MySpacea place for friends

All Michael Mehas had wanted to do was help an old buddy make a movie based on the life of the youngest man ever on the FBI's Most Wanted List. Just perform a little research (which turned out to be a lot of research), access all the information on Jesse James Hollywood and the crime he was alleged to have committed, grind it into some kind of cohesive storyline, and help writer/director Nick Cassavetes write his screenplay. That's it. No big deal, right? What could be so hard about that? As it turns out––everything.

Leonardo DiCaprio and Tobey McGuire were set to produce the film, while Kevin Connelly, of HBO’s Entourage, was lined up in the director’s seat. At the time, I had no idea that I’d be writing an explosive novel about the tragic story called Stolen Boy, or that I’d end up being the leading crusader in trying to save Mr. Hollywood’s life. I was also not prescient enough to envision Dicaprio, McGuire, or Connelly falling off the project, while Justin Timberlake, Bruce Willis, Sharon Stone, Anton Yelchin, Emile Hirsch, and Ben Foster would soon climb aboard.

Things had started getting really weird shortly after I took my second trip up north to visit with Santa Barbara County Senior Deputy District Attorney Ron Zonen (the man who a year later would prosecute Michael Jackson for child molestation). I told Mr. Zonen that I needed more information for the story. The trial transcripts he had provided Cassavetes and I during our first meeting just weren't enough. Nick and I had supplemented the research with interviews of very knowledgeable people, but the witnesses were only saying so much, and their memories of what they were saying were only so good.

Although we had begun our research more than two years after the crime had been committed, we knew we had an important story to tell, but we needed more information to tell it right. We needed more detail and deeper insight into character and the specific motivations behind what really happened on those three heated summer days and nights in August of 2000. We needed police reports and photographs and witness interviews and much more. And then we got it: the prosecutor's entire case file from prosecuting Hollywood's four co-defendants; the mother lode of all information; the kind of confidential case materials that really should remain in law enforcement hands––fell into mine. I got all the photographs, videos and audio taped confessions of the four co-defendants, Ron Zonen's trial notebook with his personal handwritten notes, the defendants’ psychological records, and their probation reports. These coupled with all our interviews allowed me to piece together a 239-page story chronology that I used to help Nick write his screenplay. He went on to direct Alpha Dog (which I was associate producer on), while I set out to write my book, before first stopping off for a couple years worth of unanticipated legal morass.

Two years after I had first started working on the film and book projects, South American authorities found Jesse James Hollywood hiding out in a Brazilian jungle, and my legal odyssey was about to shoot into hyperspace.

When the Santa Barbara County District Attorney began prosecuting Hollywood I found myself trapped in this "Sophie's Choice" like situation where I ended up testifying in his death penalty case. After I testified the judge ordered me to hand over all the notes and tapes from my interviews that were used to help generate the storylines for Alpha Dog and Stolen Boy. Facing the threat of going to jail over the 2005 Thanksgiving Holiday weekend, I turned over my notes and tapes to the court. One month later, I got subpoenad a second time by Hollywood's attorney, and this time he requested the judge to order me to turn over my book, my story chronology, character profiles, and much more. But this time, I brought my own lawyer to court, and the judge didn't order me to turn anything else over. But he hadn't finished with me either.

Early this past June, rumors again began to swirl. Another subpoena bearing my name was supposedly on its way, this time baring the moniker of the Santa Barbara County District Attorney. A new prosecutor had been assigned to the case, and he apparently wanted information that, as far as my attorney was concerned, he had no right to: information on what Jesse Hollywood's father and mother and lawyer and godfather might have said to me during my research.

So on June 22nd, my attorney went back to court and did what well-paid attorneys are supposed to do. He argued that even if the court should consider me under subpoena (even though I was never served), I shouldn't have to turn anything else over because I already handed everything over to the court after my first hearing, which had in turn been given to the parties. The DA countered by arguing that this was a different issue (guilt or innocence v. conflict of interest), and thus, the subpoena should be valid, service legality notwithstanding. In its wisdom, the court ruled that, pending the outcome of the California Supreme Court decision on which agency would continue to prosecute the case at the trial court level, the Santa Barbara District Attorney's office should cease any activity with regard to collection of documents. My temporary reprieve had been granted.

Jesse Hollywood's case now stands before the California Supreme Court––on appeal from both sides after the prosecutor got thrown off based on his work with me. In court, the judge also told my attorney that I'm not to destroy any of my interview notes or tapes or records, and I can assure him that I won't. Apparently the prosecutor believes someone has provided me with some kind of information that might help him in his bid to seek death against Jesse Hollywood. But I'm against the intentional taking of another's life, so I don't want them to kill Jesse, regardless of what he's been charged with. I know what happened, and I know why it happened. And even if the information the prosecutor seeks from me does exist, I could never provide it to him. I could never play a conscious part in state-sanctioned murder against Jesse James Hollywood. But hopefully it won't come down to that. I don't want to go to jail. Jails were not meant for people like me––or Paris Hilton.

At the end of June’s court session, Hollywood's attorney, standing behind his client, delivered the latest legal bombshell in a case filled with legal bombshells. He informed the court that he intended to subpoena my book. It appears the defense attorney wants to read Stolen Boy (which I'm sure he would enjoy much more if it weren't based on his infamous client) so he can figure out the specifics of his argument on the injunction he'll probably file in federal court against my book. But we shall see. The defense says it wants my book. The prosecutor says it wants my notes. One sells for $19.95, and the other is priceless. If you'd like to learn more about Stolen Boy, Alpha Dog, or the legal craziness I've found myself in, please check out my Web site at www.stolenboy.com.

Peace.

Gandhi would be totally cool to know. The man was a master communicator with the masses, a rebel in his own right against the evils of imperial colonialism, and I'd be the first in line to buy front row tickets to see him if he ever stepped on the comeback trail.

And speaking of major comebacks, Mr. Christ should be peering 'round the old bend any time now, right? I mean could you imagine having Mahatma and Jesus, two amazing power hitters, batting in the middle of your lineup? You'd be scoring into eternity. Then after the game, maybe grab a couple camels, take the boys down to the Blistering Sands for a couple Pacificos and some pickled yack; debate the philosophical differences between the Pharisees, the Sadducees, and the Celestine Prophecies, and maybe the merits of torture versus mere love.

And then, with the middle of the lineup seemingly set, we'd bring in the speedy leadoff hitter. Someone with a reputation for getting on base and scoring big time. A personality with quick wrists and tremendous bat speed. I mean, has there ever been a sweeter table-setter, in this dimension or any other, than the amazing grace, Pamela Anderson?