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It was early morning on Christmas Day 2006 when Andre Moses White received an urgent call from Emory University Hospital in Atlanta. Dr. Marvin Crawford was on the line, and he had news about his patient, James Brown. The legendary singer, then 73, had been hospitalized with what was believed to be severe respiratory problems. Admitted two days earlier, Brown had been improving but Crawford said he somehow had taken a turn for the worse. 

“He said to get to the hospital, something was going on,” said White, a former NFL player and longtime friend who had been by Brown’s bedside during the two day hospital stay but left around 9 p.m. with Brown’s blessing to celebrate Christmas Eve with his family. 

When White rushed back to the hospital, the news was stunning: James Brown was dead. What happened next, says White, was even more shocking. Crawford, who was Brown’s personal physician, pulled White aside into a private room.

 “He said, ‘I don’t know how to say this, but that man didn’t die on his own,’” recalls White.

That afternoon, as Brown’s family told the world the icon died of congestive heart failure brought on by pneumonia, Crawford and White were on a conference call with Brown’s long time attorney Buddy Dallas with a different story: Crawford said Brown had died from a myocardial infraction, or a heart attack.  But this was no ordinary heart attack, said Crawford, it was drug induced.  Crawford couldn’t say for sure what drug it was because Brown’s estranged daughter, Yamma, took possession of her father’s remains and declined an autopsy.  

“He was looking good until suddenly, that night, he died. I was very shocked,” said Crawford. “Who gave (the drugs) to him or why, I don’t know.”

Dallas, fearing tabloid headlines, pleaded with the two men to remain quiet. They agreed.  

Brown’s remains were removed from the hospital and given to the Rev. Al Sharpton, a longtime friend and associate, who took the body on a macabre memorial tour that included an open-casket farewell at New York’s famed Apollo Theater.  Less than a month later, Brown’s children and his fourth wife, Tomi Rae Hynie, filed suit contesting Brown’s will. Brown had left the bulk of his estimated $100 million fortune to a Trust for underprivileged and needy children in South Carolina and Georgia, but the lawsuit alleged that Brown was “unduly” coerced into leaving his fortune to the Trust. 

Five years later, on the eve of the fifth anniversary of Brown’s death, the South Carolina Supreme Court is readying a decision on whether to invalidate a settlement negotiated by the former state attorney general that split Brown’s estate equally between his family and his children’s trust. The former trustees of Brown’s estate, Adele Pope and Robert Buchanan, charged that Brown’s will was irrevocable and the attorney general had no business changing the terms of a will that had never been invalidated. Brown’s money, said Pope and Buchanan, should have been used to provide scholarships to the needy children he willed it to. Instead, not one penny has been used to help those kids while attorneys representing Brown’s family have reaped millions.

Brown never wanted his money to go to his own children, several of which he was estranged from when he died. Brown’s virtual contempt for his own children was made unmistakingly clear during a business meeting in 1987 when he announced to Buddy Dallas his decision to create the Trust following several visits with sick kids at local Atlanta-area hospitals. Brown’s then publicist, Jacque Hollander, had routinely visited the children and she brought Brown on one trip as a surprise guest.  Brown was so deeply touched by their plights, he wanted to put everything he owned into a Trust   to care for sick and underprivileged children when he was gone.

             Dallas commended Brown on his decision, but had one question: What about your own children?

Both Dallas and Hollander, who was present, say Brown jumped over his desk with fire in his eyes and grabbed Dallas by the throat. Pointing his finger in Dallas’s face, Brown screamed “Don’t you ever tell me what to do with my money! They will not ride on my back when I’m gone, Mr. Dallas! Do you hear me!”

Brown’s will was signed over a decade later in 1999 and in 2000 it was made irrevocable. Aside from steering the bulk of his estate to the Trust , Brown made minor gifts to help with the education of his grandchildren. Soon after, Brown’s unsteady relationship with his children worsened when daughters Deana and Yamma sued him in a royalty dispute over songs Brown wrote years earlier using his daughter’s names. Brown grudgingly paid $250,000 to settle the case out of court.

