This is a book I never expected to write. In fact, when people ask what led me here, I tell them the truth: I tripped. Not physically-though that has happened in grocery stores, on sidewalks, and once during a wedding toast. No, this was a narrative stumble. A misstep through a Hollywood side door, a rabbit hole disguised as a legally questionable guesthouse, and suddenly I was tumbling head-first into the strangest allegation ever to emerge from the city that gave us space wizards, talking cars, and a multi-decade franchise about people running from dinosaurs. That allegation is this: There exists an elite, clandestine, extremely punctual assassination squad targeting celebrities. They are called the Star Whackers.