I didn't know him as Charles, I knew him as Chuck. He was very charming, very charismatic, very handsome, very nice looking, always had a shirt and tie on, always very well put together. If you could put a label on it, I would say it's somewhere between a politician and a Hollywood actor. I always had an air about him. I wouldn't say an arrogant air, but he carried himself very well.

Will Zekho, new Chuck Stewart, intimately, at least in the way a chatty hairstylist in a chic salon has a window into each client's life. He'd been following the news closely ever since his regular client had been shot in such a public, horrifying way.

I remember the day it was on the news. He's being released from the hospital. Then maybe three or four hours later, the front desk comes out and says to me, Chuck Stewart just made an appointment with you for a haircut. I was like.

Oh.

Okay. So I told him, I said, Look, when he comes in, I don't want anybody hovering. Just go be at your station. And we had this little room. We called it the VIP suite. After we did Jackie O'Nassas's hair there, we called it the Jackie O'Nassus suite. So we had this little room. It was like a closet and it had a sink and a mirror and a chair and all the stuff we needed. So when the VIPs came in, that's where we did the VIP here. I said, We're going to take them into the Jackie O'Nassas Suite. I actually got to do Jackie O'Nassah's hair twice. I actually got to cut Henry Kissinger's hair. I met Cher in the elevator.

For many folks, this launch here is a bit of a confessional booth. Will, well, he likes it.

That way. Well, where else could you get your hair done and your head shrunk at the same time? Because people would tell you stuff and I'd be like, I don't want to know that. Ted Kennedy's first wife, Joan Kennedy, came to me for a little while, and then she starts to tell me these things. I'm thinking, I don't want to know. I don't want to know what's going on. It was a pretty intimate thing. What people tell you amaze me.

Will literally had his hands through the hair of the who's who of Boston in the late '80s, working from a salon in Back Bay just off Newbury Street. It's like the Rodale Drive or Fifth Avenue of Boston, which means it's fancy as far as.

Boston goes. It was where the rich and famous hung out. That was where all the high-end stores were. Everybody shopped there. There were probably 250 hair salons between Boylston Street and Arlington Street. If you had money, that's where you hung out. That's where you shop. That's where you ate.

Now, Will's a likable guy. He's got flare and tons of stories. People talk to him. People trust him.

There was this bar restaurant that we all used to go hang out in if we were going to go have lunch or whatever, we'd meet for cocktails and things.

It's where Will spotted Chuck for the first time.

When he came in, he had an entourage of people that he knew. When he came in, it was like a big hubbub. I don't know who I was sitting with and I said, Oh, this must be somebody rich and famous because they're making quite a stir. The person that was going to said, Yeah, I think his name is Charles or Chuck, and he works at a fur store down the street.

Furcoats were a thing in 1989. The bigger, the better. And who bought furcoats? The people who hung out on Newbury Street. They had the lifestyle Chuck longed for. Will understood that about Chuck.

I had three types of clients. I had the one-night stand, I had a good friend, and then I'm invited to the bar Mitzvahs and the Christenings. The first time someone came in, it was always like, Is this going to be a one-shot deal or is this going to be a long term? And it did become a long term. He came in every four or five weeks for a haircut.

Chuck's haircut was simple.

Wasn't anything special. My day was called the boy's regular, but it would be a man's regular. Clean cut over the ears, above the collar, square neckline. It fit the politician image that he had.

Chuck was good looking, certainly better than average. At 29, he had a pretty full head of hair that was maybe starting to thin. Hollywood-perfect white teeth, dark, bushy eyebrows, and a square chin with a substantial cleft. He had the build of a former college football player. In essence, he looked like he belonged in a Brooks Brothers ad, and he knew it.