“He was very upset by it and never forgot it,” a close friend and business partner told me last year.

 By late 2006 Brown was earning millions, including $5 million annually from touring, which served as a testament to the health of the 73-year old singer. For 2007, Brown was planning on recording new songs, including a duet with Aretha Franklin written by John Legend. With his career on autopilot, Brown was encouraged by friends to come full circle and make amends with his children, who at this point had to make an appointment with his secretary if they wanted to see him.

“I was trying to convince him to enjoy his family,” said the business partner. “We were all over him about reestablishing his connection and dropping his anger.”

Brown eventually agreed and invited his children, grandchildren and extended family to his home for Thanksgiving in 2006. But sometime during the gathering, Brown reiterated his long held belief that his children shouldn’t profit from his eventual death. His fortune, he said, would go to his Children’s Trust .

 “He just didn’t want to give them anything,” said the business partner.

Frustrated and angry with their father, concern that day amongst Brown’s children also centered on a surprising decision just a few weeks earlier by the U.S. Supreme Court, which agreed to hear an appeal that could have affected the distribution of James Brown’s estate.

Jacque Hollander, then Jacque Daughtry, worked for Brown as a songwriter, producer and publicist in the 1980s before they created the Children’s Trust  in 1987. Brown had a soft spot for sick and needy kids, and with Jacque’s guidance they created the “I Feel Good Children’s Trust .” Jacque and Brown wrote and recorded songs together with the proceeds earmarked for the Trust (Jacque still owns the masters, the only James Brown original recordings never to be released).   

But the relationship between Brown and Jacque was changed forever following what Jacque says was a vicious, PCP fueled assault by Brown on April 1, 1988, which lasted over seven horrific hours inside a van parked deep in the woods across the state line in South Carolina and near Brown’s office in Augusta, Georgia. Raped at gunpoint, Jacque received medical attention but quickly found herself isolated from law enforcement, who showed no indication or desire to prosecute.  Brown’s wealth and notoriety helped him maintain deep and longstanding friendships with several local judges, police chiefs and state legislators. Amid numerous threats from Brown’s associates and fearing for her life, Jacque says she was cornered and continued to work for Brown  during a turbulent period in 1988 where he was imprisoned twice for assaulting his third wife, Adrienne, and for shooting at and leading police on a two-state chase after he failed to stop when police saw him driving erratically. It was Jacque, fearing for her safety, who served as Brown’s spokesperson during those difficult days and weeks and who coordinated the controversial and contentious court-ordered benefit concert in Augusta later that year. 

But she was there in body, not in soul, and the emotional and psychological strain from the attack eventually took its toll. Jacque was hospitalized during Brown’s imprisonment for assaulting the police and it was then, in 1991, when she finally told her terrible secret to a local police detective, who immediately called in the FBI. Unbeknownst to Jacque, the FBI and U.S. Secret Service had been investigating Brown and others for money laundering, bank fraud and other alleged crimes.

Jacque knew some of Brown ’s deepest secrets and for the next four years she inadvertently found herself a central figure in the governments attempt to wrap its arms around the octopus that was Brown ’s life. Streams of cash flowed in and out of Brown ’s Augusta, Ga. estate from various illegal business ventures devised by several close confidants, including   Brown ’s son-in-law, a charlatan named Darren “Chip” Lumar. There was so much illegal cash that Brown packed his money in garbage bags and duct tape and buried the packages in the woods within driving distance of his home. While helping the authorities (Jacque signed a contract in 1991 with Penthouse Publisher Bob Guccione to tell her story at the urging of the FBI), Jacque was also the victim of a cover-up by those around Brown to scuttle the rape charges. And for good reason: Jacque had mounds of evidence confirming the rape- including James Brown’s DNA, doctor’s reports and a polygraph from noted FBI polygrapher Richard Radcliff.

