After a case that has featured five months of testimony from celebrities and the occasional crazy knife lady, Anthony Marshall, the 85 year-old son of famous high society lady Brooke Astor, has been found guilty of swindling her out of lots of money as she grew old and incapacitated with dementia. What a jerk.

Mr. Marshall was found guilty of one of two first-degree grand larceny charges, the most serious he faced. Jurors convicted him of giving himself an unauthorized raise of about $1 million for managing his mother's finances.

He could be sentenced to anywhere from one to 25 years in jail. Thank god this trial is finally over because it went on since April. Justice served cold.
[Pic: AP]

The forewoman of this jury deserves a raise:

As several jurors were riding the subway together after court on Thursday, a knife-wielding woman attacked the forewoman; one of the alternate jurors came to the rescue and helped apprehend the attacker

If only they were able to pimp this story out a little more, we could have a new subway hero on our hands! But as it is, it just reinforces what your civics teacher always told you: Carry a knife to jury duty, every day.
[Pic via]

The NYT says Kissinger "possessed a charming waddle and a smile." Some war criminals do indeed possess charming waddles! "Everyone from the judge to the court officers seemed enamored of Dr. Kissinger." War criminal charm is irresistible! This was his most important testimony:

At a dinner party Mrs. Astor had at her apartment in January 2002 for Kofi Annan, Dr. Kissinger testified, Mrs. Astor leaned toward him and asked, "Who is the black fellow who is sitting on the other side of me?"

"Kofi Annan," he said he responded.

It's a classic embarrassing old person racial moment, but with higher stakes. Then came Barbara Walters who offered a picture of steely reserve in the face of some dumbass lawyer:

That lawyer had gotten off on the wrong foot with Walters anyway — asking her, first question out of the box, "Any chance Ms. Loewy is going to be on 'The View' next week?" — that being prosecutor Elizabeth Loewy, who had conducted the direct examination.

"Did you ask me if she is going to be on 'The View?' " Walters said, angrily. "Are we serious? No."

Kissinger then ordered that that lawyer's home be bombed.
[NYT, NYP. Pic of Kissinger falling down stairs: AP]

Graydon published some pieces by Brooke Astor in his magazine. They were friends! But near the end, when they went out to lunch, she couldn't even remember who he was:

"Where is Graydon Carter?" was Astor's question to the exuberantly coifed, highly recognizable editor-in-chief of Vanity Fair — whom she'd known for nearly a decade.

"Have you seen Graydon Carter?" the doddering doyenne asked him.

"I put my hand on her shoulder and I told her, 'I'm Graydon Carter,' " Carter remembered yesterday, after taking the stand as prosecution witness No. 30 in the monthlong Astor swindle trial.

"Oh yes! Of course you are!" Astor answered, recovering awkwardly.

Alzheimer's is a tragedy for any family. But we were heartened to hear that the possibility of forgetting who Graydon Carter is still exists.
[NYP. Pic via]

The trial is finally starting for Anthony Marshall (pictured), accused of swindling grand NYC society dame Brooke Astor—his mom!—out of millions of dollars in the final, Alzheimers-ridden years of her life. What a presumed innocent dick. Let's hear some of the sensationally prickish things he did, allegedly!

— He stole a valuable painting from his mom's house!
—Oh and this:

That same year, a nurse watched in helpless shock as Marshall and his shady attorney marched the doddering, 101-year-old doyenne — one man clutching her by either arm — into her drawing room to sign papers in which Marshall gave himself sole power of $60 million of his mother's money, prosecutors charge.

Supposedly he was funneling a lot of the stolen cash to his wife, which gives the tabloids a moral excuse to note that his wife has a big fat ass (seriously, paragraph six!).

