Nicole Brown Simpson was a Nasty piece of Shit

From Raging Heart: The Intimate Story of the Tragic Marriage of O.J. and Nicole Brown Simpson - 1995

"After a while O.J. began to open up to me," Kato Kaelin recounted, "and we'd have long talks about lots of things, including, most often, his relationship with Nicole." O.J.'s obsessing about her was most often triggered by an incident that upset him.

For instance, O.J would invite Nicole to go on a trip with him, she'd agree, and to help out her family, he'd have his assistant Cathy book the tickets through her mother Juditha Brown's travel agency. When Nicole would cancel at the last minute, it would drive O.J. crazy. He hated the fact that she always changed her mind, and usually at the last possible moment.

He often complained to Kato that she was forever reminding him of the fourteen-year age difference between them. that he was getting older, that she didn't look forward to one day living with an arthritic man she'd have to push around in a wheelchair. And she'd taunt him about his body by poking him in the stomach, and then he'd start talking to Kato about how he knew that all of Nicole's problems stemmed from the fact that she was a part of "the Master Race." O.J. had a theory about why they had such trouble getting along. He said it was because of her heritage. "It's that German thing," he would say to Kato. "It's in her genes"

"The bad blood between Nicole and Michelle, a veteran of the Israeli army, had been brewing for a long time, Kato recalls. One of the conditions Nicole had laid down for a reconciliation was that O.J.had to fire Michelle in spite of the fact that she'd been with OJ for eigh-teen years. Things came to a head one Saturday when the kids came by Rockingham to go swimming.

Heated words were exchanged, resulting in Nicole's hauling off and slapping Michelle hard across her face. "I hope you die!" Michelle screamed as she ran from the room in tears.

She wore Nicole's handprint on her cheek that night, which turned a deep dark purple and lasted for several days. She was determined to sue Nicole and had gone so far as to see a lawyer. It went right up to setting a court date before Michelle dropped it, fearing the story would hit the tabloids and somehow hurt OJ.'s image. Not long after, she resigned."

"A current NFL player who stars in the same social galaxy as the Simpsons says that Nicole was no young innocent and that she certainly knew which buttons to push. "When this all comes out, you'll see that she wasn't Little Miss Suzy Homemaker," says the player. "She had an alcohol problem. She'd get drunk and mean and say and do things you normally wouldn't do. I don't want to tear down her character, but I don't want you to think this is a one-sided thing. The lights were screaming matches. She knew how to set him off."

Well, she was trash. But OJ didn’t care because blondness.

"One friend says, "OJ never spoke ill of Nicole. Never said a bad thing about her. And she put him down, talked behind his back, constantly. Sometimes Nicole was less flippant in her desire to have her beau demystified. Once at Rockingham with another couple, O.J. asked Nicole to get him some ice cream. She refused. Then O.J. asked the man to go and get a pizza. The man stood up and fished his car keys out of his pocket; Nicole, out of O.J.'s earshot, abruptly said, "Don't go" . When Tom McCollum was along, Nicole and Tom called O.J. "Largehead," and Nicole's usage of it was condescending, "as in 'There goes Largehead. What an asshole ...'"

The day at the Manes' house in Westchester had been capped off by a gift to O.J. and Nicole of a kilo-55,000 worth—of their favorite appetizer, Beluga caviar. Tom, 0.J., and Nicole were inching in a taxi through the slow-moving traffic down Fifth Avenue, the large tin of Beluga in the cab's window nook ........ "We notice the cab driver's license. His name is something like Fijad Fumarshkanarshka. He tells us he's Iranian..... By the time we get out at the Sherry, we're tanked. We jump out of the cab and it's raining and we have no umbrellas and we run inside and all of a sudden Nicole stops dead at the elevators and says, 'Oh, my God, Thomas! The caviar! We left it in the back window!'

So here's OJ., Mr. Hertz: running down the hotel carpet, sliding on his butt, out to the street, trying to stop the cab.

And Nicole, in her great wisdom, goes, 'Yeah, Thomas. Old asshole largehead is really bright, isn't he? We leave five thousand dollars of Beluga caviar with an Iranian and the driver is going to turn it in to the hack bureau' .. "That was Nicole, and that was Juice, for you."

So what? She deserved slaughter like a pig because she was one?

OP, are you mentally ill?

OP blocked long time ago.

R6 No

Just stating facts about a nasty woman (who happened to be murdered).

You're right! OJ was a saint! He had to put up with that nazi wife of his, who said horrible things to him and cancelled trips at the last minute. She deserved everything she got.

Jeez, you're really creepy, OP.

R5 No, But Nicole's portrayal by both the media and public as an angelic martyr/saint is totally false.

and OJ Simpson's portrayal by both the media and public as a monster is totally false.

R9 There are many stories about Nicole's nasty behavior.

She totally manipulated and fucked up with OJ's mind. He was basically jerked around by this toxic unstable woman for years.

So you are mentally ill, OP.

I always thought she was a very hard looking broad, in the face. She looked mean. I also thought she was probably a glammed up dyke. She had a very masculine air about her.

That said, she didn't deserve to be murdered.

SImilarly, OJ Simpson hates gay people and didn’t want his son Justin around Nicole’s gay male friends .

Well she got hers, didn't she.

To be continued

The world of heterosexual is a sick and boring life!

R14, If that's true which I doubt from all things I've heard from people who grew up with the kids. Anyways Oj's own father was a drag queen in San Francisco.

So she deserved to be brutally murdered OP? How insane you are...

This is as bad as the thread by the guy who insisted Jeffrey Dahmer was quite charismatic.

"She totally manipulated and fucked up with OJ's mind. He was basically jerked around by this toxic unstable woman for years."

Was it Chris Rock who said white women were black men's Kryptonite?

Who gives a shit if she was a nasty bitch?

She, and Ron Goldman did not deserve to be slashed to death.

OP, you have issues, Darlin’.

It was a drug hit, pure and simple. Did you forget the "Colombian necklace" on one or both of them?

Apparently a large 'shipment' bound for LA was intercepted and some powerful people were very angry. A lot more to the story than we will ever be told........ LAPD, probably the most corrupt in the nation, is owned by, among others, the cartel, so decided to make OJ the fall guy.

It's about time someone defended abused men. It IS possible you know. We don't just lose it for no reason. My wife cared more about her unborn baby than she cared about me. She stopped making my breakfast because she was throwing up in the bathroom. She said I was selfish. She was no angel believe me. But I didn't kill her.

Oj admits it. The man is a true psycho.

OP needs to send its photo to Webster's for their entry of "incel: trolling."

Kindly fuck yourself vigorously with a rusty chainsaw, cuntscab OP. I guess the fact that he got away with killing 2 people isn't satisfactory to you. And don't bother replying, because I'm blocking your ass.

"One friend says he saw Nicole "slap O.J. and kick him in the balls at least three times during the eighties. Of course he acted like it didn't hurt— But when he said, in that note he wrote [on June 17, 1994], that he was a husband,' that's what I think he was referring to."

Then there was the Jennifer Young and Victoria Sellars incident. The two young women, the daughters of Gig Young and realtor Elaine Young (who sold O.J. the Rockingham house) and Peter Sellars and Britt Eklund, respectively, were waiting for a table at LaScala Boutique one afternoon (Jennifer believes it was in 1988) when O.J. and Joe Stellini walked in. Their recounting of the incident reveals how 0.J.'s Teflon charm protected him from any blame for his years of emotional abuse of Nicole—abuse that finally made her act out publicly in a way that he knew not to. This is a chillingly classic scenario: A man (or mate of either gender, actually) who is so good at presenting an appealing facade to the world provokes his spouse to "prove" to others, in a humiliating and public way, that their problems are her fault. That he is lovable, easygoing, reasonable, and that she is crazy. According to Jennifer Young, this is what happened: 'The maitre d' came over and said, '0.J. and his friend would like you to join them for lunch.' We said, Sure, why not?' He was at the height of his career; I remember my mom had sold him his house; we were flattered. "So we sat down and had lunch. He was super nice, very genuine, very sweet. 'What can I get you?' Would you like dessert? That kind of stuff. After lunch he was nice enough to say, 'Why don't I walk you two girls to your car?' So we said, 'Sure.— So far so good: O.J. is Prince Charming.

They all walked down Rodeo Drive, "and all of a sudden out of nowhere Nicole pulls up in her black convertible Mercedes with her hair pulled back in a bun. I remember verbatim what she said because it scared the hell out of me: 'You motherfucker, if you're going to fucking cheat on me why don't you pick someone pretty?!'

"She just pulled up and screeched it. We were shaking! Was she gonna beat us up? Gonna kill us? Oh, my God .. . "We walked into a store, hoping that Nicole would calm down. We stayed in the store ten, fifteen minutes, hoping we could get back to our car safely. That was not happening. She kept circling around the block. She pulled up at the corner of Brighton and Rodeo, screaming at the top of her lungs. O.J. was as calm as could be. You would think if he had such a bad temper, it would really show, but instead he walked to her car and tried to calm her down, like, 'Listen, Nicole, this is nothing, these girls .. .'

But she wouldn't take no for an answer. She was just screaming. He was embarrassed! She circled the block again, we walked into another store. "She pulled up again. She pulled something out of her glove compartment, opening the door. I'm thinking, 'A gun?! A knife?!' We were shaking!

"As fate would have it a cop either heard her screaming, or else he was just passing through . . . but he pulled up right behind her. She looked at him in the rearview mirror, saw that it was a cop, shut the glove compartment, closed the door, took off. Phew. . . ."

Jennifer Young is one of many people who believe, as she puts it, "O.J. could never have committed those murders because I saw, with my own eyes, how lovely and calm he is."

From time to time, fatigued and honest friends would tell the two of them, "You know, you're both wonderful people, but maybe you shouldn't be together."

So what? She's dead.

The OP is just a stupid cunt troll.

It doesn't matter if she was a bitch and a cunt. He murdered her, when he could have walked away. He also got away with it by lying. He's the bad person here.

R32 No, OJ is a good person who was pushed to the edge by a nasty mean woman.

Also, he didn't kill her. He was declared innocent in a court of law.

OJ walked away from this psycho/Nicole for good in 1992 after the divorce. He moved on with his life, he was in a stable happy relationship with Paula Barbieri. OJ didn't want anything to do with Nicole except for the kids. Nicole couldn't stand this.

Contrary to the popular belief, It was Nicole who stalked OJ and initiated a reconciliation attempt in 1993. She literally begged him to come back to her, sent him 4 page letter apologizing and begging him, sent him their wedding video and love songs ect..... and after OJ broke up with Paula and went back to Nicole. She started jerking him around again and literally drove him crazy.

Why did he Bennie Hanna Ron Goldman, just being his charming self?

"He finally let Nicole go. He was settling in with Paula. Cora claims that O.J. tried very hard to understand Nicole's need for freedom. "I was thirty-three myself once—I know what that feels like," he said. Cora says that Nicole appreciated O.J.'s tolerance of her. "He understands that I don't know what I want," she quotes Nicole as having said.

OJ was now starting to talk about selling Rockingham—he said he was tired of L.A.—and moving to Florida. Rockingham—gone?! O.J., gone?! the thought of him not being near was shocking. "He's going to change his life," Cathy Randa told one of O.J.'s male friends one day in March. 'This week it's Florida," she said

One day in the early spring, as Cici and Cora were running up San Vicente with Nicole, she stopped—and they stopped too, and turned, and looked at her. "I wanna go home," Nicole said, very simply. By that she did not mean: Jog back to Gretna Green. She meant: Go back to Rockingham. To O.J.

A few days later, during another run, Cora mentioned to Nicole that O.J. had called her and said he was putting the house on the market. (Indeed, he had called realtor Elaine Young and had started talking to her about this possibility.) "So we thought," Cici recalls, "that maybe there was a time limit."

A few mornings later Nicole called Cici and said, "I've made a decision. I'm going to go back to O.J., if he'll take me."

Nicole called O.J.'s office and left a message with Cathy Randa to have O.J. please call her back, but, according to Cici, O.J. did not call. Nicole then called the house and left a message with Michelle. O.J. didn't call her after that call, either.

"When he didn't call back," Cici says, She called the next day, and the message must have been relayed because he called back—maybe he thought there was something wrong with one of the children." But when he realized that the reason for the call had nothing to do with the children—when he realised its true purpose, "he avoided her," Cici recalls.

Cora elaborates. She says that O.J. told Nicole: "Don't call! I like my life now! Stop calling me!"

But theirs was a bond as sick as it was loving, and Nicole's fervor was only stimulated by 0.J.'s rejection—by the astonishing thought that he could actually get over her. She kept calling; he did not take her calls. She grew desperate. All she could think of was how wonderful their life had been at certain moments. To this end—and to get him to remember these moments as well—she duplicated the videotapes of their marriage and of the children's births and she either mailed or delivered these to Rockingham, along with a note, on an index card: " I understand that it's probably too late but I have to do it for myself and the kids or I would never forgive myself. I'll call Cathy from now on and I'll only call you in an absolute emergency. Please believe me and return these calls immediate!

O.J. asked Cora, "What's going on? I'm used to life without Nicole. I come home and nobody's screaming and yelling. I've gotten over her. I've put my life back together."

To a male friend he said, "Man, she wants to get back together. I don't want to."

Nicole panicked and became aggressive. "Cathy [Randa] said she started calling and showing up at the house a bunch of times," says a male friend. "Cathy said he didn't want to see her"

One day in April, this friend was at OJ.'s house, about to play tennis. When he and O.J. stepped out front for a moment, the friend, walking ahead, was startled to see Nicole parked outside the gate. "I'm telling you, man, it was a Nicole I'd never seen before. She looked like she was chasing him. I walked up and said, 'Hi, Nicole!' When O.J. heard me say that he looked at me like, 'I'm not here! I don't want to talk to her!' He ran back in the house.

Nicole had told Cici what she was wearing that day—a $40 shift and a pair of rubber Zories. ("Who but Nicole," Cici asks, "would show up dressed like that to try to get her husband back?") Nicole was super friendly. "Hey, you gonna play some tennis?" she asked O.J.'s friend. "Yeah," the friend replied. "What are you up to?" "Oh, I just want to talk to 0 J "

The pleasantries continued, but the friend got the distinct sense of Nicole being different than he had ever seen her. Gone was the breezy cooll. This Nicole was a bit of a predator. And she was anxious. Nicole never used to be anxious. As Nicole talked and waited, she pushed and re-pushed the button at the gate, but O.J. would not let her drive her car in.

Finally, after she waited and pushed the bell for no less than twenty minutes, O.J. came out. Nicole got out of the car and they took a walk down the street on which they used to stroll, with Chow and Shiba on each leash, with Sydney and then Justin in the stroller.

Nobody cares about this drama between straight married people and this sounds totally written from POV of him and his friends.

I am sure her side would be very different.

What's that old saying? "His side, her side, and the truth"? We have no idea what shit he put her through, and she's dead so can't defend herself.

OJ needs no exoneration. We honestly will never know whether he killed her or not. I have even heard that a serial killer who did contracting type work for them and later went on a spree killing women around the country killed her before his rampage started.

Regardless, no one gives a shit about one psycho dead chick, and she didn't "drive him" to do anything he didn't want to do. That's not the way it works.

I never realized O.J. was such a nice guy!

Cool.

Now do that gold digging scumbag, Fred Goldman.

You could tell just by looking at pics of her she was a mean bitch.

And her husband was a sweetheart!

R40 Actually, the accounts/stories in this book recounted mostly by Nicole's close friends. Nicole's family were responsible for initiating this book in 1994. All Nicole friends even Faye Resnick stated that OJ moved on after the divorce, and this drove Nicole crazy and she started pursing and stalking him until she got him back then dumped him.

She still a mean lookin’ bitch in the face.

[quote] Nicole's portrayal by both the media and public as an angelic martyr/saint is totally false.

I do think OJ killed Nicole & Ron Goldman.

It is interesting to hear about what she was like.

Travis Alexander, the boyfriend of Jodi Arias, was also whitewashed in the media.

I think people play with fire too long and then shit like this happens. When you see red flags, break it off. People can usually handle a breakup after a brief period of dating. It's the on-again / off-again shit that creates the expectation that there's always a chance to get back together. Then, kaboom.

"Cora conveys the essence of the walk, as described to her by Nicole: "Nicole begged O.J. to take her back. O.J. told her that he liked his life the way it was."

According to what Nicole told Cici, O.J. said, "I'm happy with Paula." Nicole cried as she said, "I wanna come home."

She proposed that they somehow forget about their pasts and start anew. Cora and Cici both remember Nicole telling them that O.J. was shocked. Even though he had certainly told others, like Cathy, that Nicole wanted him back, perhaps to hear it from her this explicitly and emotionally was stunning.

In any case, he girded himself: He said he would have to think about it—he couldn't respond to her proposal to try a reconciliation right away. It was just too much to swallow.

Nicole drove back to Gretna Green. That night O.J. called her—he said he couldn't sleep; he couldn't think about anything except what she had told him. He was talking a mile a minute. From that moment on, Nicole's friends say, he changed from someone who didn't want to go back, who liked his life, who had to think about it—to someone elated and driven by the idea of coming back.

In May, they took a trip to Cabo San Lucas with a number of Nicole's friends to officially begin their attempt at reconciliation. Nicole had walked to the brink of zero hour and won him back.

Nicole had some conditions for the new life she and O.J. would have together. The first was: "This time, my girlfriends come with me." She loved the new friends she had made, her evenings with her girlfriends at the restaurants; as much as Otis morning golf games were part of his life, her girlfriends had to be part of it, too. O.J. conceded.