Years later, in 2006, Jacque filed a federal lawsuit in Chicago claiming that  Brown had raped her at gunpoint. The rape had, over the years, produced numerous emotional and physical ailments for Jacque, including Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Stockholm Syndrome and Graves Disease. A U.S. District Court judge dismissed the suit, ruling the two-year statute of limitations had expired. A federal appeals court, though sympathetic with Jacque, affirmed the decision. But the Illinois state legislature, lobbied by women’s groups and incensed over Jacque’s legal plight, eliminated the statute of limitations in rape cases in which someone is threatened or coerced, as Jacque was (the groundbreaking decision became law in 2008 when the bill was signed by then-Gov. Rod Blagojevich). More importantly, the U.S. Supreme Court agreed in November 2006 to hear her appeal to remove the federal statute of limitations. A positive outcome for Jacque would allow her to proceed with her federal lawsuit against James Brown, and potentially open the door for her to claim ownership of something far more valuable – the “I Feel Good Children’s Trust .”

 So it was Jacque Hollander who weighed heavily on Brown’s mind as he spent Christmas Eve in a hospital bed with his confidant, Charles Bobbitt, close by. Brown had genuinely liked Jacque and shared her desire to help needy children. A complex man, Brown’s  difficult early years left an indelible imprint that later would morph into a deep desire to help as many children as he could. Jacque was that vehicle, and together they set out to accomplish that goal. But his inner demons and his continual use of drugs – particularly PCP - led him to commit a horrendous act, one he would regret for over 20 years and right up till the night of his death.

After Andre Moses White left that Christmas Eve, Bobbitt says he remained with Brown in his hospital room except for a 20 minute visit to the hospital drug store. When he returned, Bobbitt said Brown was lying awake in his bed. It wasn’t long after, said Bobbitt, that Brown suddenly moved to the foot of the bed and yelled, “I’m on fire, my chest is on fire.”

  Bobbitt says he laid Brown back down on the bed and put a blanket over him.

“He opened his eyes and then closed them and I looked at the clock and it was 1:21 a.m.,” said Bobbitt.

Doctors worked feverishly to resuscitate Brown, but it was too late.

James Brown was dead.

Two years later, in November 2008, Darren Lumar was shot and killed in front of his Atlanta-area home just a few months after alleging that his estranged wife Yamma Brown was involved in her father’s death. No arrests were made in Lumar’s murder.

In fact, law enforcement has shown little interest in probing Brown’s death. In October, a federal law enforcement official contacted the FBI after hearing that Jacque Hollander had been repeatedly threatened by several people who had been close to Brown, including Charles Bobbitt.

Bobbitt, who now works for Al Sharpton, has called Jacque on an almost daily basis imploring her to drop several lawsuits she filed in South Carolina and California laying her claim as the originator of the children’s trust. At least two of the conversations were recorded by a private investigator hired by Jacque. Told of the threats, the FBI’s Rockford, Ill. Bureau showed only faint interest in the case, calling the private investigator only once and ignoring Jacque Hollander altogether.

Bobbitt’s connection is curious given he has changed his story about what happened to Brown that fateful night several times, most recently in one of the recorded conversations with Jacque Hollander.

Bobbitt told me a year ago he “ had heard” that Brown may have been poisoned, but he didn’t know anything about it. Bobbitt also told me the first two people he called after James Brown died were his daughter Yamma and Sharpton. That made little sense to longtime Brown confidants such as Buddy Dallas given Yamma was estranged from her father and had not visited him in the hospital, and that Sharpton was in New York.

“After Mr. Brown died Sharpton came to me and asked if he was in the will, and I said no,” said Dallas. “He never spoke to me again.”

Last May, the New York Post was preparing a story centering on Sharpton angling to gain $20 million from Brown’s Children’s Trust. According to two people familiar with the story, Sharpton’s attorneys contacted the Post, which subsequently killed the piece and ran another story in its place focusing on Jacque Hollander. Three days later, Sharpton was on the cover of the Post with President Obama as they celebrated the anniversary of Sharpton’s National Action Network.

The story gets even more bizarre when you consider this: No one has been allowed near Brown’s remains, which have been kept in a crypt on the grounds of his daughter Deana’s home in South Carolina. Law enforcement, if it was so interested, could seek to examine the body and see what chemicals may have caused Brown’s death, as alleged by Dr. Crawford.