Anthony Marshall is 84 years old and he's gonna trot out character witnesses like Barbara Walters, so the trial should be a good time for one and all.
[Pic: Getty]

Through out his career, Morrissey ripped off many of the dying captains of industry, the asphyxiating intelligentsia and the last-gasp socialites as they went gentle into that good night. For example, some rich lady named Elisabeth von Knapitsch, a retired ladies apparel exec, was worth $15 million and dying when she called in Morrissey and his two compadres (one a priest, the other a Yalie) to help draft her will. "Under the will, Mr. Morrissey received most of Ms. von Knapitsch's $15 million estate, including her six-room apartment on Park Avenue. Mr. Forsythe, who had served as her lawyer, was co-executor of the estate." Later, Morrissey "helped" economist Sam Schurr draft his dying wishes. They included, weirdly and probably NOT AT ALL, that Morrissey received Schurr's Manhattan apartment and art collection. He also swindled Richard T. York, an art gallery owner; William Draper "Dean of American Portraiture"; Jose Juarez Garza, legendary New York art dealer to the likes of Babe Paley and Anne Getty; and Jay Lovestone, once head of the American Communist Party.

What was his secret, other than a lack of morals? Well! It's simple!

Mr. Morrissey has earned a reputation for helping take care of elderly people, some of whom he had known for decades, without billing them for his work. And he has provided gifts like smoked hams and turkeys during the holidays, or cashmere robes. In return, a number of these people have left him bequests in their wills or chosen him as a fiduciary of their estates.

Many Clients of Astor Lawyer Left Him Bequests in Their Wills [NYT]

[BROOKE ASTOR sits on a couch in a room. She eats peas and oatmeal and waits for her son TONY to visit. She eats some more peas and oatmeal, falls asleep, wakes with a start.]

BROOKE ASTOR:
When I got to a hundred and four
I figured I couldn't go on anymore
When I got to a hundred and five
It made no sense to still be alive.
Now I'm terrified
Nothing's been clarified
What if this ordeal never
ends? What if I go on forever?

[DEATH comes in through the window. He knocks over a stack of bedpans and newspapers that has been left there.]

BROOKE ASTOR:
Hello, dear.

DEATH:
It's filthy in here!

[DEATH takes out his iPhone and checks the calendar. He looks at the screen, looks at BROOKE ASTOR, and touches a button on the screen.]

DEATH:
Check and check
Time's up, Mrs. Astor
I wish that the last few years
Could have gone faster.

[BROOKE ASTOR realizes her visitor is not her son TONY.]

BROOKE ASTOR:
You've come to give me my final reward?
I'm much obliged. I've been so bored.

DEATH:
I'm glad that you don't seem nervous

BROOKE ASTOR:
If anything, I feel expectant.

DEATH:
Let me spray some disinfectant
And then I'll show you our new service

[DEATH sits down next to BROOKE ASTOR, shows her his iPhone, and taps it with its finger. A movie appears onscreen.]

BROOKE ASTOR:
Talking pictures on a tiny transistor
Will modern wonders never cease?

DEATH:
Select one memory to watch
And then it's time for sweet release

BROOKE ASTOR:
Choosing just one seems terribly reckless
It's like singling out just one diamond necklace

DEATH:
Most of my customers pick their first moment of being
There's something about it that they find freeing.

[BROOKE ASTOR agrees to watch her own birth. It is March, 1902, in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. JOHN HENRY RUSSELL, JR. and his wife, Mabel Cecile Hornby Howard Russell, have just become the parents of a baby girl.]

JOHN HENRY RUSSELL, JR.:
This child's name is Roberta Brooke Russell
It's a lovely long name that trips off of the tongue
I'm in the Marines, so we'll travel all over
She'll live nearly everywhere while she's still young
First, off to China, then Hawaii, then Haiti
Roberta will be a truly worldly young lady

[DEATH taps the screen again and the movie vanishes.]

DEATH:
Pretty sweet, huh?
This thing makes it easy
It can also store
All of my MP3s, see?

[DEATH sniffs.]

DEATH:
Something in here really reeks
It's like milk's been left out for weeks.
And I don't know how you're enduring
Sleeping soaked in your own urine.

