I paid a visit to South Bundy Drive in Brentwood on Thursday, the site which once witnessed the gruesome double homicide. OJ Simpson, now deceased at age 76, drew a hauntingly calm ambiance enveloping a radiant spring day in Los Angeles.
Circa 30 years prior, I documented the savagely brutal killings of Nicole Brown Simpson and her companion Ron Goldman, at her own residence. The notorious, prolonged court case bore into the depths of the nation’s consciousness, uncovering clashing perspectives on race, law enforcement, fame, and judicial fairness.
Aspects of OJ Simpson’s infamous “trial of the century” teetered on the absurd. Witness Kato Kaelin, a houseguest with a highlighted mop-top and a role in the comedy flick “Beach Fever” was one such spectacle. Further, the narcissistic media-loving Judge Lance Ito earned himself the nickname, Judge Itomaniac.
Still, I always regarded it more as a poignant American calamity. Its narrative echoed back to “Othello”, the most potent piece written to address the lethal defect of jealousy.
Othello, a Black man, was an idolized figure, renowned for his battlefield victories. Despite confronting racial hurdles, he managed to charm his admirers and rise to tremendous fame. He was wedded to a significantly younger, beautiful woman. Iago – a lieutenant overlooked for a promotion in favor of another officer – filled Othello with envy. Othello couldn’t grapple with his internal struggles, consequently.
Confusion clouded Desdemona, Othello’s wife, given that the misinformation had driven him into a frenzy. Her attendant, Emilia, elucidated that envious individuals “are not ever jealous for the cause, but jealous for they’re jealous. It is a monster, begot upon itself, born on itself.” In a state of deep affection, Othello still ended up taking Desdemona’s life.
The pervasive disapprobation that “[OJ] did not evade from many across America was reflective of their belief that he had managed to elude punishment for his crime.”
A year following OJ Simpson’s murder trial, I found myself behind Johnnie Cochran, the famed lawyer known for his “if the glove doesn’t fit, you must acquit” defence, in the queue at Bill Clinton’s second inauguration. Even after the trial, Cochran continued to portray the Simpson case as if it were tantamount to the civil rights Battle of Brown v. Board of Education. He was soon to debut his own show on Court TV.
His celebrity status seemed to captivate both men and women alike, all eager to be photographed with the man who had secured OJ’s freedom. Indeed, it seemed that fame trumped almost everything else.
From past reportage: OJ Simpson could not escape the race issue – no one in America could.
While Simpson was successful in dodging the charges in his criminal trial, he wasn’t as lucky in the civil court, though he never faced the consequences or showed any remorse. Nonetheless, he could not run from the widespread disapproval in the United States, where many believed he had committed murder and escaped justice.
In 1995, with OJ, now a free man, attempting to rebuild his life, I could not help but feel that the victims had been overlooked amidst all the media furore.
To pay my respects, I travelled an hour from Los Angeles and arrived at the Ascension cemetery in Lake Forest. I saw heaps of flowers – bougainvilleas, carnations, sunflowers and daisies – covering a simple dark marble headstone marking Nicole Brown Simpson’s final resting place. Visitors had left teddy bears and rosary beads.
One young boy left a note vowing to never treat a woman poorly when he grew up. A mother pledged to Nicole that her children would be alright, citing guardian angels as their protector.
OJ Simpson may have evaded punishment for murder, but lost what he desired most.
There, in the cemetery, I conversed with a woman named Teresa Myers. She had been gazing at the grave for quite some time. “She may be in a better place and at peace now, but perhaps she isn’t, given that he remains untouchable,” Myers confided in me.
Upon leaving South Bundy, I sent a silent prayer for the victims and their families. Ron Goldman’s father, Fred, candidly expressed his indifference upon OJ’s death exclaiming, “No great loss”. I shared his sentiment. – This text was originally published in The New York Times.
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