How a "48 Hours" producer got an interview with Bruce Beresford-Redman in a Mexican prison

Read article : How a "48 Hours" producer got an interview with Bruce Beresford-Redman in a Mexican prison

Bruce Beresford-Redman in his Cancun, Mexico, prison cell spoke to "48 Hours Mystery" in his first and only TV interview

CBS News/48 Hours Mystery

(CBS) - The line was long - the odds were much, much longer.

It was seven in the morning and already baking hot when my colleague, Ana Real, and I arrived at the Mexican prison where American television producer Bruce Beresford-Redman is being held. Beresford-Redman is accused of smothering his wife, Monica, and dumping her body in a sewer during a family vacation in Cancun in 2010.

Watch a preview of Saturday's 48 Hours Mystery "Fatal Episode: The Producer's Story"
Video: Bruce Beresford-Redman on speaking out
Video: Bruce Beresford-Redman on losing hope

It was visiting day at the prison as we took our place on line with families burdened by bundles of food, crying children and the sadness of separation.

For us, the burden was lighter, but still significant. We wanted to get an interview with the reality TV producer caught in a real life nightmare, an accused murderer who'd never spoken before - and now was locked away in a place where getting a camera crew inside seemed logistically impossible.

"48 Hours" and CBS correspondent Troy Roberts have been working this story since it first broke almost two years ago. When Bruce Beresford-Redman was suddenly extradited from California, Ana Real and our veteran CBS colleague Avi Cohen happened to be on a fact-finding mission to Cancun -- timing is everything.

Our team began meeting with lawyers, prison officials, even the army general in charge of regional prison security. In the chaotic courtroom where he sat confined in a cage during six days of pretrial proceedings that made "Midnight Express" seem like "Midnight in Paris," Ana and Avi even approached a reluctant Beresford-Redman himself.

As the week went along, Beresford-Redman seemed ever more willing to speak with us. In fact on the last day of the pretrial hearing, he actually requested a visit from Ana. Originally from Nicaragua, Ana has a calm but forceful power with the guards. They placed Ana on Beresford-Redman's visiting list and agreed informally, to put me on the list as well.

Once we were safely inside prison walls -- as safely as a pair of news producers from America can be inside a Mexican prison -- we skirted the chaotic yard, full of thumping disco music and cigarette smoke. We found Beresford-Redman in his cell. Through two sets of bars, it's open to the elements -- heat, dust, rain, roaches and mosquitoes. There are bare wires in the ceiling, but no electricity. Water dribbles from a tap in a concrete trough at the back of the cell. Next to a filthy shower pipe and a clogged toilet there is human excrement smeared in a mural on the wall - a gift, he says, from the last occupant. He lacks a reliable supply of even the most basic provisions - clean drinking water, bug repellant, aspirin. Meals consist of mostly of bean gruel delivered in a plastic laundry hamper which is dragged down the hallway three times a day and ladled into a bowl. Bruce is only allowed to leave his 6 x 12 cell if there is a visitor or a court appearance. He spends 24 hours a day, seven days a week in this cramped cell he shares with another English speaking prisoner. This space may well be where he spends the rest of his life.

Given that horrifying reality, the reality TV producer from L.A. seemed in remarkably good spirits. He was especially pleased to be let out of his cell for the first part of our visit. Having not received a single visitor other than his lawyers, he was eager to talk about all manner of things - and talk we did - for more than four hours.

I've been in the news business for almost 20 years and have often found persuading people to give interviews a distasteful part of the job. Since it frequently hinges on your ability to put yourself in someone else's shoes and see the world through his or her eyes, it can be really difficult, too.

As our conversation entered its fourth hour, I realized Beresford-Redman was actually eager to get his story out -- and afraid he wouldn't have another chance. I had a cell phone in my pocket and knew that while it would have been nice to have a fully rigged television camera to do a formal sit down interview, in this new media age the phone was all I really needed. A cell phone interview would be enough to bring this powerful story to millions of viewers in the United States. It would be as raw -- and real -- as the nightmarish prison itself. All we needed was a quiet spot to talk.

And that's how I wound up wedged into the bathroom -- Beresford-Redman standing up against the shower wall in the back of his cell -- with my cell phone, interviewing him for close to 40 minutes for a national network television.

Contributed by "48 Hours Mystery" producer Josh Yager

© 2012 CBS Interactive Inc. All Rights Reserved.

