Hollywood & Crime - Death of a Starlet | Strawberry Sundae Supreme | 1

Episode Date: September 13, 2024

Seventeen-year-old Dorothy Stratten is working at Dairy Queen in East Vancouver when a man walks in who will change her life. His name is Paul Snider and around town he’s known as a hustler and a pimp. Paul sees Dorothy as his ticket to Hollywood. As their relationship progresses, Paul tries to convince Dorothy to pose nude to enter a Playboy 25th Anniversary playmate hunt. See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

You're listening to the first episode of Death of a Starlet. To continue the journey, you can binge episodes 2 through 7 exclusively with Wondery+. Start your free trial today in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. Death of a Starlet by Hollywood and Crime contains depictions of violence and strong language. Please be advised. It's Thursday, August 14th, 1980. 11 p.m.

Private Detective Mark Goldstein sits alone in his car staring at a nondescript two-story house on a quiet street in West Los Angeles. The guy who lives in the house hired him to tail his wife. She's having an affair. Passing headlights reflect off the windshield and then fade away. Goldstein unrolls the window and a curl of cigarette smoke spirals into the night. He squints at the two cars in front of the house. They've been parked there since noon. The woman he's looking for must be in there. But what are they doing inside?

That's the question Goldstein has been asking himself all day. The two roommates got back a few hours ago, and it's been completely quiet since then. At 11.30 p.m., Goldstein decides to do something he rarely does. Inside the house, Steve Kushner and his roommate Patty are sprawled out on opposite ends of the couch when they hear the phone ring. Patty answers, then passes it to Steve. Steve Kushner here. Steve doesn't know the caller is sitting in a car just outside the house.

Kushner, it's Mark Goldstein. I need to speak to Paul. Is he there? Sorry, I haven't seen him all day. He's gotta be in there. I'm looking at his car. Can you check? Kushner sighs, grabs his beer, and walks downstairs to Paul's bedroom. He doesn't come down here often. Paul Snyder likes his privacy, and lately Paul's been particularly moody. Kushner feels along the hallway for the light switch and flips it on. The door is closed. He presses his ear to the door.

Nothing. Paul? You in there? There's a guy on the phone says he needs to talk to you. It's quiet. Paul? All right, I'm coming in. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust. When they do, he's not sure what he's looking at. There's blood everywhere. On the wall. On the floor. Krishna's eyes open wide. There are two dead bodies, both of them nude. Is that Paul? The face is so mangled

he can't tell, and there's a woman lying across the corner of the bed. Her head is almost unrecognizable through the gore. Then he sees the long blonde hair. Oh god. He turns and bumps into Patty. Jesus, don't go in there. Fifteen minutes later, private detective Mark Goldstein stands in the living room, the phone cradled in the crook of his shoulder while he smokes. Kushner sits on the couch with his head in his hands. The other roommate, Patty, is curled up in an armchair, staring at the TV with vacant eyes. The police are on their way. Goldstein is now waiting to speak to someone else who needs to know what's happened.

Finally, he hears the man's voice on the other end. He takes a breath. Mr. Hefner? It's Mark Goldstein. I'm a private detective. I've been working for Paul Snyder. Listen, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Mr. Hefner. I'm really sorry. It's about one of your playmates, Dorothy Stratton. one of your playmates, Dorothy Stratton. When he's done speaking,

there's a long pause. Then, the line goes dead. Less than 12 hours later, what Goldstein tells Hugh Hefner will be all over the news. Playboy magazine's 1980 Playmate of the Year has been found shot to death,

killed apparently by her estranged husband, who then killed himself. What nobody knows yet is why. BetMGM, the king of online casinos. Enjoy casino games at your fingertips with the same Vegas strip excitement MGM is famous for when you play classics like MGM Grand Millions or popular games like Blackjack, Baccarat, and Roulette. With our ever-growing library of digital slot games, a large selection of online table games, and signature BetMGM service, there's no better way to bring the excitement and ambiance of Las Vegas home to you than with BetMGM Casino. Download the BetMGM Casino app today. BetMGM and GameSense remind you to play responsibly. BetMGM.com for terms and conditions. 19 plus to wager. Ontario only.

Please play responsibly. If you have any questions or concerns about your gambling or someone close to you, please contact ConnexOntario at 1-866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor, free of charge. BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGamingOntario. The Grinch is back again to ruin your Christmas season with Tis the Grinch Holiday Podcast. Listen as his celebrity guests try to persuade the Grinch that there's more to love about the holiday season.

