If I were to look up bully in a dictionary, there should be a picture of Leah there. That’s how she lives. She wants to bully people. She gets off on it.
A regular occurrence at Leah Remini’s house back in the time when I was a part of that world was to have celebrities over for dinner, to have close personal friends come over for a meal or to play a game for “game night” or to kind of have fun, you know. There was times for fun.
The fun would be had and then the principal cast, which I was a part of, and Leah and Angelo and the others that were there—the tight-knit group that smoked cigarettes. So Leah, my wife and myself would go into the garage of her Laurel Canyon McMansion. And Leah would take great pride in cutting people up. You know, “Joe was over. Did you see him dancing? He looks like a fuckin’ faggot.” “Did you see that black girl over there? She has little nigglets for children.” I mean, the words she used, the mannerisms in which she spoke. I mean, unbelievable how Leah would instantly stick a knife in your back as soon as you were gone.