R47 Thank you for you rational comment.

I'm tired of people of seeing things in black and white.

OJ and Nicole were the classic toxic couple: toxic for each other, but the sex was too good to give up.

And OJ thought he owned her. And nobody else would ever have her.

r50 Owned her that he moved on with his life after the divorce and wanted nothing to do with her?!!

He was a domestic abuser. He had her at a very young age. She was a bird in a cage and trying to break free but also was scared since her whole family depended on OJs bankrolling their various ventures. He’s a snake charmer. He hated her finally moving on. He murdered her and an innocent man ,Ron Goldman, out of misplaced jealously and violent rages (which he was known to have). OP you’re fucking mental and need to be Sliced and Diced OJ style for your shit post!

Some part of me wants to believe that OP, et al, are just trying to parody incel trolls.

Please r51. Are you OJ's publicist?

R52 You're a nasty psycho like Nicole brown.

When I blocked OP 90% of the thread went POOF!

R54 No,

I'm someone who is tired and sick of the false portrayal of Nicole Brown and OJ Simpson by the media and public.

The truth is opposite.

OJ Simpson is a good man who got ruined by nasty crazy woman.

I want to hate Nicole because that bitch got to ride both the prime dick of OJ and Marcus Allen when they were at their absolute prime. They were hot as fuck and I would have let them stretch my tight white pussy whenever they wanted.

To be continued with more Nicole Brown's nasty stories.

Hey R57 & OP: fuck the fuck off I KNEW them so I speak from experience as we all did living around them and going to the same clubs. They frequented a place in the OC near Anaheim Stadium late 80s and he was so jealous if anyone even glanced at her. It was scary how possessive he was. One of the former LA Raiders (not hot Howie Long but he was with him) was talking to Nicole (his wife knew her) and OJ tried to throw his drink at his head but the other Raiders caught wind and intervened. He got Nicole hooked on cocaine, which turned her paranoid. She developed an eating disorder when he’d compare her to other women. Her sisters were always there to buffer but when she was home alone with him, he was a monster. There’s two OJs and he is not someone who is charming. He fakes it. He also resented his cross dressing father and hates us gays. I can’t say more because there’s some legal issues for my partner but OJ KILLED HIS EX WIFE AND AN INNOCENT MAN. Period. Now go to hell you abuser sympathizer.

OP I just don't want to read anything from a murder's defense. Fuck you.

R60 = Total BS and most probably is attention whore/scam Denise Brown.

These stories from different books are recounted by Nicole's close friends who knew both Nicole and OJ for years. I take their words over an anonymous DL cunt like you R60

You can scream all you want but the Fact is OJ was acquitted in a court of law and declared innocent.

There will be more of Nicole's nasty crazy stories tomorrow.

Adios

R61 Leave the thread. It's simple

So I guess OJ should have killed her???

He is not innocent. He was found Not Guilty.

Are you retarded?

R64 He was pushed to the edge and driven crazy by this psycho woman.

I'm not saying he should have killed her but I understand.

Didn't she get breast implants for him? Looks like she had some other features tweaked, too.

Victim blaming

R68 Call it what you want. But It's the truth.

OP is a troll and probably think their a hot white woman that OJ would want to fuck.

Regardless of her personality - Nicole still married below her.

[quote] Also, he didn't kill her. He was declared innocent in a court of law.

Oh eat shit, you retarded troll.

Q: Who's the dumbest person in America? A: OJ's next girlfriend!

OJ was declared innocent by a sworn panel of jury and the court of law. Society is supposed to uphold that judgement regardless of personal opinions. Does it matter if evidence turns up to show that he is innocent? People who belives that he is innocent will not change, people who believes that he is guilty will not change their opinion.

Stay tuned for more Nicole Brown's nasty stories (told by her close friends), tomorrow.

Q: What's harder than squeezing blood from a turnip? A: Squeezing O.J. from a Bronco.

Please stop feeding the OJ troll

Hey, Op. Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!

I've always suspected that she was a nasty piece of work, but couldn't be bothered to read about it to find out.

Of course, doesn't justify murdering her, and OJ got away with murder.

I wonder whether anyone has done a sociology/psychology study that traces a lot of where we are today to the Nicole Brown's murder and subsequent OJ trial to the whole reality tv and crimes being committed with impunity. Did people see both the celebrity that accrued to everyone involved with the trial and think that "reality" tv was a legitimate way to fame? Did they seeing OJ get away with murder somehow shift the range of acceptable behavior, not to mention faith in the criminal justice system? The prurient fascination with the trial and 24/7 coverage of each day was unparalleled at the time.

I wonder whethere scholars in the future will see her as the first domino in a series of events that inexorably led to the decline of America.

If Orenthol didn't do it, who did? Chucky?

Is OJ still looking for the killers?

and don't forget Ron Goldman R5

Moronic OP is also a Michael Jackson apologist. If yoiu're black, you could kill OP's whole family and he'd still defend you.

Stomp on back to LSA, loser OP. You are not welcome here.

He wanted her for her looks and skin color. She wanted him for his money and fame. Two assholes fell in love, mistreated each other, cheated on each other, and one is physically dead, and the other is socially dead. I'm okay with this outcome.

Chapelle on meeting OJ.

R84 Sad but True!

R74 I have been a Prosecutor and a defense attorney. I have never heard anyone declared "innocent".

I don't know about Nicole, but her sister Denise seems like a money-grubbing harpy.

Q: Why wasn't prison life much different from playing for the Bills? A: OJ still had big guys opening holes for him.

He speaks in “hypothetical” terms yet slips CONSTANTLY into real talk like “I can’t recall”. If it is hypothetical you say the story you wrote. Boy, he did it. He is a sociopath/psychopath. Nicole was not perfect, but she had great qualities not the lies OP (who will be blocked) say. OJ was just an awful, terrible person with no redeeming qualities but his dick.

OP is also typing wrong information. He’s making up those quotes.

I'm starting to think that Op is OJ.

[quote] No, OJ is a good person who was pushed to the edge by a nasty mean woman.

Oh fuck off, retarded troll.

Ya got splinters in the windmills of your mind OP.

Q: What was the slogan for OJ's old, limo service? A: We'll get you to the airport with time to kill.

Repeat- OP is making up while quotes. None of those things were said.

*whole quotes

Even if she was a racist bitch, did Ron Goldman deserve to be butchered? Stabbed 30something times and throat slashed? Wait - I get it - he should've known better than to be a nice guy!

OP is the sickest fuck on the planet.

OP = black bitch

When OK was a student&football hero at USC he had the pick of any young blond stinkfish he desired!

I think attention whore/scam Denise Brown posting in this thread.

All the book excerpts/quotes I posted are 100% True.

It's interesting that people don't want the saint/martyr image of Nicole Brown to be shattered.

She was murdered but she was a nasty mean psycho woman who literally drove a man crazy and ruined his life.

Fuck Nicole Brown.

From In Contempt book by Christopher Darden:

"Jennifer said that Al Cowlings described loud fights between O.J. and Nicole and that Nicole would berate her husband with racial slurs.

"What did Mr. Cowlings say Nicole Simpson would say to Mr. Simpson?" I asked.

"Say the words?"

"Yes, please."

She took a sharp breath. "'I can't believe I married a N..... "

"Did Mr. Cowlings say what reaction there was, if any, from Mr. Simpson?"

"Just hurt," Jennifer said.

Cowlings then told her he was worried about his friend.

I do wonder what motivates trolls like OP

Ron Goldman is the pink elephant in OP’s story. He was so jealous of Nicole and anyone that came near her that he butchered a supposed suitor.

So OJ never spoke ill of her? What a gem!

Wow, an OJ troll? What a sad, sad life you must live, OP.

From "The Whole Truth (The Real Story of O.J., Nicole) book by Kato Kaelin:

Occasionally, Nicole liked to lay out topless, wearing only a thong on her lower body while she soaked up the sun. She had recently gotten breast implants. and "was proud and eager to show them off to me. if I cared to check them out. .. . she did made me a little uncomfortable. especially since she'd keep turning herself over. She might be lying on her back, I'd pass. and suddenly she'd turn and there they were.

Kato often heard Nicole tell her mother how she wanted to reconcile with O.I. This surprised him, since he thought their relationship was completely over. Not only were she and O.J. divorced, but to Kato, Nicole seemed much more upset over her failed relationship with Grant than she did about her divorce from O.I.

One time Kato heard her tell her mother that she and O.I. were considering marriage counseling, to get back together. According to Kato, Judi couldn't understand what the problem was. "Nicole," she said, "it's so simple. I just want to see you happy. If getting back together with O.J. will make you happy, then fine, do it. If it won't, then you should move on." Nicole, however, seemed unable to make any kind of firm decision.

The longer Kato lived at Gretna Green, the more he began to pick up on the complexity of Nicole's ongoing relationship with O.I. One day she would wake up all bright and happy and tell Kato she was falling in love again with OJ.. only to change her mood and mind completely the next, saying she never wanted to see her ex-husband again.

O.J. spoke with his knife 🔪

From everyone else in the group. Faye Resnick struck Kato as the least sincere, never satisfied with anyone or anything, a friend of Nicole's only because she was married to "somebody famous." and constantly on the lookout for a "better" man than the one she happened to be with. I

n addition, it seemed they were all trying to date younger men, and one-upping each other in the process. They had two categories: the men they wanted to have sex with and the men they wanted to marry. Long-term worth was measured by a bank account, short-term worth by .. . other yardsticks. Finally, when these women did get into "relationships," it seemed to Kato they always had to be the one in charge.

Kato would never forget seeing one of the most famous athletes in the world, renowned for his physical strength and endurance, being bossed around by one of the weakest women he'd ever met. It was a scene he didn't understand, or belong to.

One evening, Nicole and Faye were out barhopping. Nicole was driving her Ferrari, for which, after the divorce, she'd gotten new plates. After leaving one club, they got into the car and Nicole accidentally rammed into the one in front of her, which then caught on fire. During the confusion, as Nicole's story went, Faye insisted they switch seats so Nicole, who'd already had her share of run-ins with the LAPD, wouldn't get into more trouble for driving while under the influence.

When she told Kato about it. his first reaction was how foolish and wrongheaded the whole thing sounded. Maybe, he thought to himself (but didn't express to Nicole), it would have been better for her to have been arrested. It might have forced her to deal with one of the problems she had trouble admitting existed. Nicole had a tendency to drink too much.

Remember when Denise Brown sold those hokey faux-gold remembrance pendants and fucked Geraldo Rivera?

That whole family was trashy!

One time he went to dinner at Mazzaluna with Nicole and Cici and invited a friend of his to join them. While eating Kato noticed three young girls having drinks at a nearby table. Nicole, meanwhile, was drinking tequila. and after a while it began to show.

"Suddenly, out of nowhere, she said she knew one of the girls at that other table and couldn't stand her. Moreover. she was convinced they were talking about her. She also said something bitchy about how young they were. which I figured was maybe what was really bothering her.

"Nicole kept on doing shots, and I began to worry that something was going to happen. I didn't enjoy her when she got like that. and usually didn't hang around to see very much of it.

When I realized she was not going to let it go. I decided to split.

Remember when they had to replace all the photos in O.J.’s house for the jurors because O.J. Only kept photos of white people.

Nicole said many negative things about her ex husband that when she'd then start talking about wanting to reconcile with OJ, Kato would wonder where it was coming from.

Her mood would often take wide swings.

Later on, O.J. would describe Nicole to Kato as the type of person who could be so happy one day, go out and drink, have a blast, and the next day undergo a total emotional reversal.

Kato had to agree with that. It was obvious to him that she seemed to live only for the next party, and the day after would usually be a bit moody and depressed, until preparations for a new one began.

Kato saw this reflected in the way she related to her treatment of OJ. Sometimes she'd become annoyed at him for calling too often. He'd phone every day when he was out of town, to tell her he loved her and wanted to know what she was doing. She'd tell him not to call so often, that her routine was the same every day.

Then, when he'd stop call-ing, she'd wonder why. It was as if no matter what he did, it wasn't going to be right.

Wasn’t Ron Goldman a paid escort at one time?

If she and O.J. were planning a trip, she'd get all excited about it. spend a whole day packing. arrive in some new, exotic place, have a ball, and then when they'd return, fall into a funk until the next significant event in her life approached.

"Our relationship was based purely on sex." Nicole would say, and admitted that in the beginning it had been one of their strongest bonds. She admitted she was as much a sex maniac as he was.

Kato wondered what it would be like when he and O.J. finally met. That time came one morning in February.

O.I. showing up at Gretna Green to visit his children, which, Kato learned later, had caused Nicole some embarrassment.

When she first moved in, a couple of her neighbors called the police to report a "black" prowler around her house.

They didn't know at the time that she had been married to O.J. and, although divorced, was on "friendly" terms, and that O.J. had liberal visitation rights to the children.

It was sure the neighbors' reaction was rooted in racial prejudice, that if they had seen a white man they wouldn't have thought twice about it.

The Brentwood problem was not limited to neighbors. There was a fire station not very far from the house. Several of the firemen got to know Nicole and eventually one asked who "this black guy" was that kept coming to visit. When she explained it was O.J. Simpson and that he was her ex-husband, they stopped coming by.

One day O.J. came by and invited Kato to watch the filming of a scene from Naked Gun 33 1/3. Kato eagerly accepted the offer. Between takes, O.J. introduced Kato to Nielsen and Olympia Dukakis, and even let him sit in his director's chair, which Kato got a real kick out of.

Kato spent a lot of lime that day hanging out with OJ in his trailer, talking and having a great time. At one point during the afternoon. O.I. told him he had this girl coming by. Sure enough. a gorgeous young woman did knock on the door, and Kato could tell it was his cue to leave.

Later on. 0.J., in a casual, almost joking manner, reminded Kato that he was still living at Nicole's and of course there were certain things he just couldn't tell her.

Kato reassured him that he had nothing to worry about, that he would never do anything like that. Besides, he said, why would it matter? After all, they were no longer married. "It matters." O.J. said.

The end of the football season affected Nicole in more ways than one. Kato noticed that in March, Marcus Allen began coming over to the house to visit her quite often.

O.J. had been Marcus's mentor, big brother, and best friend. According to Nicole. he had practically brought Marcus up, and gotten him into and guided him through USC and pro football. Marcus worshiped O.J. and everything about him—including, as Kato soon discovered—Nicole.

Nicole told Kato that while she liked Marcus, they could never become emotionally involved, however, that he might have a physical thing for her.

She began hanging on to Marcus. then on to Kato, and after a while it was hard to tell who was with whom. At one point, Nicole suggested they all go back to the house. Once there, she went into the kitchen to prepare some refreshments, and asked Kato to give her a hand. In the kitchen, she turned and said to Kato. "I have to tell you something and I don't know how to say it." He couldn't imagine what was on her mind. Had his rent check bounced?

Then he flashed on the possibility that she was going to confess how she'd fallen in love with Marcus and wanted some advice. "I don't know how to tell you this," she repeated. "but I'm falling in love with you." Kato felt the blood drain from his face. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "No. you're not." he said.

Kato felt the blood drain from his face. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. “No, you're not,” he said.

“Yes, I am,” she insisted.

I don't think these long quotes qualify as "fair use".

hey, listen, Nicole, I love you, too. As a friend, But we could never be . . . romantically involved. 1 couldn't do it.”

He meant it. He insisted he wasn’t sexually attracted to her, and was canny enough to know it could never work any other way between them than the way it was now.

“But, Kato,” she went on, “it's perfect. The kids love you" Nicole,” he said, groping for excuse:

He was trying to keep things light by cracking jokes, but he was thrown. Nicole sensed his unease. “I know you're uncomfortable about what I've said,” she told him, “but I had to say it.” With that, she smiled and went back into the living room

Kato pulled himself together as best he could and joined them, Nicole put some music on and they all started to dance.

Marcus and Nicole had a “blazing sexual relationship,” Certainly they dallied, but kept it to a minimum. Without question, Nicole knew what buttons to push when it came to doing sexual battle with OJ. In that sense, he was a “perfect” lover for Nicol.

R118 It's called book excerpts. We had many book threads like this times on DL in the past.

Does this thread bother you in particular because it exposes how nasty, unpleasant and psycho Nicole Brown was?

Before you were complaining that "I made up" the quotes, Now you're whining about Copyright use.

Leave the thread and fuck off

How monstrous do you have to be to kill your children’s mother?

R121 He didn't kill her.

and If he really did, he was pushed to the edge by this psycho woman. she deliberately pushed all his buttons as if she was baiting him to do it. He shouldn't have but I understand if he did and won't judge him for that moment.

Later, Nicole told O.J.about her “friendship" with Marcus, and it caused a huge fight between O.J. and Nicole.

That June, Marcus got married to a beautiful blonde named Katherine, O.J. insisted that the wedding be held at the Rockingham estate.

QJ. liked to throw an annual summer party every June, and in 1993, invited Kato to attend, It was the first time he met O.J's circle of friends, including Robert Kardashian, Mark Slotkin, and Ron Fischman.

In O,J’s living room, everyone participated in parlor games that had an adult edge to them, In one, a form of Truth or Dare.

OJ, Kato recalled, seemed extremely happy that day. It was, in fact, one of the few times Kato saw the positive chemistry that must have brought the two together in their earlier, happier days, Nicole, too, seemed to be having a wonderful time. At one point Kato saw them arm in arm, and thought, for the first time, hey, maybe they can make it together after all.

Early in October, O.J. took Nicole to the opening of the Harley-Davidson Café in New York City. Faye Resnick was there, with her boyfriend at the time, Christian Reichardt.

