Hi.
I thought you'd leave a lamp in the window.
It's black as pitch out there.
It's the middle of the night.
It's not really that late,
and I'm not gonna stay very long.
I just came to talk with you.
I don't talk to anybody in the middle of the night.
It's just past 10:00, Hy.
I brought you some flowers.
Have you written any more of the new book?
Jesus, Jean! Shut up and go to bed.
I can't go to bed. I'm not staying long enough.
I drove five hours to see you tonight.
You son of a bitch, Hy.
Hit me again, Hy. Make it hard enough to kill.
I won't help you.
Never mind. I'll do it myself.
Jesus, Jean!
Look what you've done.
No!
Give me the gun.
Please give me the gun.
Shoot me yourself, but for God's sake, let me die.
Shut up. You're nuts.
Get out of here. Where in the hell are they?
Oh! Give me the fucking gun, Jean!
It's not so bad, Hy.
Doesn't hurt.
Where's my coat?
Hy, it's broken. I think it's gone dead.
You're probably right.
Wait.
I looked at his face and he looked at me,
and I guess we were both in a state of shock,
wondering how something could...
how something that ugly and sad could've happened
between two people who didn't argue,
except over the use of the subjunctive.
All his life, my brother, Herman,
was a reader.
History was his favorite...
ancient, modern... it didn't matter what kind,
so long as it was true.
He used to tell me, "Pearl,
truth is interesting enough. Who needs fiction?"
After that woman killed my brother,
when I packed up Herman's clothes and such,
his, uh, papers...
well, I couldn't part with his books.
They're full of his handwriting.
We had a joke that his handwriting
was too good for a doctor.
People are human
when they show you their flaws.
And Herman aired all his flaws
right out in plain sight.
What Jean Harris did...
well... humph...
nothing more unimaginable
than the murder of a loved one.
The events we will be concerned with here
took place some eight and a half months ago...
in the home and residence
of Herman Tarnower.
She's a gutsy woman,
up and moving to Philadelphia the way she did,
leaving a comfortable marriage in Grosse Pointe behind.
Admittedly, it was a dull marriage, but even so,
how many women would pull up roots with two young boys in tow?
Oh, but you wanted to know about the night they met.
Hello.
My name's Hy Tarnower...
pronounced like "Eisenhower."
It was '66, I think.
Jean had been at the Springside School for a few months,
but she hadn't yet made any friends there,
so we invited her up to New York
for a weekend shortly before Christmas.
I often say to her now, "Jean, you should have stayed in Philadelphia."
Deep-sea fishing. Icelandic salmon.
Big game.
A bachelor can afford to travel.
Well, it must get lonely sometimes, just you and your prey.
I never travel alone, Jean.
Oh, well, Jim and I...
well, before I packed up the boys
and left Jim... we didn't travel.
Jim preferred the safety of his own backyard.
- And what did you prefer? - Me? I...
I didn't know I didn't want the backyard.
Now I know.
You look to me like you were born to travel.
Oh, I was,
But not alone, Hy.
Dr. Tarnower?
11:00. If you'll excuse me, I must leave.
Do important cardiologists
turn into pumpkins if they're not home by midnight?
Something like that.
I'm just a simple country doctor with a big-city clientele.
I wish you a new year
full of surprise and adventure, Jean.
Every day is an adventure, Hy,
though I wish it wasn't quite such an adventure
making sure my sons get through college.
Those boys are lucky to have you.
I'm flying to Kenya soon. Nairobi.
Safari.
Like a kid in a candy shop, I'll be.
Well, then, I wish you happy hunting.
Should I be proud of myself for putting them together?
I always have been, and still am.
Hy was no oil painting, but as Jean once said,
"If you want to be happy for the rest of your life,
never make a pretty man your wife."
And my God, that man could charm the blood out of a stone.
After you met at Marge Jacobson's party in New York,
when was the next time you heard from Dr. Tarnower?
Well, I didn't see him for quite a while.
About a week later, he sent me a book:
"Masada," by Yigael Yadin
with a little card in it saying,
"It's time you learned more about the Jews."
After you got the book,
did you hear from the doctor again?
I got a nice note from him at Christmas,
and then he called.
He was going on safari in early 1967,
and he said he'd be back in the first week of March
and asked if I could possibly come to New York.
I was going to be at a meeting in New York the first week in March,
so I said, yes, I'd be there,
and I'd love to see him.
I drank two whiskey sours that night.
Hy drank two manhattans.
We dined at the sort of restaurant where
you order fancy food in advance of your arrival.
I loved being told,
not asked, where I dined.
It's my third Jew canoe... same color, same model.
- Your third what? - My third Caddy.
You know how people think of Jewish doctors that drive big Cadillacs?
No, I don't.
Mazel tov to you, then.
You're a better woman than most.
You want to know what women saw
in Herman Tarnower?
Obviously you were never in a locker room with him,
or you would know what they saw.
Hy was my best friend.
And I loved him... don't get me wrong...
but he could be tricky.
Sexually, Hy was,
well, elephantine.
He had these terrific eyes.
They just never let you go.
I had my own money,
so he was more relaxed with me.
Though I don't know if it can be said
that Herman was relaxed with any woman.
Women were diversions.
Let's be honest, didn't we all feel that way?
Only Hy had the balls to articulate the sentiment.