'I'm Going to Die in the Streets Alone': Talking with Comic Eddie Pepitone

Read article : 'I'm Going to Die in the Streets Alone': Talking with Comic Eddie Pepitone

Eddie Pepitone has been disgusted with everything longer than you have: Bed Bath & Beyond, the NSA, magicians, upscale grilled cheese, Parks and Recreation, and Wolf Blitzer are just some of his triggers. But what makes Pepitone my favorite comic is his persistent awareness of, and ability to hold, something that I call "the double horror." Not only does Pepitone expose the terrifying futility of those consumer identities we build to distract ourselves from the abyss, but he also reflects the anxious absurdity of simply being alive—and having a soul—in the first place. "Is SleepyTime Tea going to make up for the fact that I was molested?" he asks. "Global capitalism is brutal and heartless. In other news I got a great app for my phone that allows me not to feel!!!" he tweets.

"At any street corner the feeling of absurdity can strike any man in the face," wrote Albert Camus of the strangeness of being alive. Pepitone's comedy is the visceral experience of a man being continually struck. When I've shown Pepitone's Netflix special to friends, some have asked me, "How do you handle all of the screaming?" The truth is, I don't really notice the screaming. Perhaps because his screams echo my own in a world where those around me don't seem so shocked by the fact that we exist. Camus also wrote, "I draw from the absurd three consequences, which are my revolt, my freedom, and my passion." In Pepitone's work, I find that revolt, freedom, and passion. I feel that I have company on that street corner

I caught up with Eddie Pepitone by cellphone on his way to play a role in Jill Greenberg's Feminist Pigs, wherein seven women take revenge on their abusers. Pepitone was to be shooting a scene at a pool in Beverly Hills, and for the part, he would have to be electrocuted underwater. We talked about anxiety, sobriety, and why life is hell.

So Sad Today: So you're going to get electrocuted?
Eddie Pepitone: This is the kind of shit… it's typical for me… today I'll be getting electrocuted and tomorrow I'm supposed to be upside down on a lucite cross. This is how my life goes. That's my m.o. is I agree to do things, and then it's like, "Oh God."

Yes, any time a plan gets canceled it's the best day of my life.
My big thing lately is I'm just gonna show up for whatever. I'm gonna be an adult. I agreed to do this. The old me would have wiggled out somehow. Now I'm on the trip of walking through pain.

When did the new you start?
I'm being dragged, kicking and screaming. So I don't want to make it like—I guess the new me that is doing that is pretty new. Like a year old?

The walking through pain aspect is interesting. When I first discovered your comedy it was when you performed at an addiction recovery benefit show. I know that we're both sober. For me, using drugs and alcohol was an attempt not to be human. So when pain—my own humanity—occurs, it feels like something is very wrong.
Drugs and alcohol are just a game plan to avoid pain, right? When you've done that for years, you have to rewire yourself, because you're so used to killing the pain and not facing stuff. And now all of a sudden, you're like me where everything is fraught with anxiety. I'm going to a pool, and I'm just worried.

What would you say are your major fears right now?
I think like tremendous violence happening to me or collapsing from a panic attack in the streets and being abandoned alone. What the panic attack symbolizes for me is I'm going to die in the streets alone gasping for air, how fucking horrific is that image, and it also represents—like my big issues are—I guess abandonment. Like just being bereft and abandoned and nobody gives a fuck. And LA is a weird place to be if those are your issues.

LA is an abandonment issue. You start out abandoned, because everything is so far apart. But dying alone in public is definitely scarier than dying alone at home. Like I just want to die in my sleep, and I think it's unfair that some people get so much better deaths than others.
I think it's also about ego death. When I'm listening to a speaker like Eckhart Tolle, I feel like I get it, but then as soon as I go back to my life, I feel that terror of losing things, of losing life.

I loved in The Bitter Buddha when you were listening to Eckhart Tolle in the car and then yelling, "Fuck you, asshole!" at another car. He makes ego death sound so soothing, but the real experiences I've had of ego death were like, I felt like a chair was dissolving under me, and everything was decontextualized. I was like, wait, I don't want to be conscious, put the blinders back on! Anyway, I wanted to ask you, why is everything a living hell?
Yeah, why is everything a living hell? Well, I think it comes down to that, well for me, I just didn't get any guidance or nurturing when I was younger. So I grew up such a twisted person who was always trying to avoid pain… I just think it's hilarious that I drive around LA, the rich and powerful LA, sunshine, everybody's talking about it, and meanwhile I'm listening in the car to how the body holds trauma, and just feeling it. So your question, why is everything a living hell? I think it's a perspective we have cultivated for so long. I'm just becoming conscious of my—hold on—

[I hear Pepitone talking to a woman who asks what he is doing. She thinks he is there to clean the pool. He responds that he is one of the actors in a film and is an hour early.]