When they returned to Los Angeles from the opening, Nicole showed Kato a series of Polaroids taken at the party.

She pointed out a good-looking young fellow she'd been attracted to, and who, she claimed, was attracted to her. Kato was surprised and said, “You were with O.). and flirting with someone else’

“Yes,” she said animatedly. “He was this Italian-looking model type and I was like—oh, Kato, I wanted him!”

She told Kato he'd slipped her a note that she had to be very careful to keep hidden from O.J

It always made Kato uneasy to hear about the “chances” Nicole took, and how, somehow, Faye Resnick was always around when these things happened.

To be continued later.

If OJ was so bad why hasn't he murdered since or least been hit with domestic violence charges. He didn't beat his future lovers. I'm just saying. He is still a crazy sociopath because who murders the mother of their children. He should have been able to control his emotions better than that.

R126 I agree. However,I don't agree he's a sociopath or monster.

He's essentially a good man who was manipulated and driven crazy by this woman. It's unfortunate that his whole life was ruined because of this nasty manipulative woman.

This is all in service of a particular anti-woman agenda that plays all day, every day here on DL.

R128 anti-woman agenda??

No, It's just the Truth.

Give me money!

Jennifer Young talks about this incident described in R28 R29 in the video below.

The DNA evidence proved OJ did it. People have been sent to prison for life on less DNA evidence than there was in the OJ case.

R132 The thread is not about If OJ did it or not (we will never know what really happened that night)

It reflects Nicole Brown's nasty rotten personality that no one wants to talk about in the media, and what might have pushed OJ to the edge and drove him crazy during that blackout moment.

Again, OJ is not the monster or abstract evil portrayed and Nicole was not the martyr/saint portrayed everywhere.

Only a monster would leave his own small children motherless!

The problem with books like this is that's it's so easy to vilify a dead person who isn't here to defend themselves.

OP is some weird troll.

[quote](we will never know what really happened that night)

We actually do know what really happened that night, thanks to science.

This thread is odious and I stopped reading it fairly early on, but to the person who kept saying OJ was "proved innocent," you're a legal ignoramus. He was not declared innocent, he was declared "not guilty," which means that the prosecution did not make a sufficient case and there was reasonable doubt as to his guilt. In many cases, I personally would accept "not guilty" as meaning exonerated, but there was enough nonsense on both sides that people were going to mistrust whatever verdict the jury decided on.

And he lost the civil wrongful-death trial. The jury found him responsible for the deaths of Brown and Goldman. Does that sound "innocent"?

R137 Crimes must generally be proved "beyond a reasonable doubt", whereas civil cases have much lower burden of proof such as "the preponderance of the evidence" (which essentially means that it was more likely than not that something occurred in a certain way).

The rules for a civil trial are quite different from a criminal trial. Only nine of the twelve jurors must agree on a verdict. And that verdict is based, not upon whether there is a reasonable doubt, but upon a "preponderance of the evidence." The legal definition of the term simply means that if 51 percent of the evidence by volume or weight points to the defendant's guilt, the juror must decide in favor of the plaintiffs.

R134 OJ's kids are better off without Nicole. If Nicole was there, they would have ended up lik Paris Hilton and the Kardashian clan.

Sydney and Justin are private successful people who love their father and are loved by him.

R135 Living or dead. Nicole Brown deserves to be vilified and exposed for the nasty rotten woman she was.

Being murdered shouldn't ersae the truth about her behavior.

No one cares about the bad behavior of a long dead woman.

And you have no idea how the kids would have turned out had she not been murdered

Why don't you provide quotes from them on their feelings about losing their mom? They are the only people who truly have a right to criticize her, as they knew her and lived with her.

It doesn't matter how badly behaved someone is in relationships, they do not deserve to be murdered.

If OJ had really wanted away from her permanently, he had the money and clout to make it happen through the courts.

R141 OJ loved her but she manipulated/abused him emotionally, fucked up with his mind and kept jerking him around.

Continued:

"There were several trips they were supposed to take together that winter and spring, which Nicole bowed out of at the last minute. Miami. New York, Cabo San Lucas. Sometimes he'd go by himself, and no one would have any idea where he was. or for how long. He'd just be gone, until he'd reappear.

According to Kato, "There were times I thought Nicole was purposely trying to drive him crazy.

I couldn't understand why Nicole would agree to go away with him if she had no intention of actually making the trip. The thought of being with her used to really bring him up, and the letdown when she told him she wasn't going would send him crashing.

They'd fight, then they'd make up, and they'd be all lovey-dovey. Until the next fight."

OJ arranged for her to receive bouquets of flowers every week. Although he never enjoyed this type of thing. He often complained to Kato that she was forever reminding him of the age difference between them. that he was getting older, that she didn't look forward to one day living with an arthritic man, a cripple, she'd have to push around in a wheelchair.

And she'd taunt him about his body by poking him in the stomach to point out the "little pot" he was developing. He liked to take Nicole out for dinner to a restaurant where they could spend a quiet evening, then return right home, while Nicole preferred to go clubbing and stay out all night. That would make him angry. "Doesn't she understand," he would say to Kato, "I get up at six in the morning! I have a million things to take care of! By the end of the day I'm exhausted. The last thing in the world I want to do is go out and party all night"

O.J. would then shift to Nicole's "drinking problem." how that was the cause of her many mood swings. Kato agreed that Nicole's mood could and often did shift from one extreme to another, sometimes on a daily basis. She could be extremely up one day and markedly sullen the next.

O.J. was convinced that Nicole's drinking was going to lead to liver failure. "She drinks so much tequila." he'd say to Kato. "she doesn't realize that's going to hurt her. It's already starting to show on her skin. And it makes her a mean person. She's mean, you know."

The first time Kato saw Nicole after moving out of Gretna Green was about a month later, when he'd settled comfortably into Rockingham. Nicole had come over to spend the night with O.I. This wasn't that unusual an occurrence. Sometimes Kato would come home, decide to grab a bite to eat in the kitchen, and discover OJ and Nicole and all the kids up in the bedroom watching TV, like the happiest, most together family that ever lived.

According to Kato, this night, she was polite but unmistakably cool toward him. They talked a little. but really didn't say very much to each other. The next morning, at breakfast, O.J. told Kato what a great time he'd had. OJ shared this private moment with his houseguest.

"It wasn't only that he had told me something intimate between the two of them, but I sensed a bit of jealousy on her part at how close OJ and I had become. I wondered if maybe she had begun to redirect some of her anger at OJ toward me."

R126, I guess those photos of a battered Nicole were fake. Also, you do know OJ went to prison, right? Why does DL get the stupid trolls?

R145 He went to prison for totally different thing in 2008, so called attempted roberry/taking back his own possessions. The 33 years sentence was outrageously inappropriate and it was a clear payback for a crime for which he was tried, acquitted and not convicted of it. It was probably a set up for him to do the wrong move so they could get him.

It has nothing to do with DV. Also, OJ and Nicole fights were instigated by Nicole's crazy behavior.

The Butcher of Brentwood

R138, yes, the standards of proof are different l, but if he were "innocent," as the poster I was responding to insists, that civil jury wouldn't have had reason to convict him of anything. I drew a distinction between "innocent" and "not guilty."

R147 Nicole Brown was the nasty whore of Brentwood

But only 1 of them is the cold blooded murderer of 2 innocent people

R150 No one really know who is the cold blooded murderer.

There is difference between people's opinions and the truth. Like it or not, The fact is OJ was aquitted and vindicated in a court of law so it's only media/people's opinions Not a court ruling or a fact.

In April, O.J. and Nicole flew to Cabo. During the trip Nicole convinced OJ that they were going to be able to get back together for good. He went so far as to tell Nicole he would end his relationship with Paula. He was going to buy a beautiful piece of beachfront property and build a dream house for the whole family to live in and enjoy.

He even had blueprints drawn up and showed them to Nicole. At first she encouraged 0.J to go ahead and build the house. The next day. according to Kato. she changed her mind and told him to "forget it"

Originally it was supposed to be just the two of them, but before they left. Faye Resnick was somehow invited by Nicole. By the time they actually departed, the group had grown to nearly a dozen, including kids. Still, O.J. and Nicole got along really well, until he had to leave early to shoot additional scenes for his TV pilot.

When she returned, Nicole told Kato she'd had a great time, but still wasn't sure things could work out. The morning after O.J. left, some new guy she'd seen on the beach had caught her fancy.

And there was still the Kato "problem." Nicole kept insisting he had to move out before she would move back in. However, before Kato even began to look for a place. the reconciliation fell apart.

It broke down this time in May, The next day O.J told Kato he didn't have to worry about moving anymore, because it was all over for good between Nicole and him.

Why did I choose to read this thread while watching a Natalie Wood movie?

The next day OJ. told Kato he didn't have to worry about moving anymore, because it was all over for good between Nicole and him.

The day after that they were back on.

Kato didn't understand what was going on. The whole thing seemed like one long soap opera. full of melodramatic behavior with nothing ever really happening.

His attitude was if it was going to work between them, great, if not, also great, because then he and OJ. could go out and party. "I tried to be supportive of OJ., no matter what," Kato insisted.

As if things couldn't be any worse between O.J. and Nicole, in late May there were rumors in the Rockingham air that Faye was leading Nicole down some very dark alleys. A very close friend of Nicole's told Kato that Nicole wanted to try three-way sex, and she was looking for "candidates,"

Earlier that week, O.I. told Kato about a sports extravaganza scheduled to take place at the Century Plaza Hotel in Los Angeles. During this conversation he asked Kato what he was doing on July 4th. Kato said he had no plans and O.J. asked if he'd be his guest at the event. Kato said he'd love to and told him how much he appreciated his thinking of him.

"I remember he was in that zone he used to get into," Kato told me, "where he'd become very quiet and stare off into space, deep in thought. I was always amazed he could actually drive that way without crashing into a brick wall."

O.I. pulled up to his entrance gate on Ashford and for a few seconds they sat there in silence. Finally, Kato said, "juice. I'd love to be you." He turned to me and said. "Kato, you don't want to be me. You don't want to be me at all."

OJ could never get away with murder if this happened today. Jill Shively saw OJ plow through an intersection and he nearly hit her but then she went on some tabloid show and wasn't seen as a credible witness. Today, Jill Shively would've been tweeting from her car that OJ Simpson nearly pulled a hit and run on her, before anyone even knew two murders had happened. No way that could be kept out of court.

There are cameras all over LA now, unlike back in '94. Traffic light cameras, security cameras at homes and businesses that face the street. Today, OJ's Bronco would've been caught on multiple cameras going to and from the crime scene.

Even without the overwhelming DNA evidence, OJ wouldn't have a chance in hell of getting away with the murders if they happened now, with today's technology.

I'm not so sure about that, r155

[quote]When OJ's family was visiting him, Nicole referred to them as n**....

I sincerely doubt this, seeing as her beloved children were mixed-race.

Well r156 if you don't believe in science and technology that's on you.

It has nothing to do with that, r158. I'm still not sure a jury would convict him.

Your *third* OJ thread, OP?

It was suicide!

In the OJ Made In America documentary one of the black female jurors (interviewed in 2016) said the not guilty verdict was payback for Rodney King. She was totally unapologetic about it. The jurors were not going to convict no matter what.

They should've held the damn trial in Santa Monica, as originally intended.

OJ was such a stud. Nicole should be lucky she got to experience him. RIP.

On June 5, the Sunday before the murders, O.J. invited Paula to a huge fund-raiser thrown by the Pediatric Aids Foundation. That afternoon, Paula showed up in her new Bronco, O.J. suggested she take the kids out for new shoes. Kato and his daughter Tiffany went along.

It was one of the few occasions when Kato actually spent any significant time with Paula.

She bought the kids new outfits. They were gone a long time, and when they got back, O.J. rushed out of the house and told Paula to hurry or they'd be late. Kato said he'd see them later, and was about to take Tiffany to his room, when O.J said. "No, you're coming along, man! The kids, too!"

Kato was "stunned." He told O.J. he had nothing to wear and felt like a slob. O.J told him not to worry, he looked great.

A little while later they all found themselves in OJ.'s Bronco, pulling into the famous Robert Taylor ranch in Mandeville Canyon. The place was so big that when they parked, a van had to come and pick them up.

During the dinner, O.J. lamented to Kato, 'I'm a pathetic' person."

"No, you're not," Kato responded. "You're a pathetic' golfer." O.J. laughed.

I can't believe Nicole fell in love with Kato Kaelin as he stated. No, I don't think he was lying, but her tastes in men seem to be all over the map.

From Marcus Allen to Kato?

Girl...

Now. though, O.I. seemed even more down than he'd been. especially since, as he told Kato. he was supposed to have had the kids that weekend, until Nicole had a last-minute "change of plans" and decided she was going to keep them with her.

Kato suggested they throw together a little lunch. O.J said fine, and why didn't they spend the rest of the afternoon hanging out together at the house. Over sandwiches, they began to discuss one of 0.J avorite topics: women. At one point. O.J. turned to Kato and said. "I need to meet a nice person."

Kato took the cue and before long the conversation drifted to Traci AdeII. She was the current (June) Playboy centerfold and a friend of Kato's.

On June 12, OJ poured Kato a glass of fresh orange juice as they small-talked. He told Kato about the morning golf game at the Riviera. He'd played with Craig Baumgarten and a few others. O.J. then said he was scheduled to fly to Chicago that night to attend a Hertz function on Monday. Kato sensed that O.J. wasn't looking forward to the mid-night flight.

Kato was starting to head out when OJ. stopped him. "You ought to hang out for a while." he said. Without waiting for an answer, he flipped on the kitchen TV for the background noise he always seemed to need, and picked up the telephone receiver.

"That Traci girl finally called," he said. "She left me a message. Let's call her back." Kato nodded and O.I. dialed the number. She picked up and they began to talk. According to Kato, OJ said. "You know, Traci, I've got everything a man wants in the world. Everything. I've got plenty of money. I've got the beautiful home. But you know I'm just not happy. Can you make me happy?" According to Kato, OJ looked at Kato and smiled, as if to say he was only kidding. O.J. suggested he and Traci get together in the future, and hung up.

O.J. had to get moving. He was to attend his daughter Sydney's dance recital, scheduled to start at five that afternoon.

Paula had wanted to come along, and they had been arguing back and forth about it all day on the phone. He was adamant about her not coming, because, he told her, he felt it was a family thing. Paula couldn't get over the fact that she wasn't being invited, But O.J. was unable to resolve the situation, and the steady tension between him and Paula kicked up a notch.

.....Once in the main house. O.J. asked who won the basketball game and Kato asked 0.J. how the recital went. A smile crossed 0.J.'s face. "Sydney was great," he said

Then the smile vanished. "But Nicole was trying to keep the kids away from me." O.J. then went into a litany of complaints about what had gone wrong.

After the show, he was not allowed by Nicole to visit either Sydney or Justin, and according to Kato, " If there was anger, it was because Nicole wasn't going to let him see the kids."

At that point, O.J. went up to Nicole and said, "What are you doing? I want to spend time with my kids. Come on, Nicole."

What, he asked Kato, she can take my kids away from me now? They're my kids, too.

Kato tried to laugh it off. But O.I. didn't answer. Instead, he looked away, a frown on his face.

Kato did ask to use the Jacuzzi. it was for a specific purpose. Besides feeling the strain of the weekend runs and basketball games. he didn't need to hear how really upset OJ. was. "I wanted to get the conversation somewhere else," Kato recalled.

O.J. said yeah. sure, sure, in that dismissive way he has when, as Kato described it, O.J. was lost in thought.

To be continued tomorrow. with more Nicole Brown's nasty cunty stories by Faye Resnick

[quote] ith more Nicole Brown's nasty cunty stories by Faye Resnick

Yes, because Faye Resnick is the beacon of morality.

R170 Take it or leave it.

And Faye took, took, took.

The shameless famewhore.

What an absolutely bizarre thread.

Those excerpts (from what?) are making my head spin. There's no chronological or thematic sense to them. Just random vignettes that appear to be telling a story but skip over all the important information, like what is happening when. "It was the first time Kato spent much time with Paula" or whatever it said. And so? Suddenly Paula's gone from the story. You can stop any time now.

The troll is trying to make the long argument that, whatever happened to this woman, she was a cunt and so deserved it and even though it can't be proven beyond a reasonable doubt to be OJ, if he did it he had a reason.

But that is bullshit because he could have walked away, paid his child support through the courts, had his visitation arranged by third parties and never laid eyes on the woman again, had he so wished. He could have made sure he never even had to talk to her directly.

Like it or not, The fact is OJ was aquitted and vindicated in a court of law so it's only media/people's opinions Not a court ruling or a fact.

Like it or not, OJ was found guilty in the civil trial brought against him by the Goldman family for the murder of Ron, so it's not only media/people's opinions. It's a court ruling.

I'm still waiting for someone to interview me about this case.

As if OJ was going to let Nicole run things and not let him see their kids. He funded that whole family of grifters, so they knew who ran the show. And it wasn't Nicole.

R178 do you have reading comprehension issues?

He could have made sure he had his visitation, without even seeing her.

Op is the Beyonce thread Op.

Why is the physical abuse being left out of this? Physically beating Nicole, locking her in a closet all weekend, etc.? OJ met her when she was 17, and he physically and emotionally abused her for years. She was indecisive and kept going back and forth with him because she had no sense of self and did not know what to do in her life without him. She didn't tell anyone about the beatings until she finally confided in one of her friends a few months before the murders. She was ashamed of herself and her life, and she was dysfunctionally bonded to OJ and couldn't extricate herself emotionally. (The fact that Nicole's mother remained friends, or at least very cordial, with OJ after he murdered her daughter helps explain Nicole's upbringing and why she was likely vulnerable to someone who may have actually loved her. Marcia Clark wrote in her book that there was something so strange and uncomfortable about being in the Brown's house, something about nude photos all over the walls. None of the other three sisters were married and they were all still living at home in their 30's).