Follow Tis the Grinch Holiday Podcast on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. Grown-ups, enjoy bonus content of Tis the Grinch Holiday Podcast exclusively on Wondery Plus. From Wondery, I'm Tracy Patton, along with my co-host, Josh Lucas. This is Death of a Starlet, from Hollywood and Crime. 1980 was going to be Dorothy Stratton's year. Hugh Hefner thought it might even be her decade. was going to be Dorothy Stratton's year. Hugh Hefner thought it might even be her decade.

She was just 20 years old, the girl next door with the shy smile and whispery voice who didn't know her own beauty. But to the men in her life, Hugh Hefner, the director Peter Bogdanovich, and the man she married, Paul Snyder, Dorothy represented the promise of better things. A playboy centerfold who could become a mainstream movie star. A muse who could help revive a dying career. To the man who killed her,

she was a ticket to Hollywood and a dream. But who was Dorothy really? And how did her rise to glamour and fame ultimately lead to her death? Marilyn Monroe called Hollywood a place where they'll pay you a thousand dollars for a kiss and 50 cents for your soul. Dorothy Stratton would find that out firsthand. This is a six-part series about love, sex, and murder in 1970s Hollywood. This is Episode 1, Strawberry Sunday Supreme. It's late afternoon, January 1978 in Vancouver, Canada. A chilly 41 degrees. Paul Snyder has one hand on the wheel of his black Datsun 240Z.

With his other, he adjusts the rearview mirror to get a better look at himself. He wets his fingers and smooths down his mustache. At 26, he's already been through his share of hard knocks, but damn, he looks good. He hits the gas and then turns to his date, who's clutching the door. Relax, Paul says. Then he turns up the radio and drives faster. He cruises past pawn shops and convenience stores with busted neon signs. East Vancouver's rough, working class.

Drug dealers hang out in the doorways of boarded up stores. Homeless people push shopping carts covered in tarp to keep out the rain. Paul cranks down the window to let in some air and fingers the Star of David around his neck. It's not just any Star of David. It's studded with diamonds. Around town, it's earned him a nickname, the Jewish Pimp. He wears it proudly, both the name and the necklace. He turns sharply onto Hastings Street. A big red Dairy Queen sign comes into view. He turns to the girl. I'm in the mood for some ice cream.

Sure, she says. Paul pulls the car up to the curb and screeches to a stop. He steps out and stops to look at himself in the reflection of the driver's side window, smooths his hair, adjusts his sunglasses. He's ropey and small, an optimistic five foot eight. He wears a long mink coat and lizard skin boots that clack on the pavement. Paul knows how to make an entrance. Yeah, he's confident. When he sees the blonde girl behind the counter, he forgets about the girl he's with. he forgets about the girl he's with.

Dorothy Hoagstraten puts her elbows on the counter and flips through a fashion magazine. She likes the advertisements. Fancy people lounging on yachts or stepping out of limousines, living carefree lives. They don't have any money worries or little brothers and sisters at home all alone or a mom who's too exhausted to

make dinner. When she started working at Dairy Queen at age 14 years old, it was a nice respite from her life at home. She's the oldest of three, and her mother works all the time, so it's up to her to take care of her brother and sister. It's just a part-time job, but Dorothy loved everything about Dairy Queen at first. The sugary smells, the ching-ching of the cash register. But then she turned 15 and 16 and 17. Now she's a month away from her 18th birthday and still wearing a little red uniform with her hair in pigtails, an embarrassing requirement of the job.

But at least it's a paycheck, and her boss is nice, an ex-biker named Dave. He watches out for her. He's always saying corny things like, you can do whatever you put your mind to, things Dorothy imagines a dad would say. She wouldn't know since her own dad left when she was three. And her next dad, her stepdad?

The strongest memory she has of him is when he slapped her in the face and broke her little brother's arm. Her mother kicked him out after that. Since then, it's been just the four of them. When things are slow at work, Dorothy daydreams about the future. She'll be graduating soon. Maybe she'll get a job as a secretary in one of those fancy downtown skyscrapers. She'll click down the hall in her heels with important papers cradled in her arm, sit at one of those electric typewriters, and be someone her boss can't live without.