Now I'm afraid—maybe I shouldn't be giving information, like the filmmaker has done something on the sly and I've just given information, like, yes we're filming in the pool. Oh, God. And I'm like, "I'm one of the actors. I'm a big actor who has trauma trapped in his body." So why is everything a living hell? Wait, I'm going to tweet that, "I'm a big actor who has trauma trapped in his body." I think it's funny to call myself a "big actor."

That's also something you would literally see: Don Johnson, 30 years later, in US Weekly, "How Don Johnson Got Through the Trauma Trapped in His Body."
Don Johnson.

It all comes down to Don Johnson.
It does, I think. But I think it happens young, the hell. I think the hell gets implanted in us young, and I think as we then deal with the world, especially getting into—like I got into smoking tons of weed at 14 and that was my big escape. Little did I know that I was just postponing the inevitable reckoning. You know, there's always a reckoning in life.

The reckoning is so annoying. Like I've been clean and sober now for more than 12 years, but I'm still such an addict that I will get addicted to… fucking anything that gets me out of myself. I'm always looking for that thing that I can just have infinite amounts of without a reckoning. But the day of reckoning always comes.
Lately, I've been really into my dogs. Like, just putting so much of my emotions and obsession—I'm constantly looking to soften every day. I'm so into my dogs, but there's always part of me now that's like, "They're going to die one day. And that's going to be the reckoning that's going to be hard." It's like this too shall pass, the bad things and the good things… but I remember Mark Maron said, "I'm trying to get the pleasure out of a pint of ice cream now that I got out of an 8-ball."

Yeah, the party we cobble together gets shittier and shittier. I have, like, Twitter and porn. I have, like nothing.
I'm trying not to watch porn now. I just feel like it's feeding this shitty part of me... but then I get drawn to it too, and I'm like, oh my God… but it's that panicked feel. Anything that has that addictive feeling to it, it always leads you to crazy things. It's that empty calorie shit that's feeding that demon we have. I need to fuck this, I need to eat it, I need to fuck it and eat it.

Totally! The hungry ghost.
But are we being overly dramatic about our stuff? We're both sober. I'm sitting here right now ,and I'm looking at the trees, and the air is really nice, so there is a part of me now that is more connected than ever before to good stuff too. But it's so fraught with the feeling that just on the other side, waiting for me, are the demons. Have you read The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck? The big pain point is trying to avoid pain. We all think we should be riding around in a Maserati getting our dicks sucked, millions in the bank, everything is fucking great, and when adversity hits we're like, no, no, I don't want that, and that's what makes life unbearable. But it's the pain that leads to the good stuff. Like when you're in an intimate relationship, and you avoid at all costs a hard conversation about how you feel, but that kind of intimacy is what's going to make your life more intimate. We need to have the attitude that life isn't supposed to be a carousel ride while eating a fucking cake...which I love.

Of course. I want permanent cake. Like I want to be in the cake. I just want to be in the cake, all the time. But somehow not get sick of the cake. Like be high off the cake and just be able to eat the infinite cake. But in regards to the other shoe dropping and childhood stuff, I feel like it's a defense mechanism. To fully trust is just too scary. Because then I'm not in control when the shoe drops. Even though that control is an illusion.
I think it's so fucking hard to let that go. And just to get into what's going on today, neo-Nazis and Trump, social media hysteria, you kind of look at the world and you go, Holy shit, it is a shithole. It is a fucking nightmare.

Yes, you look around, and there is plenty to verify that it's all shit.
That's the scary thing.

There's horror. And then there's love. And then there's horror. But even nature is scary, too—just its randomness. I was watching this documentary the other day, and there was a crocodile who got in the mix with a bunch of hippos. And in defending themselves, the hippos had a stampede to chase the croc away. And they succeeded. But in the chaos, one of the hippos got accidentally stabbed by another hippo's tusk and was going to die. And I'm watching the hippo who got stabbed accidentally, and I'm like, fuck dude, that wasn't an act of evil. But it sucks for that hippo. And that scares me too. The randomness.
Eckhart Tolle is constantly harping like a little bitch about the present moment. And I get his point but—oh man, I felt that, the way that hippo got stabbed accidentally and was just going off to die, and the way animals like that go off to die is like my dying on the street alone. The way animals slink away when they're dying.

