Unscripted, page 8
And there were celebrities connected in one way or another to Paramount: actors Mark Wahlberg, Danny DeVito, Sidney Poitier—even Tom Cruise, who, after being ejected by Sumner in 2006, had been coaxed back into the Paramount fold with another installment in the Mission: Impossible franchise.
Sumner’s first wife, Phyllis, and Bob Evans occupied the seats of honor on either side of Sumner. Also at the head table were Shari and Malia Andelin. After years of railing against Phyllis, Sumner told Andelin that divorcing her had been the biggest mistake of his life. Completing the family contingent were his grandchildren Brandon, Kimberlee, and Tyler.
“Celebrating with you has always been memorable,” Shari said in a tribute video organized by Holland and Herzer, which, under the circumstances, might be deemed an understatement.
Andelin appeared on camera professing her “love” for Sumner, “my favorite person in the whole world.”
Dauman took the prize for sheer fawning, calling Sumner “my inspiration, my guiding light, my mentor.”
But the real stars of the video were the cohosts. For Holland and Herzer, Sumner’s birthday was their coming-out party as the women in Sumner’s life, the real powers inside the mogul’s mansion. The pair figured prominently in the video, “created with love by Sydney and Manuela,” as the credits put it. Holland posed in a black sequined gown holding Sumner’s miniature poodle Sugar in her lap. “I’m so blessed to spend every day of my life with you,” she said. “You complete me, Sumner. I love you.”
Herzer wore a flesh-toned lace-and-chiffon gown that set off her long blond hair. She studded her remarks with the word family: “They say you don’t pick your family, but they must not have had you in mind when they coined that phrase.” She continued, “There are not enough words to express how grateful and blessed we are to be a part of your family yesterday, today, and tomorrow, and for the rest of our lives.”
At one point Robert Evans sat next to Andelin and urged her to call Sumner more often. “Please save him from these women,” Evans implored.
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Given Sumner’s impulsive behavior and potential infatuation with other women, Holland and Herzer had to be constantly vigilant. Malia Andelin was emerging as a serious threat. She’d secured a prime seat at his birthday dinner—not even Holland and Herzer were at his table. Since then Sumner was leaving her as many as twenty messages a day (since he was no longer physically capable of operating his phone, Holland had to place the calls and listen to him leaving the messages). In the evenings, Sumner played music and sang to Andelin, mostly Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby standards.
That was going too far. A private detective—hired, she assumed, by Holland and Herzer but paid for by Sumner—followed Andelin. Strange cars were parked outside her house. One followed her so tenaciously it nearly ran her off the road.
Panicked, she called Sumner. “Tell your girlfriends to stop following me,” she said. “I’m going to tell the authorities that Paramount, Viacom, and CBS money is being used to harass and follow me.”
“What are you talking about?” Sumner answered. Then she heard Sumner yell to a person in the background, “Is someone following her?”
Although Sumner had seemingly embraced the reality of Andelin’s boyfriend and eventual marriage, he had evidently come to believe that Andelin loved him and him alone. Andelin was convinced that Holland and Herzer fostered this romantic delusion, then turned it against him, encouraging Sumner to believe that his “one and only” had betrayed him.
In June, Sumner called and left a message inviting Andelin to his mansion “right away. I can’t wait to see you,” sounding like all was forgiven. Despite the sudden about-face, Andelin was prepared to go. Then Martinez, Sumner’s house manager, called.
“Don’t come,” he warned. “It’s a setup.” Martinez told her a lawyer was waiting there with a lie detector test. Andelin had already confided in Martinez that she was troubled by her relationship with Sumner. He told her now was the time to get out.
As Stanger had warned, one thing Sumner would not tolerate was infidelity. He removed Andelin from his will and trust documents. He hired Martin Singer, the aggressive fixer to the stars and longtime lawyer for Bill Cosby, to consider suing Andelin for having “seduced and influenced [him] to give her tens of millions of dollars, stocks, valuable property, financial backing for an alleged non-profit business, and other benefits by representing to him that she was in love with him, and loyal and honest with him,” as Sumner later alleged in a court filing.