Hy's women always knew the score, though. You were one of the crowd.
I finally said to myself, "At my age,
I don't have to work this hard."
His favorite piece of music
was the film score from "Cleopatra."
Of course, he could be ostentatious.
I mean, what, with his wine cellar and his Japanese pond...
Damnedest thing was, we liked him anyway.
Jean...
well, Jean was classy, sharp as a tack.
- She had no taste for blood, though. - Well, here it is...
my trophy room.
Not bad for a country doctor, right?
It's incredibly impressive.
Did you kill this elephant, Dr. Tarnower?
- Oh, Jimmy. - I certainly did.
Shot him right between the eyes.
Want me to teach you how to shoot elephant, Jimmy?
- Really? - Really.
Couple years, you'll be old enough to come on safari with me.
- Is that an old Winchester? - Sure is.
- Want to handle it? - Uh, I don't think...
uh, the boys are tired, and I could use
a nap before dinner, to tell you the truth.
Sorry, David. You heard the boss. Another time.
- Mom, come on. - David...
It's not like it's dangerous.
Maybe Suzanne could show us to our rooms.
Yes, Suzanne will show you to your rooms.
Doctor, I think Henri put Mrs. Harris's bags in your room.
Yes, Suzanne. Upstairs. Thank you. Yes.
Hy tells us you're a schoolteacher, Jean.
Please, don't make it sound so Laura Ingalls.
I've never worn a gingham skirt in my life.
- Jean runs the place now. - Well, now, not quite.
I jumped out of the classroom fire
and into the administration frying pan.
I run the middle school at Springside Academy in Philadelphia.
Is that a demotion? Promotion?
It's more of a lateral move.
Well, depends on how you feel about trading kids for dollars.
You did the right thing, Jean.
Kids, they all look alike,
but every Benjamin Franklin is unique.
Hy, you are so naughty.
Hey, I'm a bachelor. What do I know about kids?
Make yourself comfortable.
Which bed is mine?
Why don't you sit down?
I'll just be a minute.
All right.
Jesus Christ, Jean!
Sit down. I'm not gonna bite you.
I will, Hy. I will.
- Here. I sat down. - You're wacky.
You know that? I'll be right back.
What are you doing?
Well, I thought I'd read a good book while you were gone.
- You wouldn't like that book. - Try me.
My taste is eclectic.
I doubt my little black book will be to your tastes.
You're quite mistaken about that, Hy.
Am I?
You want to compare notes to some of my conquests.
Is that what we are? Conquests?
No, women aren't like conquests. They're more like...
streetcars.
Hy, I, uh, I think I should get some sleep.
Where did Suzanne put my bag?
- Sit, okay? - No, Hy...
- Okay? Sit. - I'm exhausted.
I know.
You're not a streetcar.
You believed all that.
Shouldn't I believe what you tell me?
Go on.
Open it.
You see, my life's an open book.
You're a real bastard, aren't you?
Sure.
I'm your bastard.
Are you?
Did that answer your question?
I might need to hear that answer again.
Undress.
Everything off?
Down to your slip.
Sit.
Make me hard.
Wait. Switch off the light.
Don't you want to see me?
No.
Keep going.
Just the trousers.
- Just the trousers? - Yes.
Now, make me hard.
Like this?
Like that.
- No. - What's wrong?
Nothing's wrong.
Keep going.
Did you like my friends?
- What? - My friends.
They're a great group, aren't they?
Yes. Yes, they're a great group.
Yeah, and they liked you too. I could tell.
Don't stop.
Yes, now...
now sit on me.
Hy, uh, is this okay?
Jesus Christ, Jean! Yes, it's fine.
Lower yourself onto me.
She says she drove five hours in the pouring rain
that night to say goodbye to my brother...
no way I buy that.
Why didn't she kill herself in Virginia?
Why'd she have to drive all the way to New York to shoot herself?
All their problems began with that...
marriage proposal.
What is it?
Well, it looks like a gift.
Hy Tarnower, you actually bought me a present,
- and it isn't even my birthday. - What?
I need a special occasion to shower the woman I love with gifts?
Oh, well, I am just going to open it.
I'm so excited.
- Ah, an empty box. - Keep looking.
Ah.
Hmm.
Oh my God.
I... I'm speechless.
Finally. Jean Harris of Grosse Point, Michigan,
is rendered speechless by a tough little Brooklyn Jew.
"From," not "of."
Oh, Hy.
It's absolutely stunning.
Hy, is this a proposal?
Well, do you want to spend
the rest of your life with a country doctor?
It is a proposal.
Oh, Hy...
Look at her!
Well, don't just sit there squeaking and grinning.
Put it on!
Suzanne? Henri?
Suzanne! Help me turn on
the fucking lights!
I'm going for help!
So if I understand you correctly,
at this point you realized you should get help for the doctor
because of the injury to his hand, is that correct?
I now gave it thought,
and I tried to make the phone work, and I couldn't make it work.
Your car was outside, was it not?
That's right, right at the front step.
Did you say to the doctor, "Hy, please come with me downstairs.
Let's get in the car. I'll drive you to a hospital"?
No, I didn't. I...
I didn't know he needed a hospital.
I thought that he needed a doctor for his hand,
but I didn't think he needed a hospital.
Let's go back in time, Mrs. Harris.
How long before March 10, 1980,
had you met the Knopfs?
