National Book Tour for "Chasing Diana"
National Book Tour for "Chasing Diana"
National Book Tour for "Chasing Diana"
National Book Tour for "Chasing Diana"
Author of the controversial novel, Chasing Diana
One night in Paris, the Firestones witnessed a moment in history that would change their lives forever… For 10 years, the facts lay veiled in darkness. Finally, the truth can emerge from the tunnel and into the light of day.
Just seconds after the car carrying Princess Diana crashed in the Alma tunnel, the Firestones arrived on the scene.
Traveling by cab back to their Paris hotel, the Firestones entered the tunnel ahead of the ambulance and before police had closed off the tunnel’s eastbound entrance.
Just as they came upon the crash site, the cab driver stopped the car. What the Firestones witnessed is still etched in their minds…
“A black Mercedes was literally smashed up and demolished against the interior tunnel wall – totally unrecognizable as a car…”
“The goings-on inside the tunnel at this time were akin to a circus atmosphere gone wild.” Only a matter of minutes had passed, and paparazzi were all over the scene, getting as close as they could to the car and snapping pictures from every angle.
The paparazzi not only did nothing to help the crash victims, their actions interfered with rescue efforts. “The only officer on the scene was pushing one of the paparazzi back from the front of the car while a second photographer ran around them, laid on what was left of the windshield and began snapping pictures of the victims inside the car.”
Robin Firestone saw a blonde woman in the car. “She was slumped over with her head turned into the window. It was a very, very sickening feeling to see these photographers going up to the windshield to get as close they could to take pictures of this person…it was relentless.”
Robin remembered wondering as the taxi pulled away, why were the paparazzi nearly clawing at each other to snap photos of the woman lying injured or worse inside the car?
The next morning, back at their hotel, the Firestones learned that the woman in the car had been Princess Diana.
The Investigations
As eyewitnesses, the Firestones immediately contacted the French police to provide what information they could about the fatal crash. But what they experienced left them feeling shocked and discouraged. No one seemed interested in taking Robin’s statement, including details about some dark cars and a mysterious man talking on a cell phone that she saw at the scene.
After a 16-month investigation, the French concluded that the car crash that killed Princess Diana and Dodi Al Fayed was an accident, caused by the driver who was both drunk and speeding. For many, including the Firestones, the report left serious and lingering questions. Did the French police properly gather and thoroughly examine all the evidence? That had not been the Firestone’s experience.
Dodi’s father, Mohammed Al Fayed, convinced the crash was not an accident and was subsequently covered up by French authorities, launched his own investigation.
At the request of the British coroner, in January 2004, British authorities opened another inquiry called Operation Paget. After more than three years of re-examining evidence and witness statements, the British agreed with the original findings from the French investigation: the deaths were a tragic accident.
More than 10 years after the fatal crash, Robin and Jack Firestone were called upon to testify at the Royal Courts of Justice as witnesses for the Final Inquest into the death of Princess Diana. This event would be the culmination of their determination to go on public record as to what they saw and the way they were treated by the police investigators in Paris. Robin was never called to testify.
Why We Wrote the Book…
When the jury announced the verdict in the third and final inquest, they stated Princess Diana and Dodi Al Fayed were “unlawfully killed” due to “gross negligence” of their driver Henri Paul and the paparazzi that relentlessly pursued them.
For the French and British authorities, this case is closed. But for us, Mohammed Al Fayed, and countless others connected to the tragic crash, the verdict did not bring closure. We felt compelled to keep the story open and in the public consciousness so that someday, the whole truth may emerge about what happened to Princess Diana and Dodi.
We were fated to be there in the tunnel at that time - perhaps so that many years later, we could give the public a true picture of what we experienced that night and the following days.
Because we were there, at the scene…unlike most authors who have chosen to pen a book about it…we can offer readers a personal, inside view of what took place.