He was very charming. When you spoke to him, he was very easy to talk to. I got the impression that, I don't know how to describe it, but he wanted to befriend you. Being a salesman in that industry, you had to have a certain amount of charisma and charm to win people over so that they would be your client. And I think he carried that through wherever he went because even though Boston is a big city, it's a small town. He'd come in every couple of weeks and I'd be thinking to myself, There's nothing to cut here, but you go through the motions and make them look good and feel good.

But tonight's top story, it has happened again. Bullets ring out during an abduction and robbery, starting at a hospital ending in Mission Hill. The victims tonight, a pregnant woman and her husband from the suburbs.

Like the rest of Boston, Will was shocked when he heard Chuck's name on the television news.

So when I looked up and then there was this picture, I was like, Expletive. I can't believe it. My wife comes and she goes, What's my co? That's my client. And she said, What do you mean? I said, That's my client. I've been cutting his hair for two years. And she said, No way. And I said, Yeah, way. I couldn'tdidn't wrap my head around it. I couldn't. And my wife said to me, What's freaking you out? I said, I didn't even know this guy was married. I said, In the two years I've been cutting his hair, I never even knew that he was married.

Will also was surprised when his receptionist told him Chuck was coming in for an appointment just hours after wrapping a months-long hospital stay. When he walks in….

He didn't look all that bad. If I remember, he had a cream-colored shirt on and a down vest, or he had some vest on or something, jeans, very unlike what I had ever seen him dress as before. I said, Come on with me. I said, We're going to-use, we'll be in this room. It'll be a little bit more private for you, and that way it'll be a little bit more quiet. And he was very, very subdued compared to... Whenever he came in, he always had a smile on and his eyes were bright. And when he came in, he was just very down here. I take him into the room and hang up his jacket or vest, whatever he had on. I go in there and I close the door and it's like, What do you say to somebody that has just been through that. He's sitting in the chair and he's looking at me in the mirror. I just said, Chuck, just let me say this. I said, I'm so sorry for your loss. I said, I can only imagine what it would be like if my wife and daughter, if something happened to them.

I can only imagine. But I don't know what you're going through. I'm just so, so very sorry for your loss. He's sitting there and he's looking in the mirror. He doesn't react. Then he goes like this, See these gray hairs over here? Can you cover these up? I was gobsmacked. I was like, Sure, yeah, I can do something with that. I said, I have a couple of things that I can do. What do you want to do? He said, I just want to make sure that these grays are covered up. It was just he sat there. We didn't really talk. I did his hair, colored his hair, cut his hair, cleaned it up, asked him if it was okay, showed him it with a mirror. He said, No, that looks really good. Thank you very much. He finished paying with the receptionist, and he put his jacket on. And then he shook my hand. And when he shook my hand, he palmed me a $100 tip. I was like, Whoa, that's freaky. Then he was gone.

Now it's time to tell you about Chuck and Carol. They're the two people at the center of this story, but we haven't told you much about them yet. For so long, it was their story and only their story that got any attention. The focus was always on this white couple from the suburbs. The medias loved them. The all-American couple, that's how neighbors described the Stewart. They lived in a comfortable house with.

Two dogs.

And a baby on the way.

Carol Stewart was a lawyer for a publishing company in.

Newton and was.

Loved by everyone who knew her.

The Boston Herald called them the Camelot Couple, a direct reference to Jack O'and JFK, arguably Massachusetts' most beloved duo. This was the young, up-and-coming, middle-class white couple from the suburbs. It was a real Bostonian story.

Carol.

Stewart was.

The apple of.

Everyone's eye.

Who met her.

Chuck was tall and handsome. He really was striking.

They.

Were truly the Camelot couple.

Next to many of those Camelot headlines was a picture from their wedding day. It's a portrait of happiness. The couple is beaming, looking right into the lens, looking right into your heart. Carol, whose maiden name was Damaydae, is all-green, blue-eye shadow and pink lipstick, her head crowned by a white veil. Chuck, he's prim and proper, black tucks, white bow tie, and piercing blue eyes. The media ran with this image, and the Camelot couple titled too.

Carol Damaydy.