Oh, I don't know. Probably 10 years before, maybe more.
And they lived where in relation to Dr. Tarnower?
I wish that you would take the jury and have them find out firsthand.
I don't know how far away it is, but it's not a house
you would run to to make a phone call.
So, on March 10, 1980, you knew
the Knopfs lived right across the street.
They don't live right across the street.
Mr. Bolen, could I save a little time by saying
Mr. Knopf is 90 years old, and Mrs. Knopf is quite old too,
and the servants live out in the garage,
and it would have been a good half hour
before I would have gotten in to use the phone.
Officer, Dr. Tarnower. Shh shh shh.
Shh. We get help.
He needs oxygen?
Oh, Hy.
Why didn't you kill me?
Mrs. Harris?
I need to talk to you about Dr. Tarnow.
- Ma'am? - Tarnower. His name is Herman Tarnower.
The diet doctor? That guy?
He is a respected internist and cardiologist.
He's upstairs.
Mrs. Harris, who had control of the gun?
- I don't know. - Was there a struggle?
Yes, I believe there was a struggle.
I meant to spend a few quiet moments with Hy
before I shot myself.
Mrs. Harris, where's the gun?
I think it's in my car
or upstairs.
No, it's in my car.
Do you think you could, uh, come outside with me now?
Show me the gun?
Oh. He hit me.
Is that him?
Is that Hy? Well, let me see him.
- Please let me see him! - No no no.
- They've gotta get him to a hospital. - Hy!
Mrs. Harris. Mrs. Harris... oh, fuck!
Hey! Somebody get a doctor here or something.
One bullet entered
the right side of his lower right palm,
and it is this bullet, I believe, that exited Dr. Tarnower's hand
and reentered his body
high on the right anterior chest wall,
nicking the collarbone and severing the subclavian vein,
subsequently coming to rest in the chest cavity.
Another bullet penetrated the right rear shoulder of the doctor.
This bullet moved downward slightly, back to front,
shattering three ribs,
puncturing the diaphragm,
and coming to rest in the lower right kidney.
Yet another bullet passed completely through
the right arm, above the elbow,
shattering the bone.
Dr. Rowe, do you have an opinion
as to whether or not
the wounds sustained by Dr. Tarnower
are consistent with a man
of the doctor's height and weight
and a female Mrs. Harris's height and weight
struggling for the gun?
No, it is not consistent
with a struggle for a gun.
I watched Rita Hayworth in "Gilda" and thought,
now, there's a broad...
a woman who would rather rip off her own fingernails
than let the fuckers know she needed them.
The thought of her, long and lean
and defiant in those gowns... what strength!
Yeah!
Hey. Look at me. I'm lonely.
I'm sorry, darling.
Don't say sorry, tell me you love me.
I love you, Herman Tarnower.
I love you, Herman Tarnower, too.
That's not exactly what I'd hoped to hear.
I love you, Jean Harris.
You're a very lucky woman.
Jean, honey, you keep taking that ring on and off,
people are gonna begin to wonder if you really want to wear it.
I had it valued when I took the boys down to Grosse Point last month.
It's worth $10,000.
Well, that just proves how much Hy loves you.
My salary for an entire year is $12,000.
I can't wear it to school.
Huh? Can you see me wearing it
while I push around a shopping cart at the local A&P?
If you're that nervous, insure it.
Hy doesn't like children.
Am I making a mistake, Marge?
Oh, honey!
Nobody's perfect, hmm?
And besides, you've always said that Hy's the only man
who's ever made you feel like you don't have two left feet.
I want you to keep it for me today. Okay?
I don't want to lose it.
I have never known a man to buy so many cufflinks.
I don't buy most of them. They're gifts.
- From whom? - Grateful patients.
Will you have fewer grateful patients once we're married?
Love me, love my patients.
Take it or leave it.
Jewish?
Yes, indeed. Your son's my first Jew.
What? Herman.
- Who's the shiksa? - I told you, Mama... Jean.
Her name is Jean. We're getting married.
What is it?
Champagne, Mama. We're celebrating.
Ech. Some celebration.
Mrs. Harris teaches.
Who is Mrs. Harris?
I'm Mrs. Harris. I'm a proud divorcée.
A married shiksa schoolteacher?
Teachers... they make no money.
That's me... a shiksa with a crap career.
My own father never missed an opportunity to warn me
of the dangers of a career in education.
Thank you for reminding me of him.
I feel I know you so well already, Mrs. Tarnower.
Give me one good reason I should like you.
- Mama... - You, you... Herman, be quiet!
I know what is good for you.
Why don't we share him?
Hy's good at sharing himself.
What a piece of ass.
You talkin' to me?
She's staring at me.
Relax, Hy.
She's probably never seen a man your age in a bathing suit.
Prick!
She wants me.
Or maybe she heard you're finally getting hitched,
and she just can't quite...
you know, come to terms with it.
Yeah.
That's probably it.
Hy, I hate to be a pain in the ass,
but we've got to set a date.
New wing's shaping up great.
Have you seen it lately?
David and Jimmy will each have a room eventually.
Uh, it's nearly September,
and I have to know where I'm going to be living,
and where the boys are going to school.
Jean, I can't go through with it.
I can't do it, that's all I can say. I'm sorry.
I insist you keep it.
Oh, you really ought to give it to Suzanne.