Writing in screenplay format seemed most fitting for what we had experienced. In an instant, we found ourselves at the forefront of the biggest media event in the world, and what we endured over the next 72 hours was as surreal as you can imagine. As we replayed the events in our minds, it was like we were bit players in a movie with an unbelievable plot - a movie about Princess Diana getting killed - totally unthinkable at the time…but tragically and incredibly true.
At the time, we wanted to believe it was a horrible accident. Now we can’t help but believe that there was something deeper going on… After the final inquest and the verdict, writing the book was a means of closure for us. Now it’s up to the readers to decide…
One night in Paris, the Firestones witnessed a moment in history that would change their lives forever… For 10 years, the facts lay veiled in darkness. Finally, the truth can emerge from the tunnel and into the light of day.
Just seconds after the car carrying Princess Diana crashed in the Alma tunnel, the Firestones arrived on the scene.
Traveling by cab back to their Paris hotel, the Firestones entered the tunnel ahead of the ambulance and before police had closed off the tunnel’s eastbound entrance.
Just as they came upon the crash site, the cab driver stopped the car. What the Firestones witnessed is still etched in their minds…
“A black Mercedes was literally smashed up and demolished against the interior tunnel wall – totally unrecognizable as a car…”
“The goings-on inside the tunnel at this time were akin to a circus atmosphere gone wild.” Only a matter of minutes had passed, and paparazzi were all over the scene, getting as close as they could to the car and snapping pictures from every angle.
The paparazzi not only did nothing to help the crash victims, their actions interfered with rescue efforts. “The only officer on the scene was pushing one of the paparazzi back from the front of the car while a second photographer ran around them, laid on what was left of the windshield and began snapping pictures of the victims inside the car.”
Robin Firestone saw a blonde woman in the car. “She was slumped over with her head turned into the window. It was a very, very sickening feeling to see these photographers going up to the windshield to get as close they could to take pictures of this person…it was relentless.”
Robin remembered wondering as the taxi pulled away, why were the paparazzi nearly clawing at each other to snap photos of the woman lying injured or worse inside the car?
The next morning, back at their hotel, the Firestones learned that the woman in the car had been Princess Diana.
The Investigations
As eyewitnesses, the Firestones immediately contacted the French police to provide what information they could about the fatal crash. But what they experienced left them feeling shocked and discouraged. No one seemed interested in taking Robin’s statement, including details about some dark cars and a mysterious man talking on a cell phone that she saw at the scene.
After a 16-month investigation, the French concluded that the car crash that killed Princess Diana and Dodi Al Fayed was an accident, caused by the driver who was both drunk and speeding. For many, including the Firestones, the report left serious and lingering questions. Did the French police properly gather and thoroughly examine all the evidence? That had not been the Firestone’s experience.
Dodi’s father, Mohammed Al Fayed, convinced the crash was not an accident and was subsequently covered up by French authorities, launched his own investigation.
At the request of the British coroner, in January 2004, British authorities opened another inquiry called Operation Paget. After more than three years of re-examining evidence and witness statements, the British agreed with the original findings from the French investigation: the deaths were a tragic accident.
More than 10 years after the fatal crash, Robin and Jack Firestone were called upon to testify at the Royal Courts of Justice as witnesses for the Final Inquest into the death of Princess Diana. This event would be the culmination of their determination to go on public record as to what they saw and the way they were treated by the police investigators in Paris. Robin was never called to testify.
Why We Wrote the Book…
When the jury announced the verdict in the third and final inquest, they stated Princess Diana and Dodi Al Fayed were “unlawfully killed” due to “gross negligence” of their driver Henri Paul and the paparazzi that relentlessly pursued them.
For the French and British authorities, this case is closed. But for us, Mohammed Al Fayed, and countless others connected to the tragic crash, the verdict did not bring closure. We felt compelled to keep the story open and in the public consciousness so that someday, the whole truth may emerge about what happened to Princess Diana and Dodi.
We were fated to be there in the tunnel at that time - perhaps so that many years later, we could give the public a true picture of what we experienced that night and the following days.
Because we were there, at the scene…unlike most authors who have chosen to pen a book about it…we can offer readers a personal, inside view of what took place.
