Orenthal James Simpson rose in dramatic fashion from the vicious streets of San Francisco’s predominately Black Potrero Hill to become one of America’s most enduring and beloved sports figures, pulling in millions of dollars annually.
Now charged with the double murder of his ex-wife Nicole Brown Simpson, 35, and her friend Ronald Goldman, 25, O.J., as the world calls him, has been quickly and shockingly reduced from adored legend to prisoner Number 4013970 in the Los Angeles County Jail under suicide watch. Continue reading Outrageous and Unfair!
The voice is, by turns angry, exasperated, terrified and, finally resigned. It is her second 911 call within 10 minutes.
In the background, a man is screaming – about children, tabloids, an old boyfriend. The words are only semi-audible, but his rage needs no amplification.
“Could you get someone over here now, to 325 Gretna Green. He’s back. Please”, asks Nicole Simpson.
“What does he look like?” asks the operator.
“He’s O.J. Simpson. I think you know his record”, she says with a tremor of panic. Simpson she explains, had broken down the back door of her house. Continue reading A ‘Drop-Dead’ Soundbite for Violence
The end, last week, was off-camera.
After the bloody steps, the heart-rending funerals, the surreal chase through the twilight of Los Angeles, O.J. Simpson surrendered himself into the darkness his life has become.
It was a peaceful end, a surprisingly peaceful end, to a week that was drenched in trauma, tension and blood.
On Sunday night, O.J.’s ex-wife Nicole Brown Simpson and her friend, a young waiter-model named Ronald Goldman, were stabbed to death outside her $650,000 town house.
Almost from the moment their bodies were found less than two hours later, as crumpled and porous as Caesar’s, suspicion focused on O.J.
Newsweek Magazine (June 27 1994) Continue reading Footnote to an Astonishing Fate?