Ms. Marcella, this is Morning Star. Yes, that Morning Star, the rock star. God, that always sounds so fucking stupid. My parents were definitely tripping when they named me, and most likely when I was conceived. I’m sure you’re aware of my situation, with my pictures on the cover of every rag, and everybody talking about me as if I were their friggin’ sister’s cousin. I know what everyone is saying about me. And I know it sounds bad, but it’s not true, I didn’t kill my husband. I’m not sayin’ I didn’t want to. He was a lying, cheating, money-whoring bastard, but I didn’t kill him. Why would I? I was having too much fun tormenting him. They said I was higher than a kite, and I was. But the thing is, I don’t do drugs. I know that sounds like an oxymoron coming from a rock star, but it’s true. Both of my rocker parents OD’dd and I promised myself a long time ago I wouldn’t end up like them. Someone drugged me, Ms. Marcella. Someone drugged me and set me up. My attorney told me to take a plea, first-degree manslaughter. He said it’s the best deal I will get. I’m guilty of a lot of things, but not murder. I’m not taking a plea. I’ve fired my attorney. And now I’m asking for your help. I’m out on bail; they let me leave New York to come back home, to take care of some business. I’m scared, Ms. Marcella, and I just found out… God, I just took a pregnancy test, I’m pregnant. Please, I beg you, and I never beg. I’m at my Malibu residence, 310-877-6183. Please call me at any time.