My wife asked me why I react with such scorn everytime Amber Frey is mentioned. Like when she says, "Shhh. Amber Frey is on Oprah." And because I was ill with a cold and a helpless baby, I was tortured long and hard with the overexposed *** Amber. Amber's week wasn't just limited to Oprah. We got to watch the Today Show, Dateline, and Sean Hannity. She's even getting a CBS TV movie. All because she's... Amber.
I know I'm being too hard. After all, if she didn't testify, Scott Peterson might be out boating on the harbor with another dead body in the boat. Instead, California gets to execute Scott in, oh, twenty years. And let's face it, according to every movie I've seen in a similar genre, Amber should have been the next victim. "You see Amber," he said in a menacing tone, "You're the only one who can supply the police with a motive."
But really, do we need to know more about her than a figure skater after an NBC Olympics broadcast profile? And when I say overexposed, as the NY Post put it, "...the obligatory shots of Amber uncrossing her legs in all their limber glory are well represented in this book." Gee, how wonderful.
A girl's gotta eat, and a girl's gotta pay her legal bills (Gloria Allred ain't cheap). So it was inevitable I s'pose.
But I gotta ask one question, couldn't they have found a better title than "WITNESS: For the Prosecution of Scott Peterson"? After all, she's not (nor is her ghostwriter) Whittaker Chambers.
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