She's the only woman you'll ever need in your life!
Jesus Christ!
Don't be so melodramatic.
Some people should never marry. Jean is one of them.
Oh, she made a fuss about Hy not being the marrying kind,
but really it was Jeannie who wasn't the marrying kind.
Please keep the ring, Jean.
You should have at least that.
Hy...
you know this is the first time you've ever been to my home?
I'm trying to do the right thing here.
Don't bullshit! You're trying to buy me off with a diamond!
You're a wonderful woman, Jean, and you should be married,
- but not to me. - You bastard!
You've... you've humiliated me in front of my family,
my friends, my sons...
I'll step aside. Is that what you want?
You asked me to be your wife, you cocksucker.
I know and I meant it with all my heart at the time.
I didn't ask you to marry me, Hy.
I didn't make you ask me to marry you.
I only ever said yes to you.
Keep the ring.
Keep saying yes.
Who knows? I might hear you someday.
I feel so safe with you, Hy.
No one is ever safe with anyone.
- What now, Hy? - We sleep.
I never sleep.
My back hasn't stopped aching since my 35th birthday.
And the last time I wasn't tired, I didn't have kids.
Come on, Jean. I took care of that.
You have all the meds you need. You refuse to help yourself.
You're my medication.
Where are they? Show me.
It'd be wonderful to go someplace without your children.
Jean, your ex picked up the kids not three hours ago.
Do you really think they need to know everything you do on the plane?
They won't get this card for at least a week. They'll want to hear from me.
Ah.
Oh, I'll have some of that, please.
Merry Christmas, darling.
Merry Christmas, Jean.
You know, Hy,
if I'm ever rich,
I'm gonna buy a great big Steuben glass hunting bowl,
and I'm gonna have engraved on it
all your ladies' names
and all the dates the lucky lady was laid.
That's damn good!
No, I've decided...
marriage isn't a natural state of being,
so not wanting to marry isn't a sign
of being unnatural or cowardly or inferior.
But don't hide me, Hy.
Don't pretend I'm not there.
I know that for at least a little while,
you were with me.
I'm with you still.
Remind me, which one's for sleep?
Please...
please, Detective,
when can I go to the hospital to see Hy?
Listen, I don't know anything about that, okay?
But please! You can't just leave me.
Ma'am,
I'm sorry to have to tell you this...
the doctor passed on
about an hour ago.
"Passed on"?
What a ridiculous expression.
I need a lawyer, don't I?
I know a lot of women
who'd like to do to their husbands
what Jean did to Hy.
Fortunately, not a lot of women
carry around pistols in their purses.
As of March 10, 1980,
Dr. Tarnower was seeing two women.
One of them was Mrs. Lynne Tryforos.
He'd been seeing her for several years.
Lynne was insignificant.
Shh.
You know why Hy liked Lynne?
She was a crack shot.
She was the only woman he could take with him on hunting trips.
What's more, I always thought she was the only woman he knew
who looked like she enjoyed posing for snapshots with their kill.
Well, the point is, Lynne, blindfolded,
could put a bullet between a fly's eyes.
And, you know, I'm pretty sure that turned Hy on.
Lynne would have drunk cyanide on the rocks if Hy had asked her to.
She would lay down and let him trample her
from her chin down to her pussy.
It's so cold!
So what? It's hot!
I'm telling on you. You pushed me into it!
- No, I didn't! - Yes, you did!
Stop splashing me!
Does it not seem bizarre to you, Lynne,
that you're painting the furniture while I'm here?
"Bizarre"? What do you mean?
Well, I realize that you are just a secretary,
and weren't as fortunate as I
in graduating magna cum laude from Smith,
but surely any well-read 10-year-old knows
the meaning of the word "bizarre."
Well, let me rephrase that for you.
What the hell are you doing here?
I'm here because I'm allowed to be here.
Now while I'm here, Lynne.
Laura, Electra, Mommy's not feeling so good, okay?
We'll come back another day.
Come on. I'm sorry.
Get in the car.
It hurts, I suppose, but I'm not really surprised.
I mean, I don't really know what all his reasons are.
You deserve a good man, Jean, a decent man.
- I despise decent men. - Oh, come on.
You don't mean that.
Give me a selfish prick anytime. Hy does what he wants.
Makes him damn good company.
Cruelty isn't a crime, boredom is.
Don't you just hate kids?
You know how to make a rich man your friend?
Treat all his ailments and never send him a bill.
Jean, is something wrong with your food?
Bastards. Passed me over again.
Too sharp, too smart,
too quick, too bad.
Jean was up for headmistress at Springside. She didn't get it.
Always the bridesmaid.
- Let's get a check. - You lost that job all by yourself.
Don't blame me. Be happy with what you have.
I would be, if I had one goddamn thing to hold onto.
- You do look a little tired, Jean. - Oh, you think so?
You'd look tired, too, if you had 200 prepubescent girls
to deal with every day of your life.
Thank Christ they aren't mine.
Girls are weak, dependent.
- Right, Hy? - Your misery makes you weak.
I'll take care of the check and meet you in the car.
Well, we haven't had coffee. I want coffee.
- Hy's waiting. - He can wait.
Marge. Marge, I think I killed Hy!
Here here here, Jean. Here here, let me help you out.
Marge, give me a hand. Okay.
Come on... it's all right.
Don't say another word.
