stuff—diaries and notes, naked photos, even a prescription for the herpes medication, Valtrex—was purchased at auction for a measly $2,775, after Paris failed to pay a $208 storage bill. “I love shoes,” read one vapid note in the heiress’s hand. Another talked of performing oral sex with her former fiance, Jason Shaw. She is heard wielding ethnic slurs, including the so-called “N” word, in footage included among the collection, whose contents were viewed, like an electronic peep show, on the Internet.
But even that seeming lapse in dignity would be eclipsed in May 2007. That day, a Los Angeles judge made history. He sentenced Paris to forty-five days in jail.
The sentence was for a traffic stop the previous September, in which she’d failed a sobriety test. The next January, she pleaded no contest to a charge of reckless driving. Displaying either a complete lack of regard to the rule of law, or proof that she did not possess two brain cells to rub together, she was subsequently stopped behind the wheel—twice—while her license was suspended. The first time, cops had Paris sign a document acknowledging she was prohibited from operating a motor car. The second time she was picked up, she had her lights off. The smoking document was in her glove compartment.
Her excuse? She said she never read it. She hired people to read for her. She blamed her publicist, Elliot Mintz, for telling her it was okay to drive. She blamed her pathetic excuse for a dog, nitwit Chihuahua Tinkerbell. Everyone was to blame, except herself.
To the thrill of much of America, and certainly its motorists and vulnerable pedestrians, Judge Michael T. Sauer was to make an example, and prove that, in his court, even in the notoriously fame-friendly state of California, a celebrity might be treated like anyone else. Paris’s sentence was already reduced on Day One to twenty-three days. This was still too harsh for Paris’s well-heeled parents, Kathy and Rick Hilton.
----
There were conflicting reports as to whether she was able to skip the standard body-cavity search, though it was unclear whether this was due to her fame, or to the difficulty of finding someone willing to perform the deed.
----
Paris’s mom taunted the judge on sentencing day, “May I have your autograph?” And when she approached the bench, Kathy was blocked by a court officer. “You touched my breast!” she squealed like a banshee. As if.
In June, Paris was booked into the Century Regional Detention Center with extreme swiftness, as Paris does not wish to wait in line. There were conflicting reports as to whether she was able to skip the standard body-cavity search, though it was unclear whether this was due to her fame, or to the difficulty of finding someone willing to perform the deed.
But just three days later, Paris was back on the streets. She was freed by Los Angeles County Sheriff Lee Baca, a buddy of celebs such as Mel Gibson, who claimed Paris had to be switched to house arrest because she was suffering an “imminent breakdown.” So much for the rule of law.
Judge Sauer hit the roof.
The judge ordered Paris back into his courtroom immediately. There, he told her she would serve the rest of her sentence, behind bars. No mansion. No parties. No whining. As he did so, Paris wailed, “Mommmmm! It’s not fair!” And back to jail Paris went.
She was released, finally, on June 26, 2007, after serving twenty-two days, including her single day at home. So tell me, Paris, what have you learned?
Paris wore a matronly, lacy top for her coming-out interview with Larry King, where she presented herself as reformed—and a victim. In one breath, she mumbled that her sentence was unfair. In another, she said it was the best thing to ever happen to her. She denied she was an alcoholic. She said she never did drugs. And she vowed to help women in prison in some vague way.
But then Larry King, who seemed to have lost interest in his subject along the way,
But even that seeming lapse in dignity would be eclipsed in May 2007. That day, a Los Angeles judge made history. He sentenced Paris to forty-five days in jail.
The sentence was for a traffic stop the previous September, in which she’d failed a sobriety test. The next January, she pleaded no contest to a charge of reckless driving. Displaying either a complete lack of regard to the rule of law, or proof that she did not possess two brain cells to rub together, she was subsequently stopped behind the wheel—twice—while her license was suspended. The first time, cops had Paris sign a document acknowledging she was prohibited from operating a motor car. The second time she was picked up, she had her lights off. The smoking document was in her glove compartment.
Her excuse? She said she never read it. She hired people to read for her. She blamed her publicist, Elliot Mintz, for telling her it was okay to drive. She blamed her pathetic excuse for a dog, nitwit Chihuahua Tinkerbell. Everyone was to blame, except herself.
To the thrill of much of America, and certainly its motorists and vulnerable pedestrians, Judge Michael T. Sauer was to make an example, and prove that, in his court, even in the notoriously fame-friendly state of California, a celebrity might be treated like anyone else. Paris’s sentence was already reduced on Day One to twenty-three days. This was still too harsh for Paris’s well-heeled parents, Kathy and Rick Hilton.
----
There were conflicting reports as to whether she was able to skip the standard body-cavity search, though it was unclear whether this was due to her fame, or to the difficulty of finding someone willing to perform the deed.
----
Paris’s mom taunted the judge on sentencing day, “May I have your autograph?” And when she approached the bench, Kathy was blocked by a court officer. “You touched my breast!” she squealed like a banshee. As if.
In June, Paris was booked into the Century Regional Detention Center with extreme swiftness, as Paris does not wish to wait in line. There were conflicting reports as to whether she was able to skip the standard body-cavity search, though it was unclear whether this was due to her fame, or to the difficulty of finding someone willing to perform the deed.
But just three days later, Paris was back on the streets. She was freed by Los Angeles County Sheriff Lee Baca, a buddy of celebs such as Mel Gibson, who claimed Paris had to be switched to house arrest because she was suffering an “imminent breakdown.” So much for the rule of law.
Judge Sauer hit the roof.
The judge ordered Paris back into his courtroom immediately. There, he told her she would serve the rest of her sentence, behind bars. No mansion. No parties. No whining. As he did so, Paris wailed, “Mommmmm! It’s not fair!” And back to jail Paris went.
She was released, finally, on June 26, 2007, after serving twenty-two days, including her single day at home. So tell me, Paris, what have you learned?
Paris wore a matronly, lacy top for her coming-out interview with Larry King, where she presented herself as reformed—and a victim. In one breath, she mumbled that her sentence was unfair. In another, she said it was the best thing to ever happen to her. She denied she was an alcoholic. She said she never did drugs. And she vowed to help women in prison in some vague way.
But then Larry King, who seemed to have lost interest in his subject along the way,
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