Writing in screenplay format seemed most fitting for what we had experienced. In an instant, we found ourselves at the forefront of the biggest media event in the world, and what we endured over the next 72 hours was as surreal as you can imagine. As we replayed the events in our minds, it was like we were bit players in a movie with an unbelievable plot - a movie about Princess Diana getting killed - totally unthinkable at the time…but tragically and incredibly true.
At the time, we wanted to believe it was a horrible accident. Now we can’t help but believe that there was something deeper going on… After the final inquest and the verdict, writing the book was a means of closure for us. Now it’s up to the readers to decide…
One night in Paris, the Firestones witnessed a moment in history that would change their lives forever… For 10 years, the facts lay veiled in darkness. Finally, the truth can emerge from the tunnel and into the light of day.
Just seconds after the car carrying Princess Diana crashed in the Alma tunnel, the Firestones arrived on the scene.
Traveling by cab back to their Paris hotel, the Firestones entered the tunnel ahead of the ambulance and before police had closed off the tunnel’s eastbound entrance.
Just as they came upon the crash site, the cab driver stopped the car. What the Firestones witnessed is still etched in their minds…
“A black Mercedes was literally smashed up and demolished against the interior tunnel wall – totally unrecognizable as a car…”
“The goings-on inside the tunnel at this time were akin to a circus atmosphere gone wild.” Only a matter of minutes had passed, and paparazzi were all over the scene, getting as close as they could to the car and snapping pictures from every angle.
The paparazzi not only did nothing to help the crash victims, their actions interfered with rescue efforts. “The only officer on the scene was pushing one of the paparazzi back from the front of the car while a second photographer ran around them, laid on what was left of the windshield and began snapping pictures of the victims inside the car.”
Robin Firestone saw a blonde woman in the car. “She was slumped over with her head turned into the window. It was a very, very sickening feeling to see these photographers going up to the windshield to get as close they could to take pictures of this person…it was relentless.”
Robin remembered wondering as the taxi pulled away, why were the paparazzi nearly clawing at each other to snap photos of the woman lying injured or worse inside the car?
The next morning, back at their hotel, the Firestones learned that the woman in the car had been Princess Diana.
The Investigations
As eyewitnesses, the Firestones immediately contacted the French police to provide what information they could about the fatal crash. But what they experienced left them feeling shocked and discouraged. No one seemed interested in taking Robin’s statement, including details about some dark cars and a mysterious man talking on a cell phone that she saw at the scene.
After a 16-month investigation, the French concluded that the car crash that killed Princess Diana and Dodi Al Fayed was an accident, caused by the driver who was both drunk and speeding. For many, including the Firestones, the report left serious and lingering questions. Did the French police properly gather and thoroughly examine all the evidence? That had not been the Firestone’s experience.
Dodi’s father, Mohammed Al Fayed, convinced the crash was not an accident and was subsequently covered up by French authorities, launched his own investigation.
At the request of the British coroner, in January 2004, British authorities opened another inquiry called Operation Paget. After more than three years of re-examining evidence and witness statements, the British agreed with the original findings from the French investigation: the deaths were a tragic accident.
More than 10 years after the fatal crash, Robin and Jack Firestone were called upon to testify at the Royal Courts of Justice as witnesses for the Final Inquest into the death of Princess Diana. This event would be the culmination of their determination to go on public record as to what they saw and the way they were treated by the police investigators in Paris. Robin was never called to testify.
Why We Wrote the Book…
When the jury announced the verdict in the third and final inquest, they stated Princess Diana and Dodi Al Fayed were “unlawfully killed” due to “gross negligence” of their driver Henri Paul and the paparazzi that relentlessly pursued them.
For the French and British authorities, this case is closed. But for us, Mohammed Al Fayed, and countless others connected to the tragic crash, the verdict did not bring closure. We felt compelled to keep the story open and in the public consciousness so that someday, the whole truth may emerge about what happened to Princess Diana and Dodi.