Do you understand what I'm telling you, Jean?
What did I say?
Say nothing to any police officer
unless you are in the presence of an attorney.
I have no money. I can't pay.
Let's not worry about that now. Let's worry about
getting you the best possible representation.
I don't deserve the best.
Anybody with a law degree will do.
I, uh...
I wanted him to be nice to me.
And for a few minutes,
before I walked down to the pond to shoot myself...
Whatever happens now, Leslie,
I want you to promise me something.
Of course. Whatever's in my power, Jean.
No lawyer who defends me
can say a word against Hy...
not a single word.
I want to wash my blouse out now.
What are you looking at?
The nice detective at the front desk told me I could wash it.
Am I permitted no privacy?
Excuse me, but...
Excuse me. Would you mind hanging this up to dry?
I-I have no other clothes with me,
and I need to wear this tomorrow
for court.
Leave the door open.
Please leave the damn door open.
Thank you.
Following her first grand jury hearing,
Mrs. Harris was admitted voluntarily
to the psychiatric ward here at United Hospital
in Port Chester, New York.
I diagnosed her as being
acutely suicidally depressed
with transient psychotic features.
She was kept under 24-hour suicide watch.
Gradually, she came to understand
that she'd been seriously depressed for many many years,
and that this depression had been masked for many years
by a dependency she'd developed on Desoxyn,
or commonly known as "speed,"
which Dr. Tarnower had prescribed for her liberally.
He also prescribed at various times
Nembutal, Flexinol,
and Percodan
to combat both her increasing insomnia
and her chronic back pain.
This combination of uppers and downers, if you will,
was catastrophic.
I could use some more Desoxyn.
We've already talked about why that isn't such a good idea, Jean.
- Dr. Halpern would rather... - I don't give a rat's ass
about Dr. Halpern. Hy said Desoxyn would help me, and it does.
I see no reason to make a change.
Is that what you want the most right now? Desoxyn?
No. No.
Mostly, I wish I'd been born a doormat...
or a man.
In my opinion,
Jean Harris had no intent whatsoever
at any time to kill Dr. Tarnower.
The part of Jean Harris
that genuinely wished to live needed Herman Tarnower
to stop her from committing suicide.
Unfortunately, the part of her that wished to die was carrying the gun.
I was very fond of Jean.
Hy brought her down here for Christmas most every year.
Over 14 years, I thought I got to know her pretty well.
Lots of people like to talk about how funny Hy was,
how charming... it's true. He was.
But it was Jean who made him blossom.
She never said a kind word to Hy.
Not in my presence.
Arthur, you know that's not true.
Besides, Hy virtually ignored Jean once he took up with Lynne.
Jean, what are you doing?
I wanted to see if somebody would talk to me.
I think I need some fresh air.
Suicide came naturally to me,
an old friend I could call up on any rainy day.
Most people get used up and spat out by life pretty quickly,
but they don't have a clue it's happening.
I was born with all the clues,
and I was cursed with the singular ability
to watch all the clues play out.
- Rifle or a pistol? - I don't know.
What's the difference?
Lady, no offense, but if you gotta ask...
I just want something to have on hand
in the house.
Pump-action shotgun's pretty easy to use,
and it scares the hell out of burglars.
Um, I-I think I'll take that one. There. That one.
How much do I owe you?
Whoa, it's not that easy, ma'am.
I'm gonna need to see your driver's license.
All right.
Oh, well, see, I'm awful sorry, ma'am,
but I can only sell firearms to Florida residents.
Oh.
I see.
Thank you.
Hy made the same tired quip at all his dinner parties.
He said that the ideal wife for any man
is a woman half his age plus seven years.
Well, Jeannie took that very hard.
She seriously considered plastic surgery.
That was right before that dreadful Christmas
that she and Hy spent with Arthur and Vivian Schulte in Palm Beach.
Happy New Year to you too, Jean.
What is it, Jean?
You'll want to see this, believe me.
- Well? - Jesus.
- I hope none of my friends sees it. - I'm your friend, Hy, and I see it.
Why don't you suggest that she use the Goodyear Blimp next time?
I think it's available.
I'll go get a broom.
I'll help you.
God damn it, Jean! I wanted to read that.
Why must I continue to hear about Lynne?
Jean, it's better we didn't marry. We've been happier this way.
You're gonna marry Lynne?
You of all people should know better.
What am I gonna do with a woman who has two kids?
I don't ever want to worry about what retirement home your mother's in.
I don't want you to worry where mine is.
I don't want to watch you die of cancer.
I don't want you to play nursemaid to me.
- What about love, Hy? - I don't love anybody.
Well, in any case,
I know, and you should know
that you aren't gonna marry anyone.
So why don't you just stop hurting so many women
and focus on hurting just me?
This is madness.
You have an unbelievably good job.
You're at the top of your game.
You have to undo this thing with Hy.
You know, the minute you leave, Lynne is in his bed.
But I love him.
You see this book?
My brother died for this book.
She was a mean-spirited, jealous woman
who couldn't bear Herman's celebrity.
Herman was on television.
I never met a woman
who didn't try his diet.
That woman claims she made my brother's book?
Too bland. It could use some pepper.
What, "bland"? It's supposed to be bland.
It's a diet. Try the chicken.
Hy's right. No one will stick
with the diet if the food's inedible.
I don't see you coming up with any bright ideas.