Was one of those.

Who left an indelible mark. Described as loving and pure, she grew up in a working-class section of Medford, instilled with a sense of honesty and determination that produced an almost fairy.

Tale life. Camelot couple became shorthand for the charmed life they had built for themselves in the suburbs.

Nearly.

All the.

Neighbors here know them and described the couple as compassionate and thoughtful neighbors.

But some of those residents now admit they're scared to go to Boston.

No, not Carol. She was our angel.

Her husband sat.

Next to me, and I thought he was so nervous.

So many of us can.

See.

Ourselves in the steward's car.

That's the thing about this story. White folks could see themselves in that car. This was a time when fears about violence and drugs were at an all-time high. Talk of super predators was all over, and White Flight was real. This story tapped into all of that. I'm a speaker potholip. I'm Adrian Walker, and this is Murder in Boston: the untold story of the Charles and Carol Stewart shooting. Episode 5, The Camelot Couple. So far, much of what you've heard about Carol and Chuck Stewart revolves around the night Carol was shot dead in her husband's car in Mission Hill. But before they were victims of that terrible shooting, they were two kids from the suburbs. Two kids in love looking to climb life's social ladder, working together in a seaside restaurant on Boston's North Shore.

Carol was a legend, and she was this tiny dynamo, and she just exuded energy and everything that she did. She was like a force to be reckoned with. I am Christine Barata. I was a friend of Carol DeMadee Stewart. She was DeMadee when I met her. I'll tell you how I met her. I was 14 years old. One of my aunts lived in Revere down in the Point of Pines, which is very close to the Driftwood restaurant. The Driftwood was like this big Italian-American seafood restaurant in Revere. It was very, very popular. Everybody in Revere, East Boston, Winthrook, went.

It was the late 1970s, and the Drifwood was an institution. It sat on Revere Beach, so close to the sand you could throw a clam and hit the waves. The restaurant exuded cool.

It just had a really incredible pulse. On the weekend nights, it was literally like standing room only to get in there, big waiting list. You had to know the Maitre D.

It had 100 tables, diners everywhere, families rubbing shoulders with politicians and jockeys from the nearby racetrack.

It also had a lot of famous people like Tony Kinnigliarrow would come in there. And Earl Weaver, I'm a big baseball fan. I remember the night he came in with his World Series ring, I almost fell over. It was literally like working in Hollywood at the Driftwood.

Carol started at the Driftwood as a bus girl, and at she was promoted to waitress. Christine was hired for Carol's old position.

The first thing that anybody ever said to me was that she was the best. No one was like her. They would never find anybody that could ever replace Carol. I had big shoes to fill.

Carol immediately took her replacement under her wing.

We worked together. She trained me, and then we were always paired together. We were the only girls there. Carol was the only girl bus person. When I replaced her, I was the only girl bus person. Everybody else was a boy. I'll just say this, the girls slaughtered the boys. We outworked them, outpaced them. Carol was one of the best servers there. So when famous people came in, Carol was asked to take care of them.

Carol wasn't just a mentor at work.

I did not have a role model or anything, and Carol really was that for me. She taught me how to drive. She helped me find my dress and even got me a date for the junior prom. She helped me get into college. She put her hand on my shoulder and she just said, This is how you do it.

There's a legendary story about the time Carol had a showdown with a large party that left without giving the staff a tip.

They literally left nothing. So she picks up the tip thing and she.

Walks out. All the Driftwood servers are watching through the big, plate glass windows as Carol follows the big party out to.

Their car. I can tell. She's got her backup, but she is feeling all of herself. She's not letting.

This one go. She's got the tip tray in her hand.

And she just puts it on the guy's hood. And I could hear her say something, and then she just walked away. She comes back into the restaurant. All the servers are like, Oh, my God! Carol told somebody off.

The showdown became an urban legend among the staff. But later that night, Carol tells Christine the truth about what really happened in the parking lot with the.