[BROOKE ASTOR isn't listening. She's lost in a reverie.]

BROOKE ASTOR:
We went off to China, to Hawaii, to Haiti
I did learn to be a worldly young lady
When I was just seventeen, I wed John Dryden Kuser
A cheat and a scoundrel, a drunk, an abuser
We were pledged to each other by rule of law
But when I was with child, John shattered my jaw

[DEATH, nonplussed that he's being ignored, interrupts.]

DEATH:
You usually get just one quick scene
And then I make the lights go dark
But I think you earn a bonus moment
When you pass the century mark

Would you like to watch
The birth of your son?
I'll show you that, too
And then we'll be done

[DEATH taps the screen again, and it shows BROOKE, in 1924, holding her son TONY.]

BROOKE KUSER, 1924:
This darling newborn baby boy
Will be a source of joy, indeed
No child of mine will ever know
The painful ache of want or need
Material comforts, yes,
Are part of what I mean by this
But also my love and devotion
A mother's touch, a mother's kiss
I will hold him to my heart
And I will hold him to my brow
And goodness will pass into him
Like lifeblood; I can feel it now.

[DEATH taps the screen again and the movie vanishes. DEATH and BROOKE ASTOR sit silently for a second. BROOKE ASTOR turns to DEATH and grasps his hand.]

BROOKE ASTOR:
When you first came in, I thought you were Tony.
He's my son, but he's old, and his fingers are bony.
Can you believe that he is eighty-three?
He's the one who takes care of me.

DEATH:
I may be mistaken, but I don't feel
You should live on a diet of peas and oatmeal
When you have two hundred million dollars
Why should you suffer these pitiful squalors?

BROOKE ASTOR:
He tries to do as best as he can
Still, it's too much to ask of an elderly man.

DEATH:
Let's not start a conversation
The train's about to leave the station.
I granted you an extra showing
But now we really must be going.

[BROOKE ASTOR eyes the iPhone.]

BROOKE ASTOR:
I'm really excited to get where we're heading
But could I please look-see at my second wedding?
After ten years of beatings, I got a divorce
Married again in a few years, of course.
He was Charles Marshall, a broker in town
I remember the weather and my wedding gown.
He was heaven on earth, my one and my only.
Not for a moment was I sad or lonely
We were joined at the hip. We were one and the same.
I even made sure that my son took his name.

DEATH:
He sounds great
A real prize
But we're running late
So say your goodbyes

BROOKE ASTOR:
If my call for my second husband won't be heard
Then perhaps you could give me a glimpse of my third.
He was not a man of great popularity
But he helped me develop a strong sense of charity.

DEATH:
Okay, okay,
I'll do you a favor
But I need for you
To sign this waiver

[BROOKE ASTOR signs. DEATH begrudgingly shows her a series of scenes from the fifties and sixties during and after her marriage to VINCENT ASTOR. Most focus on her altruism.]

BROOKE ASTOR, 1962:
Wealth is faintly shameful
That is what I've found
Money's like manure.
It should be spread around.
Philanthropic living
Is the topic. Let's start giving.

Here you go, museum—I think that you will find
That you made out as well as the Lighthouse for the Blind
The public library, too, received a gift from me
I bankrolled the Fresh Air Fund's recent jubilee
Sooner or later you'll all feel my generosity
I'm giving away money with a breathless velocity

[DEATH sets the iPhone on the table.]

DEATH:
That's it. That's curtains. That's the end.
It's time to hit the road, my friend.

BROOKE ASTOR:
Can I see one thing from sixty-four?
After that, I promise, I won't ask for more.

DEATH:
We have to stop.
The shop is closed.
Don't make me sorry
I showed you those.

[BROOKE ASTOR grabs DEATH's cloak.]