I'm sorry, he's in a meeting, she imagines herself saying. Can I take a message? Sometimes late at night, lying in bed, she imagines she's famous, living in a big house somewhere the sky isn't so gray. But who's she kidding? Where would she go? She's just a girl from East Vancouver who works at the Dairy Queen. The girl behind the counter at Dairy Queen is tall, maybe 5'9". Blonde pigtails, ski-jump nose, full breasts pushing against her red and brown uniform. Paul wonders how a girl like her ended up in a shit-crap place like this. Can I help you? She asks. At least, that's what he, she says. Her voice is so

soft and whispery. He's not sure. Snyder takes off his sunglasses to get a better look. I'll have a strawberry sundae supreme, he says. What is it about her? No makeup, no jewelry, but what a face. No jewelry, but what a face. High cheekbones, hazel eyes. What's your name, he asks. She points to the tag on her chest. Dorothy, she says quietly. He realizes what it is.

She has no idea how pretty she is. That's her magic. One strawberry supreme coming right up. Paul nods towards a booth against the wall. I'll just be over here enjoying the view. He turns to his date to follow. He can tell from her face she's fuming. Screw her.

If she doesn't like his flirting, she can walk home. Paul watches Dorothy work behind the counter, watches the way she moves, how she talks to the customers. She carries herself like an awkward librarian, quiet, composed, like some half-girl, half-woman. She's got class. Dorothy comes over with a towering sundae with extra whipped cream and sprinkles. When he looks back, he'll realize this was the moment that changed everything.

When his future came into focus, and he could see exactly how to get where he was always meant to be. When Paul gets up to leave, he calls over his shoulder, See you around, beautiful. And he's pretty sure he catches her smile before he walks out the door. At the end of her shift, Dorothy's exhausted. She pulled a double again and still has schoolwork to do. But she can't stop thinking about the flashy guy with the sports car who called her beautiful. No one's ever called her that before. Her boss Dave walks her to the bus stop, like he always does, says he wants to make sure she gets home safe. Normally he's chatty on their walk, but tonight

he's quiet. When he finally speaks, he says, you should stay away from that guy. Dorothy looks at him wide-eyed. What guy? But she knows who Dave's talking about. Dave gives her one of his looks and says, the punk in the fur coat. Trust me, Dorothy, I've seen him around. He's bad news. Dorothy laughs. He was just a customer, Dave, and he was with a girl. I've already forgotten him. But she hasn't. When she goes to bed that night, she thinks about the tower of ice cream she made for him, how he winked at her when he walked out the door. Where is he from, she wonders. He can't be from here. He's so different from anyone Dorothy's ever met with his fancy car and glitzy clothes. His life must be so glamorous. fancy car and glitzy clothes. His life must be so glamorous.

Glamorous is one word for it. A year before Paul Snyder walks into the Dairy Queen and into Dorothy Stratton's life, he's dangling from a hotel window in the dead of winter, staring at the asphalt 30 stories below and praying he doesn't die. Beat the shit out of me. I don't care. Just let me up, Snyder begs. He's trying to crane his neck up, but all he sees is the blowing hair and the mouth full of teeth of the man who's holding his life in his hands. He should have known better than to get involved with a girlfriend of a drug dealer or burn through $15,000 of the guy's money. Now he has to think fast, which isn't easy when your heart is pounding out of your chest.

Please, I'll do anything, Snyder yells, his voice hoarse. I'll pay you back, just give me a couple days. Moments like these really force a guy to take stock of his life. Every mistake Snyder's ever made comes rushing back. He's 25. The last few years, he's been a hustler, looking for the next big score. Maybe he should have been a better son to his mom. Tried harder to make things right with his dad.

If he gets out of this, he promises God, or whoever's listening, that he'll go straight. The dealer lets go of one of Snyder's legs. This can't be the way it ends. Then he faints. When Paul comes to, he's lying on his back on the shag carpet in the hotel room. He's alive. He feels like crying. He is crying. The dealer's face looms

over him. He's so close Paul can smell the guy's breath. Cigarettes, whiskey, and gum. He tells Paul he's got two days, starting now. When Paul gets to the elevator, he knows one thing's for sure. As soon as he borrows some money and pays the guy back, he needs to get the hell out of Dodge. Paul Snyder's had a lot of bad breaks in his life, starting with his shitty childhood in Vancouver's East End. His parents weren't much on affection or encouragement. When they weren't yelling at each other, they were yelling at the kids. Paul was the oldest, so he got it the worst. If he had a buck for every time his father told him how worthless he was or how he'd never amount

to anything, he'd be a millionaire by now. No one was surprised when Paul dropped out of school in seventh grade. But he needed to do something. So he went to work at his father's leather shop. What a mistake. His feet swelled, his back ached, and the fights with his father got worse. When Paul was 21, he quit. I'm better than this place, he yelled on his way out the door. His father was pissed, but so what? The old man was small time. Paul was going to do something big.