Tip tray. She's like, Christine, I just... I took it. I slid it over and I just said, You left.

Your change. It's far from the tall tail that's taking hold among the staff. Everyone assumes she left them have it.

And I said, Well, don't you want to correct people? And she said, Absolutely not. She says, I want them to think I'm a badass.

Carol was doing all of this under the watchful eye of her father.

Her dad is a bartender upstairs, and he loved his daughter, obviously, very much. He always carried her picture and her report card in his wallet. He would be upstairs at the bar, serving people. He would be like, You've got to go downstairs and you've got to eat and you've got to have my daughter wait on you. He'd show people her report card, which I will say straight A's all the time. The woman was brilliant. She really was.

Carol was a hair turner, too.

She was super attractive and super sweet and fun to be with. Guys asked her out all the time. I mean, she'd be waiting on tables, guys would ask her out.

But she turned them down. She was still with her high school boyfriend until one day, a local guy in his 20s with good hair and piercing blue eyes joined the staff.

Chuck was tall and handsome. He really was striking.

Chuck Stewart was from a big family in Revere on Boston's North Shore. The Stewart's resembled most families in Revere: Irish, Catholic, working class. Chuck's dad, Charles Senior, sold insurance. His mom, Dorothy, was a homemaker. They lived in a three-bedroom house on a cul-de-sac and went to Mass each Sunday. Chuck was an altar boy. The family's house was just a few miles inland from the restaurant where he met Carol. At the Driftwood, Chuck quickly made an impression. Christine heard he used to be on a football scholarship at Brown before his knee gave out and he came home. Adding to his mystique, Chuck didn't say much, but he seemed nice, even thoughtful. And he had this quiet, confident, swagger.

He always seemed very… He was polite, but quiet and reserved. He did not talk a lot. You didn't hear him raucously laughing or anything like that. I always remember him working the line in the kitchen, studiously cooking. He seemed to really love the restaurant business.

Amid the hustle and bustle of the restaurant, somewhere between the Driftwood kitchen and the front of the house, a romance started.

He really pursued her very arduently. There were flowers and gifts and beautiful dates and opening the door for her. Again, quiet and reserved, but he seemed to adore her.

It went both ways.

She really liked him quite a bit. He was movie star looking. He was very handsome, and she just really liked him.

Carol's high school boyfriend was a more conventional, safe choice. Even her dad liked him.

I think he was the guy that her father was really at hope that she would end up with. But Chuck was more exciting.

And so the teenage romance fizzled out. Chuck took center stage, much to her dad's chagrin.

I always felt like he didn't like Chuck too much.

No matter, Carol and Chuck became an item. They continued to date, and on Christmas Eve, 1983, Chuck proposed. She said yes. They got married in October 1985, in the same church where Carol's parents were married. The reception was held at a big banquet hall. It was a huge Italian wedding with more food than anyone can fathom and tons of dancing. Towards the end of the night, the couple boogieed to one of their favorite songs, Bruce Springsteen's Dancing in the Dark. By this point, the new Mr. And Mrs. Stewart had the Driftwood restaurant days in near rear view. Carol graduated from law school and had started a new job at an accounting firm. Chuck, he was in the fancy furs business on his way to becoming general manager of a high-end store on New Barry Street. It's called Cacus Furs. It was a far cry from the bare-knuckled, working-class world of Revere. Chuck spent his days in a Tony showroom filled with antiques and lush Oriental rugs.

It's a lot of glass, a lot of brass, a lot of wood, and it's just very luxurious when you walk in because you're looking at all these gorgeous fur coats on these mannequins.

Chuck Stewart was one of the first people Gayle Vincent met when she came to work at Cakus. Gayle worked upstairs, away from the showroom, sewing, fixing, stretching fur coats into shape.

Oh, I loved it. It was amazing. The fur was immaculate, beautiful. They're really works of art.

Chuck was her boss.