Increasingly fearful for her safety, on June 12, less than a month after Sumner’s birthday party, Andelin sent him an email saying she couldn’t see him again under the circumstances. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Sydney and Manuela, but I am in fear for my life,” she wrote. “I am still being followed and harassed and I’m fearful to even be on my own without protection. I don’t know what to do, who to turn to, or how to protect my life. I do not feel safe. This is very serious. Please put a stop to all this because I fear my life will be taken from me. This has to be the end until I know I am safe.”
Sumner didn’t respond, but she did get threatening voice mails from Singer, saying she’d lose her house unless she spoke to him. She didn’t respond.
Over the next few months Sumner dictated a stream of angry messages intended for Andelin in which he railed against her alleged betrayal, saying he wished he’d never met her.
Holland dutifully transcribed and sent the messages—to Herzer.
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On June 12, 2014, exactly one year after Andelin cut off contact with Sumner, a surrogate gave birth to Holland’s daughter. Holland named the child Alexandra Red Holland and appointed Herzer as the child’s godmother.
Alexandra had Sumner’s distinctive red hair and bore enough resemblance to him to prompt speculation that she was Sumner’s biological daughter, the product of artificial insemination. The child’s middle name, “Red,” was interpreted by some as a not-so-subtle reference to Redstone.
Holland acknowledged, somewhat ambiguously, that Sumner helped her “conceive her daughter.” If Alexandra were Sumner’s biological child, it would have certainly cemented Holland’s claims to Sumner’s fortune. But when Holland’s matchmaker friend Patti Stanger asked her point-blank if Alexandra was Sumner’s, Holland denied it and added she’d used a surrogate. Regardless, Sumner doted on the child and seemed to enjoy having Alexandra around the house. Holland showed photos of the baby bouncing in Sumner’s lap. He added Alexandra as a beneficiary in his will and said he planned to formally adopt her. His longtime tax and estate planning lawyer in Boston, David Andelman, began looking into the tax implications of his marrying Holland and adopting Alexandra.
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The same day Holland picked up her baby in San Diego, Heather Naylor took advantage of Holland’s absence to have lunch with Sumner at his mansion. Naylor had been hearing disturbing reports for over a year that Holland was bad-mouthing her—specifically, telling people that she had no talent, that Sumner was wasting his time with her, and that her new reality show was a flop. Naylor had gotten back on MTV at Sumner’s insistence, this time with The Alectrix, a show with exactly the same premise and even some of the same band members as The Electric Barbarellas. Naylor attributed Holland’s campaign against her to jealousy over her relationship with Sumner.
Despite Holland’s efforts, Sumner seemed as enthusiastic as ever about Naylor’s talent and potential. At their lunch Sumner assured Naylor that The Alectrix would be renewed for another season and, if not, Naylor would be given another MTV show, according to Naylor. He said he’d help her get a record contract and volunteered to attend a music showcase for her, urging her to invite major record producers.
Naylor then took her opportunity, with Holland out of the house, to mount a counterattack: She showed Sumner emails from Holland to her lawyer discussing her financial prospects and status in Sumner’s will. She also showed him nude photographs of Holland that, she maintained, Holland was sharing with men on the internet.
They were interrupted by Herzer’s unexpected return. Herzer breezily made light of the incriminating evidence and quickly steered Naylor to the door. Naylor had inflicted little, if any, lasting damage on Holland, who was nonetheless furious when Herzer gave her a detailed briefing on what she had witnessed. Holland’s laptop had vanished several years earlier, and she now suspected it was the source of the nude photos. Naylor must have stolen the laptop, Holland reasoned.