Paul started hanging out in Gastown, Vancouver's downtown, dotted with clubs and bars and strip joints. He was fascinated by what he saw. Pimps dressed in Panama hats and long fur coats corralling their girls. They had swagger, confidence, never let anyone push them around. Paul was always thin and small. He felt small inside, too. He wanted to feel like them, so he lifted weights to bulk up, never missed a day. He grew a mustache and sideburns to go with his new look and kept them perfectly groomed. Pretty soon, girls found him attractive.

And when Paul felt ready, he started running a couple girls himself. He liked the feeling of being in control. Once he tried to show off at a club by backhanding a girl, but then the bouncer turned around and punched him in the face and he burst into tears. He doesn't like to think about that. The gang types who control the underworld think he's a joke. He's afraid of drugs, scared it will land him in jail. Paul's scared of a lot. Of being laughed at. Of missing out. Of not getting respect. Paul thought of himself as an idea man. He was always certain the next big score was just around the corner. He got into promoting, strip clubs, wet t-shirt contests, custom cars. He was always working an angle. What he can't figure out is why the big breaks always seem to pass him by.

Or worse, go south. The hotel fiasco was his wake-up call. Never again. He headed south, landing in Hollywood. Figured he'd take a shot at breaking into the business. Maybe he could be a producer or a star. But he couldn't get in with the people who matter. When they met him, it's like they smelled something bad.

So he fell back on doing what he knows best, pimping and promoting. But that's a bust too. One of his girls ended up stealing from him, and his two car shows flopped, leaving him with a bunch of unhappy investors. stealing from him, and his two car shows flopped, leaving him with a bunch of unhappy investors. So he crawled back to Vancouver with his tail between his legs. This time, he planned on staying out of trouble. Stick with promoting, forget the girls. But still, he can't let go of the feeling that something's just around the corner, a golden opportunity that will get him out of this lousy town. That's when he meets Dorothy, the girl who will change everything.

Each morning, it's a new opportunity, a chance to start fresh. Up First from NPR makes each morning an opportunity to learn and to understand. Choose to join the world every morning with Up First, a podcast that hands you everything going on across the globe and down the street, all in 15 minutes or less. Start your day informed and anew with Up First by subscribing wherever you get your podcasts. You don't believe in ghosts? I get it. Lots of people don't. You don't believe in ghosts? I get it. Lots of people don't. I didn't either, until I came face-to-face with them. Ever since that moment, hauntings, spirits, and the unexplained have consumed my entire life. I'm Nadine Bailey. I've been a ghost tour guide for the past 20 years.

I've taken people along with me into the shadows, uncovering the macabre tales that linger in the darkness. And inside some of the most haunted houses, hospitals, prisons, and more. Join me every week on my podcast, Haunted Canada, as we journey through terrifying and bone-chilling stories of the unexplained. Search for Haunted Canada on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music, or wherever you find your favorite podcasts. To be continued... from Dairy Queen. Listen, some guy just called asking for you. Said he was supposed to go on a date with you. He gave me his number and asked you to call him. Dorothy's not sure what to do,

so she asks her mother. Nellie tells her not to call. But she calls anyway. She recognizes his smooth, confident voice right away. Hi, beautiful. It's your knight in shining armor. He says it almost like he's purring. She feels a little embarrassed, but she's not sure why.

When she doesn't answer, he says, Mr. Strawberry Supreme? That makes her laugh. He tells her his name, Paul Snyder, and he says he wants to take her out on a date. I think we got a real connection. You got that from me making you a sundae? It was the way you handed it over and the extra whipped cream. She knows he's teasing, but she's not quite sure how to respond. She's had one serious boyfriend in her life, and his idea of funny was to shove

an entire meal in his mouth and then talk so the food came spurting out. So what do you say? Let's go out. I'll pick you up all proper and take you somewhere nice. She has to admit she's intrigued, but she's nervous too. I mean, what would she wear on a date with someone like him? What would they talk about? She blurts out, I'm afraid I can't. I'm sick. And suddenly she does feel sort of sick. I can't, I'm sick. And suddenly she does feel sort of sick. Okay, no problem. I'll call you tomorrow. And he does. And when she still feigns sick, he calls her again, which is when she finally gets up the courage to say yes. When Paul pulls up to the curb in front of Dorothy's small house,

he's dressed to impress. Long leather coat with a real mink collar, his lucky star of David, and a gold bracelet with his initials PLS studded in diamonds. He's got a few cars, but he decides to bring the 280Z. Girls like the red leather interior. He gets out of the car and walks up to the door just as Dorothy opens it. She's got on some dumpy outfit, gray pants and baggy top, but she still looks great. Her blonde hair shines under the porch light.