Nicole was a victim of an abusive man who finally stabbed her to death, outside the front door of the house where his young children were sleeping. The stories he told Kato portrayed him as the victim, but he wasn't a victim. He was a brutally abusive man. Regarding Nicole continually changing her mind at the last minute about plans, she did so because OJ would notoriously begin ranting and raving and threatening her, and she couldn't take it. He had no self-control, and *he* ruined their plans with his constant displays of anger. It sounds like OJ was using Kato as a way to create an innocent persona and perhaps develop a character reference for when he eventually killed Nicole. An important point being left out of these excerpts is that the reason Nicole was cold toward OJ during the recital was because she had just received papers from his attorney stating that OJ was going to report her to the IRS for a condo (up north) he had given to her that she wasn't claiming on her taxes (or something). He was threatening to bankrupt her and she was angry because she felt that this act of vengeance was targeting their children's quality of life and she was very upset. He used her understandable reaction to that new information as an excuse to murder her. And OP actually believes the murders - and the title of this thread - are justified...

I cosign everything you wrote, r181.

But don't bother trying to persuade OP. She's a troll.

I have no issue believing she was a coked-out rageaholic, much like Phil Hartman's wife, sans the acting career aspirations.

If Nicole was such a racist why is marrying a black man and having kids with him then continually dating black men? Clearly she wasn’t a racist so that narrative is played out. Anyone can claim shit once the VICTIM is dead. Proof was there, OJ domestically abused this woman for years. He met her when she was an impressionable 18 year old who never knew any other mature relationship but with older OJ. His money and fame was enticing but as she grew up and had kids to protect, she realized it was an abusive bad situation to be in no matter how comfortable the lifestyle was. He murdered her and took an innocent strangers life as well. He ADMITS it in his sickening book “If I Did It” um who the FUCK would write a book based on a double murder they claim they didn’t commit but claiming “if” they did it this is how they’d do it? OP is either OJ or some black bitch who only sees the race and immediately stands up for their “black brother”. The same one who denied his own racial background and lives as “whitey” does.

Logging into DL feels like the Russian roulette of the internet. Sometimes, I get DL. Other times, I get Return of Kings or Stormfront.

[quote]After a while O.J. began to open up to me," Kato Kaelin recounted, "and we'd have long talks about lots of things, including, most often, his relationship with Nicole."

This isn't typical behavior for two grown men.

[quote]At one point, Nicole suggested they all go back to the house. Once there, she went into the kitchen to prepare some refreshments, and asked Kato to give her a hand. In the kitchen, she turned and said to Kato. "I have to tell you something and I don't know how to say it." He couldn't imagine what was on her mind. Had his rent check bounced? Then he flashed on the possibility that she was going to confess how she'd fallen in love with Marcus and wanted some advice. "I don't know how to tell you this," she repeated. "but I'm falling in love with you." Kato felt the blood drain from his face. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "No. you're not." he said. Kato felt the blood drain from his face. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. “No, you're not,” he said. “Yes, I am,” she insisted.

There's no way Marcus Allen was in the vicinity and Nicole thought she was falling in love with...Kato Kaelin. Kato sounds like a lying jackass who made up stories to help sell a book.

R176 Winning Civil trial means "He probably (50% chances) did it" Not he absolutely did the crime to be criminally convicted of.

Civil trial = Money, Not conviction

Is OP also the "Nicole Brown Simpson looked trans" troll?

Is Kato a homosexual?

[quote]If Nicole was such a racist why is marrying a black man and having kids with him then continually dating black men? Clearly she wasn’t a racist so that narrative is played out.

If slave owners were such racists why is screwing a black slave woman and having kids with her then continually fucking black women slaves? Clearly they weren’t racist so that narrative is played out.

Continued: Nicole Brown's nasty cunty stories

From Nicole Brown Simpson book by Faye Resnick:

" I remember one night when we had gone to Roxbury, met up with some friends, had our share of tequilas, and reached the giggly stage. After Nicole and the group dropped me off, they passed the house of a neighbor she had been eyeing for quite a while. He was black, great-looking, and seemed totally absorbed in his fiancée and his studies at an Ivy League college. But that didn't stop Nicole.

His roommate was driving the car, and Nicole suggested that they stop in for a drink. While the others sat with their drinks, Nicole quietly slipped out of the living room and into his bedroom. He was sleeping, so without taking off her clothes, Nicole gently pushed the covers aside and teased him into an erection. Without suggest-ing that she wanted anything in return, she gave him what she later described as "a lovely surprise—the blow-job of his life."

The next morning she reported that she had giggled all the way home, because as she left, he looked up and said just one word, "Thanks."

We later referred to that epsisode as her "Brentwood Hello"

One day the law firm handling her divorce sent over a young—and I mean young—law clerk named Brett Shaves. He had some papers for her signature. Nic told me about Brett during a phone call when I was in Europe. We broke out giggling like a couple of schoolgirls when she told me he was just in his early twenties. And Brett was handsome. But it was not Brett whom Nicole took as her lover at that time.

It was Marcello, her hairdresser. They'd go out for dinner, then drinks and dancing. And one night Nicole decided to "do" him—the euphemism in our circle for a sexual encounter.

Even while the Marcello relationship was going on, Nicole had not forgotten the young law clerk, Brett Shaves. "He's cute, but no way," Nic would say, but then she'd smile. If Marcello hadn't messed things up for himself by bragging about his conquest of Nicole, who knows whether Brett would have ended up sharing Nic's bed.

But a bizarre incident occurred on July 16, at a birthday party Nicole threw for CiCi Shahian. Brett was invited, and Marcello was there, but now solely as Nicole's friend. It was a fast-track party, but suddenly we heard the sound of Nicole's nanny, Lisa, screaming in the garage. Nicole and CiCi rushed in and found Marcello roaring drunk with his trousers down around his ankles. Nicole threw him out.

That very night Nicole and Brett finally became lovers. The next day, I could hardly wait to get Nic on the phone for details. She was elated but feeling a little uneasy about the age difference.

I agree with the fact that even if she was an unpleasant woman, her death was gruesome. I just can’t accept that she was without blame of any kind in her marriage. It all wasn’t OJ. She had to have known what he was like and married him anyway because money. Her family leeched off of him as well. Although he was happy to oblige because if you’ve seen that cable documentary about him, he was starved for approval from white people, especially white women. It took two. And I don’t doubt that she knew what a prize he thought she was. But it didn’t give him the right to murder her. And he had no time for the black community on his way up, only using them for his defense during his trial. After he was acquitted, he went right back to what remained of his white sidekicks and hangers on. He had little to do with us after that.

r193 = abuser apologist.

That very night Nicole and Brett finally became lovers. The next day, I could hardly wait to get Nic on the phone for details. She was elated but feeling a little uneasy about the age difference.

I just hope the law firm doesn't put his time on OJ's bill." We both started laughing hysterically.

Nicole and I landed in Aspen ready to party. And there were parties a-plenty. The prospect of spending the holiday in Los Angeles was just too boring, so we house-guested with Jerry Ginsberg, a great guy and a friend of Nicole's for many years.

After the show, we went to the lobby area. There were two men standing outside. Nicole said to me of one of them, "Oh, my God, Faye. That man is really beautiful! ! "Where is he? I asked. Nicole pointed him out. She was right; this guy was truly gorgeous.

He finally approached us and introduced himself as Grant Cramer, an actor. Grant blew our minds when he claimed that his mother was Terry Moore and his father was Howard Hughes. He was a serious guy, very nice, and he had a pal with him that night, Kato Kaelin.

.Nicole was absolutely crazy about Grant. Even though he stayed over with us that night at the house, nothing went on. Nicole and I were sharing a bedroom because there was no more space in Jerry's house, and Grant stayed in our bedroom. When I say nothing went on, Nicole and Grant were kissing and doing some gentle groping, but nothing serious.

Grant was interested in the whole story of her marriage to O.J.

Nicole and Grant continued their friendship. Finally she told me, "Faye, I'm crazy about Grant. I'm going to "do" him."

I couldn't wait to hear Nic's report on her first sexual encounter with Grant the morning after. Girls will be girls, after all. But Nicole was not all bubbly and excited. In fact, she sounded a little bit disappointed. At first she didn't want to talk about it, but I finally drew her out.

Part of the problem was simply the wrong chemistry. The other part was that Nic was a very powerful woman, sexually. When she and O.J. were together, they had sex up to five times a day. In fact, when Nicole and O.J. were seperated , Nic often talked about the problem of not having enough sex.

She really liked sex with O.J., and Nic had strong appetites. Grant, apparently, was no O.J. But she still liked Grant.

One thing that struck me as odd was that Grant could never hear enough about her sex life with O.J. He appeared fascinated with O.J.'s sexual prowess, his lovemaking techniques, and Nicole's voracious appetites.

Kato Kaelin suddenly appeared on the scene. Nicole let him move into the guest house behind the Gretna Green house, rent free.

It was a perfect arrangement for both of them, Kato was not only great fun, but he loved children. He played games with them incessantly and made Justin and Sydney laugh.

R194 It's called being a realist. Things in life aren't black and white.

OJ Simpson is a good man and Nicole Brown was a nasty cunt who purposely pushed OJ's buttons and pushed him the the edge of insanity.

R190 they didn’t marry them they raped them so yes they were rapist racists. But Nicole activity dated and fell in love and proudly procreated with someone from the opposite race so she was by no means a racist. Don’t get it twisted. You would equate a white slave owner who doesn’t think of their slaves as human as Nicole a white woman who had complete autonomy over her choices the same thing?

After divorce, O.J. realized Nicole wasn't coming back to him, he decided to have nothing to do with her. And he seemed genuinely happy with Paula Barbieri.

O.J. really left Nicole strictly alone after the divorce. He refused to speak with her unless absolutely necessary But It made Nicole crazy.

April, 1993. One Sunday morning I had a call from Candace Garvey, Steve's wife. "Hi, Faye. I just saw Nicole at church and she's all excited."

"Why is that, Candace?" I asked her.

"Well, Steve and I and Kris and Bruce Jenner were out of town at a Pro-Am golf tournament last weekend, and O.J. was there with his girlfriend, Paula Barbieri. We're talking with O.J., and he suddenly tells us that he will never cheat on a woman again. He says he's with Paula now and he never wants to womanize again. Isn't that just incredible?"

"Well, we'll see, won't we. "We hung up.

One morning Nicole phoned me and said, "I'm going to go and put my family back together. I'm going to ask O.J. if he's interested in trying again."

She got into her Jeep and drove over to his house. O.J.'s response was, "Oh my God. This is just too much. I'm happy with Paula. I may not be in love with Paula, but she's good to me."

Nicole left the Rockingham estate and called me from her car phone. "Well, he's not responding," she admitted "But I'm going to try again"

Few days later, Nicole phoned again. "Guess what? Guess who just left the house? O.J.—he wants to talk about this whole thing. He likes the idea." Nicole was bubbling with happiness.

Nicole and I had made plans to fly down to Cabo San Lucas for Mother's Day. We'd take the children and stay at my villa. Nicole said, "O.J.'s probably going to Cabo for a golf tournament at Palmilla. Do you mind if he stops by and spends a night or so with us?"

Nicole wanted the reconciliation to work. O.J. did join us and stayed for five days. Cabo was wonderful as usual. We'd go jet-skiing, snor-keling, ride horses on the beach, or just hang out by the pool. At night, we'd go to the Giggling Mar-lin, or we'd play volleyball with the kids on the lighted court at Carlos and Charlie's.

One thing that struck me was that O.J. is a very good father, He was attentive to his kids, played with the children throughout his stay and the kids adored him.

It was during this trip, Nicole admitted to her affair with Marcus Allen, O.J.'s second-best friend after Al "A.C." Cowlings. OJ considered him like a brother. She quickly told O.J. that she'd only let him "play" with her; she didn't admit to actual intercourse.

OJ did confront Marcus. No one knows exactly what was said. But it ended with Marcus swearing to O.J. that he would never touch Nicole again. He said it wouldn't be a problem anymore because he was getting married.

All summer long Nicole and O.J. tried to get the relationship going again. But every time they'd have a fight over the slightest things.

Any woman knows the rule : No matter how tempting, you don't "do" your man's best friend. Allen was as close to O.J. Simpson as Al Cowlings. A.C. had a buddy relationship with O.J that went all the way back to childhood was always dependent on O.J., although he was a star in his own right. He had money, independence, and power.

Marcus looked up to O.J., admired him, treated him like a mentor. When Marcus had his highly-publicized differences with Raiders' owner Al Davis, O.J. was right there defending him against the world.

The first time I ever saw Marcus with Nicole, I picked up on the attraction instantly. How O.J. missed it, I'll never know. Nicole admitted to me that even during her marriage, Marcus was very seductive when O.J. wasn't around. He tried to talk her into bed more than once, and Nicole never got angry at him for it. She would just laugh.

Nicole later confessed, "Faye, I really have a crush on Marcus "

That's great, Nic. But don't you think that's a little volatile? This is OJ's closest friend after A.C, you know how O.J. feels. If I were you, I'd stay as far away from Marcus as possible. You're playing with fire."

Not long after our night at Don Henley's, Nicole phoned me and said, "You remember what I was talking to you about...about Marcus? He just left my house."

I said, "Really? Oh God. Where is 0.J.?"

"O.J's out of town."

Nicole finally confessed. "I'm having an affair with him, Faye., he makes me feel good. You know what I mean? And anyway, O.J. hasn't even been talking to me lately. Unless I have something to tell him about the kids, he doesn't even take my calls. And he's telling everyone how happy he is with Paula Barbieri."

Still, to me, Marcus was a taboo. You just don't "do" the best friend of a guy who still considers you part of your life.

The truth was that the two men who had truly satisfied her in bed were O.J. Simpson and Marcus Allen. Because of them, Nicole was becoming convinced that only a black man could really satisfy her.

It was an inside joke among her friends that Nicole would never find another man who could give her the quantity and quality she was used to with OJ.

When I confronted her about it, she said, "OJ wasn't the first man in my life, but what the others had was like a mini-pickle or a gherkin compared to what I'm used to. There are exceptions—Joseph and Brett were fine—but it's a gamble.

Some people might think that other men would be intimidated at the thought of being with a woman who had been with O.J.—that they would feel highly inadequate.

Nicole had confided that almost every white man she'd been with didn't satisfy her, didn't measure up. I once said to her, You know, if I were a white guy, I wouldn't have the nerve to expose myself to you."

Christ! Did this skeezer do anything but suck & fuck morning, noon and night???

R203 Yeah and fucking up with OJ's mind and jerking him around after she couldn's stand the fact that he has moved on and was happy and stable with another woman.

The reconciliation lurched forward. On again, off again. One minute it was okay. The next Nicole can't stand him.

Nic said, "Faye, believe me, OJ is the most loving man a woman could ever want. He's sweet, he's kind, and the sex has always been so incredible. But why can't the good times ever last?"

We left the Jenners in mid-afternoon and drove to Laguna Beach, where O.J. owned a magnificent beach house. The group consisted of CiCi, Cora and Ron, Christian, Nicole's sisters, Dominique and Tanya, O.J., Nicole, me, and all the kids. I loved that beach house. It was a wood frame on four levels graduating down to the shore. It had several guest rooms and was beautifully decorated. We all strolled down to the beach and hung out.

At one point, O.J. said to Tanya, "What are you doing lately, Tanya?" "Well, I'm trying to raise money to go to college," she answered.

O.J. said "No problem, Tanya, I'll pay for your tuition. You can get started immediately"

To be fair, O.J. had been very helpful to Nicole's family. He'd assisted Nicole's mother, Juditha, set up her travel business. He put her dad, Lou, into his Hertz dealership. And he'd hired Nicole's cousin to manage his fast-food chicken restaurants in Los Angeles.

That night we all went to one of our favorite restaurants, Los Brisas, right at the beach. Things started out just fine, and we were all feeling mellow. Then O.J. started ranting against smoking. Some of us were smoking cigarettes.

And O.J. started in "Why don't all of you stop smoking? It's the worst habit. It's unhealthy, and if you don't care about your own health, think about how you're putting our children's' lives in jeopardy. There's no excuse for smoking."

"What business is it of yours, OJ? snapped Nicole.

I was furious. I said, "O.J. Just because you don't smoke cigarettes, you want everybody else to conform to you. You're you—and I'm me. Just leave us alone and we'll live our lives the way we see fit."

Nicole, CiCi, Cora, and I were all angry. We vented our annoyance by having yet another cigarette.

After that it was like World War III.

I told Nicole afterward, "You know how much I love you, and I know you're just as upset as I am. But I can't be around O.J. if he's going to get into conversations like that. How dare he lecture us? Who does he think he is?"

Is OP going to copy and paste the entire book?

Back from Europe. I could hardly wait to hear nail the news, so I drove over to Nicole's before I even unpacked. Over cappuccino in her kitchen, I asked, "So how's it been going with 0.J.?"

"It's on and off, I just can't decide Faye" she said.

I thought, God, it was up and down like a yo-yo.

This was in October, just as Nicole and I were leaving to join O.J. for the grand opening of the Harley-Davidson Café in Manhattan.