Holland called Naylor and ordered her not to call Sumner or have any further contact with him, a directive Naylor ignored. She went ahead and scheduled the music showcase for July 8, assuring representatives from major recording studios that Sumner was backing her and would be present. But to her increasing frustration and dismay, Sumner no longer answered when she called, nor did he respond to any of her messages. When the date for the showcase arrived, Sumner was a no-show. No recording contract materialized.
On July 24 Naylor and her assistant pulled up to the Redstone mansion hoping to see Sumner in person. They were blocked at the door by Carlos Martinez, who said Naylor had been barred from seeing Sumner or having any contact with him. Sumner’s phone number had been changed on Holland’s orders, and Naylor wasn’t allowed access to it. Naylor’s number had been deleted from Sumner’s phone so he couldn’t call her. Naylor left empty-handed.
Not long after, Holland fired both Martinez and his wife, who also helped manage the household, on suspicions they were in league with Naylor. Sumner and Martinez had become so close over the years that Martinez was a beneficiary in Sumner’s will. But now Sumner excised him.
The decision alarmed Sumner’s longtime lawyer, David Andelman, who worried that Holland and Herzer were behind it. Andelman pressed Sumner on the issue, questioning whether he really wanted to take such a drastic step. But the questions only seemed to anger Sumner, and he ordered Andelman to implement the change “literally and immediately” and said he “didn’t want any second-guessing from his lawyer.” Andelman duly complied.
Without Sumner’s support, Naylor’s nascent television and recording career hit a wall. MTV aired six episodes of The Alectrix rather than the promised eight, in what Naylor deemed an undesirable time slot (11:00 p.m.) and with minimal advertising or promotion. After weak ratings (less than 200,000 viewers a week) the show was canceled. Naylor wasn’t offered any new series.
That might have been the end of Naylor’s involvement with Sumner, but later that summer Holland sued Naylor, claiming Naylor had stolen her laptop containing “private and confidential” photos from the Redstone mansion. She sued Martinez, too, alleging that Sumner’s longtime house manager had abetted the theft. Martinez hired Bryan Freedman, a prominent entertainment litigator with a long list of celebrity clients.
“Sydney Holland’s decision to sue Mr. Martinez is the biggest mistake she has ever made,” Freedman said.
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Having survived the financial crisis without losing control of either Viacom or CBS, Sumner saw his fortunes quickly rebound along with his companies’ share prices. Other than his female lovers and companions, nothing interested Sumner more than the value of his stock and options. Jagiello observed that Sumner “obsessively” tracked the value of his Viacom and CBS options. He even had an electronic ticker installed in his bedroom. He often asked Jagiello and other nurses to run calculations for him. He “was very engaged and appeared to derive great pleasure from tracking his holdings,” as Jagiello put it. That year Forbes placed Redstone’s net worth at $4.7 billion.
Since consulting her lawyer about the diamond ring, Holland had easily reached her stated $20 million goal and then some. Sumner assured Herzer that she and Holland “would be cared for during the rest of their lives,” according to Herzer. “What’s mine is yours,” he said, and “you will never have to worry or want for anything.”
Sumner amended his estate plan to give Holland and Herzer the $40 million he had previously bestowed on Shari’s charitable foundation.
In an amendment to his trust dated September 26, 2013, Sumner gave Holland a minimum of $20 million when he died, and up to $45 million; Herzer would receive the same amount, and each of her three children would receive $1.5 million. This was on top of the already constant gifts of cash. (Holland and Herzer received combined cash gifts of $9.1 million in 2013.) Holland and Herzer would inherit the Beverly Park mansion and run the Sumner Redstone Foundation. Holland would get custody of Sugar and Butterfly, Sumner’s miniature poodles.
Sumner also spent millions funding charitable foundations in Holland’s and Herzer’s names.
With Sumner’s financial backing, Holland launched a movie production company called Rich Hippie Productions and dabbled in high-end real estate. She redecorated a Beverly Hills property she bought from Jessica Simpson and flipped it just a year later to actress Jennifer Lawrence.
Sumner deleted Shari as a beneficiary in his will, though there was nothing he could do about her 20 percent stake in National Amusements (short of buying her out), nor could he excise her from the trust.