Not bad, it's not great either.
My talents are more literary than culinary.
Enough already with the Jane Austen act, Jean. Potatoes need peeling.
Hy, if you go through with this book...
What, Jean? Educating people about their health is what?
- Vulgar? - A diet is hardly a book.
Nor is it necessarily healthy,
and education requires compassion, Hy,
not pepper.
What's a little editing on a book
that was 49 weeks on the New York Times bestseller list?
49 weeks... that was just in hardcover.
Paperback? 80 weeks.
80 weeks a bestseller.
You know how many copies are in print?
5,309,000 copies.
Herman touched all those lives.
Who did Jean Harris touch?
There.
Beautiful again. Hmm?
My mom doesn't allow me to wear makeup.
She's gonna kill me when she finds out I'm failing English.
No, your mother doesn't have to know. This is our secret.
You will not fail English.
I'll tutor you personally. How's that?
Okay.
Let's see.
We'll start first thing in the morning,
Monday, Wednesday, Fridays, half-hour sessions, hmm?
Oh, and Tuesday night dinner here.
I'll cook. We'll start tonight.
I can't tonight, Mrs. Harris.
Miss Gizriel usually takes us for pizza after field hockey practice.
Well, another night, then?
Um, Mrs. Harris, can I turn this up, please?
There's this new diet.
My mom says it's fantastic, so I wanted to check it out.
...Most eligible bachelor...
You're far too young to need a diet.
Some of my mom's friends say they've lost 20 lbs.
In a couple of weeks, but my mom doubts that.
You are still a bachelor, aren't you, Doctor?
- Your mother's right. - I'm married to my work.
That diet doesn't work.
I've tried it.
Everyone always talked about how emotional she was,
and it's true.
I mean, Jean could burst into tears
over a New York Times editorial.
But in fairness to her, she pulled the Madeira School up
by its bootstraps and made it work.
She taught the Madeira staff to take pride
in their profession.
Too bad she couldn't take pride in herself.
Some of these teachers here,
you can't believe that they were ever young.
But Mrs. Harris,
she looked like she had a life.
Well, after she, you know,
shot her boyfriend and everything... well, we already planned
to dedicate the yearbook to her, and so we took this vote.
I mean, was it right for us to dedicate the yearbook to someone
who might be convicted of murder?
Well, in the end, we decided to go for it.
She was a really super lady.
Well, except when she had her tantrums.
Oh, yeah, the trash on campus? It really upset her.
I think litter made her madder than drinking or drugs.
- Yeah. - Or not wearing bras.
They're pigs, Carol.
I don't care how many National Merit Scholars we have.
A scholar without a conscience is no scholar at all.
Jean, they dropped a few orange peels on the grass.
Look, I expect loyalty from my staff, not derision.
That's right. I'm banning oranges from campus,
and it's all your fault.
I reached a point where I didn't give a damn
if those kids tore the school apart,
smoked pot, shot heroin,
and threw their garbage in the middle of the living room.
I just couldn't tell them not to do it anymore.
I couldn't do it, knowing the board was sitting back
making odds on how long it would take before I fell apart.
By that time, all of me that went to Madeira
was burned out and used up.
I was a good headmistress... a damn good one...
but I wasn't strong enough to go on being one.
And when you wrote the words,
"There are so many enemies
and so few friends," what was that in reference to?
It was just
my general feeling about life, I guess.
I was always under fire,
and I usually could cope very well, but I couldn't cope anymore.
Would the same be true of the next sentence,
"I was a person, and no one ever knew"?
I felt that for many years.
On March 10, 1980...
Jean,
look at me, please.
When you wrote the words, "I was a person,
and no one ever knew,"
tell the jury what you meant.
I don't know. I, uh...
I think it had something to do with being a woman
who'd worked a long time and done
all the things a man does to support a family, but still a woman.
And when I was in Westchester,
I was a woman in a pretty dress,
and I... I went to a dinner party
with Dr. Tarnower, and...
when I was in Washington,
I was a woman in a pretty dress,
and a headmistress, but...
I didn't know who I was, and it didn't seem to matter.
It mattered to you, didn't it?
I was a person sitting in an empty chair, Joel.
I can't describe it any better.
I'd like my ashes scattered on this pond, Hy.
Jesus, Jean.
Don't be morbid.
I'm weary. I'm bone-weary.
I'll increase your Desoxyn dosage.
What are you on now, 7.5 mg?
I never read the label. I take what you give me, Hy.
- That's foolish. - No, that's trust.
You should reseed your lawn. It's looking patchy.
What's the point? It all gets trampled in the end.
That's an adorable mug, Hy.
I gave one to Leslie just like that for his birthday.
Hy's mug was a gift
from a grateful patient.
By the way, Hy, that grateful patient called me
four times after midnight last week.
You hear static on the phone line and can identify the caller?
Breath. I heard breath, not static.
I'm sure she meant to call me a desiccated old bag.
Not that she would use the word "desiccated."
You're amazing, Jean. Not only can you distinguish
between static and breathing, you also know the difference
between male breath and female breath!
Come on, Jean.
You know no one would ever call you "desiccated."
Hy's mug was a gift from Lynne!
Who routinely scours
the dollar stores of Westchester County
looking for the most tasteless
doctor-related knick-knacks she can find.