Let me just get my coat, she says. Come say hi to my mom, Nellie. Paul takes a couple steps in and gives a wave. I'm Paul. How do you do? Nellie looks like she just ate something bad. Paul knows he's not the kind of guy mothers approve of, but he doesn't care. She'll come around. And if she doesn't, screw her. Don't worry, I'll take good care of Dorothy, he says with his best shit-eating smile. Nellie

doesn't look so sure. Okay, I'm ready, Dorothy says brightly. Should we go? He holds open the door. Your carriage awaits. Dorothy still can't believe she's actually going on a date with such a classy guy. When he got out of the car in that fancy coat and his shirt unbuttoned showing that necklace with a diamond studded star, she almost died. And here she was in plain gray pants and a boring black top. She could almost see the shock on his face. She's pretty sure she wasn't the girl he expected to see. At least her hair is out of pigtails. In the car, she can't think of a single thing to say. He has to do all the talking. He asks her what she likes to do on

weekends. But what's she going to say? Hang out with her sister? Write poetry in her journal? Whatever she thinks of sounds so boring. But he doesn't seem to mind. He even touches her hand. boring. But he doesn't seem to mind. He even touches her hand. Twice. She can still feel the tingle on her skin. He tells her he wants to take her to his apartment and cook for her. She's not sure what shocks her more, that he knows how to cook or that he has his own apartment. Everyone she knows still lives with their parents. He lives on the west end of town where the rich people live. It's like some fancy bachelor pad you see on TV. Burgundy furniture, fur rugs, and so many plants it looks like an indoor jungle. There's even a giant skylight and a balcony with a sliding glass door and a huge platform bed. She thinks this must be how famous people live.

Paul serves dinner on a table with cloth napkins like it's a restaurant and pours wine in a real wine glass. Asti spumanti. It's sweet and sparkly and goes to her head, which is a relief. He tells her he's a promoter, expensive car shows and big clubs. Dorothy's in awe. He seems so big time. He could probably have anyone.

Why was he with a waitress from Dairy Queen? He asks her if she has nice dresses to go out in. He's nice about it, but he must know she doesn't or why would she be wearing a stupid outfit like this? After dinner, Paul pulls out a guitar and starts to sing. Some silly love songs he says he wrote on his own. But the way he sings, looking into her eyes, it all feels so romantic. So, of course, they kiss. And it feels good. Paul has a way with words. He tells her he knows exactly how she's feeling because he feels the same way too. He says their lips were made for

each other. It might sound corny coming from someone else, but the way Paul says it, Dorothy believes him. Later, she writes in her journal, I'm being sweet-talked by an expert, but I want Paul knows he has to play Dorothy differently than the others. She's like a skittish colt. Say boo too loudly and she'll run for the hills. So he starts slow. He waits a week to call before he asks her out again. He's surprised when she tells him she can't. She's just started dating some guy.

Paul has never liked the word no. He sees it as a challenge. He convinces her to take a drive with him up to Como Lake. At the top, he stops the car and listens to the engine tick. Then he turns to her and takes her chin in his hand. We like each other, right? Wasn't our first kiss great? Dorothy admits that it was, but she feels guilty about the other guy. Well, then let your heart take you where you want to go. Forget what's right. Happiness comes from

the heart, not the brain. She likes that. He starts taking her out on dates, nice places she's never been to. Downtown restaurants and waterfront strolls. He showers her with compliments, tells her she's beautiful, a knockout. She could be a model, he says. He buys her gifts, little trinkets, dresses, and clothes. Looks good on her. For her 18th birthday, he gives her a blue topaz ring. It cost him an arm and a leg, but it was worth it. She almost cries. She holds out her hand

and watches it sparkle against the light and says she's never had anything so nice in her life. You deserve it, he tells her. Pretty soon, they're spending every weekend together. He gets her into clubs like Oil Can Harry's and Gastown Discos, where people know his name. He can tell she's impressed. When she asks him about why he dances with other women, he tells her it's business. Says he needs models for his car shows. She seems to buy it. It's business. Says he needs models for his car shows. She seems to buy it. One night, Dorothy's friend tags along. She tries to tell Dorothy, Paul shouldn't be dancing with other girls in front of her. That she should stand up for herself.

