [gone to] Harvard Business School but R.J. Cipriani comes from the hardscrabble streets of Philly,” Cipriani’s attorney Steven Aaronoff told The Times. “Who’s going to win that war?”

Cipriani was arrested in 2021 on the casino floor of Resorts World Las Vegas, allegedly for snatching the cellphone of another gambler who Cipriani said was recording his movements.

The charge was dropped, but Cipriani has since brought a RICO lawsuit against Resorts World that alleges the firm allowed “known criminals involved in illegal gambling” and “money laundering” while also spearheading his ban from Vegas casinos.

Cipriani alleged his arrest and subsequent treatment was in retaliation for raising his concerns with casino management and law enforcement. A former president of the casino called the claims “ridiculous,” according to the Las Vegas Review-Journal.

Cipriani and Shell texted on-and-off for about 18 months, according to the knowledgeable people.

In the first half of last year, as Ellison and his team were waiting for the blessing of President Trump and the Federal Communications Commission to finalize the Paramount takeover, the group was bedeviled by press leaks.

Some were reported by Hollywood newsletters, including a scoop that Matt and Ross Duffer, who created the blockbuster horror series “Stranger Things” for Netflix, were decamping to Ellison’s Paramount. Shell was not aware of the Duffers’ deal before it was announced, said a person close to the executive.

Fallout over a TV show

But Shell and Cipriani had a major falling out when Cipriani began angling for a television show.

According to people familiar with the dispute, Cipriani worked for months without compensation but, at one point, Shell had thanked him for his efforts and offered to help him out. That’s when Cipriani asked Shell to greenlight an English version of a Spanish-language music show that streams on Roku TV, “Serenata De Las Estrellas.”

The TV project, like the Spanish-language version, would be co-executive produced by Cipriani and his wife, Santo.

But Shell failed to deliver, and Cipriani became furious.

“Mr. Shell promised to give my client, to produce the English language version of the show that was already a Spanish language hit,” Aaronoff said. “It was not something that was risky … It was not some crazy idea,” adding that Shell “did not keep his word to my client.”

Cipriani — who also has producer credits on the 2020 documentary about Vegas, “Money Machine: Behind the Lies,” and the 2015 movie, “Wild Card” — had intended to make “Serenata” as a homage to his late mother, Regina.

It was inspired by a song that Cipriani used to sing to her when he was growing up.

Jeff Shell became president of Paramount Skydance last summer.

(Brian van der Brug/Los Angeles Times)

Cipriani has threatened to file a lawsuit that makes a range of allegations, including that Shell had been slipping Cipriani sensitive corporate information, according to sources who have seen a copy of Cipriani’s draft complaint.

Shell, who officially joined Paramount in August with the Ellison takeover, immediately disclosed Cipriani’s legal threat to Paramount’s top lawyer and his previous employer RedBird Capital Partners, a Paramount investor partner.

According to the Hollywood Reporter, Cipriani also filed a whistleblower complaint with the Securities and Exchange Commission, alleging Shell alerted him to a then-pending $7.7-billion deal for the rights to UFC fights. But deal details did not leak in advance of Paramount’s announcement.

“We were presented with a draft complaint riddled with clear errors of fact and law,” attorney Glaser said in a statement last week. “We will strongly respond.”

The lawsuit hasn’t been filed, but Paramount hired Gibson Dunn lawyers to investigate Shell’s conduct and allegations contained in the draft, which was sent to Paramount.

On Friday, Cipriani wrote on X that he’d had “a great chat” the previous day with Gibson Dunn lawyers.

SAN DIEGO — Light rain slicked the pavement in San Diego’s East Village neighborhood on a recent morning, forcing some homeless people to scatter while others huddled under tents or slept through the drizzle.

I was on foot with Dr. Aaron Meyer, a psychiatrist frustrated by California’s most visible crisis: The failure to provide help for many of the people who need it most, despite all the programs rolled out over the years, and all the billions of dollars spent.

We see them in parks, on sidewalks and in other public spaces in obvious distress, and we’ve heard the never-ending conversations and political promises of better days. The problem goes well beyond homelessness: Thousands of severely ill people live with exasperated family members who wear themselves out trying to get help for loved ones.

“We have a history of services that have ended up prioritizing less severe people rather than the most severe,” said Meyer, a UC San Diego associate clinical professor of psychiatry who was speaking on his own behalf, as a university rep.

In searching for answers, Meyer teamed with lawyer Ann Marie Council, a former San Diego deputy city attorney who once worked in drug court. She was struck by the number of clients spun through the system countless times without getting treatment for addiction or mental illness.

“I was really sick and tired of watching people go to jail when they weren’t getting the help they needed,” said Council, who retired from public service and started Quarter Turn Strategies, a nonprofit focused on practical solutions to fractured public services.

