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A title implying ownership, shared familial DNA, director Matt Tyrnauer’s prescient documentary vivisects demigod Roy Cohn’s (1927-1986) amoral, Machiavellian history; from his coddled, privileged formative years; his prodigious intelligence led him to starship, at twenty-three, with Senator Joseph McCarthy’s (1908-1957), quest to destroy, malign anyone who flirted with Communism; pivotal in the execution of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg (1951); Army-McCarthy hearings, (1954) feeding their Communist paranoia; slimy, but brilliant lawyer of Mafia Mavens (Anthony Solerno, John Gotti, Carmine Galante); playmate of Andy Warhol, Norman Mailer, George Steinbrenner: a regular at Studio 54, where his sexual proclivities were nurtured. Politics and politicians framed his unerring megalomania; ironically, he was young Donald Trump’s lawyer from 1973-1978, a sycophant who gorged on Cohn’s moral turpitude, ignoring laws and civility, but dumped Cohn when his homosexuality and AIDS were sensationally harped upon. Ironically, Tyrnauer’s title is a quote from The Donald in 2016’s election process, and Russia’s complicitness, when he hysterically rants, “Where’s My Roy Cohn?”. Not a biological connection but psychologically, hypocritically, mendaciously, these two men share an unprincipled, unethical, sanctimonious code of conscience.





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