The Trust That Kept Jerry Hall Out of Rupert Murdoch’s Billion-Dollar Empire

Under the Trust

I

Spring 2016. St Bride’s Church, London.

Jerry Hall wore an ivory wedding dress and held a bouquet of lily of the valley. Murdoch stood beside her, his tie knotted tighter than usual. Outside the church, a dozen black Mercedes waited. The drivers sat inside. No one smoked.

The wedding was held twice. This was the private one: family and a few old friends. The other was at the News Corp headquarters on Fleet Street, crowded with celebrities and power brokers. Photographers were allowed to capture the moment the cake was cut, then asked to leave.

Wendi Deng’s two young daughters stood behind Jerry in pale pink tulle dresses, each holding a corner of her train. They were included in the official photographs, their expressions restrained, their smiles formal. When the pictures went to the press, the caption read: “A family reunited.”

The diamond on Jerry’s hand was twenty carats, perfectly cut, valued by auction houses at six figures sterling and up. Murdoch had given it to her when they got engaged. She wore it to that dinner, her fingers resting on the stem of a champagne glass. When the flash went off, she turned her head toward him and lifted one corner of her mouth an inch.

It was for show.

II

1999. Los Angeles. A conference room in a law firm.

Anna Murdoch signed the last page of the document. What she gave up could have been claimed under California law at the time: nearly half the marital stake in News Corp, worth around ten billion dollars. She traded it for something else: an irrevocable family trust.

The trust document ran more than three hundred pages. Its core provision was simple: all voting shares in News Corp would be placed into the trust. The beneficiaries were limited to Murdoch’s children: Prudence, Elisabeth, Lachlan, and James. Murdoch himself was the settlor, but he could not unilaterally amend the core terms. Any future spouse, no matter how many times he married, would not be on the list of voting beneficiaries.

Anna had spent thirty-two years as an executive at News Corp. She had watched Murdoch negotiate acquisitions, cut staff, and ease opponents off the board one by one. She had also watched how he treated his first wife, Patricia. How much he gave in the divorce. What he left. What went to the children. What did not.

She sat in the conference room for four hours. When she came out, she said one thing to her lawyer: “Lock it down.”

III

2015. Sydney. A private dinner.

Murdoch had just finished divorcing Wendi Deng. News Corp’s share price barely moved, but the tabloids had been running his personal life on the front page for three straight months. The tabloids used the word “chaos” to describe his later years. Two old shareholders on the board had privately asked whether the family governance was stable.

He needed to look respectable again.

Jerry Hall sat diagonally across from him. She was fifty-nine, wearing a dark blue dress with a neckline neither high nor low. She talked with the person beside her about the fashion industry, about which designer had just gone to which brand. She spoke slowly, occasionally pausing to listen. She did not go out of her way to speak to Murdoch, but he noticed her. Specifically, he noticed her ease in a social setting. She did not have to try, and a whole table revolved around her.

After dinner, Murdoch’s assistant ordered flowers and sent them to Jerry’s hotel. The card carried two lines in Murdoch’s own hand. No signature.

Jerry’s assistant put the flowers on the windowsill, took a photo, and sent it to her. She glanced at it and replied with two words: “Noted.”

Three weeks later, they had lunch in Los Angeles. Murdoch chose the restaurant, in Beverly Hills, with a private room at the back and a staff entrance for coming and going. Halfway through the meal, Murdoch said something to the effect of: I’m old. I don’t want to keep churning through life. If you’re willing, we could have a very stable arrangement.

Jerry did not answer. She moved the asparagus around her plate with a fork and said the hollandaise was a little too sour.

IV

The prenuptial agreement took four months.

Jerry’s legal team flew from London to New York and met with Murdoch’s lawyers seven times. The final version specified several things. Her personal assets before marriage remained hers. During the marriage she had the right to live in Murdoch’s properties, use of a private jet, and a monthly living allowance. She gave up any claim to shares in News Corp or Fox. If they divorced, she would receive an agreed sum in alimony and specified properties. The exact numbers were confidential, but both sides knew the figure was small to Murdoch.

In the last round of negotiations, Jerry’s lawyer raised one question: if the marriage lasted more than ten years, would the alimony increase? Murdoch’s side refused. Jerry listened to her lawyer’s report over the phone, was silent for a dozen seconds, and said, “Sign.”

She knew about the trust. During prenuptial due diligence, her lawyers obtained a summary of the trust document and explained it to her clause by clause. She would not get a single News Corp share. Wendi Deng’s divorce judgment was public, and it spelled everything out.

She signed.

V

In the first year of marriage, she accompanied Murdoch to seventeen public events.

Eleven were dinners, three were award ceremonies, two were diplomatic receptions, and one was a donation ceremony at his alma mater. She wore different gowns and different jewelry. Each time, she was placed on Murdoch’s right. When the photographers called, “Look here,” she would tilt her head slightly, tuck her chin a little, and smile. She had practiced that angle for thirty years. It had not changed since she was nineteen and shot her first magazine cover.

When Murdoch spoke onstage, she sat in the front row, clutch on her knees, eyes on him. When someone came over to make small talk, she stood, shook hands, said, “Nice to meet you,” and listened. She rarely brought up News Corp, and she did not ask.