He was very nice. He was kind, polite. He was the general manager of the store.

But soon after she started working, Chuck started creeping her out. He would always find a way to be in the elevator with her. He made small talk and paid her never ending compliments. It was.

Too much and too often and the tone of the voice or the way he looked at me up and or kept looking.

And.

Then it seemed like he wasn't just looking. He was leery. And it just felt inappropriate. He was getting in the elevator with me too much. It was like he was hurrying to get in the elevator.

Gayle was married, and she noticed Chuck wore a wedding ring, too. But his behavior didn't stop until Gayle's husband came by work one day to pick her up.

I had mentioned him. My husband's picking me up. Well, when he said goodbye to me and opened the door and saw that my husband was black, I just saw a little bit of weirdness right then, but I didn't know what it was. But when I got in the car and turned around and looked at him as he was looking at me, I saw something different. It didn't really register with me too much right then. But when I came back to work, wow, what a difference. He looked at me like he hated me or like I was the most disgusting thing on the planet. It was like night and day with him, like I was happy because then he left me alone. It was no more riding in the elevator, no more flirting, no more small talk, no more of all the stuff I have been enduring with him for all that time.

It.

Ceased immediately.

None of this behavior dampened Chuck's fortunes at Caicus. The owners loved him, and he was the golden boy. Carol was also excelling at her new role as the tax attorney at her accounting firm.

We worked ridiculous hours. It was not unusual to work 70 hours a week.

Barbara Williamson was Carol's colleague at Arthur Young, and they spent many late nights together, quarring over tax files and legal briefs.

Her dad would bring us pizza at nine o'clock at night and say, You work too many hours. You work too long. He'd come in with all these boxes of pizza. So it was pretty easy to see her generosity of spirit. I never saw her turn up her nose at any human being, no matter who they were.

Barbara remembers a company party at the Chiris Bar. You know, that Boston spot where everyone supposedly knows your name.

Carol and two other women in the tax department did the Supreme's Ain't No Mountain High Enough. It wasn't exactly karaoke because there were no microphones, but the music was playing, and they were doing all this, Ain't no mountain high enough. Ain't no valley low enough. And they were having a blast. And everybody there was just completely captivated, laughing hysterically because, again, she was just so unself-conscious. There was no establishedness to Carol. She always brought her own lunch, and she'd eat in the lunchroom with the secretaries and the administrative staff, and she was adored by them as much as she was adored by the partners, the managers, and the regular staff.

And Carol was open. She talked about her life as a newlywed, riding the highs and occasional lows of married life.

In their first year of marriage, she'd come into the office and she'd say, Chuck.

She'd tell a story about how he'd done something that just drove her crazy. She just couldn't understand. And then not 20 minutes later, a large base of 12 or 24 roses would come down the hall to be delivered to Carroll as an apology for whatever the spot was. So it looked like a fairy tale, a romance. I mean, he took her to New York for the weekends for restaurants and plays, and he bought her gorgeous jewelry. It looked pretty perfect from the outside.

Barbara remembers Carol being over the moon. When in 1989, she learned that she was pregnant.

She was really excited about the fact that she and Chuck together were creating this new human being. And she wondered who that human being was going to be. And she just looked forward to having the joys of motherhood.

But first, Carol endured months of brutal morning sickness.

When she was driving to work, she'd have to pull over and throw up. She hated it and she hated feeling sick. She started talking about staying home after the baby was born.

In prepping for this huge transition, Carol and Chuck signed up for birthing classes at one of the region's most prestigious hospitals. They started collecting pillows and how-to books and prepared a baby room in their suburban Redding home.

Boston, record emergency 510.

My wife's.

Been shot. I've been shot. Where is this, sir? And then that terrible night. I have.

No idea.

I've been coming from Premont, Brigham and Women's Hospital. The and the.

Stuarts were excited as they approached the birth of their first child. The dream that disappeared last night, we're a boy.

Every single.

Available police detective in this.

