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sbdskate · 5 months

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Laws Of Attraction (Epilogue 1) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: Daniel signed with RB at the end of the 2022 season, ending your attorney-client relationship. You decide to give romance a try in the off season.

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings (18+): fluff, language, *SMUT*: p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap)

Word Count: 2,291

February 2023

You woke up to his breath tickling the back of your neck, which you had now grown pleasantly accustomed to over the last few months. His arm snaked over your waist with his hand lightly resting just below your breasts. Sometimes his face nuzzled into the back of your shoulder so that you could feel his stubble lightly tickle you. You treasured these soft, quiet moments that were hidden from the rest of the world.

By a miracle, your budding relationship had not yet been sniffed out by paparazzi or investigative fans, but you knew it wouldn’t last forever. The distance was hard, as expected, but ended up being more manageable than you originally thought. Of course it helped that one of you had almost unlimited resources. He ended up spending a good chunk of time at his property in Beverly Hills which at least got you in the same continent and country. You would make up excuses to work out of the LA office for a week or so and The Firm suspected nothing of it or didn’t care enough to ask why. During the day you worked on other client matters while he hung out with Scotty and other friends, allegedly figuring out plans for the next Enchante drop. At night you stayed with him, cooking dinners together, throwing small parties, watching the sun set over the hills.

When you weren’t on the West Coast, he occasionally stayed with you in your small NYC apartment in the West Villiage. At first you protested that he should stay somewhere else, that there wasn’t enough room for the both of you, and that your accommodations were far too modest for the extravagant lifestyle he had become so accustomed to. Fine, you book the hotel, he would say with a smirk knowing full well you wouldn’t be able to afford the reservation to override him. But he so desperately wanted to a glimpse into your home that you could hardly say no.

It was easier for him to explore the city in the dead of winter where he blended in with everyone else on the street, bundled in at least four layers to keep warm. With a hat and scarf covering most of his face, he went about his day with the rare freedom of being unidentified and anonymous. When you were done with work you would sneak into the diviest dive bar you could find, consisting of dark basements with dark liquor. Or you would order takeout for dinner and eat it out of the container on your couch with a beer or glass of wine.

The two of you relished these moments of normalcy. Including moments like now, in that tiny apartment, on a chilly Friday in February where you bathed in the rays of sun that began to poke through your curtains in the light of morning. He had been on Stephen Colbert the night before and you watched in awe from the comfort of your couch that the man on the screen, in a suit you picked out, would be coming home to you at the end of the program.

Your eyes fluttered open before your alarm went off, Daniel’s breath making the hairs on the back of your neck stand. You smiled to yourself, still unable to believe this was your new reality. Just to be sure, you gently grabbed the hand positioned on your upper abdomen to move it to cup your breast. Perhaps you should have let him sleep, but you couldn’t pass up the chance to have extra time with him. You felt his breath pattern change as he slowly woke from the delicate touch. The silver lining of long distance was that neither of you were lacking in libido. Granted your relationship was still in its infancy, of course you couldn’t keep your hands off each other.

He pulled you in close flush against his chest and gave your shoulder a kiss.

“Good morning,” he mumbled, voice muffled by skin. You held your hand over his, squeezing it.

“Mmm good morning.” The crook of his nose caressed the path that followed the trails of kisses along your shoulder blade. He began to move his thumb over your sensitive nipple, feeling as it puckered under his touch. Your breath hitched as you squirmed, molding yourself into him. You partially turned your head to face him without disrupting your position. He propped himself on his elbow to meet you halfway and planted a messy kiss on your lips.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look in the morning?” You used to think he was joking, not that you could blame him if he were. There were people who were elegant sleepers, but you knew you were not one of them. Your hair almost always ended up looking like it could home a few birds or small rodent. Your eyes were puffy, slightly crusty, and every now and then there was some dried drool for good measure. Now that you had been at this for nearly two months, it was evident he was very serious each time.

“You have, but you can tell me again,” you mumbled as a smile grew on your face and stretched your limbs.

“You’re beautiful.” It came out muffled as your lips pressed together again, as his thumb continued to lazily graze your nipple.

You gently dragged his hand from your chest to the growing heat between your legs. You pressed against him again, feeling his hardened member against your ass. You smirked, satisfied with the results of your minimal efforts.

He kissed the crook of your neck as he drew tiny circles around your clit with his middle finger. You reached your arm behind you to gently scratch his head as little moans escaped your lips, breath becoming uneven with desire.