Investigators could also contact one of Brown’s close confidants, who was given a vial of Brown’s blood taken just after Brown died. Chain of custody issues would prevent the blood from being used in court, but a simple test would surely help bring clarity to the $100 million question: Who killed James Brown?

Copyright 2011 Summerville Books

One of the stranger revelations in my 2008 book "Deconstructing Sammy" was the relationship between Sammy Davis, Jr., his wife Altovise and Donald Rumsfeld. I mention this because Rumsfeld recently released his own memoir, and every time I see his photo I still can't, to this day, understand their relationship. Clean cut, American flag waving Rummy, the sex, drugs, mob owned yet super cool Sammy and his beautiful but pathetic and tragic wife Altovise.
I first heard about the connection during my initial interviews for the book in 2006. As the story goes Sammy was long gone and Altovise was living in poverty in Pennsylvania fielding calls from “the President's guy."
"Donald Rumsfeld," I repeated incredulously after first hearing his name, "calling here, in Pennsylvania?" 
It didn't make sense at the time, but I learned later about Sammy's ties to the Nixon White House, his introduction to Rummy, and how the two maintained a long lasting friendship. 
Then came Rummy's dinner with Altovise following Sammy's death, and his calls to Pennsylvania in the 1990s. 
Of course, everyone has asked if Sammy ever shared Altovise sexually with Rumsfeld, something Sammy did with his other pals. 
While Sammy's friends intimated Rumsfeld and Altovise shared more than deep conversation, I really can't say for sure if it went beyond that. 
If they weren't intimate, then it didn't make sense, and still doesn't, as to why Rumsfeld would have paid much attention to someone like Altovise, a broken shell of a woman with nothing to really offer aside from her figure (though she knew how to take advantage of her physical gifts). 
I don't know if Rumsfeld addresses in his book his relationship with Sammy and Altovise, but I do plan on reading it. I'll let you know. 

I spoke with one of the federal investigators who put Franklin Floyd in prison in 1995 (for kidnapping Michael Hughes) and passed along the tidbit from one of Sharon's classmates about hearing a toddler in the background during phone calls with Sharon.
His first thought was that perhaps it was Sharon's child. Then he thought again and suggested that the boy was another of Floyd's victims, stolen from his mother and headed for destination unknown.
There's really no way to know, but it does open a door into Floyd's world and prompts discussion as to whether he was even more of a monster than we believed.
As it stands he's still rotting in a Florida prison. Anyone hoping he'd get zapped into oblivion anytime soon will be disappointed to know some of the evidence from his trial was lost and he'll most likely avoid the executioner and live out the rest of his days on the taxpayers dime behind bars.
I've heard from a good number of readers who want to visit with Floyd hoping a passionate appeal would somehow lead him to divulging Sharon's origins. Forget it. You'd have better luck trying to talk a banana into peeling itself. I spent six hours with the man during prison interviews and came to the (quick) conclusion he was more than a sociopath - he was a vicious killer. That opinion was quickly formed after Floyd showed me disturbing photos he took of a severely beaten, nearly unconscious Cheryl Commesso. He obtained the photos while representing himself during his murder trial, and they revealed how he had burned the young woman with cigarettes throughout her body. He also left her bloodied and near death before shooting her twice in the head.
We'll keep everyone posted when new leads come in.

I haven't had much to report over the last few months on the search for Sharon's identity. The trail had run cold with no new leads, until yesterday, when I spoke with Joe Stegall, a high school classmate of Sharon's at Forest Park. Joe reached out to me about a month ago, and we finally connected on the phone.
Joe had a crush on Sharon and relayed many of the similar experiences others described in their releationships with Sharon, especially her quick exit from phone calls whenever Floyd was around. But it was during those calls to Sharon's home that Joe said something interesting - he could hear a toddler in the background.
When Joe asked Sharon who it was she said it was her "little brother." According to Joe, the child was there in the house for some time, perhaps weeks, since he could hear him whenever he was on the phone with Sharon. I have no idea who the boy was or why he was in the home. It wasn't Michael, who was born two years later in 1988. Could the child have been another one of Floyd's victims and awaiting transfer or sale to someone else, much like Floyd sold Sharon's other children? I dont' know. It's just a guess. 
Joe also mentioned that Sharon's son, Michael Anthony, was most likely named after Michael Anthony, the bassist in Sharon's favorite band, Van Halen. 