That hippo was having your nightmare death.
I should have a picture of that hippopotamus dying, blown up, and just put on the biggest wall in my place.

It just says "The Worst That Can Happen."
Right, the worst that can happen. And when people come over I just go uh, that hippo, that's just before she dies.

But what were you thinking about the present moment and that hippo?
My thought is that, the reason why life is hell is that we don't stay in the present—like you're watching that fucking documentary, and you're actually watching it on a comfortable couch, eating your cake, and that's your present moment.

But what about the present moment for that hippo? But I get it. I could spend 70 years worrying about my death and only five dying.
Like, right now my present moment is fine. But what we do, we don't stay in the present moment. I'm worrying about my death, or my lack of faith. And that's what makes life hell… it's our minds that are the fucking enemy. Like right now I'm sitting here, and it's really pretty and everything, but I'm in this really ritzy part of the—I don't know where the fuck I am—and I'm thinking, Someone with a gun could just come out and be like, Who the fuck are you? It's peaceful here.

BuySo Sad Today: Personal Essays onAmazon, and follow her on Twitter.

a make-do bathroom makeover! ~ Like Mother Like Daughter

Read article : a make-do bathroom makeover! ~ Like Mother Like Daughter

{At the end of this post you will find paint colors to update your almond fixtures, and notes about sources. The Amazon links are affiliate links.}

I have come to that point where either I show you some pictures of my bathroom makeover in its not-quite-complete form or I give up altogether, because in real life, the “done” things very quickly get to be decidedly worn out, even as you are trying to finish up the details.

And that would not be good, would it, for me to wait so long that the new things got old. So that’s what I’m doing — showing you the way it is in real life, namely, not quite done (or ever likely to be!).

I have one million things to tell you.

We redid two bathrooms at once, simply because they are right next to each other and it seemed to make sense in terms of economy of scale. I’m not sure if that turns out to be correct. It certainly makes sense in terms of one’s willingness to return to chaos after one stage has been dealt with. It also makes sense when the second one is completely unusable, as opposed to the first which is just crumbling.

Here is a diagram/plan of our second floor. Those of you who know me well, know my little attempts to give you an overview of things… which may or may not be helpful.

What this is conveying to you, in my own wacky way, is that in an old house, choices have to be made, usually according to things known as “stacks” — places where plumbing gets put in and it’s just simpler to go up with it to the next floor than to, you know, actually put it where it’s needed.

Thus, yes, I go a far piece to get to the bathroom. (The Chief also does, but, you know.) And those bathrooms are next to each other. Because, plumbing.

I will show you the other one at some point. We are putting shelving up and then I hope to!

Here are some befores. Please remember that befores are usually taken at the very last minute, after the leaks have gotten bad and pretty much when the demo has begun and suddenly you’re like, “Let me stop the hating for a minute, just for the sake of the blog.” So don’t judge me too harshly; it wasn’t quiiiittte this bad. Well, not till the very end.

BEFORE:

The leaks had sprung, and that’s what the towels are all about. In my dreams, I would have had an upscale construction company come in here and gut everything, and I would have put in black and white tile and white porcelain fixtures. There would be a freestanding tub with a shower; I don’t see what’s wrong with that! I like it, and it’s old-fashioned and timeless. Plus, way easier to bathe a baby in, versus a dumb jacuzzi and too-small shower.

However, that was not to be.

It’s just too expensive to rip out these built ins. Let this be a warning to you! Try not to build things in. That tub — not going anywhere. Likewise the vanity. It would just cost so much to replace it with its built-in sinks.

That meant that we had to work with the almond. I know. But because of that, I’m here to tell you the best way to do that in terms of decorating!

BEFORE:

Somewhere along the way, when I was still nursing that black-and-white dream of mine, we replaced the old almond (terrible and malfunctioning) toilet with this nice white one.

My reasoning — what would be the point of putting in new almond one if we were on track to gut this bathroom and make it all NOT ALMOND?

Yeah. After crunching the numbers (and recovering consciousness, and paying the tuition bill), we did end up getting one to match, and this beautiful white number is in the new laundry room.