“Are you going to be late for work?” Ever the gentleman, you could tell he asked to be polite but it wasn’t actually a point of concern. You grinded into his groin in frustration.

“Not that I care at the moment, but no.” You moved his fingers even further south so he could feel your neediness. “I have twelve minutes and I don’t want to think about responsibilities until then. Do what you will with that information.”

A husky groan escaped his lips feeling how wet you were for him. His hand left you momentarily to stroke himself a few times before aligning with your entrance and you reached down to help guide him.

Two months, and it still took your breath away how full he made you feel. Your back arched into him and he caught your hips in his hand. Laced with sleep, he held on as he dragged in and out of you in deliberate, languid motions as though time didn’t exist. His hand moved slowly up your body, to your waist, over your soft stomach, the swell of your breast, where it snaked over your chest and enclosed around your throat with a gentle firmness that made your core clench. It was equally delicate and possessive. It delighted every surface of your body but his leisure pace now maddened you.

“Faster,” you choked out. He smirked as he slowed down the roll of his hips, tightening his grip around your neck. If he wasn’t awake before, he was now. Daniel was fascinated – you ordinarily enjoyed lazy morning sex but today you were extraordinarily needy for some reason. Not that he was mad at it. Your eyes twisted shut and you moaned through gritted teeth, simultaneously aroused and frustrated. “Fuck you.”

“Happily,” he taunted. “What’s the magic word?”

“Please.” He felt your body quiver around him as you begged for more of him. He closed his eyes and prayed that he would last for the remaining six minutes.

He obliged your pleas, only letting go of your neck to lift your leg up.

Right there

His thrusts deepened with the new angle and watched excitedly as your arm moved down. He couldn’t see you playing with yourself but knew you were as your moans became louder and more frequent and he felt your walls squeeze and twitch. The image seared into his brain and he knew he was done. He inhaled the scent from your hair in his face and he wished he could see you. But you were warm and tight and wet and perfect and he couldn’t stop himself.

“Fuck, I’m-”

“Yes”

Your hips stuttered and muscles spasmed around him. He spilled into you as his fingers sank into your skin, his vice grip unable to let go. You both laid limp for a moment, panting to catch your breath. Eventually you pulled yourself away from him to roll over.

Your hair was knotted and your flushed face was adorned with a shit-eating grin. You were stunning. Glowing.

“Good morning,” you said cheekily.

“Good morning,” he responded. He lifted his arm, inviting you to use his chest as a pillow. You did so gladly, intertwining yourselves in each other once more like vines. It was nice for all of forty-seven seconds before your alarm went off. He pulled you tighter before you could try to get up.

“Now I have to get going.” He placed a kiss at the top of your head.

“What if we just stayed in bed all day instead.” You groaned in silent agreement, but nonetheless peeled his arms off you.

“I would love to but I have to work. And so do you.” You kissed him before hopping into the shower.

Right. Daniel had almost forgotten that today was his first official day back as a Red Bull employee. His presence was requested for the livery launch set to happen in Midtown in a few hours. He laid in bed and smiled to himself as he listened to you sing I Just Had Sex by The Lonely Island.

“I still can’t believe it’s in New York,” you said casually as you poured yourself a cup of coffee. He hummed in agreement. “Suspiciously convenient, really.” You glanced at him through your peripheral to gauge his reaction. Nothing. Though he did look oddly pensive. You turned suddenly to confront him. “You’re sure you didn’t say anything to Christian?” He laughed at your skeptic accusation.

“Not a peep.”

“You swear it?” You held out your pinky.

“I swear it.” He linked his with yours.

“Kiss it,” you demanded. He rolled his eyes but obliged lowering his lips to his knuckles as you did yours, his focus on you never wavering.

You continued getting ready, though you couldn’t shake the sense that there was an uneasy intensity to him this morning. At first you thought it might just be nerves about the livery event, but then you caught him staring at you in the mirror while you were brushing your teeth. You spit and turned around.

“Ok you’re being weird. What is it?”

“I’m not being weird!” he said defensively. You brandished your toothbrush at him threateningly.

“Yes, you are. You’ve barely said two words since we had sex.” He scoffed.

“I’ve said lots of words. That was five just now –“

“There’s nothing wrong with being nervous, you know.”

“I’m not nervous –“

“Then what is it?”

