On Sunday June 12 1994 Nicole Brown Simpson became a public figure overnight for on that balmy Sunday evening she was senselessly and brutally murdered in the grounds of her home at 875 South Bundy Drive in the leafy suburb of Brentwood in California.
Her murder trial and that of her friend Ronald Lyle Goldman who had been murdered alongside her became known as the ‘Trial of the Century’ with her former husband Orenthal James Simpson as the accused.
It is hard to believe that Nicole was murdered over twenty five years ago for I can remember the BBC news reports and the iconic photographs of the bloody pathway lined with the neat rows of purple and lilac Agapanthus…
Words matter. O.J. Simpson’s defense team asked Judge Lance A. Ito to order the prosecution to say domestic discord rather than domestic violence or even spousal abuse–already euphemisms for wife-beating–and to disallow the words battered wife and stalker.
Ito refused to alter reality by altering language but some media complied–for example, “Rivera Live,” where domestic discord became a new term of art. The lawyer who successfully defended William Kennedy Smith on a rape charge also used that term systematically.
Where is the victim’s voice? Where are her words? Continue reading Words Matter! I Told You I Was Scared!
STAR – through friends of Nicole and industry insiders – has obtained a sneak peek at this extraordinary footage.
It tells the story of the first day of their marriage – a tragic union that ended in divorce seven years later, and that ultimately led to the most sensational murder case in American history.
The video opens with Nicole getting ready on Feb 2, 1985, for the big event at their Brentwood mansion, the same spot where O.J. surrendered to police after the Bronco freeway chase watched by millions.
Nicole, then 25, looks incredibly young and virginal. She’s dressed in a white bathrobe and slippers with a bunny rabbit motif as she prepares for what she describes with a broad grin as: “The happiest day of my life.” Continue reading ‘Till Death Do Us Part…
Mr. Simpson (you can’t think I will call him O.J.) had hitherto barbarically beaten and terrorized Nicole Brown Simpson – bodybuilding and apparent vacuity not being mitigating factors in her fearful alarm or exculpatory factors in his demented actions – and he had, as a consequence, left behind two innocent children.
My repugnance was indistinguishable from a kind of fever: It was nausea and revulsion; like any illness, it became itself the focus of intense interest to me, so that finally my questions were about myself and not – perhaps I should be embarrassed to admit – about Mr. Simpson or even about his victims, lying (in my forever-stained imagination) in a sludgy river of blood.
May I say, without incurring wrath, that I didn’t like her face? Continue reading White AND Blonde? Exercise SOME Control Man!
The high school field trip was California all the way: a psychology class spending a weekend on Santa Catalina island, that balmy resort 23 miles off the Pacific coast, with no apparent goal except, perhaps, to study the stress-reducing effects of sunning and swimming.
But two of the students had other ideas. A few hours after the class and teacher were dropped off at some cabins on the far side of the island, the boat that had brought them made a return trip, circling back to pick up two girls who seemed to have prearranged their departure.
With no explanation, off went a junior named Nicole Brown, who with her sun-drenched blond hair and tan could have been the prototype of the California girl… Continue reading That Was Just Nicole!
Nicole Simpson looked stunning in a black two-piece jogging suit as she trotted along the tree-lined boulevard in West Los Angeles.
Motorists took their eyes off the road to admire her shapely form. Some even tooted their horns. It was another sunny day in the wealthy, fashionable suburb of Brentwood and 35-year-old Nicole was feeling great.
She gulped in the warm air and yelled to her running partner, doctor’s wife Cora Fischman: “I feel so free now. I feel like I can do anything I want.”
Then she gasped: “You know what, Cora – I’m not afraid of him any more.”
It was Friday, June 10, 1994, and by “him,” Nicole was clearly referring to O.J. Simpson, sports legend, all-American hero and the brutal, womanizing man to whom she had been married for seven years. She had recently dashed O.J.’s last hope of reconciliation. Continue reading That Final Run for Freedom!