Copp - The Actors Guide To Adultery

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

Once again, without the unflagging support of my editor and friend John Scognamiglio, the adventures of Jarrod Jarvis would be stuffed in a drawer somewhere.

Id also like to thank my Writers Group for their keen eye to detail during the writing of this book: Dana Baratta, Melissa Rosenberg, Dan Greenberger, Rob Wright, Allison Gibson, Alexandra Cunningham, and of course Greg Stancl, who is a major fan of the genre.

Thanks to Rob Simmons, Laurice and Chris Molinari, Joel Fields, Liz Friedman, Robert Waldron, Bennett Yellin, Marilyn Webber, Mark Greenhalgh, Lori Alley, Woody and Tuesdi Woodworth, Joe Dietl, Ben Zook, David A. Goodman, Patricia Hyland, Craig Thornton, Sharon Killoran, Laura Simandl, Susan Lally, Dara Boland, Liz Newman, Brian OKeefe, Michael Byrne and Vincent Barra. I am blessed to have you all in my life.

Thank you Yvette Abatte for your wonderful friendship and for your bang up job on the website. And thank you Todd Ransom for your tireless efforts to get the word out.

My deepest gratitude to my parents Fred and Joan Clement and to Jessica, Megan, and Justin Simason for showing me how lucky I am each and every day. Also thank you to fellow mystery lover Nancy Schroeder for challenging me to come up with a better ending.

Also to my crack team of William Morris agentsJonathan Pecarsky, Ken Freimann, Lanny Noveck, Cori Wellins and Jim Engelhardtto whom I am forever grateful.

To Milan Rakic, thank you for bringing such joy to my life.

And finally, Linda Steiner, you are a constant inspiration and I would be lost without you.

Books by Rick Copp

THE ACTORS GUIDE TO MURDER

THE ACTORS GUIDE TO ADULTERY

THE ACTORS GUIDE TO GREED

Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

Chapter 1

I believe this man poses a serious threat to me and society in general, and I strongly urge you to keep him locked up behind bars where he belongs. I paused for dramatic effect. There was a chill in the air. I was nailing this. Why couldnt I have been this persuasive last week when I auditioned for the role of a powerhouse prosecuting attorney on Law & Order: Special Victims Unit ? Maybe it was because today the stakes were much higher. The guest-starring gig was fifteen grand and another year of guaranteed SAG insurance, but this performance would decide whether or not I would spend the rest of my life living in fear, looking over my shoulder, expecting to find a knife-wielding madman bearing down on me. Today I was delivering testimony at the parole hearing of Wendell Butterworth, a forty-four-year-old mentally unstable career criminal, who when he was in his early twenties, tried kidnapping me three times.

When Wendell saw me make my acting debut on an Oscar Mayer bologna commercial just shy of my fifth birthday, he became convinced that I was his long-lost soul mate from another lifetime. He kept watching TV, hoping to see me, and he did on a slew of commercials for Juicy Fruit gum, GI Joe action figures, and Kentucky Fried Chicken. When I landed my hit series a few years later and became a big star, Wendell decided it was time for a long-overdue reunion in this lifetime.

My first encounter with him was during our first season of Go to Your Room! He had conned his way past the security gate at the studio posing as a messenger, and found me hiding from my tutor, who was on the warpath because she found out Id lied when I told her I had a photo shoot for TV Guide . It was just a ruse to get out of one of her annoying little pop math quizzes. Wendell pretended to be a production assistant sent to retrieve me for a network run-through rehearsal. We were halfway to Barstow before a quick-thinking cashier at a Mobil Station recognized me from the special Missing Child Star news bulletins on TV and dialed 911. I never even knew what was happening. The whole time I thought I was on my way to a promotional appearance at the networks Las Vegas affiliate station.

The second time, Wendell bought one of those Maps to the Stars Homes, and drove out to our Pacific Palisades house, where he locked our maid Gilda in the pantry and jumped out to grab me while I was pouring a bowl of Lucky Charms cereal. Believe me, I didnt feel so lucky that day. But fortunately, my parents arrived home just as Wendell was hustling me into his Dodge pickup. My father wrestled him to the pavement while my mother called the police from the car phone.

Finally, with his frustration growing to dangerous levels, Wendell got his hands on a Smith & Wesson and decided that if the Devils Disciples (namely my parents) were going to keep us apart in this world, then he had no choice but to escape with me into the other world. His plan was to shoot me dead, and then take his own life. We could finally be together for eternity.

This was still a few years before the haunting and brutal murder of another sitcom child star, Rebecca Schaffer, in 1989. Thats when people finally started taking celebrity stalkers seriously. Rebecca was dressing for an audition for The Godfather 3 when a whacked-out fan rang her bell, and fired a gun at her as she stood right in her own doorway. She died at the scene. And Hollywood was finally jolted awake.

But my nightmare ended on a sweltering hot summer day in August. And as fate would have it, Wendell Butterworth would not succeed with his insidious plot. As my mother and I pulled out of the studio gate and stopped for a red light at the intersection of Melrose and Gower next to Paramount Pictures, Wendell ran up to the passengers side window, which was open, and pressed his newly registered gun to my temple. Before either my mother or I could even react, Wendell pulled the trigger. There was a loud click. And then silence. Wendell had forgotten to load his gun. As he fumbled in his pockets for the bullets, my mother grabbed my shirt collar and dragged me out of the car, both of us screaming and running into the street, bringing traffic to a screeching halt. A quick-thinking motorist saw Wendell stuffing bullets into the chamber of his gun, and slammed on his accelerator, plowing into Wendell and knocking him to the ground unconscious.

For weeks reporters and TV journalists besieged us with requests for interviews. I almost had an exclusive sit-down with Barbara Walters until she found out I made fun of the way she talked. Hell, I was only twelve. How did I know she was so sensitive?

More disturbing details bubbled to the surface about Wendell as the press dug deeper into his past. He was initially portrayed as a wayward orphan whose parents were brutally murdered by intruders in the summer of 1971 while he slept peacefully upstairs in his room. The killers were never caught. Well, a 20/20 investigation after his attack on me revealed that there was no home invasion by unknown intruders at all. It turned out his parents had refused to allow eleven-year-old Wendell to watch the series premiere of The Sonny and Cher Comedy Hour , so he took matters into his own hands by butchering both of them with a meat cleaver, watching the show, then going upstairs and turning in. After all, it was past his bedtime.

After a battery of psychological tests following his arrest, Wendell was found to be deeply disturbed (let me put on my big surprise face), and once convicted (his lawyers innocent by reason of insanity ploy failed), he was committed to a special psychiatric ward at Angola State Prison, where he managed to escape once and tried to find me again during our shows second season. Luckily he was quickly recaptured and transferred to an even more secure facility at Vacaville State Prison in Northern California, where he has remained ever since.