Watch how the fur-coat trio *perform* mourning: clutching the sheet, wailing ‘Franklin!’, yet one minute later, the woman snaps at a bystander about a scratched car. The hypocrisy is delicious. The Road to Redemption masterfully blurs sorrow and selfishness—grief as costume, tears as leverage. Real talk: if your son’s six, you don’t bargain over paint chips. 🎭