Dorothy confesses all this to Paul when they're back at his apartment alone. He tells Dorothy, she'd be better off without a friend like that. She's just jealous of what they have. After that night, Dorothy cuts her friend off. Maybe Paul's right. Her friend is just jealous she's seeing an older, more sophisticated man. Paul's a gentleman. He picks her up from work at the end of her shift, waits in front of his car, and holds open the door.

And he's always bringing her presents. No guy has ever done that before. He even buys her makeup. He's always telling her how beautiful she is, special. Compliments like this are new to Dorothy. At school, kids used to make fun of her. She was tall for her age, and boys would follow her home and call her names, say she looked like a beanpole and had beady eyes like a rat. One afternoon, one of the boys caught up to her and spit in her face. Then he slapped her and pushed her down. But Dorothy refused to cry. When she entered a new school, Centennial High, Dorothy kept her head down and made herself small.

In the hall, she held her books close to her chest. She was painfully shy and rarely spoke. Most of the kids didn't even know who she was. Later, she would tell an interviewer she was scared to death of people. When Dorothy turned 16, she started to blossom. Her breasts filled out, she grew her blonde hair long, and when the cold wind hit her cheeks, her face glowed. Pretty soon she started dating a boy, but she was still shy.

When they had sex, she refused to undress in front of him, instead taking her clothes off under the covers. When they argued, Dorothy always felt bad. She thought it was her fault and she tried even harder. She always tried to be nice, do the right thing. But with Paul, for the first time in her life, she feels like she's following her heart. It bothers her that her mother Nellie doesn't like him at all. She says he's rude. He just walks in and plops down on my couch and puts his feet on my nice coffee table. He walks in and plops down on my couch and puts his feet on my nice coffee table. Who does that? Does he even have a job?

Dorothy tries to tell her about Paul's tough home life, how he's had to make his own way in the world. Sure, he's made some mistakes, but that was before. He's different now. The truth is, she half expects Paul to get tired of her. But he never does. When they're alone together, Paul shares his softer side. She feels honored he feels safe enough to share his secrets with her. He even tells her about an old girlfriend who broke his heart.

Have you ever been in love, Dorothy? he asked. She doesn't think she has. It feels like you're walking on air, he says. The two of you against the world. He tells her when you love someone, you have to be willing to die for each other. It's early April and Paul is bouncing around his living room, waving an issue of Playboy magazine in the air. There's a nationwide search for the magazine's 25th anniversary playmate, he says. His younger brother Jeff sits in the corner reading a comic book. Dorothy sits on the couch, her legs curled to the side. Jeff says, what about it? There's prize money, $25,000. No reaction. Does he have to spell out everything? Okay, so Marilyn Monroe was in the first issue of Playboy, and look at where she went.

Dorothy's just as beautiful as Marilyn. Dorothy crosses her arms and goes quiet. What's the big deal, he asks. Paul, I'm not one of those girls, she says. No, baby, you got it all wrong. Playboy is classy. It's like art. But people will see it, she says quietly, her eyes well with tears.

Baby, you're thinking too much. It'll be fun. Just look at this, okay? He opens up the issue he has in his hand and shakes out the centerfold. It's a young blonde woman, nude, stretched out on a bed, smiling into the camera. She looks like she was painted in gauze. See? It's Artie, he says. And you're so much prettier than she is, even when you cry.

That gets a smile. Imagine what this could do for our future if you won this thing. What it could do for us. He can see her start to soften. Here it comes, he thinks. She's going to say yes. But instead, she says, will you take me to the graduation dance?

He was hip-hop's biggest mogul, the man who redefined fame, fortune, and the music industry. The first male rapper to be honored on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, Sean Diddy Cone. Diddy built an empire and lived a life most people only dream about. Everybody know ain't no party like a Diddy party, so. Yeah, that's what's up. But just as quickly as his empire rose, it came crashing down.

Today I'm announcing the unsealing of a three-count indictment, charging Sean Combs with racketeering conspiracy, sex trafficking, interstate transportation for prostitution. I was f***ed up. I hit rock bottom, but I made no excuses.