He both loved and hated that you could read him like a book. You seemed to be intuitively aware of all of his deepest thoughts - though maybe not this one. He watched as you walked into the kitchen to pack your work bag. You filled your travel mug as you patiently waited for his response. He took a deep breath before jumping into the metaphorical deep end.

“Since things are official with Red Bull as of today, I figured we should be too.”

You snorted coffee through your nose. A not-so-subtle tomato hue dusted your cheeks immediately. Yet again, you weren’t sure why you were so surprised. The man was traveling half way around the world for you. With the amount of time, effort, care, and money spent, how could you ever believe he would lull you into something as malignant as a situationship? As it was in the beginning, you were the stop-gap preventing things from progressing. He had been respectful with taking things at a glacial pace, as you kindly requested. He had given you the proof you needed that there was a way to make the relationship work when you weren’t traveling constantly together. When you considered that you had now existed in each other’s orbits for nearly five months, he really had been as patient as a saint with you.

But he misconstrued your stunned silence as confusion, so he rephrased his proposition.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

Your timing was impeccable as always, as you choked on your own saliva before breaking into a coughing fit. He sighed and poured you a glass of water, slightly disgruntled by your antics.

He had been putting this off. He had wanted to wait for the right time, for it to be romantic and dreamy, everything you deserved. But each time the opportunity arose he lost his nerve, and now here you both were: in your kitchen, before you had to go to work, choking on thin air, decidedly unromantic.

“I’ll take that as a no.” You shook your head ferociously before attempting to sip the liquid. He frowned “Well shit, you don’t have to be so enthusiastic about it.” You shook your head again, then nodded. “Yes, that’s right, you’re not interested?” You decided that this was the worst game of charades, ever. You shook your head again.

“Yes,” *cough* “I want,” *cough* “to be your,” *cough* “girlfriend.” Despite the fact that you were barely breathing, Daniel’s thousand-watt smile appeared before you.

“Drink your fucking water and stop coughing so I can kiss you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Please don't be a ghost reader and thank you for reading! I'm happy I've been on a roll with my posting schedule but I know the next Epilogue part will not be ready by next week, so expect a little bit of a break after this (hopefully not four months again).

And thank you @thef1diary for your help

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mariacallous · 1 year

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Protests in Iran spurred by the death of 22-year-old Mahsa Amini at the hands of the country’s so-called morality police have continued, with escalations by the regime—including the executions of a well-known wrestler and a dual national—failing to dampen public anger. Looking for a silver bullet to silence its restive public, Tehran has failed to find one. But the Iranian people have failed equally, being yet unable to find their own silver bullet to topple the ayatollahs for once and for all.

But it may be that bullet exists: corruption. And it’s lacking only a responsible Western power to pull the trigger.

Before digging into the ordure of Iranian official thievery, take a moment to recall the tales of other deposed regimes. In too many cases, leaders and cronies of various tyrannies were fully fledged members of the community of nations—with a seat at the United Nations, reception at the White House, and/or a nose at the U.S. taxpayer’s trough, among other seals of approval—only to be ousted and for the world to discover with shock—shock!—that the despot had been skimming billions of dollars from their country’s coffers.

Remember Washington’s dear pal, former Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak—a Camp David attendee who conducted annual visits to Washington and received tens of billions of dollars in U.S. military and economic assistance? He was ousted in 2011, but his corruption was legend inside Egypt—unofficially, of course—with only the smarmiest of admirers ignoring its manifest evidence. It should have been obvious in Washington as well. Mubarak owned property in Beverly Hills, a share of resorts in the Egyptian seaside city of Sharm el-Sheikh, and houses in London and New York. Experts estimated his fortune at a cool $70 billion, with his two kids also allegedly billionaires.

Or how about former Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein, who had been Washington’s darling before that embarrassing 1990 invasion of Kuwait. Throughout the 1990s, he used a United Nations-administered oil-for-food program to skim millions of dollars for his and his sons’ personal profit, with some of his dealings also reportedly enriching then-Russian President Boris Yeltsin and a young Vladimir Putin. The U.S. government was also well aware of Saddam’s evasions of oil sale restrictions, including to U.S. allies in Jordan, Turkey, and the Persian Gulf. (By the way, guess who was also profiting from Saddam’s dirty business? Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, or IRGC. Also, one-time U.S. ally in the war on terrorism Syrian President Bashar al-Assad.)