We were fated to be there in the tunnel at that time - perhaps so that many years later, we could give the public a true picture of what we experienced that night and the following days.
Because we were there, at the scene…unlike most authors who have chosen to pen a book about it…we can offer readers a personal, inside view of what took place.
Writing in screenplay format seemed most fitting for what we had experienced. In an instant, we found ourselves at the forefront of the biggest media event in the world, and what we endured over the next 72 hours was as surreal as you can imagine. As we replayed the events in our minds, it was like we were bit players in a movie with an unbelievable plot - a movie about Princess Diana getting killed - totally unthinkable at the time…but tragically and incredibly true.
At the time, we wanted to believe it was a horrible accident. Now we can’t help but believe that there was something deeper going on… After the final inquest and the verdict, writing the book was a means of closure for us. Now it’s up to the readers to decide…
Funny thing about growing up in an Irish neighborhood is that the rest of the world thinks you’re from Ireland. Very far from the truth for a lot of us, sure we had Irish blood and 7 out of ten of our parents were born and raised in Ireland, but the truth is that most of us at this age were born and raised in New York City. The dream of every Irish-American boy I knew was to actually go to Ireland and visit with families and explore your roots in old castles and to meet cousins and redheaded girls.
Sundays were the best in our Irish neighborhood, our dads played Hurley in the mornings, we played Irish football in the afternoons and we all drank at the pub till dinner near the field in our dirty muddy uniforms with most of us leaking blood. Great stories, great drinks and I’ll tell you right now, freaking great football. We had one of the better Irish football teams in the entire country. We won championship trophies year after year, and we were invited to play against the all-Ireland team in Ireland year after year. The one year that I played was another championship season; I remember meeting the coach at the beginning of the season to see if I could join the team. I knew little about the actual sport, but I went to the games every single Sunday to watch and drink afterwards.
There was no tryout, no let’s see how you handle the ball, not even a practice game. The coach asked me two very important questions, he said,” can ya run”? I said “Yeah I can run”. He said,”can ya fight?” I said, ”Yeah I can fight”. He said, “Alright then, you’re on the team.
So there it was, I was playing Irish Football in the early 1970’s and sure as I’m telling you this story, we went on to win that year and it was off to Ireland. There were 25 of us and 6 or 7 dads and coaches that went on the trip that year. I do not remember the town we were in, I only remember that we won and we won big, there were like 3 thousand spectators at the game even though the entire town itself only had like 300 people living in it. We went back to the hotel/inn that we were living in that week to party ourselves while the adults went to each of the 30 or so bars this tiny little town had. It must have been like 2 or 3 in the morning and we were still hooping and hollering, a few of the older guys scored us a couple of beer kegs. There were like twenty five 13 to 17 year old kids and we had 2 kegs of beer, let us do the math on this one shall we?
We got pretty drunk and being athletes and being drunk usually led to one thing, “DRUNK SPORTS”. It started harmless enough; we broke into a few separate teams kind of like the Olympics and had races down the hallways of the motel. We occupied almost all of the rooms in the hotel that night, so we opened all the room doors and raced from room to room. Then we did jumping from bed to bed, it was getting hot so some of us took our shirts off while others took off their shorts. And so it begins, lots and lots of drinking, lots of running and jumping, lots of sweating, lots of clothes coming off. It only took another half hour or so till we were all nude and doing sports, Irish guys love to get naked. I started running to the lobby and running back to test everyone, and then we ran down the hall, thru the lobby and out into the parking lot. Sure enough, that leads to a few of us running down the street which eventually leads to everyone of us drunken Irish American kids streaking thru town naked and screaming.
NOT GOOD, NOT GOOD AT ALL
This is a sleepy little town and 30 drunken naked boys running amuck was the same as if “The Devil Himself” was running thru town? Apparently 90% of the town was now trying to get sleep and the other 10% were still wandering the streets trying to find their drunken way home. We ran from one end of town to the other end and back again. One minute it was funnier than anything, and the next minute we found ourselves being chased by half the town, kind of like in the movies were the entire village is chasing the monster with pitchforks and torches, there were no pitchforks, but I swear I saw torches. We were able to get dressed again before they hauled us to the biggest building in town, the town hall or the town square or something like that.
