Sunday HBO starts a six-part miniseries on Robert Durst of the NYC real estate Dursts. Admitted killer who got off with an unsolved role in two other murders. The guy’s creepy. The series gripping. Title: “The Jinx.”
I know the players. I lived through it. I have a 2003 series of New York Post front-page exclusives about it. For instance, going with Debrah Charatan, hiscommercial real estate broker wife — they remain married but live apart — to visit him in Galveston County Jail.
She’s in the film. Controlled, tightly wired, not even her insides show. Sit with her in back of a car, she’s on the phone, opening mail, at the same time. Her overnighter round-trip Galveston run was every three weeks in the 20 months following this hideous man’s arrest for murder and dismemberment.
“We married in 2000. He sent flowers every week. From prison he sent a teddy bear in a hospital gown when I was operated on. I’ve lost all I ever loved. My parents, Holocaust survivors. My father, a butcher, had one leg. With my first husband, it was a bitter divorce and ugly custody fight. I was nobody wanting to be somebody. And Bob was good to me. The only person ever good to me.
“He worries about me. The man I know is very funny. Dry humor. We traveled. We had two bicycles. We rode together. When I ran the marathon he took the subway and met me every three miles.”
Tearing up behind dark glasses, she said: “He’s the one person in my life who was there for me when nobody else was. If it ends up that he goes away, everyone who’s around him now will also go away. I can’t just tell him, ‘Bye now.’ I can’t desert him. I am not going to let him down. I have to be there for him. I owe him.”