Privately, Murdoch’s four adult children occasionally came to dinner. Prudence lived in London and came rarely. Elisabeth was in Sydney and came once or twice a year. Lachlan and James were both in New York, but each had his own place. The table talk was about school for the children, holiday plans, the company’s latest acquisition. Jerry sat beside Murdoch, poured wine for everyone, asked Elisabeth what documentary she was working on, asked James whether the new house had finished renovation.

They called her “Jerry,” not “Mum.”

VI

In the third year, she shut down her fashion label.

The label had run for seven or eight years. It was not large, but it had a show every fashion week. Before the final season, she told the designer backstage, “That’s it.” The designer asked why. She said, “I can’t keep up.”

In truth, she had plenty of time. Murdoch got up at six to read the papers. She got up at eight. He had meetings during the day. She stayed home, sometimes went to the gym, sometimes met friends for tea. When he came back in the afternoon, she watched the news with him for a while, then they went to their separate rooms. If there was an event in the evening, they attended together. If not, they ate separately.

She called a friend. The friend asked how she was. She said fine, very quiet. The friend asked if she still walked in shows. She said no, now she mainly accompanied her husband to events. The friend said that was nice too. She said mm.

After hanging up, she sat in the living room for a while. The living room was large. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows was the garden. The gardener came three times a week. On the coffee table lay the day’s newspapers, already read by Murdoch, folded open to the business section, the creases deep. She picked one up, leafed through it, and put it back.

VII

In the fifth year, Murdoch began trying to change the trust.

He met with lawyers several times. He wanted to make Lachlan the sole ultimate controller of the trust, while the other three children kept economic interests but had their voting power concentrated. The lawyers said the change required the consent of all beneficiaries or court approval. Murdoch said, then we go to court.

Jerry knew about it. Murdoch mentioned it once at dinner, saying the family trust was a bit troublesome. She asked what kind of trouble. He said the children did not agree. She said oh. Then she went on eating the fish on her plate.

She did not ask for details. She knew the trust had nothing to do with her. No matter how it was changed, she would not be a beneficiary.

That winter, she went to Paris alone. During fashion week, a few old friends invited her to a show. She sat in the second row. Beside her was a model she had once shot covers with. The model asked where she lived now. She said New York. The model asked if she still worked. She said not really. The model said that was a shame, you used to have such a great walk. She smiled and said she could not walk like that anymore.

After the show, they went for drinks. By the third glass, the model said, you know, back then we all thought you would keep going forever. Jerry turned her glass a full circle and said, people have to stop sometime.

VIII

June 2022. An email.

Murdoch’s lawyer sent it to Jerry’s inbox. The subject line was one sentence: Notice of Termination of Marriage. The body was three sentences. It said Mr. Murdoch had decided to end the marriage, that legal proceedings had begun, and that she should contact her lawyer.

Jerry was in London, in the house they had bought when they married. She read the email, put the phone on the kitchen counter, went upstairs, and packed a suitcase. She put in a few clothes, took a book she was halfway through, and came back down.

She called her lawyer. The lawyer said he understood and would follow up. She asked if they could delay making it public. The lawyer said that would be decided on Murdoch’s side.

Three days later, the news broke.

She filed a motion to withdraw the divorce petition at one point. Her lawyers negotiated with the other side for two weeks. The final result: she received several million pounds a year in alimony, plus two properties, one in London, one in the south of France. Of News Corp and Fox shares, she got none.

Wendi Deng had also received cash and property. But Wendi Deng’s two daughters were beneficiaries of the trust’s income, receiving distributions from trust assets every year. Jerry had no children. That line did not exist.

IX

After the divorce, she moved into the London house.

It was in Chelsea, four floors, with a small garden. She had the study on the third floor repainted, replaced the desk, and put a lounge chair by the window. When the weather was good, she sat there and read. The roses in the garden had been left by the previous owner. She did not do much with them. They bloomed and faded on their own.

A reporter photographed her once. She was in sneakers and jeans, coming out of a supermarket with two paper bags. The photo ran in a tabloid with the caption: “Jerry Hall shops alone after divorce.” She did not respond.

In 2023, she took an advertisement for a luxury brand, recreating a set of classic looks from the 1990s. On set, the photographer was the same one from back then. He adjusted the light and said, Jerry, give me that look from the old days. She stood in front of the backdrop, chin slightly raised, eyes toward the lens. The shutter clicked seven or eight times.

The photographer looked back at the images and said, it’s still you. She walked over and glanced at the screen and said, I’m old.

The photographer said, but that thing is still there.

She said, what thing.

The photographer thought for a moment and said, you know where the camera is.

X

In 2023, Murdoch got engaged again, to Ann Lesley Smith. The day the news came out, Jerry was in the garden cutting roses. A friend called to tell her. She said she knew. The friend asked how she felt. She said she felt nothing much, that house had nothing to do with her now.

The friend paused, then asked, do you regret it?

She held the shears, aimed at an overblown rose, and cut. The flower fell to the ground. A few petals scattered.

She said, I signed.

Then she hung up, bent down, picked up the rose, and threw it into the bucket beside her. The bucket was black. It was already half full of spent flowers, stems crisscrossing, a few still not completely faded, pressed at the very bottom.

She straightened up, brushed the dirt off her hands, and walked back toward the house. On the kitchen counter lay the day’s newspaper. She did not open it. A drop of water fell from the faucet and hit the stainless steel sink. The sound was very light.

In the garden, seven or eight roses were still blooming.