EPISODE 6
“You Know How He Is about Women”
By March of 2014, Holland and Herzer were planning their most brazen gambit by far—a plan to get their hands on the over $200 million in Viacom and CBS stock and stock options Sumner had earned while serving as chairman of the companies. Unlike the billions in stock held by National Amusements and locked up in the irrevocable trust, these securities were in an unrestricted account. The women wanted Sumner to sell the assets—and give the proceeds to them immediately, rather than having to wait until he died.
Holland and Herzer hired a prominent trusts and estates lawyer—Richard B. Covey at Carter Ledyard & Milburn in New York—to advise them on how to go about it. On March 21, in anticipation of meeting with him, Holland sent Herzer an email with “a list of things I think we should cover.” On the list were “changing the trust to add both our names to it”; “changing the Sumner Redstone Foundation so we can run it now and after Sumner’s demise”; and “get the monies now rather than waiting until Sumner dies.”
Getting Sumner to go along with the plan required a sustained campaign, much of it overheard by Giovanni Paz and other staff at the Redstone mansion. His nurses, ordered out of the fish room and told to wait in the kitchen in one instance, reported hearing Holland and Herzer cajoling him for money. They told him that Shari hated him and only cared about money and would likely sue to contest any bequests to them. She might litigate even sooner. They might get nothing. The only way to ensure they got the money was to give it to them now.
Sumner resisted.
They kept at it, at one point saying they “were the only ones who loved and would protect him. If he loved them back he would cash out. If he did not, he would die alone.”
Another obstacle was David Andelman, the Boston estate planning lawyer who had represented Sumner for over thirty years. He was a trustee of the trust controlling National Amusements and on the boards of National Amusements, Viacom, and CBS. Andelman watched closely over Sumner’s assets, and Sumner always consulted him about tax consequences. Like many billionaires, Sumner was obsessed with minimizing his tax bill.
To Holland’s frustration, Andelman kept raising tax objections to any sale of stock and options. (As well he might have, since the sale would trigger capital gains taxes and gift tax on any transfer to Holland and Herzer.) “David keeps using that gift tax excuse,” Holland complained in the March 21 email to Herzer.
A few weeks later, in April, Sumner hired a new tax and estate planning lawyer: Leah Bishop of the Los Angeles firm Loeb & Loeb, a lawyer who was later suspected to have been recommended by Holland and Herzer. Andelman, who found out only when Bishop asked for copies of the National Amusements trust documents, worried that Sumner might be trying to change the terms to marginalize Shari and her children.
With Andelman sidelined, Sumner gave in. On May 16 Holland instructed Paz, whose duties included answering the phones, to block all calls to Sumner, even those from his doctor. That day he sold $236 million in stock and stock options, according to regulatory filings he was required to record. The proceeds went into his checking account at City National Bank in Los Angeles.
The next day Holland had the stock ticker removed from Sumner’s bedroom so he couldn’t follow his share prices. His nurse, Jagiello, observed that Sumner “fell into a depression almost immediately.”
Two days later, Andelman called Elvira Bartoli, Sumner’s account manager at City National Bank, to check on Sumner’s balance. It was $90 million less than he expected. He was even more surprised when Bartoli told him she wasn’t allowed to disclose where the money had gone, something that had never happened in his many years of working with Sumner and the bank. Sumner had always discussed such large financial transactions in advance with Andelman, in part to go over the tax consequences. Andelman usually handled the mechanics of any transfers.
Andelman pressed for an explanation, and finally Bartoli capitulated: the $90 million had passed by wire transfer to Holland and Herzer, $45 million to each, on the same day Sumner sold his stock and options.
Andelman was alarmed. The sale had generated about $100 million in after-tax proceeds. Gift and other taxes would now come to more than $90 million. Holland and Herzer had virtually drained Sumner’s account. (He would eventually have to borrow $100 million from National Amusements to pay the taxes.)