When we arrived in New York, a limo whisked us to OJ's luxury condominium on 65th Street. It's a gorgeous place, beautifully decorated in mas-culine dark wood with huge windows and expen-sive Persian rugs.

When we arrived, O.J. was the perfect host. It was really cute how he welcomed us in, then dramatically opened up the refrigerator to show Nicole he'd filled it full of Beluga caviar—her favorite food. He'd also bought fresh baked breads, candies, and many other wonderful delicacies for us.

When I went into the guest room, I was touched to find that there were fresh flowers there, too.

Whenever I think of O.J. today and reflect on all that has happened, I marvel at how considerate, how charming he was. I loved him as a friend.

[quote]When we arrived, O.J. was the perfect host. It was really cute how he welcomed us in, then dramatically opened up the refrigerator to show Nicole he'd filled it full of Beluga caviar—her favorite food.

🙄

I guess that makes up for this:

[quote]Brown described an incident in which Simpson broke her arm during a fight; in order to prevent him from being arrested, she had told emergency room staff that she had fallen off her bike. She wrote about him beating her in public, during sex and even in front of family and friends. Of the 62 incidents of abuse, the police were notified eight times and Simpson was arrested once.

R209 Nicole Brown's so called diary is fake and made up exaggerated stories. Nicole wrote them in 1992 at the advice of her divorce attorneys during divorce proceeding to cancel the prenuptial agreement and to get better leverage in the divorce settlment and custody.

Even Nicole's family said this to Marcia Clark during the trial.

Also, she broke her own arm and beat the shit out of herself!

Nicole invited Cora and Ron Fishman and off they went to the Super Bowl. During this period, Ron and Cora attended a lot of celebrity parties with O.J. and Nicole. Cora loved the attention she was getting from some of the big-name men and decided that she didn't want to be in her marriage anymore.

When she and Ron returned to Los Angeles, Cora started an affair with a young, black grocery clerk. Nobody knew about it at the time, except Nicole and O.J.

Nicole and O.J. flew to Florida, where he spent $10,000 to hire a yacht for a romantic two-day cruise. O.J. and Nicole loved that trip so much that when they got back to Los Angeles, OJ called Christian and said, "I'm going to charter a yacht, and we'll all take an eight-day trip to celebrate Nicole's birthday in May."

When I talked to Nicole, she changed her mind "forget it" O.J. was upset when he heard that

During February and March, we were all agog over Cora's romance. Ron found out about it when O.J. went to him and said, "Do you know what's happening with your wife?"

Poor Ron. He was so despondent. It was humiliating for him, a successful doctor who had given Cora everything, only to be replaced by a grocery clerk.

OP must be black. "She made him hit her and beat her up" is common among black people when it comes to domestic violence. It's never the man's fault. It's so sick, but that's what it's like in black culture.

The older black woman juror who was interviewed in OJ: Made In America said this in so many words. She also said the verdict was payback for Rodney King. She was totally unapologetic about it.

Here's the juror at 2:29

R213 First of all, I'm not black.

Second, if someone is confroted with a nasty woman, slapping, kicking and screaming insults like the N word (to a black man), I can imagine he can lose his temper.

Sure, Jan

r215 is spoken like a true abuser.

R217 Call it what you want. But I understand human nature.

Nicole Brown Simpson was a natural beauty: blonde hair; soft hazel eyes; long, shapely legs; well-toned arms. There wasn't an ounce of fat on her lean, perfectly defined muscular frame. She was a natural athlete, graceful and feline.

Her innate sensuality was like a magnet to men including O.J. He was one of the fastest cocksmen in town—and he zeroed right in on Nicole.

She was a thoroughbred and knew how to push his buttons.

Their marriage was to last for seven years before they divorced. Through-out their nearly two decades together, their sexual attraction to each other was quite astounding. Sometime late in their marriage, around 1990, O.J. wanted Nic to have larger breasts.

When it comes to breasts, Dr. Glassman charges more than most. "But then, the best doctors always do!" Nicole told me. The girls in our group used to joke that Harry Glassman's breasts—and those done by his ex-partner, Larry Koplin—were the only ones worthy of the notoriously expensive LaPerla bra.

Nicole loved her breasts, and wondered how she ever got along without them. She now believed they were necessary for her body to look proportionate. And she thanked O.J. profusely.

Her only reservation was that she didn't like how her breasts looked in clothing. But she thought they were perfect either nude or in a bathing suit.

O.J. loved Nic's new breasts but he would say "Once the Tittle Fairy comes around, you'd better watch out for your women—because they love their new bodies."

O.J. was actually predicting he'd lose her one day! Two years after her operation, Nicole filed divorce papers.

April 1994, O.J., Nicole and friends went to Mexico for Easter. We flew down to magical Cabo San Lucas and stayed at a fabulous resort called Casa Olsen.

The party included Kris and Bruce Jenner and their kids, Nicole's sister Dominique, her boyfriend, 0.J., Nicole, me and a bunch of other friends. It was paradise. We played on the beach or at the pool with the kids. The guys golfed. Later we'd all meet up poolside and order pitchers of margaritas. We'd laugh, talk, get a bit buzzed, then take off for our rooms to change clothes and join up later for dinner, usually at Carlos and Charlie's.

The food was fabulous and we'd dance and drink the night away. What made it a really perfect picture was Nicole and O.J. They were incredibly loving. After all the ups and downs of the reconciliation attempts that had started just about a year ago, I looked at Nicole and began to think, This might really work!

The first day we arrived in Mexico, Nicole and I were sitting alone on the beach while the kids played down by the shoreline. I asked her, "Is everything really okay with you and O.J.? You guys really look like you've worked it all out."

"Faye, I think this is it. We're getting back together for good!"

OJ was beaming and told Christian that he was now sure the reconciliation finally worked.

The next day, O.J. flew to Puerto Rico for filming on The Frogmen. That evening we went to the Palmilla restaurant for dinner .Nicole seemed distant. As we sipped cappuccino, Nicole floored me when she said , " I can't be with O.J, it's over."

"Whoa, whoa, lady," I gasped. "You kept telling me for the past three days how much you dig 0.J., that everything's bliss, that you're going to move back in together. Then he leaves—and the next minute you tell me you don't want anything to do with him. What the fuck is going on here?

Kato, circa 1994, was (IMO) a fine-looking man. He was dumb like a fox. Free place to live in Brentwood. Friends with money buying meals all the time. Maybe some occasional pussy from Nicole. He had a nice arrangement.

"Whoa, whoa, lady," I gasped. "You kept telling me for the past three days how much you dig 0.J., that everything's bliss, that you're going to move back in together. Then he leaves—and the next minute you tell me you don't want anything to do with him. What the fuck is going on here?

"Faye, O.J. totally satisfied me. After we got divorced it was hard for me to adjust to the fact that I wasn't having constant sex. But I never found another man who could turn me on the way O.J. did—except for one." She didn't have to say the name. Marcus Allen.

It was a sun-drenched, perfect Cabo San Lucas day. Nicole and I had decided to take Kris's teen-aged girls, Kourtney and Kimberly along with Simone Harouche down to the native silver market in the town. Kris didn't come with us; she had caught a bug.

At night, The first place we hit was named Squid Row, and the minute we went out on the dance floor together, a crowd of guys congregated. They all looked like little boys standing at a candy counter. Nic and I checked them out, sort of looking without looking. Not a hunk among them.

Nic was going to end up "doing" this guy. He introduced himself as Josh, then led us back to his table. There were two or three other guys in his party, one from Los Angeles, Don. After introductions all around, Nic dragged Josh out onto the dance floor. I knew she'd be gone for a while.

Nic was sitting on Josh's lap. They were kissing and cuddling, so I got up and sat on Don's lap, which he seemed to liked very much. He'd been trying to get me to be with him.

We finally left. I diplomatically dumped Don. Nicole had the magnificent Josh firmly in tow. We went to our villa, and I headed for my bedroom. Nic whispered, "See you in the morning."

"I can't wait for the details!" I answered. And off I went to sleep alone in that soothing Cabo San Lucas night air.

R194 = consumer of old peoples excrement.

I always thought she looked hard as nails. Although I am sure OJ was not a saint either.

She sounds awful.

Doesn't change the fact that OJ murdered her, nor does it mitigate, justify, or even really explain it.

Her level of being awful literally changes nothing about the facts of the case and doesn't make her murder any less brutal or more deserved.

R225 It's Not a fact that he killed her. It's your (and people) opinion.

OP is jealous of Nicole, which is why he loathes her.

She represents to him the thing that he most fears:

Nicole was like a typical DLer. She liked sex, and got a lot of sex. But she one-ups the typical DLer because the bitch got OJ Simpson, Marcus Allen and sexy Grant Cramer in their prime. Prime dick.

OP is jealous and threatened by a woman who dared to go after men when he would do the exact same.

Except he wasn't getting the prime dick Nicole was getting. OP can only dream.

[quote]It's Not a fact that he killed her.

It actually is. Science doesn't lie.

Continued:

The next morning I snuggled in Nic's bed as she gushed about her night with Josh. I knew right away it was no big deal. She liked him; she'd enjoyed him sexually; but she wasn't passionate about him.

Then she told me, "OJ's been sending me faxes from Puerto Rico. He wants me to call him."

"What are you going to do?"

"Fucking ignore him. I told you. It's over."

God, I thought, 0.J.'s going to go crazy when she doesn't return his faxes or call him. Here O.J. thought he had Nicole back, They were perfectly happy and love had truly bloomed in Cabo San Lucas before he'd left for Puerto Rico.

When Nicole withdraws, she withdraws. No phone calls. No contact. Absolutely nothing.

I left our villa alone and went over to see Kris and the kids for a while. She was still ill. Later, Nicole and I had lunch down by the beach. Josh joined us. His fascination with Nic was almost painful to watch. I picked up the disappointment in his face when Nicole said, "I think I'm probably going to leave tomorrow or the next day.

On the sixth day, O.J. phoned me from Puerto Rico. "I've been calling Nicole every day, Faye...What's going on?"

His voice was tense, angry. "I can't believe this!"

I calmed him down and called Nicole. She casually admitted O.J. had been calling incessantly, and she'd said things like, "I just don't want to talk right now."

The next day O.J. phoned me again. He started in right away. "What have I done to deserve this, Faye? What's wrong with Nicole? You've got to tell me what's going on.".

I just said, "O.J., look...I don't know what's going on with Nicole. I just know she seems withdrawn. She's not even talking to me about what's going on inside her."

OJ said "Faye, if she's going to leave me, tell me now. I can't take it. I won't go back there, I'll go to Florida. I won't come back to L.A"

I told him not to worry, that everything was fine. Today I feel guilty about that. Should I have told him that she was leaving him? Would he have then flown to Florida, where Paula Barbieri lived, and given up on Nicole?

On April 30, Nicole went to the airport to pick up O.J. When they arrived at my house to join our birthday party for Christian of about forty people,

I just couldn't believe Nicole. She played the dutiful wife perfectly! Everyone was surprised at how loving they were. They never fought once. Nicole sat on the floor next to O.J.'s chair, looking up at him adoringly.

Even O.J.'s behavior was different that night. He's usually the most sociable man in the world. But he hardly talked to anyone. All his attention focused on Nicole.

At one point, they disappeared into my bedroom for a half hour. It was incredible behavior!

The next day Nicole called to tell me what a great time they'd had. I finally asked her, "Nic, you guys looked so together last night. I'm confused again. Is everything okay?"

'We had a really nice time last night, Faye. But I haven't changed my mind. By the way, tonight O.J. wants to go check out the House Of Blues."

I was astounded! "Nic, I just don't get you at all! Usually, when someone's going to leave someone, they act like they're not too happy. Or am I losing my mind? What is it about you two? How can you tell me you absolutely won't stay with 0.J., then say things are great and you're going off with him to the House of Blues? What's going on?"

Nic just laughed. She didn't want to talk about it. I tried to figure out exactly what was going on with them now. Nicole kept telling me it was over, but she kept going out with him.

When it came to 0.J., she just couldn't make up her mind.

No one could court a woman like The Juice. He had his game down perfectly. It was candy, jewelry, champagne, caviar, room service, and romance—or whatever it took. 0..J's suave superstar style had seduced some of the world's most beautiful women, but he had that weak spot for that one woman.

Two days after a lovey-dovey night at the House of Blues, Nicole blew up at him again.

The phone rang. It was O.J. He started right on me. '1 told you, Faye, you better tell me if she's going to leave me. She's acting weird, getting in my face. I'm going crazy here. I'm really pissed at you. Faye, you promised you'd tell me if she's going to leave me. I trusted you to tell me. Why didn't you?"

What the hell had happened now? I knew I'd find out soon. Whenever they had trouble, they both used me as the mediator—so I expected Nicole to be on the phone at any second.

I tried to calm O.J. down. "O.J. you know what you need to do right now? You need to go see a shrink. In fact, I think you and Nicole should go and see a shrink together."

O.J. started agreeing with me and said he'd call right away for an emergency session. I hadn't even known he'd had a therapist. I hung up, surprised that Nicole hadn't phoned me yet. Maybe she didn't think it was any big deal. She'd probably just given O.J. a hard time, and he went off the deep end because he sensed she was moody.

Later that day, O.J. called again. This time he sounded upbeat. "Faye, I just got back from the shrink." We talked for a while, and he ended up telling me, "I'm going to be patient no matter what it takes, Faye, no matter what I have to do. I want to be back with my wife. And if I have to eat crow for a while, I will."

Things were on between OJ and Nicole for few days until she gave him the cold shoulder again.

My phone rang, It was 0.J., yelling, cursing. "Faye, that fucking bitch, she told me she never wants to be with me again..."

"0J., listen..."

He cut me off "I can't take this, Faye, I can't take this. Why do I have to be in a relationship like this? I didn't ask to be in this relationship. I divorced Nicole. Then she came back to me when I was perfectly happy with Paula. She begged me to get together again. She instigated this whole thing. She forced me into this, Faye. I was happy with Paula. I mean, really happy. until Nicole started all this shit again"

In mid-May, Nicole came down with double pneumonia. The doctor ordered total bed rest. . About the fourth day, O.J. showed up at her condo. As Nicole's days of sickness stretched into weeks, OJ constantly dropped by with flowers and presents and he took care of the kids.

...On a sunny Beverly Hills morning, I dropped Francesca off at her school, stopped by Starbucks for my morning cappuccino, then headed down Bundy Drive toward Christian's office. Nicole lived on Bundy, and as I passed her house I glanced over automatically—and my heart almost stopped. There, outside Nicole's house, was Marcus Allen's car.

At first I went into denial. Was I mistaken? Perhaps it wasn't Marcus's car. This was ridiculous. I knew damn well it was.

[quote]Is OP going to copy and paste the entire book?

No. He's leaving out all references to the violence and physical abuse. Why isn't he copying and pasting those chapters? OP's creepy agenda is clear.

The relationship sounds exhausting. I wonder if Nicole wanted to get back together because she didn't think she could do better, financially. Let's face it, she had harpooned a whale.

Yes, OJ was handsome. I've seen interviews with him and he cannot seem to STFU. Chatty Cathy. Who wants to listen to that for very long.

On the other hand, Nicole and Faye sounded like a couple of skanks.

Finally at noon, I called Nicole Nicole, what are you doing? You're playing with fire! This is something you just don't do. Don't you know how dangerous this is?"

"Faye, I dig him. He makes me feel really good."

' How do you think this can lead to anything but O.J. blowing up. This is even worse than before, Marcus just got married to Kathryn, what, six months ago? You remember, don't you? It was a quiet little ceremony with about a million people up at O.J.'s own house! Look, I'm not your mother, but you're doing something really off the wall here."

"Faye, I didn't ask for your advice. If I want your advice, I'll ask you."

Now she'd pissed me off. "Don't give me that, Nicole. You've asked for my advice through this whole thing. We plotted, we planned, you wanted my help every step of the way, and I gave it to you.

I knew it was pointless to argue anymore right now. When in doubt, go back to the banal.

Nicole never cheated on OJ while they were married. OJ did cheat on her throughout the marriage. Nicole was never violent toward OJ. He was violent and physically abusive toward her throughout the marriage. Yet OP thinks OJ is the sympathetic person here, based on how Nicole (supposedly) behaved after the divorce. Even if one decides he doesn't like Nicole or the kind of person she was, how does he have good will and compassion toward someone capable of stabbing two people to death in cold blood? Someone with no remorse for having done something that horrific? It's beyond comprehension that people defend OJ Simpson.

Nic. You're with Marcus Again? Don't you realize that it's going to be really bad if O.J. gets wind of this?, Marcus is OJ's second best friend, he's like a brother to him."

"O.J.'s been laying low lately, Faye. He calls the kids constantly but I haven't even seen him. I think he might be out of town."

"Yeah, maybe. But we don't know that, do we? And if he saw Marcus's car outside your house in plain sight?

"Faye, Marcus makes me feel good."

How can I describe the intensity of my relationship with Nicole, particularly toward the end?

We had become more than friends. Call it what you will, bonded sisters, soulmates, confidantes—some palpable force, some emotion I'd never experienced, drew us together.

One night, we became lovers.

Let me answer the unspoken question: No It never happened again.

What's the worst thing Nicole did? Toy with OJ's emotions? The man cheated on her throughout their marriage and stalked her when they were divorced.

What else? Oh, she had sex with other men than OJ when they were not together? Clutch your pearls.

She went after dick that she wanted. Like all of DLers do. But because she was a woman, she needs to be vilified by OP.

Another opportunity to shame a woman for satisfying her sexual desires. The hypocrisy is staggering.

