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To the Attorney Grievance Committee of the First Appellate Division of the Supreme Court of the State of New York.




- ONE -
Setting The Trap

Little did I know that my musical Head Over Heels was doomed from the start, as my lawyer and agent feather their beds by stealing my creative control in my first contract.


- TWO -

Be Very Wary of Fiduciaries

Ethics fly out the window as my deceptive law firm moves to represent every side of the deal.


"This is Gonna Run Forever!"

A hit musical can be worth a billion-plus dollars nowadays. We know what wickedness people get up to for much less. And so the abuse begins.


Reverse Robin Hoods

A broke artist is an artist who can be controlled. In the first of many instances, I go unpaid for my work in breach of contract.


- FIVE -

Springing the Trap

In an ugly email chain, my bullying agent abuses and humiliates me openly in front of producers - to show them who really controls my art.


Why Won't My Lawyer Take My Side?

Alarm bells ring as my lawyer behaves less as my fiduciary, and more like a self-dealing confidence artist.


My Law Firm Drops Me

When I catch on to the swindle underway, the predators drop their masks and drop me as well, leaving me defenseless.



Enter Lawyer #2

I hire new legal counsel, who hits the ground running as my former law firm goes on the attack.


- NINE -

Who Really Owns My Property (That I Own)?

Filthy rich con artists escalate their sneering game of "keep away" with only hope for a livelihood.


I didn't find Head Over Heels stuck to the bottom my shoe. It was my art, my property and livelihood, three grueling years in the making.


- TEN -

"You Do Not Want To Find Out What Will Happen If You Speak Out."

A stranger threatens me not to blow the whistle, kicking off 25 months of scary incidents. Meanwhile, my second lawyer gets chummy with the creepy producers.


Send in the Goons

A threat close to home suggests that I am the target of an "intelligence agency" hired to silence me. I give up on lawyers and let the predators loot my corpse.



They Even Snatched My Royalties!

When an artist has no one defending him from wealthy grifters, what's to stop them? Now they steal $37,000 of my royalties.



Rumpelstiltskin on Rewind

I am pilloried by critics for the shoddy work of my greedy colleagues on Broadway. My ruined show flops in slow-motion.



Bit By Bit, Putting Myself (Back) Together

Karma pulls a hilarious switcheroo when I am nominated for an Oscar. But when a new writing gig becomes a parsimonious nightmare, I make a hard choice.


“There’s a Loud Sort of Clanging From the Clock in the Hall …”

Surveying the collateral damage.

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