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AP Photo / Frank Gunn
I'm not sure it's the worst or the weirdest part of the story. But this one stands out for me. We're mid-bender, after a lot of drinking and driving and drugs and violence, Ford heads home with some lackeys in tow ...
The front walkway to the Ford house leads to a modest front door. At about 10 p.m. that night, Ford and his pals arrive. Ford has a bag of McDonald’s food in his hand. Ford jiggles the front door and then kicks the door open. He, Lisi, Bellissimo and another man step in.
“Don’t worry guys, my kids aren’t here,” Ford says.
For no apparent reason, Ford turns on Bellissimo and hits him squarely in the face twice — boom, boom — forgetting that he has a bagful of Big Macs in his hand. Burgers and fries scatter. Ford makes Bellissimo pick them up.
Down the stairs they go. Ford’s wife Renata is on the couch, a tired lounger that has been described to the Star by paramedics and firefighters who have attended calls at the house over the past two years. Renata is smoking a joint.
“You’re a f---ing idiot,” Renata says.
Enraged, Ford rummages for his Don Bosco coaching jacket. “It’s where I keep my weed,” he tells people in the room. Ford turns on his wife, screaming that she has taken his drugs. Standing there quietly are Lisi and Bellissimo.
To a visitor, Ford says, almost offhanded, “You can f--- her if you want, in front of me.”
Nobody speaks. The comment is ignored by Ford’s wife. Men in the room are shocked.
“It’s okay,” Ford burbles. “She lets me f--k girls in front of her all the time.”