It's not beyond comprehension that people defend Simpson. Blacks folks support him against "the man" and "white bitch lady" and for payback. It's that simple. Immoral, but simple to grasp.

Even though it was Sunday, I'd had a busy day at Exodus attending various group sessions. Nicole had left messages for me, and I couldn't wait to call her back. By the time I got out of my last group, it was pointless to call Nicole because she would be at the recital by now. I'd been counting the minutes until I could call her.

She'd probably be home by nine o'clock that evening. That's when I phoned, and she answered immediately. "Nic, my God, I'm dying of excitement here. Tell me what happened? How did it go? Was Sydney beautiful?"

Nicole said. "Oh she was so cute. I wish you could have been there. She danced so well, Faye."

"What happened with OJ?"

"Well, But after the recital, when we were standing around, O.J. came over to me and said, 'This is our daughter's recital, and I would really like to be a part of it, I want to see Sydney and Justin after the recital"

" I told him that I didn't want him sitting with us.

"What did he say, Nic?"

"I don't know. Before he could say much of anything, I told him, fuck off! You're not welcome with this family anymore.' "

As Nicole spoke, I was shaking my head in disbelief.

To be continued tomorrow with more Nicole Brown's nasty cunty stories.

R239 Toyed with his emotion??? You're underestimating it.

It was emotional and psychological abuse. Plus verbal abuse. Nicole basically fucked up his mind so bad and drove him crazy.

About the stalking, Nicole stalked him after the divorce when he finally moved on with his life. She thrived on OJ's so called obsession. Even her close friends admitted the obsession was mutual. It was not one sided.

Fuck Nicole Brown for ruining this good man life.

R228 Still, It's not fact. Its results can be manipulated and tampered with.

The known Fact is OJ was acquitted in a court of law and vindicated. No matter what people and media say.

Only God knows what really happened.

R237 Plus the emotional and verbal abuse. Nicole physically abused OJ as well. Friends, family and maids witnessed Nicole's physical abuse toward OJ and her initiation to the physical fights.

[quote]Still, It's not fact. Its results can be manipulated and tampered with.

Yes, it is fact. DNA proved OJ did it.

R246 No, The crime scene and blood samples were manipulated and tampered with. The police officers and criminal investigators made many significant errors. So the results were not reliable.

Therefore, they couldn't convict OJ of the crime.

Bullshit r247. There was so much blood at Bundy and Rockingham I would've been impossible for it all to be tampered with. Furthermore, nobody had any idea where OJ was when they found the glove and collected the blood. You don't frame someone if you don't 100% know where they were at the time the crime was committed.

You are an absolute moron.

Over nine weeks of testimony, 108 exhibits of DNA evidence, including 61 drops of blood, were presented at trial. Testing was cross-referenced and validated at three separate labs using different tests with no discrepancies found. The prosecution offered the defense access to the evidence samples to conduct their own testing, but they declined.

The glove contained DNA from Simpson and both victims, and since the blood did not contain EDTA, the possibility of it coming from the reference vials was ruled out. Thus, if Fuhrman planted the glove at Rockingham from the crime scene, Simpson's blood would have to have been at the crime scene, contradicting his claim of being home on the night of the murders. Fuhrman's DNA was also not found on the glove, thus supporting his claim that he did not plant it. The prosecution argued that Fuhrman did not plant the glove because he did not know if Simpson had an airtight alibi that night. LA County Deputy District Attorney Vincent Bugliosi concurred with the prosecutor's argument, noting as well that Fuhrman did not know whose blood was on it at the time either.

The DNA in Nicole Brown's reference vial was more degraded than her DNA on the sock from Simpson's bedroom, thus proving it could not have come from that vial, as the defense alleged. Simpson's blood was at the crime scene and the blood of both Brown and Ron Goldman was in the Bronco, neither of which could be explained by cross-contamination.

Believe what you want. It's your opinion and you're entitled to it.

However, I'm going to limit my posts and responses in this thread to Nicole Brown's rotten nasty behavior and actions.

See you all tomorrow!

Interesting that Justin is now with a woman who has some Nicole-qualities.

OJ isn’t really good.

R254 OJ is essentially a good decent man. Nicole Brown was a rotten cunt.

R253 Like father, like son but I hope Justin's girlfriend is a nice stable woman unlike Nicole Brown.

From Raging Heart: The Intimate Story of the Tragic Marriage of O.J. and Nicole Brown Simpson - 1995

"This liberal attitude of Judith, however, was one Nicole knew not to expect from her father, a man who had made casually bigoted references in conversations and had once dismayingly told his daughter Denise that when he was growing up in Texas, he had known a black boy—and had become prejudiced because of him!

In the coming months, O.J. was at the Brown house more than one time when a telephone call led one of the sisters to say, "Daddy's coming!," whereupon O.J. would bolt out the door.

Just as she was about most things, Nicole was blunt to O.J. Judi recalls: "She said, 'I don't know if you should be here. I'm not sure my dad is going to accept you.' He said, 'Why?' She said, 'Well, you are black" And he said, 'Well, yeah.'

"I think my father's final reaction," Denise says, "was, 'Well, if it's gonna be a black guy, I'm glad it's someone who's not a bum.'

"But as different as they were, what Nina and Ron Shipp had in common with O.J. and Nicole is that they, too, were an interracial couple. Therefore, Nicole—who to all others both blithely and adamantly denied any concern whatsoever about that aspect of her relationship with O.J. —turned to Nina with the worries she may have felt she could share with no one else. Sometimes her questions were blunt. "What's it like getting married to a N....?" she wanted to know now.

One day when Nicole was halfway through her pregnancy and David was a few months old, Nicole called Nina, sounding anxious and worried. "I've got to see a picture of David!" she said. "What does his hair look like? Is it nappy? O.J.'s hair is so nappy?."

Nina put Nicole at ease. "David has very loose curls," Nina replied. Nicole seemed much relieved. "Don't worry, the hair will be fine," Nina said. adding, "The hair is the least of your worries."

Another MRA troll.

" Nicole could provoke O.J. She gave as well as she got. "She knew how to push O.J.'s buttons" Five people, independently, uttered that identical sentence.

Drinking was also a problem, Nicole did drink, and that drinking often escalated the animosity between them, leading to fighting.

One of Simpson's closest male friends, who witnessed their tumultuous relationship, said to another "One of these days, one of them is going to kill the other." The remark was accompanied by something more rueful than laughter but less than literal conviction.

Cici says, echoing the sentiments of many other of the couple's friends: "Nicole was locked into him as he was to her. There was nothing they didn't know about each other. Whether they were together or apart, they each knew there would never be a relationship like the one they had with each other. They just couldn't finish this thing between them.

One male friend says he saw Nicole "slap O.J. and kick him in the balls at least three times during the eighties. Of course he acted like it didn't hurt—he was Mr. Macho. But when he said, in the note he wrote [on June 17, 1994], that he was a 'battered husband,' that's what I think he was referring to."

One day Nicole called Ron Shipp and asked him to accompany her to the apartment of her housekeeper, whom we'll call Carmen. Carmen was a good housekeeper and an outstanding cook. Unfortunately, however, one of Nicole's prized diamond drop earrings, a Christmas present from O.J., was missing, and Nicole strongly suspected Carmen had taken it.

Ron Shipp, who found it hard to say no to people who needed him, nevertheless had misgivings about such a house call. He was a police officer; he couldn't spend off-duty hours facilitating a civilian's search mission on her employee's home. He voiced these reservations. Nicole begged him to help her. He said he would, but only if Nicole promised she would be calm and quiet and let him do the talking. "I promise! I promise!" she said.

But when they got to Carmen's apartment in the Miracle Mile area, no sooner did they ring the bell and Carmen answer than Nicole stormed right in and said, "You stole my diamond earring!" Carmen denied the charge and demanded, "I want you out of my house!" Ron gestured for Nicole to come out, but she was too angry to notice or leave. "I'm not getting out of this house until I get my earring back!" she shouted. "And I want you, Officer Ron"—Carmen knew his name from his visits to Rockingham—"out of my house, too!"

"Nicole, let's get out of here!" Ron said. He finally managed to get Nicole out, and all the way back to the house he worried that Carmen would file a complaint and get him suspended from the force for a month.

The mystery of the lost earring was never resolved. What may be most apparent from the incident is how Nicole could push things with people to the edge. And not heed warnings.

.... But as their friendship went on and Nicole got a sense of the marriage Linda Schulman had with Ricky Schulman, Nicole started comparing OJ to Ricky.

She always said, 'Why can't O.J. be more like Ricky?' " recalls Judi Brown. According to Judi, O.J. used to say, "Nicole, why are you always comparing me to Ricky? Ricky is the way he is but I have more things to do than he does. Ricky works regular hours, he's free at night. My day doesn't stop at five—I have appointments in the evening."

Judi took O.J.'s side. "I said to Nicole," she remembers, "'You know, most daddies are not like Ricky Schulman. He really is an exception. Most men work, make money, come home—they're tired." And I told her, 'Nicole, don't keep saying Ricky's such a better father than O.J. or O.J. will never want to be around Ricky.' "

One thing is evident here: Nicole baited O.J. by comparing him to other men. "If she saw a guy weight lifting on the beach, one friend says, "she'd turn to O.J. and say, 'Why don't you look like that anymore?' "

Whatever Nicole's complaints, they dissolved at the quintessential group activity: O.J. wowed everyone. Of the man who would eventually become "a friend I could always gossip with, giggle with, and confide in," Kris Jenner recalls thinking when she first got to know him, "Here was a guy with incredible charisma. He had a great personality. He could charm the pants, I mean, the socks—off anyone. When you're in a room with O.J., you're taken in. You're in awe. There's nobody who can have more fun at a party than O.J. Simpson. And what fun we had."

To continued with OJ's side of the story from "If I did it" book

R255, both of them were rotten and deserved one another.

It was Nicole's ghost that asked what skin color Meghan & Harry's baby would have.

And OJ was no prize either OK

R266 No, OJ is a good man who got ruined and damaged by a rotten cunt/Nicole

So which of his daughters is here posting this on a gay men's website?

R268 None

I'm just someone who wants to expose the truth about Nicole Brown. What a nasty rotten mean cunt she was who ruined and driven a good kind man into insanity.

If there was an abuse, it was both sided. Mutual abuse often initiated by Nicole's erratic behavior and violence.

Enough with the saint/martyr Nicole Brown BS. Fuck her.

That's why she got along so well with Kris Jenner

R270 and Faye Resnick

Nobody thinks she was a saint. Nobody cares.

She was murdered. Her head almost sliced off, and her husband is the most likely perp.

No one has been here sanctifying her.

I believe OJ killed her but I love when DLers post book excerpts on famous people. I would never buy the books or read about it myself, the trial was everywhere in the 90's so I never had any desire to read more on it. However, this does explain why Nicole kept going back to OJ and no OP, no one ever thought she was a saint.

R272 R273 Nicole Brown has been sanctified since her death, especially so in the recent years after various documentaries.

Nicole is portrayed as the helpless abused victim and OJ as the cold blooded monster. Again, if there was an abuse, it was mutual abuse. OJ was abused as well.

OJ is a good man, flawed of course, but certainly not a monster, who was driven crazy and pushed to the edge by this nasty rotten abusive woman.

R273 "However, this does explain why Nicole kept going back to OJ"

Nicole Brown considered OJ as strictly money and sex machine. Nothing else. She didn't love him.

However, OJ genuinely and truly loved her, Nicole knew this and constantly played with his emotions and mind. The price OJ paid for loving this rotten woman was high unfortunately.

This photo sums up Nicole's relationship with OJ

It appears that the Kardashian clan fetish with black men stemmed from OJ Simpson.

Nicole Brown was constantly bragging and talking about her sexual life with OJ to her inner circle of friends including Kris Jenner.

[quote]Nicole is portrayed as the helpless abused victim and OJ as the cold blooded monster. Again, if there was an abuse, it was mutual abuse. OJ was abused as well.

It's really quite simple...no need to be confused, OP: The person lying on the ground in a pool of blood, dead and nearly decapitated is "the helpless abused victim" and the person who planned and carried out the slaughter is "the cold-blooded monster".

R278 No, It's not quite simple. It's not black and white situation.

From Confession: How I Helped O.J. Get Away With Murder by Mike Gilbert

There were four of us in the innermost O.J. circle: Skip Taft, Cathy Randa, Al Cowlings, and me—the lawyer, the personal assistant, the best friend, and the agent. During the trial we were inseparable, but the pain and stress dissolved our bonds and now there’s just a resigned silence.

We weren’t evil, stupid, or crazy, any of us. We knew O.J., we knew Nicole, we knew their dynamics. But unlike you, we had a profound conflict: We knew him who he was and loved him.

This shocks people, that I could forgive him the murders—I really could. Why? Because it was the worst night of his life. Because everything that night happened in the blink of an eye, and it’s that blink that nobody can comprehend—not even O.J. How can we judge him, finally, if we don’t know what happened in the fateful, dreadful blink of a moment?

But how could we forgive him for a crime he would not admit he committed?

I once screamed at him: “You bastard, I hope you committed this crime because if you didn’t, then all of our lives have been ruined for nothing!”

"because blondness"

R3 One day you will speak like an adult

O.J. shot three Naked Gun films, and I was on the set for the third one in 1993. I remember this filming, about a year before the murders, as one of the happiest times we had. O.J. and Nicole were attempting their reconciliation and I remember her calling him numerous times on the set.

I remember one of those calls quite vividly. I was sitting with O.J. in his trailer during a break in the shooting of Naked Gun 33⅓, in 1993, when Nicole called. I gathered from O.J.’s end of the conversation that Nicole was very sad and depressed about getting old, about being thirty-four, and thinking the best years of her life were behind her.

O.J. was very warm, sympathetic, and empathic. I was surprised by how sweet and kind he was on the phone toward her. “Nicole, listen,” he said. “You are a thirty-four-year-old woman, and you’re beautiful. You’re gorgeous. You’re worried about crow’s-feet? So what? You’re thirty-four, not twenty-four, and you can’t pretend you are. You can’t go back to being twenty-four again. Be who you are.”

He kept saying the same encouraging things to her over and over, and finally when he hung up, I said, “Damn. Does she know she’s your ex-wife?”

O.J. said, “Mike, how could I not care when she is sad and depressed? She is the mother of my kids. I love Nicole, but I’m not in love with her. Wouldn’t you talk to your ex-wife if she were upset?”

“No, I don’t think so,” I said

It all sounds like bullshit from top to bottom.

I wonder what his first wife would say about his propensity to violence.

Probably nothing but lies. Because the culture covers men's asses for all they do, even at the cost of multiple generations of physical, sexual and psychologically abused family members.

I think about how Nicole must have felt at that time. Her concern about aging suggests that she felt she was losing her looks, the only power she felt she had, while O.J.’s power at this time was only growing. Everyone wanted to be around O.J., even presidents.

O.J. was a member of the Riviera Country Club, a very elite, expensive country club with a championship golf course. Just weeks before the murders, in the spring of 1994, one of the Riviera Hotel executives came over to O.J. after a golf game and asked if he wanted to play golf with the president the next day.

O.J., in genuine confusion, replied, “The president of what?”

“The president of the United States.”

“Oh! That president. Sure.”

R281, still choking on old peoples excrement. Bon appetit, cunt.

I had spoken to O.J. the day before we left for Yosemite, June 10. His voice and intonation sounded dark, strange, and depressed. He sounded like a slowed-down audiotape version of himself. Everything about him was different—everything.

It wasn’t the first, but the second, time I had encountered this weirdly altered O.J. on the phone. The first time was late May or early June, when I called him from the Hyatt Hotel in Kansas City to ask why he had not signed and returned a $100,000 endorsement contract. That, first of all, was totally unlike him. In business, he was 100 percent dependable. Now he wouldn’t answer his phone and ignored a barrage of pleas from me to sign the contract and fax it back before we lost the deal.

When I finally got him on the phone, I was met with that deep, distant-sounding voice. It was as though his soul had left his body. He sounded empty, depressed.

I was very worried and even unsure if this voice on the phone really belonged to O.J. I asked him:“O.J., what year did you win the Heisman?”

He answered groggily, “1968.”

“And what year did you run 2,003 yards?”

He said every number, slowly and individually, nineteen . . . seventy . . . three

I hung up and immediately called Skip Taft, O.J.’s business attorney, mentor, and guiding light for two decades.

“Skip,” I said, “what is wrong with O.J.?”

Skip sighed, in that gentle, fatherly manner he had when things got rough, and I remember verbatim what he said: “Mike, Nicole has O.J. so fucked up, he doesn’t know whether he’s coming or going. He doesn’t know what’s up or down.” That was the only time I ever heard Skip curse.

After a pause, I said, “Okay,” but I wasn’t satisfied with that explanation, because with Nicole and O.J., that was just business as usual. They were always driving each other crazy.

It was only later during the criminal trial that I learned that O.J. had been placed on a heavy dose of an anti-depressant drug—something O.J. later said was supposed to make him feel better but that only made him worse. That was why he sounded like that. Knowing O.J., if the doctor told him to take two a day he would take four.

Skip told me to fax the contract to him, and said he would take it over to O.J.’s house at Rockingham, have him sign it, and fax it back to me. That was how we resolved it

On June 13 .... I got the answering machine at the house and started leaving a message for my wife, Debbie. She picked up the phone and cut me off.

“Mike,” she said, “Nicole’s been murdered and O.J. is in handcuffs. You need to get to Rockingham.”

After a brief silence, I said, “So one of them finally did it.”

Debbie shut off the answering machine.

“What did you say? Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know why I said that.”

