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JOEL MYNOR: It was money. It was roll around in money. And Rebecca had no idea; she’d been supporting the both of us for years. I mean ridiculous hours; living in a one room shack. And I knew this house was exactly her type. I paid cash. And I called her up and said, meet me at this address. And she was worried, you know, I could hear it. She probably thought this was a police station or something, but… Ah, you know. Thinking about the look on her face when she saw this place and I told her it was ours. (pause) Sanitation truck sideswiped her car three blocks from here. I heard the impact and, and… they said it was quick. I guess they always have to say that, right? But she never got to see this house. And she never knew I’d made good. So every year on this date, I pretend she does. Like I get to see that look on her face and I get to show her our extraordinary home.
PAUL BALLARD: And then you sleep with her.
JOEL MYNOR: It is a fantasy.
PAUL BALLARD: I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Mynor, but it doesn’t make you anything other than a predator.
JOEL MYNOR: I’m sure I’m in need of some serious moral spankitude, but guess who is not qualified to be my Rabbi?
— Dollhouse, “Man on the Street” (1.6)