I'm disgusted. I'm so sorry. Until you're wearing an orange jumpsuit, it's not real. Now it's real. From his meteoric rise to his shocking fall from grace, from law and crime, this is The Rise and Fall of Diddy. Listen to The Rise and Fall of Did's house for at least ten minutes. Finally, Dorothy runs out. When she opens the door, she squeals, I love my new dress!

and kisses him on the cheek. He knew she'd look great in it. White silk with ruffles and spaghetti straps. Sexy. He picked it out himself. Paul wears a sharkskin suit and tie. He agreed to take Dorothy to the dance as a favor, but now he's actually looking forward to it. He missed all his high school dances since he dropped out in seventh grade.

Now he'll show up with the hottest girl in school on his arm. He's been practicing his John Travolta dance moves and imagining the look of envy on the faces of the stupid high school boys. But Paul has one stop he wants them to make before the dance. He takes her to the studio of Uwe Mayer, a German photographer Paul knows. We're getting our picture taken by a pro, he tells her. None of those BS balloons and heart backgrounds. He figures he'll kill two birds with one stone. He'll get Dorothy used to the camera, and while he's there, he'll tee up an idea with

Mayer he's been rolling around in his head. Paul puts his arms around Dorothy and smiles in the camera. He knows he looks good, but it's Dorothy who really shines. She throws her head back, cocks a hip, and smiles flirtatiously into Paul's eyes. She's a natural. When it's over, Paul pulls Meyer aside and tells him about the playboy contest. Shoot my girl, Paul says. I'll give you a thousand bucks if she's picked. A finder's fee. She's a lock to win. Dorothy brushes her hair one last time and opens the bathroom door.

It's been a month since Uwe Meyer took photos of her at his studio in her graduation dance dress. Now he's here in Paul's apartment to photograph her without clothes. She walks into the living room and Paul looks up from the couch and smiles. You look amazing, baby. Uwe fiddles with his camera, adjusting the lens. Dorothy's still not entirely sure about this idea, but she trusts Paul. Where should I go, she asks. Paul points to the platform bed. Every great playmate is photographed on a bed. He fluffs up the pillows and smiles. You got this, baby. Imagine it's just me here. Dorothy takes off her blouse but then quickly lifts it up to cover her chest. She's not sure how to pose. What should she do with her arms?

Where should she look? Meyer waits patiently and finally says, we can try another day if this is too uncomfortable. Paul turns to Dorothy. Watch this, he says. He does a goofy muscle man pose, and then he does a slow, strict tease, all the way down to his briefs. Meyer starts snapping a few shots as Paul goes full-on Arnold with his chest flexed and his guns out. Dorothy laughs. She can't help it. He's trying so hard. And then she lets her blouse drop. There she is, Paul says. Meyer turns the camera her way. What should I do, she asks. Paul tells her to pout for the pictures, he's blown away. Dorothy looks even better on film than she does in person. But now he's got another problem.

How does he get the photos into the right hands? There's probably thousands of girls who are sending in photos hoping to get into Playboy magazine. What if some dim-witted secretary accidentally drops Dorothy's photos in the trash? But Paul has a connection. A photographer he met in a strip club named Ken Honey. Honey knows the editor of Playboy. He's even discovered a few Canadian girls who went on to become playmates. Now that Paul has photos, he can show Honey that Dorothy's the real deal.

Fuck Uwe Mayer and their agreement. Paul needs the best. He gets Honey on the phone. It's your lucky day. I found a girl and she's a shoe-in for that playmate contest. And there's a thousand dollar finder fee in it for you if you shoot the pictures. He launches into his sales pitch. She's got long blonde hair, legs for days. She's a total girl next door package. Honey's intrigued. How old is she? 18, Snyder says. Honey doesn't sound happy. Legal age is 19. I'll need a consent form from the mother. Paul tells him he'll get it. It's a hot day in August for Vancouver, almost 80 degrees. Ken Honey is standing in Paul's apartment squinting at the consent form. It looks like a mother's signature. Nellie hoagstratton

in big looping vowels, but for all he knows, Paul signed it himself. He shrugs and tugs it inside his bag. Paul is all smiles. He offers Honey a beer, tells him Dorothy will be here soon. Good. Honey's ready to get down to work. He hopes Paul doesn't plan on staying. Girls are always more comfortable when the boyfriend's not around. But Paul doesn't look like he has plans to go anywhere. I need you to clear out, Honey says. Paul doesn't look happy about the idea. Honey knows his type.

Guy always wants to be in charge. Look, Honey says, I'll get better photos without you around. Honey knows he's got the upper hand. Snyder needs him. Paul stares at the photographer for a minute and then his face breaks into a grin. Yeah, sure, man. You're the artist. I've got a car show to set up anyway. Then he makes his way to the door.