The inner circle, the outer circle, and every possible layer of any O.J. circle that ever existed were calling my house. People we were doing business with, with whom we had signed various sorts of contracts, were wondering what to expect and whether they would get their money back.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” I said. “The guy’s wife’s been murdered and he’s in handcuffs. We have to wait and see. I don’t know any more than you do."

I called Marcus’s house and got his sister-in-law, Debbie, on the phone. She said Marcus and his wife, Kathryn, were in the Cayman Islands, which I knew. They had flown out late the night before.

“Does Marcus know what’s going on?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Tell him I need him to call me.” Marcus called moments later.

“You know what’s going on?” I asked him.

“Yes,” he said. He asked me how I was.

“Blown away,” I said. “I can’t believe Nicole is dead. When are you coming back?”

I expected him to say, “Immediately.”

Instead he said, “Mike, I’m not coming back.”

“What? Why?” I asked, absolutely blindsided. “You’re going to come back for the funeral, aren’t you?”

Again he said flatly, “No.”

I couldn’t comprehend anything anymore. Marcus and Kathryn had been married at O.J.’s house. He had been friends with O.J. since he was in college.

“Mike, it’s going to be a media circus,” he explained. “It’s going to be crazy. You shouldn’t go either. There is no need.”

I remember saying to myself, well, if one of their closest friends isn’t going to the funeral, I certainly don’t have to go. So I let myself off the hook, too. To this day, I regret it. I never liked Nicole much or, more correctly, we never really bonded much, but I should have gone to her funeral.

R285 k

We’d all been watching tentatively as Nicole and O.J. tried to reconcile their marriage during the year before the murders. They were fully divorced, but Nicole insisted they might be able to put things back together.

The plan was to date for one year, from Mother’s Day 1993 to Mother’s Day 1994, then make a decision.

It was toward the end of that year that things grew ominous. It was obvious to most of us that it wasn’t working out, that they were repeating the same cycle that drove them apart in the first place.

O.J. and I were sitting in his office on San Vicente Boulevard and he asked me very sincerely, “Mike, I’m thinking about getting back together with Nicole. What do you think?”

“I don’t think you should do it. You’ve got to give it time. Neither one of you has really changed yet. It won’t work. You can never go back again to the way it was.”

O.J. listened, then said, “Okay, man. Thanks.”

I remember Cathy Randa was dead set against it as well. Really, nobody thought it was a good idea, except for Nicole first and then OJ

Things got worse and worse, and reached an all-time low point starting on Mother’s Day, 1994. That was when things really spun out.

Nicole had rather actively been pursuing O.J. for some time, calling him constantly, and springing surprise visits on him at out-of-town events, which was not good because he often had other women around.

It fell upon me and Cathy Randa to clear the runways in time for Nicole’s surprise arrivals.

After the divorce, Sometimes I remember Nicole would call, O.J. would put her on hold, and just leave her there, then not answer when she called back.

Nicole had not reacted well to being put out of the castle—Rockingham—where she was queen. In her condo, lavish though it was, she lost status, she was just another rich California divorcée—no longer the wife of an icon.

She was pushing hard to move back into Rockingham and really make it work again. O.J. basically shunned her. The simple truth is, he was enjoying all his other women until he finally relented to Nicole and we all wish he didn't.

Nicole had a real temper. She was not a good drunk. When the two of them would start arguing it was not fun to be around. We all dreaded it.

Crazy cunt, crazy cunt’d too hard and paid the price

R293 It's sad that the good person ( OJ ) in this toxic couple, is the one who paid the price.

I was with O.J. on October 25, 1993, the day of the now-infamous 911 call that Nicole made O.J. was filming scenes in the Naked Gun 33⅓ movie in the Shrine Auditorium in L.A. and I’d driven down so he could sign Heisman footballs and work on some business affairs in between scenes. Normally O.J. was incredibly charming, charismatic, high energy, but on this occasion he was just in a bad mood. It was during their reconciliation peroid.

I finally said, “O.J., what’s the matter?”

He said: “It’s just more Nicole bullshit.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s just more of her fucking bullshit. I’m just fucking tired of it.”

I remember looking at my watch and saying, “It’s my anniversary, O.J. If I don’t get to the restaurant in time for dinner, I’ll have another ex-wife.”

I remember he said, “Well, that’s the last motherfucking thing you want is another ex-wife.”

He wound up going over to Nicole’s house on Gretna Green that evening—the night of the 911 call. Something obviously set him off, that he’d found Nicole giving oral sex to a bartender named Keith Zlomsowitch in her living room while the kids were asleep upstairs.

The 911 story wound up in the National Enquirer. O.J. called Nicole when she was on her way to the airport with her new friend Faye Resnick to go on a trip, and said, “Get a copy of the National Enquirer at the airport.” In it was an account of not only the 911 call, It was so detailed, O.J. was certain it must have been leaked by somebody in Nicole's inner circle.

O.J. did love Nicole very deeply, but he was also very angry at her for the way she treated him and for always throwing him off balance.

The avalanche started with a few pebbles: Everything that could go wrong in the weeks and days leading up to the murders, did go wrong.

Everything.

O.J. and Nicole had been fighting for seventeen years at that point. Whenever OJ asked me if I thought he should get back together with Nicole, I always said, “No way.”

I didn’t think it would ever be different, and I was exhausted myself, seeing O.J. always so stressed out and unpredictable. Every day it was something else. If Nicole pissed him off, he took it out on us.

Seeing O.J. in jail tore me apart. It may disgust you to hear me express sympathy for him. But this doesn’t mean I didn’t also sympathize with the murder victims, the kids, and the victims’ families. The two didn’t cancel each other out. The world isn’t that simple, try as we might to make it so. —O.J. was my friend, I loved him. And I felt sorry for him.

In jail, at least he was protected from all the hate and he knew what to expect from one minute to the next. Unlike a segment of the public, the jail guards treated him well. When he got out, he never knew where or when the next person would hiss “murderer,” or walk out of a restaurant at the mere sight of him, or spit on the ground after he passed by.

In jail, things were predictable and ordered. Because he was incarcerated, the people around him didn’t feel the need to lash out with their own personal punishments. They left him alone. They accorded him his dignity.

DL is really becoming a cesspool

Nicole was a histrionic whore who pushed him to the edge.

And then, the DNA evidence began arriving. When it did, I went in to sit with O.J., to lend him support. He looked numb.

“You know, Mike,” he said, “it’s weird. I watch this DNA evidence . . . I believe in this stuff. I believe in this science. I look at all this . . . and I see it and I think I know I had to have done this.”

He paused and offered me a vacant look. And then he said, “But Mike, if I did it . . . wouldn’t I remember that I did it?”

Remember the last time I spoke to O.J. before the murders? He sounded slow, incoherent, and drugged-out. It turns out that he was on Prozac. Why is this relevant?

Dr. Joseph Glenmullen, the author of Prozac Backlash, said in an interview for this book, “If O.J. committed these murders while on Prozac, he would remember it like a dream, like something outside of himself, something he saw from above, like an out-of-body experience. He would see it as something somebody else did, not him. It’s there in some form in his mind, but not as true memory. It’s called a disassociative state. It’s the mind protecting itself. “

Dr. Glenmullen’s comments seem to be consistent with O.J.’s. In his 2007 book If I Did It, O.J. relayed that after the murders, he found himself standing outside Nicole’s house, but “I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten there, when I’d arrived, or even why I was there.” “Where the fuck was I when this shit went down?” he asked himself. He said it was “like part of my life was missing—like there was some weird gap in my existence.”

Those of us who accepted his guilt, however reluctantly, had trouble explaining what seized him on the night of June 12. But we knew it was something that sprang from hell and grabbed him—something, for once, he couldn’t outrun. We knew he was spiraling downward, we knew he was in trouble, especially in the days right before the murders.

I sometimes feel as if his circle of friends understood this, understood that O.J. was a victim of something outside his control, but that he could never admit it.

As the trial continued, O.J.’s friends and well-wishers continued to fall away. The betrayals continued to sting.

We were all pretty good people before June 12. Now we are all damaged goods—passably decent people who were left with a series of bad choices, and eventually many of us chose just about all of them. I certainly did.

The only person who I can look back and say was stellar is Skip Taft. To this day, Skip has not turned his back on O.J., nor has he ever spoken on the record about the trial.

People always ask the same thing when they find out my history. As soon as they hear about my relationship to OJ, they ask two questions. First they ask, “Did he do it?” Then they ask, “Why would you represent someone you know murdered two people?”

I generally ignored the first question, but always answered the second one. My answer has perhaps become threadbare over the years, but I still believe it and still stand by it. The line I quote is spoken by Susan Sarandon’s character in Dead Man Walking. She is a nun who stands for mercy and says, “I will not judge a man by the worst day of his life.”

I still don’t judge O.J. solely by what he may have done on June 12, 1994. That was the worst day of his life. I believe in mercy, forgiveness, and redemption.

I remember one night after O.J. got out of jail, we went for a drive and I played a song by Garth Brooks called “The Dance.” The theme of the song is: if we knew how things would turn out, would we change it? You may miss out on some of the pain, but you’d also have to miss the joy, the dance.

I asked him, “O.J., if you could change it, if you could change it all, and never have met Nicole, never have fallen in love with her, never have had that first kiss with her, never have had kids with her, never have had any of it, would you change it?”

We listened to its lyrics about love, pain, and loss. After the song was over we sat quietly.

O.J. said, “Mike, if I didn’t feel like killing myself before, I do now.”

I don’t know why I never bonded with Nicole. I remember one time when I had driven to Brentwood from Hanford—a three-hour drive—to do a signing with O.J. at Rockingham. He had completely forgotten about it, and so I called him at Nicole’s. He apologized profusely and asked me to just bring the stuff over to Bundy and he would sign it there.

Nicole blew a gasket. I could hear her in the background, yelling at O.J. I had driven three hours and this was only going to take about an hour of his time. She wouldn’t budge. So I drove all the way back to Hanford with the stuff unsigned in the trunk.

It happened another time. O.J. and I were in negotiations, for a fund-raiser to benefit a center. They wanted him very badly, and were going to pay us $25,000. I was also negotiating a private autograph signing for the same amount. We were set to make $50,000 in one day.

He came back to me and said Nicole didn’t want him to do it.

“What?” I said. “They’re sending a private plane for you. You’ll be back in L.A. by nightfall. It’s an easy gig.”

“Nope. Can’t do it. I promised Nicole we’d take the kids to the zoo that day.”

“Can’t you guys go to the zoo the next day?”

I was incredulous. But it was hopeless. The answer was no, because Nicole said so.

I got a little testy with her that time. I said to her, “You know, Nicole, you have no concept of money. I don’t have a bottomless checkbook or platinum card. I have to work for a living.”

She just shrugged it off and said, “We’re going to the zoo, period.”

I don’t know if they ended up at the zoo or not

Speaking for myself, and not for anybody else who worked for O.J., I felt we were making Nicole lifestyle possible by making sure O.J. upheld his professional commitments and kept making money. Nicole hardly ever worked a day in her life after the time she was a waitress. That was when O.J. met her and they fell in love.

O.J. felt she should have been more grateful for the lifestyle he gave her—she lived in luxury, as did her entire family, thanks to O.J. Everything she had was because of him: the luxury condos, the cars, the vacations, everything. I tended to agree with him on this.

I think in the end Nicole became spoiled and corrupted.

In 1994, O.J. was one of NBC’s commentators for the Super Bowl in Atlanta. Nicole had tickets for a group of us to go to the game together. She was staying at the Ritz-Carlton, so the plan was for her to meet me in the lobby. I called when I was on my way. I called when I got there. She kept saying she needed more time, ten more minutes, ten more minutes. Finally she said, “Just come up to the room.” I let the cab go, and went up. She was just stepping out of the tub and was wrapped in a towel. She certainly was not shy, and she was definitely not apologetic. She handed me the ticket and I thanked her. She said, “Don’t thank me, thank O.J.”

Many who worked for O.J. had a problem with Nicole. She treated us dismissively and sometimes even with hostility.

She was certainly not warm to me or Cathy Randa, or Michelle, the housekeeper. Nicole had once socked Michelle on the jaw for no reason other than that Michelle infuriated her with her mere presence at Rockingham.

O.J. stopped Michelle from filing a police report, but couldn’t stop her from resigning. Her replacement, Gigi, fared no better.

Nicole, when she was in her mode of “stalking” O.J. after their separation, would march into Rockingham and try to get access to his office.

She would try to give orders to Gigi. When Gigi would not obey her, saying, “I don’t work for you, I work for O.J.,” Nicole would become enraged.

In retrospect I realize how angry and flustered Nicole became after she was unseated as O.J.’s wife, after she and the kids left Rockingham. In that last year before her death, she wanted to move back to Rockingham even more than she wanted to get back together with O.J.

Nicole had developed an acute longing for that house, She knew that to get back together with O.J. she had to get back into Rockingham. She pleaded with him to let her move back in. He was rather hesistant about it

Rockingham was a huge part of O.J.’s life. He had always loved that house more than just about anything . He’d lived there with both of his wives and raised two families there. He lived there through the best times of his life, and the worst. We never thought of it as “O.J.’s house.” It was “Rockingham,” just like Elvis’s house was Graceland

I always found the relationship—between O.J. and his house—a little strange.

It was the last day at Rockingham. O.J. had lived in that house for almost twenty-one years. It had been his port in the storm and the one thing in his life that held its center, the one thing that didn’t, in his mind, let him down or abandon or betray him. The house. You remember how badly he wanted to get to Rockingham both during the Bronco chase and when he got out of jail? “I want to go home,” he said adamantly in both cases

To be continued Tomorrow.

I don't care if she was "a nasty piece of shit." She wasn't violent or threatening and didn't deserve to be murdered.

OP, maybe you could start another thread about Nasty Pieces of Shit who still exist and were never murdered.

[quote]This shocks people, that I could forgive him the murders—I really could. Why? Because it was the worst night of his life.

OJ's associates were amoral and really stupid.

So she wasn't a sympathetic victim. Many murdered persons are not. At worst, she was a Karen.

But she still didn't deserve to be murdered.

OP, victim shaming at its best! Good job.

People need to watch the actual trial instead of slanted documentaries and TV shows. The jury got it right.

R310 It's NOT victim shaming. It's called the Truth.

People don't want to admit that women can be abusive lying rotten cunts who can push their men to the edge and drove them insane.

Nicole Brown was an abusive using cunt. She ruined a good man life.

Fuck her

R311 True.

R306 I don't think you read the entire thread.

Nicole Brown was Violent. She was emotionally, verbally and physically abusive. She instigated the fights.

As a result, their relationship was mutually abusive.

"People don't want to admit that women can be abusive lying rotten cunts who can push their men to the edge and drove them insane."

You mean like your mother, R312?

You gotta mighty big chip on your shoulders and it has to be unresolved mommy issues.

You sound really in desperate need of mental health assistance. Get it before you butcher somebody.

This thread is pro murder of white women and white men

R315 Say what you want.

Nicole Brown was a rotten abusive cunt.

R316 STFU with your racist BS.

If OJ Simpson was a white man. My opinion would be the same.

From Marcia Clark book "Without A Doubt":

Nicole out of control behavior

"I’m not sure what kind of tactics Chris used to flush Faye Resnick out of hiding in Vermont or wherever the hell she was holed up. I know he talked to her lawyer, who claimed that she was spooked over the sensation the book had caused. If we wanted her to come in to see us, he said, we’d have to assign her a security detail. I found this a little dramatic.

Faye told how she and Nicole had met in 1990 but did not hit it off until one day at a sunbathing party where they discovered that they had both banged the same guy, Joseph Perulli. Joseph had apparently broken off his relationship with Nicole, and Faye was trying to give her tips on how to win him back.

Nicole decided to beg O.J. to come back in 1993 so that they could mend their marriage. In early May 1994, Nicole was still during the reconciliation peroid with O.J., but she also told Faye that she resumed her affair with Marcus Allen

Faye looked at me solemnly and said, “I believe Nicole was doing some really wild things. I think she was out of control. Nicole had done some strange things in the last month of her life.”

It turns out that Faye and Nicole were doing a lot of coke about then.

Chris had several follow-up interviews with Faye. She flirted outrageously with him. Her pet name for him was “D’Artagnan.” A Musketeer? Go figure. She would leave throaty messages on his answering machine: “D’Artagnan, I need to speak with you.” He’d play them for me when he got to work.

From Marcia Clark book "Without A Doubt":

Nicole Brown's fake so called diaries:

"The Browns gave me a document, written by Nicole. I found Nicole’s accounts strangely dispassionate.

Nicole’s lawyers would later explain to me that they’d instructed her to write it in 1992 during the divorce in case of future litigation on alimony, custody or child support.

Juditha sat down with us for a long taped interview. And she had no memory at all of that incident following “Disney on Ice” when her son-in-law had called Nicole a “fat liar”

I showed her Nicole’s letter to refresh her memory. Nicole wrote that her mother and Mini had been there

“I don’t remember anything about that at all,” Juditha told me.

To be continued later with more Nicole Brown's nasty rotten stories from "The Other Woman: My Years With O.J. Simpson" book by Paula Barbieri

Nicole Brown reminds me of Rebecca (from Rebecca movie 1940).

OP, you're okay with the fact that OJ premeditated and stabbed the mother of his young children to death outside the house in which they were sleeping? And that he stabbed an innocent young man to death? You have compassion and understanding toward someone who could do that? Someone who never had remorse and who never admitted the truth? You might be sociopathic. That would explain this thread.