It turns out the doctor and the lawyer make a pretty good team. In their research, they came upon a tool that could address chronic severe mental illness and addiction, and it was hiding in plain sight: in a book of California statutes, namely Section 5200 of the California Welfare and Institutions Code.

The state law governing involuntary commitments and conservatorships for people with severe mental illness is known as the Lanterman-Petris-Short Act, and it includes the commonly used Section 5150 for those deemed “gravely disabled.” The process begins with a 72-hour hold that can lead to a longer commitment, but often does not.

Section 5200 outlines a far more thorough evaluation and care plan than 5150. The 5200 process can be initiated by anybody concerned about someone who is gravely disabled or a danger to themselves or others (with misdemeanor penalties for abuse of the reporting privilege).

Dr. Susan Partovi, who has practiced street medicine in Los Angeles for many years, has a term for the 72-hour hold under 5150:

“We call it the 72-second hold,” she said.

I’ve written previously about Partovi’s moral outrage over the number of severely ill people who either are not deemed “gravely disabled” or who spin repeatedly through three-day holds and return to the same self-destructive routines. I’ve also heard her talk about who among her clients is likely to die next.

Partovi is a member of Grave Disability Workgroup of California, which has endorsed a research paper on 5200, “The Lost Legal Pathway to Mental Health Care,” co-written by Meyer and Council and released a few weeks ago by Quarter Turn. It detailed the frustrations of families, outreach workers and first responders and concluded that 5200 could help break down some of the bureaucratic barriers to life-changing mental health care.

In San Diego, as Meyer and I passed a woman trying to erect a tent in the rain and a person asleep on a littered patch of weeds, I asked him to explain the difference between 5150 and 5200.

Under a 5150 commitment, he said, a person is often brought to an emergency room for an assessment by someone who is not necessarily a behavioral health specialist. A decision is then made about whether the person meets the legal criteria for an involuntary hold.

“If they don’t, then they’re released, and there’s no requirement for any care coordination,” Meyer said. Under 5200, a full medical evaluation is required with a multidisciplinary team, “and it also requires a coordinated care plan on discharge,” raising “the hope of leading to something substantive.”

In their research, Meyer and Council found that 5200 is not known to be in use in any of the state’s 58 counties, with public officials either unaware of it or under the impression that it’s an unnecessary tool given other initiatives over the decades, and cost of implementation could be a problem.

Meyer argues that the state spends billions without addressing glaring needs, and 5200 could cost less than roller-coastering people through hospitals, courts, jails and prisons without putting them on a healthier track.

Meyer said he’s gotten pushback from civil libertarians and disability rights groups, both of which have long opposed coerced treatment and argued instead for a host of greater resources in housing and preventive healthcare, and for more outreach that can lead to voluntary treatment.

I understand the pitfalls of forced treatment, having been on a 20-year journey with someone who initially resisted help and objected to medication. It’s true that forced treatment doesn’t always get the desired outcome, and can backfire if it makes the person more resistant to treatment.

But some people can become too sick to make a decision in their own best interest, which is why we’ve seen so many of them at death’s door, living in squalor and desperation, tortured by psychosis or chewed up by killer drugs.

Care Courts, which were meant to help address this, have not yet had the anticipated impact, and some families have felt let down. Meyer and Council say that although those courts can implement 5200, that isn’t happening yet.

The fact that 5200 is little known and never used “is another example of systems failure,” said former state senator and Sacramento Mayor Darrell Steinberg.

Steinberg said although 5200 isn’t a one-step answer to homelessness or untreated severe mental and addiction illness, it’s worth implementing given the existing “set of systems that are not responsive to people who are the sickest of the sick.”

Jon Sherin, former head of L.A. County’s mental health department, called 5200 “one of the most powerful tools” available and said he tried to implement it several years ago but faced some of the same resistance described by Meyer.

“If you used it thoughtfully and had capacity, you could actually have a massive impact,” said Sherin, who urged those running for governor to “bring 5200 into the limelight and guarantee resources to counties.”

The same can be said about the race for Los Angeles mayor. Despite some progress, homelessness is still a public catastrophe, and gravely ill people are a haunting representation of policy failures.

Supporters of 5200 include Bay Area resident Teresa Pasquini, a mental health reform advocate whose brother and son have both dealt with severe mental illness. Pasquini, whose causes include “Moms on a Mission” and “Housing that Heals,” told me her son, now in his 40s, has been through the 5150 turnstile 40 times.

Pasquini said people in her circumstances have been accused of wanting to shed their troubles by having their kids locked away. All she really wants, she said, is for him to be housed and safe and given proper care.

“We need all the tools we can get … and we need 5200,” Pasquini said. “I’ve watched my son walk out the front door in handcuffs over 40 times. Treatment is not a bad word.”

steve.lopez@latimes.com