Now, I want you further to note the golden oak trim. Baseboards, windows (sorry, no befores of that), and the radiator cover. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to incorporate almond fixtures and golden oak trim, and then I came to my senses.

The trim was getting painted.

AFTER:

I took the radiator cover down to the garage and spray-painted it. It’s at times like this that spray-paint earns its keep. Painting all that metal screen with a brush would have been a nightmare of drips and surfaces!

I also spray-painted the radiator underneath. It had been white and the white showed through the mesh and contrasted with the black. However, I would not do that again — spray painting inside is not a good idea!

We got a bigger shower. The space above the new wall is open on the theory that air circulation is a good thing.

The trick with the almond is to go a bit darker on the walls, and a white-leaning-towards-gray-taupe (taupe is beige with black in it, or brown/black with white in it, however you want to look at it) for the trim.

Black accents lift everything up out of the 70s-90s. I painted the light fixtures black and got new glasses for the sconces.

I do really love the flooring. It’s vinyl plank (not laminate sheets). It’s completely waterproof and floats on the subfloor — in this case, partial tile and partial plywood. Just covers it all up and provides a warm, easy to clean surface. I love the color of it.

I call it “Escape from Golden Oak.”

The paint and a bunch of the black we had already decided on in the last go-round (the real before featured blue wallpaper, which, who puts wallpaper in a bathroom I ask you, and blue is not a good way to uplift almond). The vanity had been golden oak; I hadn’t thought to take a before picture (there is a similar one on this blog), but I was very pleased with how the hardware went from blah to fab, just with the color change.

We did update the faucets. Surely you can see why…

BEFORE:

AFTER:

I will say that the surround of the tub and the countertop and backsplashes are all Corian. I like that surface. I would have liked it not to be almond, but oh well.

One little note you might not think of: The nice-looking black and chrome toothbrush holder from Target (as seen in the before pic just above)?

No good.

No matter how much you rinse the toothbrushes, the dried residue is white! Making your holder look gross. I spray painted mine white.

There are nice touches in old houses…

Before:

After:

Things I would do at some point:

Touch up the black of the vanity and the frames of the mirrors

Spray paint the towel ring between the two mirrors black

Replace the window over the tub so that it opens (which, among other things, would allow for it to be cleaned on the outside; it’s over the roof of the garage, so a cleaning isn’t happening otherwise!)

Replace or paint the faucet of the tub

Line the curtain to make it look a bit more substantial — this requires coming across a good length of muslin at some point

Paint and sources:

Walls: Olympic, Sienna Sand (which may be the Benjamin Moore name which we originally used, but they can make it at Lowe’s)

Trim: Valspar Cliveden Mist (first we primed the oak well)

The black is just some random black in the case of the vanity (I don’t remember, but just don’t get a blue-black) or black spray paint

Ceiling paint: Take a tip from me and use glossy paint for your bathroom ceilings, preferably one that is mold-resistant — this was a huge upgrade from the regular ceiling paint that had been on there before

Flooring: Shaw’s Matrix Regency Vinyl Plank Flooring in Gunstock, from Lowe’s (I bought this after buying a similar product from Home Depot; I was actually hoping for a lighter color (which I think doesn’t show as much dirt). I was checking out with enough flooring for both bathrooms and caught sight of a sample laid out. My, it was ugly! So I turned right around and returned it all! After much texting of photos to Rosie and a considerable amount of agonizing over the fact that some colors are in stock and some are decidedly not and anyway how are you supposed to tell, I found this one at Lowe’s. I love it.)

Toilet: Gerber

Shower: Got it from the plumbing supply store — it is 5′ wide and has a built-in seat! The door is from Lowe’s and is suspended from the top, making it easier to clean

Faucets: Ufaucet from Amazon. These are very nice and the pop-up drain is metal, not plastic, and the price was right

Towel racks/hooks: Spray painted regular hooks black; Phil made the peg board; carved wooden hook from Marshall’s

Paris map: Available at art stores that sell wrapping paper, for under $4, or here on Amazon for more. I decoupaged it onto a spray-painted piece of particleboard that we had, so the whole thing cost me $5

Curtain fabric: JoAnn’s

Other art: Thrifted, or decoupaged greeting cards — the “abstract art” is actually a picture of a Gee’s Bend quilt, and however much a source of contention it is in my family, I love it for the sweet thriftiness it represents

Shout-out to Bridget who helped me choose the fabric and who did a lot of painting!

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