City worked on the case.

Police, a.

Violent fugitive arrest, what? They are all.

Here and all looking for the.

Killer of.

Carol Stewart. They finally settled on William Bennett, a man with a history of violence.

After Willy's arrest, things quieted a bit. The police assault on Mission Hill eased. December in Boston that year was the coldest on record in 100 years. The Bruins were doing great and on their way to the Stanley Cup finals. And the Celtics still had Larry Bird, whose superpowers were starting to fade. The Stewart story still dominated the newscast and the front pages of the papers, but the city prepared for a new decade and a big New Year's celebration. It had been two months since Carol and her baby, Christopher, died. Meanwhile, Willy Bennett languished in jail on charges that had nothing to do with the shooting. Prosecutors continued to pour over the Stewart case with Willy as the main suspect, but still no murder charges had been filed. Around Christmas, Chuck booked another appointment with Will Zekho at the salon.

He called up again and said, I want to come in. I have to go to the police station. I think the press is going to be there. Can you cover this up?

Chuck wanted Will to cover up his gray again. It was starting to show.

I'm thinking to myself, Dude, seriously? You're worried about the press and what you look like? For God's sake. At that point, I was pissed. I said, Yeah, sure, come on in. He came in and same routine. I put him in the room. This time I put him in the room after I put the cover on, I left and I closed the door. I let him sit in there by himself because I was just like, I'm not going to make small talk with this guy because obviously he's either in shock or he's unmoved by this.

Even today, the image of Chuck's face in the salon mirror during that last appointment, it sticks with Will.

I can see it in my mind's eye. If you look into the eyes of a shark, they're dead. That's exactly what it was. There was no feeling. There was no emotion. There was nothing. And that's when I really was like, Wow, dude, you're a piece of work.

With his newly colored and quaffed hair, Chuck headed to the police station. Detectors had gathered up suspects and wanted Chuck to point out the shooter.

And the lineup was held this afternoon on the second floor of police headquarters. Under extreme secrecy, William Bennett was whisked in and out through a side door. Bennett was inserted in the number three position of the lineup with seven other black men, and Charles Stewart viewed them through a one-way glass.

Testing one, two, three, four.

Testing one, two, three, four. We are currently on the first floor of police headquarter. Our name is Lieutenant Detective Edward McNally, Chief of the Pharmacite Unit and the Department of Police and Barclays. Present in the room is Detective Miller Thomas, and Detective of the that you had to take the homicide unit in the dark of the police department.

This tape was recorded moments after Chuck viewed the police lineup of eight black men. It's pretty scratchy and has never been heard widely. Our team helped unearth it.

I first came to the room, I was able to see seven of the eight individuals. I was first… My attention was first called the individual number three, at that time, already being somewhat nervous, and I would.

Have taken.

Over by even more nervousness of recognizing number three, the individual who went in my car on a silver 20 Carat.

Chuck says he was nervous, and that he got even more nervous when he saw the third person in the lineup, Willy Bennett.

When number three, I think, step forward, especially when he turned to the left and you were in the right side of his face, it became clear to me that this was the individual who was in my vehicle that evening.

Chuck says he recognized Willy's jawline, even the shape of his ear, and it terrified him.

After a moment of trying to compose myself a little bit, I took advantage of concentrating on individual number three. It was then that I try to remember most, the facial features that had stuck in my mind. It was at that point that I was, what can be said, 99% sure that this was the individual that was in my car that night.

Did you hear that? Chuck's 99% sure Willy's the shooter.

Number three stood out immediately. The nervousness that I had, I had a shaking in my legs. I didn't think I could even stand still. My heartbeat was rapid. I tried to concentrate and give each individual the proper attention without steering back at number three, but my viewing of individual number three was definitely one that precipitated this nervous reaction.

And that was that.

Charles Stewart looking thinner since the shooting left quickly and quietly after the lineup through a side door. Neither he nor his attorney spoke to reporters.