 

In 2005 I received an unsolicited email from Andrew Jarecki, who introduced himself as a film director pursuing a movie about Robert Durst. He wrote that he had read my book "A Deadly Secret" and  wanted to talk to me about optioning the book.
We had a couple of phone conversations and he sent me a copy of his critically acclaimed documentary "Capturing the Friedmans."  I watched it, liked it, and after a few more pleasant phone calls I met with Jarecki at a diner off Route 3 in New Jersey just outside Manhattan. With him were his co-producer Marc Smerling and screenwriter Marcus Hinchey. We spent three hours at that diner talking about Durst, my book, his movie, his plans and how much he wanted to see my two years worth of research. He wasn't convinced that Durst was a serial killer, but he thought the book was the deepest, most complete study of Durst and the various investigations that surrounded him.
I left the diner believing his next call would be to my agent to option the book. I previously met with reps from CBS and Showtime in Los Angeles in 2002 when producer Gary Smith owned the rights, but nothing materialized so I thought this could work out. I was intrigued. Jarecki called my agent, but not to buy the book. Instead, he threw us a curveball saying he wanted to hire me as a short term "consultant." In Hollywoodspeak, it was a far cheaper way for Jarecki to gain access to all my research, including the NYPD files on the Kathie Durst investigation, without having to credit the book or pay for the privilage (consider this is a guy who made a few hundred million in 1999 when he sold Moviefone to AOL).
Of course I said no.
Fast forward to 2010. Jarecki's thinly disguised Durst movie, "All Good Things," is now available on pay per view ahead of a theatrical release in December. The film was finished a couple of years ago but has been in film-hell waiting for a distributor. I heard all sorts of rumors as to why the long wait but hoped the film would eventually see the light of day. After all, a successful film would regenerate interest in the Durst story and perhaps help tie a few loose ends, maybe even draw additional interest from law enforcement. I also figured you couldn't really screw up a story that featurers three murders, two investigations, a super-wealthy New York real estate family and a cross-dressing protagonist who dismembered a guy and chucked his body parts in to Galveston Bay, right? 
Wrong.
I ordered "All Good Things" last night, sat down with my wife and when it was over we were both somewhat disappointed, and puzzled. Jarecki did a very good job humanizing a pedophile in "Capturing the Friedman's" but his attempt at adding depth to someone like Robert Durst missed the point entirely. You can't explain away Durst's horrific actions because he smoked pot and was browbeaten by his powerful father, whom Durst blamed for the suicide of his mother. And in trying to humanize Durst, Jarecki ignored his truly terrifying secrets. Though fictionalizing the Durst story (using different names) he did follow the basic script, particularly his early relationship with Kathie. But there's little character development, a lot of stretching of the truth (Morris Black DID NOT kill Susan Berman) and an unsatisfying ending.  Knowing Jarecki and his partners read the book from cover to cover (and marked it up with a few thousand Post-Its) I  figured there would be a few scenes taken directly from the book (I already had conversations with my attorney). Yes, there were plenty of those, and my reporting on the death of Durst's mother was hijacked, but at the end of the day this is less a Durst movie and more of a sensationalized two-hour version of Law and Order. Jarecki also took liberties with Seymour Durst, portraying the real esate powerbroker as a silent partner in prostitution and porno houses.  The Durst family owned buildings that were home to porn theaters, but I never heard anything about them getting payoffs from them. The Durst's weren't thrilled with the portrayal and have threatened a law suit.  
Given the all-star cast "All Good Things" will probably generate a little more attention and buzz during its most likely very brief theatrical release in December (supposedly for Oscar consideration). 

My advice? Skip the film. Read the book.