Two years ago, when the billionaire Hollywood mogul Sumner Redstone passed away, his granddaughter Keryn got a text message from an old acquaintance expressing sympathy for her loss. Keryn, 40, who was among the beneficiaries of her grandfather’s fortune after an estate battle with two of Sumner’s former live-in girlfriends, did not respond right away. But a few months later, Keryn texted back her old buddy, Scott Nathan, and the two began chatting. That’s where their stories diverge. The dispute, now in court, represents a strange aftermath to the legal drama featured in James B. Stewart and Rachel Abrams’s new book about the Redstone family and their media legacy.
According to Nathan’s account, Keryn Redstone offered him a job as her estate manager and personal assistant, which he accepted. After receiving a $50,000 signing bonus, he began to organize her chaotic life. Soon, he moved into her Brentwood residence, lured by the promise of more money. But Nathan claims that Keryn struggled with mental and substance abuse issues and began hurling wild accusations at him. One morning, the police woke him up after Redstone called 9-1-1 claiming Nathan had stolen money and held a gun to her head. A few days later, she repeated those accusations to porn star Danny Mountain, who was at her home to provide “sexual services.” Finally, Redstone tweeted a photograph of her cat with the message, “My cat that Scott Nathan stole from my house.” That, apparently, was the final straw; Nathan decided to sue.
Naturally, Redstone offered a very different version of events. When they first reconnected, she says, he hit her up for money, and she wired him funds to help him out. But she claims she never actually hired him, and only asked him to stay at her place for a few days while she was settling in. Nathan, she continues, used that opportunity to insinuate himself into her life and exploit her financially. He was the one who exhibited mental instability, she said, evidenced by a strange fixation with her “rare and expensive cat.” Redstone found his behavior concerning and asked him to leave. That’s when he pulled a gun on her. Being cautious, she waited for him to fall asleep before calling the cops.
All this is now playing out in a defamation suit, the legal remedy du jour for a country that can’t seem to agree on anything. From Hollywood A-listers to NFL legends, QAnon conspiracists to YouTubers and even chess grandmasters, everyone is seemingly in court these days over something someone else said. Nobody should be surprised that another Redstone is suddenly enmeshed in a new legal drama, too—or that it might hinge on the sworn testimony of an adult film star. It comes with the territory, right?
As for this case, a few weeks ago, a Los Angeles judge refused Keryn Redstone’s bid to shut down Nathan’s lawsuit. Redstone had attempted to take advantage of California’s anti-SLAPP law—meant to quickly knock down frivolous lawsuits that impinge important speech—arguing, in part, that her statements to the police were privileged. The judge responded that a public tweet and a comment to a porn star had nothing to do with a police investigation. The case is now proceeding to discovery, leaving unresolved, for now, whether you can really win damages for being smeared as a cat-kidnapper.
Springtime for Defamation
Libel discourse is entering a sort of golden age where defamation law is part of our culture wars. Trump is suing CNN for allowing guests to criticize him, and he is being sued for disparaging a woman who accused him of rape. Republicans want to make it easier to sue the media, in particular, with Florida Governor Ron DeSantis promoting a new proposal to reshape libel law in his state by changing who qualifies as a public figure and by treating anonymous speech as presumptively false.
For some perspective on the Florida proposal, I called Alexander Rufus-Isaacs, a Beverly Hills attorney with some fascinating cases, including the aforementioned Redstone suit (he’s representing Scott Nathan); a former Vanity Fair photo editor suing Netflix over Inventing Anna; and Ruth Shalit Barrett’s peculiar lawsuit against The Atlantic. Rufus-Isaacs, who has represented clients on both sides of defamation claims, said he worries about the DeSantis crusade. “As a plaintiff’s lawyer, this would be phenomenal,” he told me. “But on a wider level, no, that would be quite bad. It’s obvious what they’re trying to do.”
Rufus-Isaacs believes, and I second, that the true aim in Florida is not only to give officials an anti-media talking point, but also to entice the U.S. Supreme Court into revisiting New York Times v. Sullivan, the right’s new legal fixation now that Roe v. Wade has fallen. (That landmark 1964 opinion established that public figures must demonstrate a speaker’s actual malice to prevail on a defamation claim.) Justice Clarence Thomas has already called for overturning Sullivan under the premise that libel standards for public figures are not explicitly spelled out in the Constitution, and should therefore be left to states. Florida lawmakers see an opportunity to strike. Otherwise, the proposal would be pretty clearly unconstitutional under existing precedent.
If it becomes easier to sue for libel, that’d cause at least two major changes in the media. First, it would cause journalism to degrade in quality—to become less adventurous as news outlets hold themselves back from publishing newsworthy information about well-resourced individuals. Second, and perhaps more counterintuitively, I think it would cause the reputations of journalists to rise. As I see it, the public’s low assessment of the media is partly a function of the power it holds to shape opinion, which causes rivals for power—like politicians—to attack to reclaim the upper hand. Turning down the media’s microphone would make journalists less of a target for retaliatory abuse, which, weirdly, could boost their popularity. Of course, democracy doesn’t depend on a popular fourth estate, so that trade-off, in my opinion, would most definitely not be worth it.
To imagine a post-Sullivan U.S., just look to England, which is notoriously friendly to libel plaintiffs thanks to its “strict liability” standard for untrue statements. Then again, the British have a pretty vivacious celebrity tabloid culture—if not much of a reputation for investigative reporting about public corruption—which shows the low-brow journalism that might thrive should Sullivan go away. Rufus-Isaacs, a Brit himself, may know this better than most. “You might be onto something,” Rufus-Isaacs told me, pointing to what happened to Catherine Belton, who wrote a book, Putin’s People, before being bombarded in London with libel suits from Russian oligarchs.
Others disagreed with my theory. Ted Boutrous, a Gibson Dunn partner who has defended media outlets in trailblazing First Amendment cases, believes that hostility toward journalists predates Sullivan and persists in many countries without high bars to libel. “Journalists will never win a popularity contest and politicians will not stop bashing them just because it becomes easier to sue them,” he insisted. “In fact, the availability of more lawsuits will only spawn more hostility. And attacking the press is viewed as good politics by some, and always will be.”
For more, come hear me speak on March 10 at the University of Missouri for a symposium, “What if New York Times v. Sullivan is Next? The Future of Journalism and Defamation Law.” Or send me your thoughts at eriq@puck.news.