And then there was former Libyan leader Muammar al-Qaddafi, the same Qaddafi who sponsored the downing of U.S. carrier Pan Am Flight 103 over Lockerbie, Scotland, in 1988, killing all 259 people aboard as well as 11 people on the ground. True, he was no one’s darling, even after a brief post-9/11 rapprochement with the West. But after then-U.S. President Barack Obama finally turned on the aging Qaddafi in 2010, implicitly supporting the Libyan mobs that ultimately captured and killed him, the press professed itself shocked: “As Libya takes stock, Moammar Kadafi’s hidden riches astound,” the Los Angeles Times marveled. The mercurial Qaddafi was discovered to have more than $200 billion stashed around the world. The kicker? Around $37 billion were reportedly in U.S. banks.

And like his neighbor Mubarak, the Libyan dictator shared with his kids, as did everyone seeking to curry favor with the leader. A friend of his son Saif earned $58 million in “advisory fees” from French financial services firm Société Générale, per Transparency International. The international anti-corruption watchdog also noted a Canadian company with Qaddafi’s daughter-in-law on its payroll. In 2019, the Independent reported on a “deadly web of global corruption” that risked entangling Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau. The stories go on and on and on. And apparently, someone is still stealing the money Qaddafi stole first.

As this litany makes clear, any exposé of kleptomania in the Middle East could stretch for terabytes. Lebanon alone suffers from titanic levels of elite and government corruption that have destroyed what little Iran and Syria have left for the Lebanese people. Also clear is that most (though not all) such corruption is revealed after the fact; serious U.S. government action against corruption in, for example, Russia only came after Putin’s second invasion of Ukraine in 2022.

Which brings us to Iran.

There was a time when both Sunni and Shiite Islamists prided themselves on their resistance to the corruption endemic in the Middle East, but those days are long gone. Infamous former Iranian President Ali Akbar Hashemi Rafsanjani was said to have millions of dollars to his name. Anti-regime organization United Against Nuclear Iran runs through a timeline of official thievery, detailing billions of dollars stolen inside the Iranian oil ministry, billions more embezzled from state banks, tiny percentiles of government appropriations for health actually spent on medicine and supplies. After current Iranian President Ebrahim Raisi was appointed to run the nation’s judiciary in 2019, his predecessor was nailed for depositing bail money into 63 different bank accounts to the tune of almost $100 million.

Some of this corruption has been detailed in domestic newspapers and reports inside Iran. But the closer to the top the miscreant gets, the less likely there is to be any news. Infamously corrupt former senior IRGC officer and Tehran mayor Mohammad Bagher Ghalibaf allegedly bribed state officials to avoid fraud charges. Former IRGC-Quds Force Commander Qassem Soleimani was also implicated, with all revealed in a leaked recording.

The story received extremely limited coverage inside Iran because of Ghalibaf’s ties to Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei and Soleimani’s so-called martyrdom. Indeed, Khamenei slammed newspapers for reporting the story at all, labeling the leaks as enemy efforts to “[slander] the central elements that played a role in the advancement of the revolution; one day it’s the Majles [Iran’s parliament], one day it’s the Guardian Council, and one day it’s the IRGC. Today, it’s the IRGC’s turn. Today, they slander the IRGC and try to tarnish it and the great martyr Soleimani.”

Khamenei similarly swept sexual assault charges away in the case of a favored Quranic orator, censured newspapers and ministers that reported on corruption within the government, and denounced charges of corruption against former Chief Justice Ayatollah Sadeq Amoli Larijani, who was accused of tolerating widespread theft. (His former deputy was actually arrested for financial crimes in 2019.) Larijani was ultimately replaced by Raisi, who is now considered a likely candidate to replace the ailing supreme leader after his death. And when Rafsanjani began detailing Khamenei’s sons’ vast wealth in 2016, his own son was quickly arrested and sentenced to 10 years in prison.

Opposition cleric Mehdi Karroubi, who has been under house arrest since 2011, wrote an open letter to the supreme leader in 2018, accusing him of tolerating systemic corruption and impoverishing tens of millions of Iranians while enriching a small elite. “Under such conditions,” he warned, “it is natural that the lower classes, who were the grassroot supporters of the Islamic Revolution, will turn into a gunpowder barrel.”

Given widespread awareness of corruption inside Iran, curious people may wonder why additional sordid details could tip the balance of what is already a widespread revolution inside Iran. But there is a huge hole in reporting on graft at the most senior levels of Iran’s government, with allegations about Khamenei’s own crimes appearing only on exile and hostile foreign websites.