But there are conflicting media reports about the state of the case.

Both Boston newspapers quoting sources report Stewart's identification of Bennett as absolutely solid. Our sources say at best it was a lukewarm identification. It has been two months now since shots rang out on Mission Hill that night, and no one has been arrested. The only thing the police and prosecutors are saying now is no comment.

So the city is left wondering what's going to happen next, but there are no answers in the coming days. For a moment, the world pauses to ring in the new year.

1989, going out with a.

Song, a shimmy, and.

A flack. Thousands flocked downtown to usher in the new decade.

For a while, weather threatened to be the.

Main story of these first.

Night's.

Celebrations, but.

The rain.

Has held.

Off tonight. In fact, it's gotten, if.

Anything, even warmer.

This.

Evening. That combination has.

Brought out.

All kinds of people. By any measure, it was a roller coaster year. The terrible night in Mission Hill, the fall of the Berlin Wall.

This, of course, was the year of the Alaska oil spill, the San Francisco earthquake, worldwide freedom movement.

All over the world. Still, hope springs eternal.

And in just 15 seconds from now, it'll be 1990. Here we go. The will be accounted for in five, four, three, two, one. Happy New Year. He made it. He's on top of the world. There's a guy without a shirt on, if you can believe that. Let's take a look and see if he's fully on the calendar.

But when the calendar turns, Boston is about to get a real shock. On the morning of January fourth, a businessman drives across the Tobin Bridge. The Tobins are hulking mass of steel that looms over the Mystic River and connects Boston to the suburbs of Chelsea and the Revere. That morning, bog and drizzle blankets the Green Bridge. Still, the businessman sees something amiss. On this.

Particular morning, I was coming in very early.

And early being.

Around.

6:30 to seven.

O'clock, and I went over.

The bridge. There's a car pulled over to the side with the door left open.

I noticed.

A.

Man.

Out of the car. He went around.

The.

Front of his car. It's a bit dark. The sun is just starting to come up, but he can see the man is tall and white. And then this man moves toward the railing.

And then.

Climbed.

Stood.

On the.

Side of the bridge.

The businessman keeps driving. The man in his rearview mirror steps up to the edge.

This was seminal in the.

Modern history of Boston.

I had to rewrite the story in my head.

Shocked. It doesn't even begin.

To describe the feeling. That's on the next episode of Murder in Boston. Bosun. Murder in Boston, the untold story of the Charles and Carol Stewart shooting, is presented by The Boston Globe and HBO documentary films. This podcast was recorded and written by globe journalist Evan Allen, Elizabeth Coe, Andrew Ryan, and me, your host, Associate Editor Adrian Walker. The project was led and also cowritten by Assistant Managing Editor Brendan McCarthy and the globe's head of audio, Kristen Nelson. Nelson served as senior producer. Melissa Rosales is the Associate-ship producer. Our theme music is Speak Upon It by Boston's own, Ed O'G. Reza Dyer is our sound designer. Voice-over direction by Athena Corkanos. Research from Jeremiah Manion, backchecking by Matt Mahoney. The globe's executive editor is Nancy Barnes. Thanks to former Globes, Brian McRory, and Scott Allen, and to Boston Globe Media CEO, Linda Henry. Additional interviews and audio, courtesy of Jason Haier and Little Room Films. Special thanks to Michael Gluxstat and Allison Cohen on the HBO podcast team. The HBO documentary series, Murder in Boston: Roots, Rampage, and Reckoning is available to stream on Maps. This week on All.

There Is with Anderson Cooper. I'll sit down with President Biden in the White House for a conversation about the losses in his life and how he lives with them.

I don't know.

Anybody.

Who welcomes grief, but you got to.

Confront it. It is, I think, the first time any sitting US President has agreed to do an entire interview solely focused on grief.

I mean this from the bottom of.

My heart, my.

Words of the Biden.

They're.

Always going to be with you.

Listen to.

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