Why the rich fall for bullshit therapy

It sounds like a Netflix thriller. First, the mysterious death: an ageing high-street fashion mogul falls to his death from a scenic coastal precipice while walking with his middle-aged son, who happened to be both perturbed about an unfavourable change to his inheritance and at a conveniently safe distance at the time of the fall. Then, the scandal: the family’s questionably credentialled Ecuadorian psychoanalyst’s ex-assistant discloses that the exact location of the fall was meticulously preplanned for a father-son confrontation, and that the confrontation itself was rehearsed. Finally, inevitably, the courtroom drama, as the psychotherapist sweeps in with white clothes and dark glasses, and the defence team explains that the father-son tussle was only ever metaphorical — Freud’s Death