In short, Khamenei does not want his citizens (or lesser government officials) to know about the breadth of his own sins. And small wonder: Iran’s own Ministry of Cooperatives, Labour, and Social Welfare reported in January that around 60 percent of the country’s 84 million people live below the poverty line, with one-third living in “extreme poverty”—double the number of the previous year.

Far from blaming the United States or international sanctions for their strife, Iranians have made clear they blame their own government. Were they to know in real time—rather than after the fact, Qaddafi- and Mubarak-style—just how much money their supreme leader and his cronies had stolen, it could, as Karroubi warned, tip the balance and finally turn the regime’s remaining supporters in the security forces and the public against them.

How could this happen? Trump administration officials accused Khamenei of being worth around $200 billion. (A previous Reuters investigation detailed assets worth at least $95 billion.) But that’s the extent of U.S. government jabs at the supreme leader. Much as the Trump administration began detailing Khamenei’s personal wealth, the U.S. and European governments could begin unraveling the web of concealed assets owned by the supreme leader and his family—and act on the information.

Subsequent to Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait, the U.S. government froze Saddam’s assets. Ditto the assets of Qaddafi and his cronies once the United States decided he had to go. True, some of these assets were sovereign—nominally the foreign government’s money. But not all. So why wait? If corrupt enemies of the United States can have their assets frozen in the event of their ouster or war, then why not do it preemptively? As the Biden administration has made crystal clear in the case of Russian oligarchs and Putin’s cronies, it has the legal authority to freeze the proceeds of corruption.

Most of the Middle East’s late dictators had money and real estate in the United States under the jurisdiction of the U.S. federal government. The United States has multiple avenues to communicate details to the Iranian people, whether through whatever U.S. press leaks in, Persian-language Radio Farda (part of U.S.-funded Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty), or the U.S. president’s own bully pulpit.

If, as senior U.S. officials have suggested to me, corruption is truly the Iranian regime’s Achilles’ heel, isn’t it time someone started exploiting that weakness to the benefit of the long-suffering Iranian people?

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pathwaylawfirm · 2 months

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The Cost of Justice: Understanding Fee Structures with Beverly Hills Personal Injury Lawyers

In times of distress following an injury, seeking justice is a paramount concern. Yet, many individuals may hesitate due to concerns about the cost of legal representation. Understanding the fee structures associated with hiring a Beverly Hills personal injury lawyer is crucial for making informed decisions. In this comprehensive guide, we'll delve into the various fee arrangements, considerations, and factors involved, empowering you to navigate the path to justice confidently.

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Before proceeding with legal representation, clients should receive a written fee agreement outlining the terms and conditions of the arrangement. This agreement should detail the fee structure, including any contingency fees, hourly rates, or retainer amounts, as well as the scope of representation and billing procedures. Reviewing this agreement carefully and seeking clarification on any terms you don't understand is essential to avoid misunderstandings later on.

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Throughout the course of representation, clients are entitled to regular updates on the status of their case and an accounting of any fees and expenses incurred. Attorneys should provide detailed billing statements that clearly itemize the work performed and the associated costs. This transparency fosters trust and accountability between the attorney and the client, ensuring that both parties are on the same page regarding the financial aspects of the representation.

Final Thoughts

Navigating the complexities of legal fees can be daunting, especially for individuals already grappling with the aftermath of a personal injury. However, understanding the fee structures associated with hiring a Beverly Hills personal injury lawyer is essential for making informed decisions and accessing justice. Whether opting for a contingency fee arrangement, an hourly rate, or a hybrid model, it's crucial to choose an attorney who prioritizes transparency, communication, and client satisfaction. By working collaboratively with a reputable and experienced attorney, individuals can pursue the compensation they deserve without undue financial burden, ensuring that the cost of justice remains within reach.

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etehadlawapc · 3 months

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Burn Injury Law Firm Beverly Hills | Top-Tier Legal Representation

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hakiminjurylaw · 5 months

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losangeleslawyer · 1 year

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lawadvocategroup · 3 months

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The Role Of Trial Attorneys In Beverly Hills: Protecting Your Rights

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themineslawfirm1 · 3 months

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Best Beverly Hills Injury Attorney | Themineslawfirm.com

When you need the best legal representation for your injury case in Beverly Hills, trust The Mines Law Firm. Our dedicated attorneys will work tirelessly to protect your rights and pursue the compensation you deserve. Learn more:

Best Beverly Hills Injury Attorney

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seph7 · 5 months

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German Press Kit for Defenseless (1991). Below is the translated production info from inside, plus J.T. Walsh’s actor profile.

