I remember the morning Nichole was murdered because I was on my way to work as a pesonal trainer in West LA. I didn’t realize until that evening that it was Uncle OJ’s wife and her friend who’d been killed.
I remember the criminal trial and the body guards and the quick bamboo fence that was erected around Rockingham to give some privacy. I remember that fucking dog Miles weighing more than I did, and OJ snidely commenting about me smoking too much. “What you’ve never made a mistake?” I joked with him.
I remember watching him try to read the articles that had been written about him and feeling sad that he couldn’t eek out the words.
Mostly I remember my friend Terri spiraling into the depths of depression and her mother Shirley falling apart at the seams. I remember Miss Eunice gathering her dignity and Starr Jones treating her particularly well inside the courtroom and out. I will always remember Star Jones saying to a fellow reporter, “That is not how you speak to your elders. Her name is Miss Eunice and she deserves your respect.”
I sat in the Santa Monica courthouse next to Brandy Ella, wondering why she was there and how much I could ask her about Jodie Foster. I wore my big pink Gucci Watermelon sunglasses and dozed in the gallery.
Today I watched “Uncle OJ” gnash his teeth as the judge handed down the sentence. 15 years plus one, eligible for parole in 5. I thought, oh, that’s the man who was a giant.
He’s the man who showed up at Cali Camp with his rainbow suspenders and clapped when we bounced around on the trampoline. He’s the man who always looked a little sad becuase his daughter had died. He’s the man who humored me and pretended my golf game didn’t suck. He’s the man who didn’t really know what to say to regular people.
Sadly, he’s the man who probably got away with double murder.
He’s the man who destroyed his family’s lives and livelihoods
He’s left a wake of destruction for the Goldmans and the Browns.
But when you’re a kid, and when you’re 20 and 25 and he smiles and laughs with you, you think he couldn’t possibly have killed two people.
So today I cried a little watching Shirley try to keep herself composed in the courtroom. I hope with Uncle OJ out of the picture the rest of the Simpson family can start to move forward.
He looks a little broken.
It’s all a little pathological.