No, not content to shower Hy with gifts
that would strip even a trailer park of its class,
I do believe that she's taken to dialing my number.
Oh, Jean, the truth is you don't know who the hell is making those calls.
Whoever it is never speaks to you.
But I have my suspicions. Anyway, I bet those calls turn you on.
All right, Jean. Enough.
Lynne never called you... not in the middle of the night, not ever.
She doesn't have to, and I don't want to hear about this again.
Do you understand? Leave Lynne alone.
And if I don't?
I will not allow you to come here again.
Ever.
When you wrote, "I wish to be immediately cremated
and thrown away," what did you intend to do?
I intended to kill myself.
Why?
Oh, come on.
Because I couldn't function as a human...
as a useful person anymore.
Had you given any thought to where you wanted to die?
Yes, I had.
Hy and I often, uh,
without any morbid feeling about it,
looked out over the pond together,
and he wanted to be cremated and sprinkled on the pond.
- Objection. - Sustained.
And I wanted to be over by the side of the pond
where there are a lot of daffodils in the spring,
and that's where I was going.
Jean, if you felt so strongly about dying,
why haven't you done anything to kill yourself
since the night Hy died?
I didn't think you would be the one to ask me that.
You should have rested your case
when that asshole Bolen wrapped up.
They have nothing conclusive, they have proved nothing...
Jean, I am sorry I asked you that question, but I had to.
You think the jury's not asking themselves that same question?
Why didn't you warn me it was coming?
It was a judgment call. I wanted to take Bolen by surprise.
Well, you ended up making me look bad, Joel, very bad.
You're not making this easy for me, Jean.
I'm defending you against a murder charge,
and all you want me to do
is make Herman Tarnower look like a fucking saint.
That morning,
the morning of March 10, 1980,
how did you begin your day?
It was the first day of spring break.
My secretary arrived at 8:30 a.m., as was her habit,
- to pick up the correspondence... - Jean?
- I'd worked on over the weekend.
I had tried to reach Hy all weekend.
Henri answered each time I called.
On Friday night, I was told
Hy had been called away to a patient's bedside.
Every call was an emergency Hy dealt with,
except mine.
I needed a new prescription, you see.
I'd stupidly ran out of Desoxyn, and...
anyway, Hy was the only one who wrote out my prescriptions,
and I wanted... I needed... to speak with him
about how lonely I was without him,
about... everything.
On Saturday night, he said Hy was in the bath.
When I called back, he told me Hy was reading
and didn't wish to be disturbed.
I don't have the language to describe that weekend.
I just can't find
the language to describe it in.
I remember very distinctly Saturday morning going in and out
of my bedroom several times.
I wanted to clean it up, but I didn't know how.
I didn't know which pile of papers went where.
Just hanging up a dress seemed to involve
more decisions than I could cope with.
I couldn't reach Hy, so I wrote him a letter.
It took me most of the weekend to do it.
Jean, where shall I send this one?
No.
I have to do it myself.
I have to register it.
Are you all right?
No, I just haven't had much sleep
this weekend, Carol.
Nothing a few cups of coffee won't cure, hmm?
Your 10:00 is here, Jean.
Oh.
All right, all right. Send him in, Carol.
Hold on, Carol. I'm not ready.
Dr. Tarnower, please.
Long distance calling, Dr. Tarnower.
From Virginia.
Excuse me.
Mrs. Edwards, I won't be long.
Who sent me this aberration of your will, Hy,
and why is my name scribbled out
and replaced with your slut's name?
- Did you do this, Hy? - Fuck it, Jean.
I've had it up to here with your obscene phone calls
and now this will no one ever sent you.
When I die, you'll get over $200,000.
What else do you want?
Me? Hah!
It's you, Jean, you. You need help.
You're all the help I need, Hy.
I... sent you a letter this morning.
Uh, do me a favor. When you get it, just...
throw it away, tear it up.
Shove it up Lynne's ass, for all I care.
Just don't read it.
Cancel all appointments, please, Carol.
I've had enough.
Jean?
Jean, you looked so unwell when you left the office.
Is there something I can do?
You will let me know if you need something.
I thought flowers would cheer you up.
God damn it, Jean, it's Carol.
You're scaring me.
Say something.
Why had you finally bought the gun?
Well, I figure it was like a security blanket.
I felt safer with it, because I felt
if I couldn't function anymore, I could handle it,
and I didn't have to worry as much about becoming helpless.
Did you have feelings of helplessness?
Yes.
How long had you known about Lynne and Hy?
About eight years,
I think... seven years.
I don't know what you mean when you ask
how long I'd known about Lynne and Hy.
In the Biblical sense.
Six years, I guess.
Yeah, it was six years.
What did you think of Lynne Tryforos?
I think she denigrated Hy,
and it gave me a great deal of trouble with my own integrity.
You felt she did not have the education you had?
It wasn't a matter of education, Mr. Bolen.
It was a question of...
Breeding?
Perhaps common sense and taste.
- Lynne Tryforos had no taste? - I didn't say that; you did.
I think writing to a man for eight years
while he's traveling with another woman is rather tasteless.
Ohh!
Hy...
it's really you.
I'm kind of in a hurry, Jean.
What's the problem?
Hy... it's been a bad few weeks.
I... I want to come up tonight
and talk to you for a few minutes.
If it's about that board report,
I told you, Madeira will never get rid of you.