Lawyer T.K. Katwuller (Barbara Hershey) seems to have everything the successful woman of the 90s needs: she has a top job in a renowned law firm, a great apartment in Beverly Hills, great clothes. Only something clouds the image of the career lady: her private life is a single disaster.

After a failed marriage and several unsuccessful attempts to find Mr. Right, she ends up with an absolute Mr. Wrong - her client Steven Seldes (T.J. Walsh). He is charming, cosmopolitan - but married. And not only that. Seldes is in a complicated case where it is about porn movies and child pornography.

T.K. stands behind her client and his version - that he is only involved to the extent that he unknowingly rented a warehouse in which the porn was shot.

The events roll over after porn director Jack Hammer (John Kapelos) is brutally beaten up in Stevens' warehouse converted into a studio.

Shortly after the incident, T.K. visits the place of the event. She hopes to find relief material for her client - and runs to the police detective Lt. George Beutel (Sam Shepard) across the way.

From the first moment, there is a tension between the two between Attraction and aversion.

A little later, T.K., obviously by chance, meets her old college friend Ellie (Mary Beth Hurt), who has not been seen for years - and discovers that she is Steven's wife.

Ellie doesn't know anything about this relationship and invites T.K. to dinner to give her her husband and the half-grown daughter Janna (Kellie Overbey).

The evening is, as usual, highly embarrassing and ends for T.K. with the decision to end the private relationship with Steven immediately. She leaves the Seldes House, extremely excited and angry. Steven follows her to the waggon and T.K. demands her apartment key back. Steven convinces her to a debate a little later in his office.

T.K. arrives there before Steven and accidentally finds material that clearly proves Steven's suffocation in the porn affair.

After Steven arrives, she confronts him. There is a fierce dispute in the course of which Steven becomes tangible. T.K. tries to defend himself and stabs Steven in the arm with a letter opener. In a panic, she leaves the Office.

Arriving in front of the house, she has to realise that she left her car keys in Steven's office. She turns around again, but does not find Steven in the office - but loud traces of blood on the floor. A few moments later, she discovers Steven in the men's toilet - brutally murdered.

T.K. is calling for the police. Lt. Beutel leads the investigation, which finds that Steven was killed by several stitches in the neck and chest. In a certain awareness that she cannot possibly have killed Steven with a stab in the arm, T.K. decides not to report this incident to the police.

The next day brings another terrible surprise. Ellie was accused of the murder of her husband and is arrested.

Ellie insists on being defended by T.K. T.K. can be convinced. A fatal decision, as it soon turns out. T.K.'s attempts to prove Ellie's innocence gradually reveal secrets that connect the two women in a strange way....

J.T. WALSH (Steven Seldes)

Walsh embodies the morally bankrupt entrepreneur in WEHRLOS

Steven Seldes, whose dubious businesses are the starting point of the tragic-bloody events.

Walsh was born in San Francisco. At the age of five, he moved to Germany with his family and only returned to the states at the age of 19. He only started his acting career at the age of 30, after he had previously tried numerous other jobs.

The stage career began in Connecticut and led to New York at the St. Clemens Theatre and the Manhattan Theatre Company. In a "Richard III" production, he played alongside Al Pacino on the Broad-way. Other roles there: in Frank Gilroy's "Last Licks", next to Nicol Williamson in "Macbeth", with Glenda Jackson in "Rose", with Williamson again in "Glengarry Glen Ross".

On the cinema screen, he has now established himself as a villain from the service. In "Good Morning, Vietnam" he was Robin Williams stubborn superior, in Robert Towne's "Tequila Sunrise" (with Kurt Russell, Mel Gibson and Michelle Pfeiffer) an ambivalent drug searcher, in Fred Schepisi's "Russia House" a cold-nosted military, in Ron Howard's "Backdraft - Men Who Go Through Fire" just a corrupt municipal politician.

He has already been in front of the camera twice with Barbara Hershey: in Barry Levinson's "Tin Men" and in Woody Allen's "Hannah and her sisters".

Recently, he shot a Hollywood satire with "The Big Picture" and played the disclosure journalist Bob Woodward in "Wired".

#jtwalsh #j.t. walsh #jt walsh #underrated actors #defenseless

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