Most of us will remember exactly what we were doing on 9/11/2001. For me, I was safely out of it, living a quiet but lonely life in peaceful Topanga Canyon, California, in the home I created for me and my family 22 years before.  On that fateful morning, I had been watching, as I usually was, CNBC at 5:30 Pacific Coast Time, tuning in for a few hours stock market viewing (maybe as a trader). I was just in time to see the carnage caused by an airplane crashing into the North tower of the World Trade Center.  I switched over to CNN, and watched unbelievably as the second plane crashed into the South tower 15 minutes later.  Confusion reigned. Obviously no accident, but what was this? A few hours later, we had our answer.  Terrorists! Foreign terrorists, of course, from overseas, acting within our own borders.

My 2 sons and 1 daughter were living in New York City, and I hadn’t heard from them for a while, and was worried.  Especially for Benjy. He was a co-pilot for Delta, flying East Coast runs. Was he in the air, about to get involved too?  Were they all OK?

I went to the phone, unable to raise anybody at that point, not even Lynn, by now my ex-wife.  Two days went by before I learned that my children were safe.  Of Lynn, no word, because I knew she was filming in London. 2 days later, I took breakfast at 8am, relieved and happy to hear that all three of my children were safe and sound back in Manhattan. A film crew had arrived that morning, about to film 4 pretty girls playing a doubles match on my tennis court.

They unloaded their gear. I would be paid $500 renting out my facilities for the day. The producer was relieved not to have to secure permits for the shoot.  Also, my home was just outside Los Angeles City limits, helpful for the fact that the girls would be cavorting on the court topless.

My gate phone rang. It was the police! The producer was having a coffee with me, and immediately sprang to her feet, ran outside, and gathered her cast and crew together for a fast scramble and getaway.

After a short pause I let the police in, first making sure that all shooting has ceased on the tennis court. I went outside to greet them, with a smile on my face. A short-lived smile as it turned out, when they informed me that they had come for me, and I had precisely 1 hour to pack my things before being escorted off my premises. Court order of Judge Arnold Gold. Time enough only to hitch my pickup truck to my trailer, charge the battery, and leave for destinations unknown.

Later that day, it was 9/13 remember, I returned to retrieve a few things, and particularly one of my cars (I had several). At my gate, I found out why my ex, Lynn Redgrave, had been unreachable. She was not in London.  She was in my driveway, shouting instructions to several hangers-on who were there to make sure I did not re-enter my premises, guided by phone instructions from her lawyer Emily Edelman. Thank God I had my camera. I would record the events as they happened, because otherwise nobody would believe it. I called the police.  And now, read my pictorial of what happened next in the category to the left entitled "MY EVICTION PICTURES."

Terrorists? Yes. From overseas? No. Just members of my family, supported by judges, lawyers, the press, and court-order enforcers (from the Malibu sheriff’s office).