“I don’t understand what they had to pay this guy for,” he said. “I’m the dad.” “Got it,” I said, and gave him a condoling look. I told him I was making sure they had the chance to respond if they wanted to. I said I understood how awful it could feel to have the press circling your family. He nodded. “I understand. You’re Farrow.” “Yeah.” “Oh I know.” And then he was the one with the pitying look.