They're too lazy to look for another head at this point.
Oh, thank you, Hy, for that vote of confidence.
Lighten up. You'll feel better.
Oh!
I really would like to see you tonight.
My niece is coming to dinner.
She always leaves early. I wouldn't get there before 10:30.
It'd be more convenient if you came tomorrow.
Please, Hy, just this once,
let me say when.
Suit yourself.
Thank you.
Mrs. Harris, on March 10, 1980,
did Dr. Tarnower tell you that he had
proposed marriage to Lynne Tryforos?
No.
Mrs. Harris, isn't it a fact that Dr. Tarnower
had told you he preferred Lynne Tryforos to you?
No, he didn't.
Mrs. Harris, isn't it a fact
that during that March 10, 1980, morning telephone conversation,
the doctor told you, and I quote...
- You quote? - "God damn it, Jean,
I want you to stop bothering me!"
How long can this go on? Forever?
Isn't it a fact, Mrs. Harris,
that on March 10, 1980, you intended to kill Dr. Tarnower
and then kill yourself because if you couldn't have Dr. Tarnower,
no one else could? Yes or no, Mrs. Harris?
No, Mr. Bolen.
That letter, the one Jean sent Hy the morning he died?
That was it. That convicted her.
When she egged George Bolen on to read it, well,
the jury should never have heard that letter.
Hy, hello, my darling.
Let me just sit with you a while
before I blow my brains out.
Just this once.
I'll never ask anything else of you.
Cross my heart and hope to die.
They called it the Scarsdale letter,
the press did.
And the lawyers.
The prosecutor used it to present a scenario
by which Jean marched into his bedroom
and shot him four times in cold blood.
It didn't prove she meant to kill him,
but it did prove she was a liar
when she said she wasn't jealous of Lynne.
Hy, I thought you'd leave a lamp in the window.
It's black as pitch out there.
It's the middle of the night.
I brought you some flowers.
Jesus Christ, Jean!
Look what you've done!
Won't you talk to me for just a little while?
Get out of here! You're nuts!
"Dear Hy,
I am distraught as I write this.
Your phone call to tell me that you preferred the company
of a vicious adulteress psychotic...
well, Lynne has changed your style.
It is the culmination of 14 years
of broken promises, Hy.
It didn't matter all that much, really.
All I ever asked for was to be with you
and when I left you, to know when we would see each other again
so there was something in life to look forward to.
Now you are taking that away from me,
and I am unable to cope.
You have been what you very carefully
set out to be, Hy...
the most important thing in my life...
the most important human being in my life,
and that will never change."
Hy, what are you doing?
Trying to get some fucking help, that's what.
"I wish 14 years
of making love to one another and sharing so much happiness..."
...Had left enough of a mark that you couldn't have
casually scratched my name out of a will
and written in Lynne's instead.
Agh!
That you sold my engagement ring in the summer,
your adulteress slut finally got her divorce and needed money
is a kind of sick cynical act
that left me old and bitter and ill.
Your only comment when you told me you had sold it was,
"Look, if you're gonna make a fuss about it,
you can't come here anymore.
I don't need to have anyone spoil my weekend."
Give her all the money she wants, Hy,
but give me time with you.
Hy, it's broken.
I think it's gone dead.
You're probably right.
That's the only civil thing
you've said to me tonight.
Lynne phoned us at 2:00 in the morning to tell us about Hy.
I wonder how she found out that night so quickly.
I was asleep.
You really never expect one of those
wee-hour phone calls informing you that...
that your good friend's just been shot dead.
When Lynne hung up, I said to Viv,
"Well, if he's dead,
why couldn't she have waited until morning?"
Mrs. Harris,
do you care to be heard before I impose sentence?
Yes, I do.
I want to say
that I did not murder Dr. Herman Tarnower,
and that I loved him very much and never wished him ill,
and am innocent as I stand here.
For you or for Mr. Bolen to arrange my life
so that I will be in a cage for the rest of it
and that every time I walk outside,
I will have iron around my wrists is not justice.
It's a travesty of justice.
I am not guilty, Your Honor.
We called her "big woman,"
my brother and I, which is pretty stupid, I guess,
because my mother is a very tiny woman.
I remember she hated automatic dishwashers.
She said it was because she loved the feel of running water on her hands,
but I knew the real reason was that it was the only time
she felt comfortable wearing her engagement ring...
while she was washing dishes.
- Make a wish, Mom. - And make it special, honey.
It's not every day a gal turns 50.
Jeez, Marge, please don't remind me.
Oops.
It's not every day a woman gets to eat cake from diamonds.
- When's Hy coming? - Oh, honey,
Dr. Tarnower doesn't even know it's my birthday.
- You're kidding. - No.
Hy has never asked when my birthday is,
and I've never offered the information.
It's better he doesn't know what an old bird he has on his hands.
Anyway, do I care?
I've got my beautiful boys,
and I've got my best best friend in the whole world with me,
and I love you all forever and ever.
So who's gonna help me eat this cake?
By the time we left Philly,
that diamond had scratched up all the glasses we owned.
My mother had washed all the crystal each time she argued with Hy.
The morning after she was arrested,
I flew to Virginia
to collect papers and clothes,
and, well, there was a package in her mailbox
that morning... from Hy.
He'd finally managed to refill her prescription.
His timing with her was always lousy.