In a scenario that stunned audiences and set social media ablaze, a fictional true-crime narrative imagines Hollywood waking up to its darkest possible morning: legendary filmmaker Rob Reiner and his wife, Michele Reiner, found dead in their Brentwood home.

In this imagined account, the shock doesn’t end there. The story turns devastatingly inward when their youngest son, Nick Reiner, becomes the central figure of a fictional investigation — a twist so harrowing it feels almost unbearable to process.

As the hypothetical story spread online, reactions poured in from every corner of the entertainment world. But one moment, in particular, stopped viewers cold.

Appearing on Scandal with Law&Crime’s Sierra Gillespie, famed attorney Ben Chew — best known for representing Johnny Depp — is imagined reacting not as a litigator, but as a human being.

“This is the kind of case that breaks every rule we rely on to make sense of the world,” Chew says in the scenario. “When tragedy is imagined to come from inside a family, there are no clean narratives. Only loss.”

The fictional discussion avoids sensationalism, instead focusing on the emotional toll such a case would inflict — on investigators, on attorneys, and on the public consuming it. Chew emphasizes how imagined high-profile cases like this reveal society’s hunger for answers, even when answers offer no comfort.

“What people forget,” he adds, “is that behind every headline — real or imagined — there are human beings whose lives are permanently altered.”

In this fictional telling, Hollywood itself becomes a silent character. Friends are imagined retreating from the spotlight. Phones stop ringing. The laughter once synonymous with the Reiner name fades into an unsettling quiet.

The imagined episode doesn’t aim to shock with violence, but to ask a deeper question: Why are we drawn to stories where fame, family, and horror collide? And what responsibility comes with telling them?

By the end of the fictional segment, viewers aren’t left with closure — only discomfort. And perhaps that’s the point. Some stories, even imagined ones, remind us how fragile legacy can be, and how quickly admiration can turn into grief.