Last Thursday, I found myself on South Bundy Drive in Brentwood, the infamous location of the twin killings. OJ Simpson, now deceased at 76, made this place notorious. On this radiant day in spring, the scene of that past brutal event was hauntingly still.
Nearly three decades ago, I covered the savage murders of Nicole Brown Simpson and her companion, Ron Goldman in her apartment. The notorious trial that followed revealed deep-rooted societal fractures, exposing divergent viewpoints about race, law enforcement, celebrity status, and judicial fairness.
One cannot overlook the ridiculous aspects of OJ Simpson’s ‘trial of the century’. This includes witness Kato Kaelin, a houseguest known for his distinct hair and role in the comedy “Beach Fever”. Then there was Judge Lance Ito, whose love for the spotlight was so intense, he earned the title Judge Itomaniac.
But to me, this was an iconic American catastrophe. It reverberated eerily with echoes of ‘Othello’, arguably Shakespeare’s most profound writing on the destructive power of jealousy.
Othello, a black man widely admired for his feats on the battlefield, overcame racial prejudices and captured the hearts of his followers, rising to monumental status.
He was wed to a striking woman much younger than him. However, due to the machinations of Iago – his envious delegate passed over for advancement – Othello succumbed to the corrosive poison of jealousy, unable to battle the inner turmoil.
His wife, Desdemona, struggled to comprehend as Othello unravelled over false allegations. Her maid, Emilia, explained that jealous souls are paradoxically jealous ‘not because they’re truly jealous for a cause, but driven by the beast of jealousy itself.’
Yet in his love, Othello took Desdemona’s life.
The American public’s disdain for OJ was profound. Many believed that he was the one who evaded punishment for murder.
The year subsequent to OJ’s criminal proceedings for murder, I found myself queuing up behind his legal representative, Johnnie Cochran, recognised for his memorable phrase “If the glove don’t fit, you must acquit”, at the second inauguration of President Bill Clinton. Cochran appeared to equate the Simpson case to historical civil rights battles, such as Brown v. Board of Education, and was later given his own Court TV show.
Throngs of enthusiasts were ceaselessly approaching Cochran, desirous of a photo opportunity with OJ’s defence attorney. The celebrity status, it seemed, totally eclipsed everything else.
OJ managed to evade conviction in his criminal trial. However, his civil trial resulted differently, yet he neither compensated for it nor expressed remorse. Despite his legal victories, he couldn’t escape the condemnation of many Americans who perceived him as a murderer.
In the year 1995, while OJ contemplated recovering his image post-acquittal, it appeared to me that the victims were being forgotten amidst the spectacle. I made the hour-long drive from Los Angeles to Nicole Brown Simpson’s grave at the Ascension graveyard located in Lake Forest. The modest, sombre marble gravemarker was blanketed in bright bougainvilleas, carnations, sunflowers, and daisies, with teddy bears and rosaries left by visitors.
Messages from a young boy, pledging to never mistreat a woman in his adulthood, and a mother, affirming that Nicole’s children were under the watchful eye of guardian angels, were poignant reminders of the tragedy.
During my visit, I met a woman named Teresa Myers, who gazed at Nicole’s grave for a lengthy period. She expressed a lingering doubt about whether Nicole was resting in peace, given the knowledge that OJ remained untouchable.
Upon my departure from South Bundy, I offered a brief prayer for the victims and their bereaved families. To the news of OJ’s death, Ron Goldman’s father, Fred Goldman, responded, “No great loss” – a sentiment I also hold.
This piece first appeared in The New York Times.
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