Princess Diana. Camera flashes capture the remains of a mangled car. Someone is filming a pool of blood. Someone manages to photograph the bloody hand. Whose - it doesn’t matter anymore, tomorrow it will be presented almost as the hand of fate that “cut short the life of the most beautiful and mysterious princess.” Gianni Versace. A snow-white house in Miami Beach, a slender, tanned man in an expensive light suit is walking up the steps. Some guy runs up to him and shoots him point blank. And again flashes, photographs, reports, and the usual hand of fate, “interrupting the brilliant life of a lover of pornography, cigars and men.” And there was also John Kennedy, film star Marilyn Monroe, the handsome and carefree singer Elvis Presley, the reserved and mysterious John Lennon and Archduke Franz Ferdinand. What unites them all? They turned out to be superfluous in someone's mysterious game. Whose? Why turn into icons those who were driving forces in politics, cinema, music, history?...