As if leaving was his idea all along. all along. When Dorothy gets to Paul's apartment, it's been completely transformed into a professional studio. There are reflectors everywhere and a guy moving around the lights and furniture. A man with a beard and a big Hasselblad camera steps forward

and extends his hand. Miss Hoagstratten, I'm Ken, he says. He looks like somebody's grandfather, Dorothy thinks. She feels reassured. Where's Paul, she asks. Honey says Paul had to set up one of his car shows. Besides, we're making art here, right? We need our space. Dorothy nods. I'm ready. As soon as Honey presses the shutter, Dorothy can tell he is a pro. He's nice, not creepy at all. He's serious about getting a good shot.

He tells her where to hold her arms and where to put her hands. He shows her how to stand to catch the best light. She's surprised how much easier it is the second time around. Without Paul here, she doesn't feel as nervous, and she can just be herself. It's kind of freeing in a way. When it's over, honey hands are a short form he needs to submit with the photos. Dorothy bites on the pen cap as she fills it out. Name and age are easy, but she has to think when she gets to the line for father's name and occupation.

She quickly scribbles, parents divorced, father's whereabouts unknown. For personality traits, she writes, shy, very sensitive, romantic. Career ambitions is a stumper. When she graduated in June, she got a job at the telephone company downtown, but it's not the job she imagined it would be. Finally, she writes,

I would like to become a star of sorts. The last question says, what would the Playmate experience mean for you? Dorothy thinks for a minute and then writes, I hope it will help me gain more confidence in myself. When it's time to leave, Honey says, you did great. Dorothy smiles. She almost believes him. The day after the shoot, Paul takes Dorothy out for pizza near the harbor to celebrate. Honey called and told him Dorothy was still a little green, but she was a total natural. He said out of the hundreds of girls he's photographed over the years, no one came as close to her on a first shoot. He sent the photos off to the editor that morning.

Paul leans forward and takes Dorothy's hand. We're going to go all the way, baby. We're going to win this thing. I feel it. And it's just the start. The sky's the limit for us. Think merchandise, movies, your beautiful face on a coffee mug. Dorothy doesn't look so sure. Look, he says, I've got an idea. Let's make a pact. I've got a few deals cooking with the car shows and promotions, but I'm going to manage your career. Let's split everything 50-50, all the way down the line. A lifetime partnership. Me and you. What do you say? Dorothy's quiet. Paul can't quite read her expression. Then he sees that smile, a thousand watts bright. that smile, a thousand watts bright. She thrusts out her hand playfully and says,

let's do it. Paul raises his glass of wine in the air, all the way to Hollywood, baby. This is episode one of six in Death of a Starlet from Hollywood and Crime. If you like what you've heard, be sure to tell your friends and fans of true crime. A quick note about our scenes. In most cases, we can't know exactly what was said, but everything in our show is based on historical research. We use many sources, but sources we found exceptionally helpful for this episode are Teresa Carpenter's Pulitzer Prize-winning article, Death of a Playmate, picture shows, The Life and Films of Peter Bogdanovich by Andrew Yule, and Dorothy, Her Story, in the May 1981 issue of Playboy

that features excerpts from interviews with Dorothy. Death of a Starlet was produced by Rebecca Reynolds, Tracy Patton, and Jim Carpenter for Hollywood and Crime, and written by Marty Link. Additional writing by Elizabeth Cosen and Leah Sutherland. Our editors are Laura Donna Palavoda and Peter Savodnik. Sound design by Kyle Randall. Audio assistance by Sergio Enriquez. Executive producers are Stephanie Jens, Marshall Louis, and Hernan Lopez.

For Wondery. They say Hollywood is where dreams are made. A seductive city where many flock to get rich, be adored, and capture America's heart. But when the spotlight turns off, fame, fortune, and lives can disappear in an instant. When TV producer Roy Radin was found dead in a canyon near L.A. in 1983, there were many questions surrounding his death. The last person seen with him was Lainey Jacobs, a seductive cocaine dealer who desperately wanted to be part of the Hollywood elite. Together, they were trying to break into the movie industry. But things took a dark turn when a million dollars worth of cocaine and cash went missing.

From Wondery comes a new season of the hit show Hollywood and Crime, The Cotton Club Murder. Follow Hollywood and Crime, The Cotton Club Murder on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can binge all episodes of The Cotton Club Murder early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus.