What a rat hyena vulture jackal! This guy pissed me off left and right. Like they were such close friends when he was only there to profit off her private moments. EVEN AT HER FUNERAL. When celebrities speak against the paparazzi, I think they mean the embodiment of Lawrence Schiller, the lowly scavenger. Ugh, her pictures bought him a house. He doesn't seem sensitive to her life at all, but tosses money brags all over the place like jizz. There was nothing redeeming to this book at all. He completely exploited her during her lifetime and now, posthumously, by writing this book. When he tells the story of where he was when he heard she had passed away, he was vacationing in Palm Springs, planning an afternoon of dessert and shopping. Thanks to the money from her photos. He runs back to LA not to mourn but to fucking take photos. This dude. I can't. Don't buy this book.