BROOKE ASTOR:
Listen, sir.
I'm not so sure
You're understanding
What I'm demanding.
I want to see another scene from long ago.
These final grueling years have been a horror show
Dotage, infirmity, Alzheimer's disease
They've all been killing me by degrees
I forget more than half of the things that I've said
My mind's unmade like a child's bed
It's bleak and it's wretched. I'm sick and depressed.
So please do your damndest to meet my request
And show me life when it was good.
I devoutly wish you would.

DEATH:
I can't. We're done.
That was the last one.
I'm using the john
And then we'll get gone

[DEATH goes to the bathroom, leaving the iPhone on the table. BROOKE ASTOR picks up the iPhone and taps it. She touches the wrong button. Instead of showing her the past, it shows her the present. In it, she sees her son Tony lying about her financial circumstance and siphoning money out of her estate. BROOKE ASTOR tries to turn it off, but inadvertently presses another button and sees the future, in which Tony is arrested for larceny and forgery. BROOKE ASTOR gasps.]

BROOKE ASTOR:
Could this be what's happening
And what happens later?
Could my own son mistreat me
And act the vile traitor?
I almost wish that I could remain
And smack him hard in the head with my cane

[DEATH returns from the bathroom. BROOKE ASTOR hides the iPhone behind her back.]

DEATH
Okay. Good to go?
Let's get to the crypt

BROOKE ASTOR:
Young man, I must tell you
Your fly is unzipped.

[DEATH looks down, embarrassed. BROOKE ASTOR quickly replaces the iPhone. DEATH picks it up and holds out his hand to her. She takes it. She is light on her feet and he says so. She smiles graciously. An hour later, TONY MARSHALL comes to visit his mother. He finds her sitting in her chair. He feeds her some peas and oatmeal. He has her sign some papers. She mumbles "waiver," which he does not understand. He leaves. Five months later, she dies.]

Previously: Fragments from "Death Comes for Britney Spears! The Musical"

Ben Greenman is an editor at the New Yorker and the author of several books of fiction. His latest book, A Circle is a Balloon and Compass Both, was recently published.

• Lindsay Lohan brought her rehab buddy Riley Giles home to Long Island to meet her family over Thanksgiving, but he went out every night without her. [Page Six]
  
• A saboteur put pepper spray on Miss Puerto Rico's dress and in her makeup, but she won anyway. [Us Magazine]
  
• Brooke Astor's son has been indicted on charges related to the mishandling of his late mom's estate. [NYP]
  
• Jailed 90s rapper Foxy Brown got out of solitary confinement early for good behavior, believe it or not. [TMZ]

• Finally, we'll find out if "busty" Laura Albert's tits are as fake as her literary alter ego. [Page Six]
  
• On Paris on Larry King: "Her outfit, a lacy, blousy concoction in a self-conscious shade of eggshell, was conspicuously dowdy." Nobody does it like you, Andrea Peyser. [NYP]
  
• Victoria "Posh Spice" Beckham is going to get knighted or ladied or whatever. [Cindy]
  
• At Manny author Holly Peterson's book party, her billionaire dad called his daughter "the most egregious self-promoter in America." [Liz Smith]
  
• "Friends of Brooke Astor are concerned about rumors that the beloved 105-year-old New York philanthropist is being treated for cancer." People. We've all gotta go sometime! [R&M, last item]
  
• Someone's stalking Brittany Murphy. Um, is it the ghost of her old face? [Gatecrasher]

In the seven weeks since the agreement, those involved in the case have filed bills with Justice John E. H. Stackhouse of State Supreme Court in Manhattan for fees totaling about $3 million for the services of 56 lawyers, 65 legal assistants, 6 accountants, 5 bankers, 6 doctors, 2 public relations firms and a law school professor.

In Aftermath of Astor Case, How Final Fees Piled Up [NYT]
Earlier: 104-Year-Old Socialite Treated Like 104-Year-Old Commmoner

Maybe it's a result of that whole having millions of fucking dollars thing.

In Mystery of Reaching 104, Mrs. Astor Is a Case Study [NYT]