They kept us in this auditorium, I guess this is where all things official happen in the town, we were there for a few hours while we sobered up and while the rest of the towns folk that we didn’t wake up came to this meeting. I remember sitting up front with my drinking/Olympic buddies; we took up the first 3 or 4 rows. Behind us was the entire freaking town, I mean every man woman and child, dog, cat, farm animal, every living thing in that part of the world was there to see the “Devil Children from America”. In front of us were the dozen or so town leaders, these were the same people who when we arrived met us at the train station, made speeches before the big game and they were the ones who congratulated us on a great victory. There was the Mayor/Police Chief/Fire Chief and something else. There was the town doctor/veterinarian, the owner of the grocery store and the owner of the bar, the bar maids, the gas station guy, and anyone else who ran a business or who had a say in the town affairs.
The room was buzzing with chatter while they spoke in hushed tones and hugged each other about how horrific it was that we ran naked thru the streets and of how we must have been doing the drugs and stuff. They cried when they recalled how both Mrs. McLearys teenage daughters saw one American boy’s penis while he ran past her window. They held each other tight and consoled one another while saying things like, “it will be alright”, and ” The devil himself is in them boys”. I was starting to think we had gotten ourselves into some freaking “children of the corn” horror movie. This went on for almost an hour while our chaperones/dads kept starting at us with steam coming from their heads. The town officials spoke first and declared that what had happened was most vile and undeniably most horrific for all. They said, “The American boys sitting before ye all, are guilty of many sexually deviant actions, they are the result of living in a sinful western world where this type of thing is tolerated. They use the “drugs” and they practice heinous religions and for that is why they must be possessed”
Finally, when they stopped talking and we were allowed to speak Mr. Hughes, my buddies dad stood up and asked if he could talk on behalf of our group. The town’s people up front said “okay”, and he walked up on the stage and faced the townsfolk and pointed to us and he started to speak.
He said, “ I know what these boys here did was wrong, I know what they did was offensive and disgusting, but I know these boys each and every one of them, twas no drugs or devils work that happened here. It was only one thing.
“TWAS THE DRINK THAT MADE THEM DO IT”
A few seconds passed where not a soul made a sound, I was waiting for the torches again. When suddenly like a wave swelling from the oceans bottom, like a huge massive volcano that was erupting, you could feel something coming. When all at once the entire town, all the officials on the stage, every single man, woman, child and farm animal all said the exact same thing at the exact same moment.
“Well if it was only the drink that made them do it, then that’s okay, that’s fine then”.
And just like that the meeting was over, the towns people disbanded, the animals went back to their farms, the cats and the dogs walked back outside into the street, the hall windows were closed and chairs folded and put away. There we sat in the first 3 or 4 rows, while the dads and chaperons yelled and screamed at us for the next half hour. We left the town and the country 48 hours later and I have never returned since. I hope someday to go back and see if anyone there remembers that horrible event. Hopefully I will go back and if that happens I will write the story of it for you to read.
I do not think this story has any lesson to be learned or shared or if it is just something that happened to me and for some reason I thought you would enjoy it.
-Peace
What a better way to post my very first post in my blog than with a small rant.
As an editor, I get tons of submissions to assess. What boggles my mind is how many writers don't bother to read the guidelines. When they state no more than 1,000 words for a flash fiction piece, why send in 3,000 words? No matter how good that story is, it will be rejected. Why? It doesn't fit the flash fiction guidelines.
When an editor is looking for romance stories, why bother sending in a mystery? Oh, because it has two characters who are in love. I'm sorry, that doesn't place it as a romance because the main plot/genre is mystery. When 198 pages out of 200 pages is nothing but detectives and villains chasing each other, you can be sure it's not romance.
I can't stress how important it is to read guidelines. It's what separates a possible 'accepted' from a 'rejected' letter.
Rant now officially over.