There was nothing innocent about Ron either. All of the players in this drama, victims and perpetrators, were self centered, greedy and entitled. He and Nicole didn’t deserve to be killed but they were both anything but angels.

R323 Premeditated???

IF OJ really did it (we will never really know), It was Not premeditated at all. It was during an unfortunate blackout moment. No way OJ would do this while his kids were asleep upstairs Nor he would deliberately kill anyone let alone the mother of his children.

Even racist POS Mark Fuhrman believe the murder was not premeditated or planned and explained this in his book (Murder in Brentwood)

Talking about remorse, How do you know OJ doesn't have remorse?! don't be fooled by the outside careless appearance. People who are close to him know that's not the case at all.

Admitting or not admitting the truth? Who knows what truth OJ knows or believes? The justice systen ran it course 30 years ago. He was aquitted in court of law but convicted in the court of public opinion. It's really finished . At this point it's between him and God. The media/people persistant punishment of OJ is absurd.

The point of this thread is not justification of anything. It's exposing the ugly truth about Nicole Brown. What a nasty mean spitrited individual who drove a good man insane and ruined his life forever.

The prosecution and the media had created a false narrative of: The poor helpless Nicole and the Monster ex husband who couldn't let go of her, This narrative is totally wrong. The opposite is true in this case.

Yes, I have great compassion for OJ. Because he is a good man. This one out of control blackout mistake shouldn't define him as a person.

I don't view situations in life as black and white. I understand human nature.

"What a nasty mean spitrited individual who drove a good man insane and ruined his life forever."

I've been on DL since 2003, and this sentence is the single biggest load of horseshit I've ever seen on this site.

OJ was a college educated, grown ass man with a lot of money. If his wife was "driving him insane" he had ample opportunity and ample means to have done something about it (other than cutting off her head).

R326 Education, money and power have nothing to do with being manipulated emotionally and psychologically and been driven insane and miserable.

Again, IF he really did it, it was Not premeditated. He doesn't even know how and what happened during his blackout.

From Raging Heart: The Intimate Story of the Tragic Marriage of O.J. and Nicole Brown Simpson - 1995

"What does Nicole want? One day she wants me, one day she doesn't" O.J. would rail to Cora Fishman

She was attempting a reconciliation but she was also hanging out a lot with Faye Resnick and other questionable people. She wanted to move back to Rockingham and she wanted to buy a house of her own.

When Tom McCollum heard of the on/off reconciliation, he exhorted O.J., "Dear God! Both of you! For God's sake: Move five thousand miles from each other!"

They traveled to Atlanta for the Super Bowl, then OJ chartered a boat in Florida. Tom McCollum met O.J. in Miami in late February. "Something was wrong—I could tell, but I didn't know what, OJ didn't know which Nicole he would meet every morning" Tom says.

As winter turned to spring, Nicole was a woman still divided. Keep trying to make a go of it with OJ. and then changing her mind.

Over Easter vacation, Nicole went to Cabo with friends. O.J. had. After the Cabo trip, Nicole was as confused as ever. "She said she had the best time," Cora Fischman says, "but that she was tired of being 'so into him"

Faye Resnick was now spending a lot of time with Nicole—in her book, Faye contended that she and Nicole had a brief lesbian liaison, At least one of Nicole's other best friends learned from Nicole that she had started seeing the newly married Marcus Allen again.

Nicole caught pneumonia the week of her thirty-fifth birthday. She was in bed, very weakened and sick. OJ. extended himself to her. He took the kids to and from school. He went shopping for her (or sent Michelle to do so). He came over with chicken soup that Michelle had made and with Nicole's favorite comfort food—candy from L.A.'s premier chocolatier, See's.

On May 19, O.J. gave Nicole a stunning piece of jewelry—an estate bracelet of rows of diamonds and a row of sapphires all set in platinum. It was the most ravishing jewelry he had ever given her.

That same day, Ron Shipp called Nicole to wish her a happy birthday. She did not sound good. Aside from her being sick, there was something in her tone of voice that worried him. It seemed to Ron as if she was now leading a confused and fast-track life.

"Toward the end," says Kris Jenner, "you never knew in the morning where you'd find Nicole." Did Kris believe that Nicole was reeling out of control? Kris says, "Yes."

Shortly after that trip, O.J., during a golf game with Alan Austin, said, "Man, it's too much trouble, the relationship." Still says, "He was in love with her, until the very end."

OJ was tired of the on again/off again yoyo relationship that Nicole has created. He now tried to woo Paula Barbieri back in earnest. A male friend of his ran into him and Paula at the House of Blues, the Sunset club owned by Dan Ackroyd. "O.J. was still in the process of trying to get Paula back, but she had her guard up. Instead of their usual cuddling,* she sat there stiffly while he made jokes. She was stand-offish—she had that 'After what you did, I haven't decided to let you back' attitude. I felt bad for the guy. He had totally cut it off with Paula, when Nicole pushed for the econciliation and now Nicole had dumped him again. I saw a really hurt person."

From "The Other Woman: My Years With O.J. Simpson" book by Paula Barbieri:

There were no dry spells in those phone calls, and we talked about absolutely everything. About Men Arefrom Mars . . .("Is that you?" one of us would say, cracking up, as we reread a favorite page). About our similar backgrounds, as poor kids who'd found paths to wealth but remained wide-eyed in our journey. About our career successes — and our family crises.

Both O.J. and I had a brother with problems, a father who'd abandoned us when we were small, and a mother who'd kept the family going. We even missed the same foods from back home, like collard greens and black-eyed peas.

Most of all, we were fellow searchers. In O.J. I heard my own need to be safe, my grief for a failed marriage. As broken as I felt, I knew that O.J.'s situation had to be much worse. He'd been with Nicole for seventeen years, and he desperately missed living with his children.

Why had his marriage soured? O.J. was more sorrowful than accusing. He said he'd worked hard to give his family material comforts. But within their affluent lifestyle, he and Nicole were moving on two separate tracks.

It was as if, O.J. said, he'd kept trying to buy his wife's love and approval. Not just with gifts and vacations, but by supporting her entire family. He'd bought and bought until their romance had turned into a transaction. Until their marriage was a commodity, an empty shell.

I agreed to come out to Brentwood and take a walk: my first date with OJ. When OJ. found out that I'd never seen My Fair Lady, he got all enthusiastic; we'd have to rent it and watch it later on.

Watching My Fair Lady with OJ. was a multimedia experience. He knew most ofthe dialogue by heart and all ofthe songs, and he sang along with each one of them. He wasn't the greatest singer in the world — he'd hit about two notes out of three — but he loved to sing and never got embarrassed.

I knew he had his flaws. Sometimes I'd step back and look at him and think, What a peacock. When OJ. invited me down to San Diego for a golf lesson with Marcus and Cathryn, I jumped at the opportunity. I imagined O.J.'s arms entwined around me, guiding my swing, as if he were teaching me a new dance . . . But when we got to the course, OJ. dashed my fantasy. He found a partner and jumped on a cart, leaving the three beginners with our teacher.

I got over that small disappointment, only to be confronted with a bigger one. OJ. came out to my condo late one Sunday, and I could tell something was wrong by how subdued he was. "You know, I really like you, and I need to tell you this," he said. " I was at Disneyland with Nicole and the kids."

OJ. earnestly went on, "I want our relationship to be honest, and you need to know this had nothing to do with Nicole. It was just a day for the children."

I might have taken the news as a yellow flag. But I didn't want to see it that way I'd taken heart when OJ. told me that Nicole had met someone in Mexico just days before my first trip to Rockingham. I'd cheered to myself when Nicole started asking OJ.'s advice on what to do with this man . It sounded like Nicole was moving on.

[quote]The point of this thread is not justification of anything. It's exposing the ugly truth about Nicole Brown. What a nasty mean spitrited individual who drove a good man insane and ruined his life forever.

Don't any of these books mention OJ's cocaine and steroid abuse? His insanity and blackout could be attributed to his pharmaceutical habits, as well. His lawyer conveniently mentioned Prozac. It was very common back in the '90s to blame it for a variety ills. Steroids and cocaine have far more unpredictable and dangerous consequences. Occam's Razor.

Paula wanted to be the next Mrs. Simpson. That’s why she put up with the drama at first.

OJ. and I just clicked from the start. I could sense what he was thinking or feeling. Everything about O.J. now had a rosy glow about it. I loved the way that he talked with his hands. Even OJ.'s strutting became a sweet thing. He carried himself with so much self-confidence and it showed.

And, the way he smelled — vanilla with citrus when he used the Fahrenheit I got for him, pure vanilla when he didn't wear cologne. Even when OJ. had played golf and perspired, he smelled of that same sweet scent. I could never be too close. I could never get enough.

Years later, some people would ask me "Did OJ. ever hit you?

"No, he didn't," I said.

As volatile as our relationship had been, as jealous as OJ. could be, The truth is I never considered him a violent man, In our years together, he never struck or hit me.

Like Dolph Lundgren, OJ. Simpson wasn't a passive personality. Loud and animated when trying to make a point, he'd get louder still when on the defensive.

For passionate travelers like O.J. and myself, Barcelona was a nonstop adventure. One ofour fellow passengers was an eight-year-old child. The boy had lost his hair from chemotherapy, but he seemed happy and unafraid, and O.J. sort of adopted him.

He made that hoy laugh and laugh, just by cracking his corny jokes. Just by treating him like anyone else. I could see how much it meant to the boy.

There were no cameras on that ship, nothing to gain by catering to a sick child. It was a side to O.J. that few would ever see.

O.J. had paid Nicole to decorate their home when they were married. But I felt little of her presence there, though I did ask O.J. to remove a set of photos, lining the stairway, of Nicole holding their children as infants. They were beautiful pictures, but it was hard to feel romantic when I passed them going Up to his bedroom.

O.J. liked staying at my place, and I preferred it, too. It made me feel safe to have my own identity, In the evening we'd click on one of the old-movie channels and settle in on the couch. O.J. liked almost anything in black and white, especially with Cary Grant or Jimmy Stewart. A good tearjerker, like It's a Wonderful Life, would get him every time. He'd cry more than me, which was saying something.

On October 15, 1992, O.J. went to court and came back smiling. His divorce from Nicole was final. There wasn't any anger in the courtroom, he said.

After all those years, all their ups and downs, it felt more like business than anything else.

Rather than pay out monthly alimony, O.J. gave Nicole a lump sum — I believe it was $750,000.

OJ. never grilled me about Dean or any other men I'd known, and I'd tried to return the favor. It was easy because we were two lonely souls trying to comfort each other.

Now, with the divorce settled, OJ. and I could start fresh. Looking back, it still rocks me to think how naive I was.

While Nicole and I barely knew each other, I can't say our encounters had been pleasant. One morning at Rockingham, OJ. and I were lingering in bed together, hanging on to a few more delicious minutes before starting our day.

Then I heard footsteps coming up the stairs toward us, and I sat up with a start. A woman's voice rang out: "Anybody home?"

"Damn!" OJ. said. It was Nicole. The front door had been open and she'd strolled right in. Still in my sheer nightgown, I didn't know where to go, what to do. I felt out of place, like J was the intruder.

OJ. ran downstairs in his briefs to intercept Nicole. I could hear him grumble, "You know, you can t just walk in here like that." Nicole left, and it took me about five minutes to follow suit.

It was time to go to work, anyway, and I didn't feel comfortable hanging around.

We actually met some weeks later, when Nicole came by O.J.'s house to pick up the children. I was struck by how much she looked like Cathryn, Marcus Allen's fiancee: blond and athletic and beautiful.

I went up to Nicole and smiled and stuck out my hand: "Hi, I'm Paula, nice to meet you." I was so happy then, so much into my own world, that I assumed we'd get along.

Nicole was seeing someone else, after all, and why not be civilized about it? Nicole nodded her hello and walked past me. I was left with my hand out, feeling foolish.

I'd run into her one other time, when I went to pick up Justin at his karate school. Once again, a short hello. By then I wasn't expecting much.

"manipulated" into killing her.

I guess OJ is Macbeth in this tragedy/farce.

One night we were at a dinner when I noticed OJ. had stopped talking; he was just watching me converse with another guest.

Later that evening, back at his apartment, he took my hand and said, "When I was with Nicole, I had to work so hard all the time to keep the conversation going. She had a problem in communicating. But with you, I can sit there and listen to you all night, and I've got to tell you I love it."

O.J. never put me down or corrected me in public, never made me feel young or dumb. At his side I felt self-assured, free to be myself. During the trial, I'd get puzzled when the papers said that OJ didn't accept women as real friends.

I saw the strong friendship he had with his assistant, Cathy Randa. Then there was Tawny Kitaen, an actress and former Elite model with whom OJ. once had an affair in the past.

Tawny was an extremely bright girl with a great sense of humor. She and OJ. stayed friends, even after she moved in with Chuck Finley, the California Angels pitcher.

New York had one big drawback: its distance from Sydney, who was six, and Justin, then four. O.J. felt perpetually guilty that he didn't see his kids enough.

Whenever we were back in Los Angeles, our schedules revolved around the children. O.J. would pick them up from school when he was able and keep them at Rockingham for the weekends. A nanny watched the kids during O.J. 's morning golfgames, but for the rest of the day he was theirs.

O.J. was such an affectionate, doting father that I often wondered what it would be like to have our own family. If I found any fault in his parenting style, it was that he lacked any concept of discipline.

The highlight of our Christmas season in New York was a blacktie party thrown by Liza Minnelli. Liza Minnelli's apartment was like a gallery: large rooms with lots of windows, dramatic lighting, fabulous art on the walls.

Lauren Bacall was holding court in a black pantsuit. I was fascinated just standing near her, Brooke Shields looked stunning in a floor-length red velvet dress.

O.J. casually mentioned that he'd once dated Brooke, and I guess it says something that I felt not a pang of jealousy. I knew that I couldn't compete with Brooke Shields, and I knew I didn't have to. O.J. made me feel like I was the only woman in the room who mattered. "You're my girl," he told me.

A few weeks earlier, Sydney and Justin had been set to join us in New York for Thanksgiving, a workday in the NFL. But Nicole had canceled at the last minute, to O.J.'s deep disappointment.

He really missed his kids on the holidays. "If that's the way it's going to be," he said then, "we're going to go back to the court rules and do this every-other-holiday thing the way we're supposed to."

That meant it would be O.J.'s turn for Christmas. I wouldn't be with them on Christmas Day — I'd spend it with my family, in Florida — but I was glad to help get the apartment ready. I wanted everything to be perfect when the kids arrived.

O.J. appreciated the trouble I'd gone to and couldn't stop flattering my choices. After some sad good-byes, I took off for home. I started missing O.J. as soon as I stepped on the plane.

I jumped at the phone when he called on Christmas Day, and instantly I knew something was wrong. "I can't believe she's here," O.J. said, and his voice sounded angry.

Nicole had come along to New York with Sydney and Justin and taken a room in a nearby hotel.

Some days later, when OJ. and I had a chance to talk about what had happened, he'd cooled down. He really didn't have a problem with Nicole being around for the holidays. Sydney and Justin were her children, too, he reasoned, and it was natural for her to want to be with them.

But I continued to be troubled by Nicole's presumption. I kept thinking about the next Christmas, and the Christmas after that. Would we be setting a place for O.J.'s ex-wife at the table?

It was the first real inkling I had that Nicole would be a part of our future, as well as O.J.'s past.

That I had entered a relationship not of two people, but of three.

My birthday falls on New Year's Eve, and OJ. and I were going to south Florida to celebrate. He surprised me by stopping over in Panama City en route to meet my family and friends: another big step.

My anxiety was blown away as soon as OJ. stepped through our door with that goofy grin ofhis. Mom was wary at first — she thought he was too old for me.

But protective as my mom can be, she didn't stand a chance against O.J.'s charisma. Given enough time, I suspect, OJ. would have won over the whole Florida Panhandle and most of southern Alabama.

That night we had a little party for him, and OJ. fit right in. He couldn't sit down without a bunch of children climbing all over him. Mother tried to pull them off, but OJ. was in his element, laughing louder than any kid.

At the end ofthe meal, as OJ. laid down his napkin, a line formed at our tabic for autographs. It was all the young kitchen help, the dishwashers and busboys.

O.J. was tired that night, but he signed every napkin, every last scrap of paper. Not only that, but he took the time to talk with each one of those young people. He asked how they were doing in school or about their play on the high school football team.

My father called. Then a long-haul trucker, he was delivering something out my way, and he thought it was about time that he met O.J.

I was worried — no, I was petrified. Given my dad's closed mind about race and racist views.

"I don't think we should do this," I said.

"What's wrong with you?" said OJ., his dander up.

"You don't understand," I said. "My dad would never approve of us."

But OJ. was convinced that my father would like him. He wouldn't let it drop, so I made a reservation at La Dome and crossed my fingers that we'd make it through dessert.

I picked Dad up at his truck stop, an hour outside L.A. I hadn t seen him in months, and the sight of him now — in his boots and his everyday Wranglers — wasn't something to settle my nerves.

But OJ. was ready. it turned out just as O.J. had predicted. he and Dad hit it offjust fine. My father was having a great time, especially after two young wannabe starlets came over to our table and began fawning all over him.

When those girls saw O.J. making a fuss over Dad, they must have pegged my father as some big-deal producer. They laughed at his wit, admired his belt buckle. It was all pretty disgusting.

Then it got worse, as OJ. started flirting with one of the girls. Dad was in his own world; he didn't even notice what was going on across the table.

Livid, I excused myself to the ladies' room. Coming out, I saw OJ. heading toward me with a big smile. Taking a solid stance in my high heels, I swung through with a roundhouse right. The slap landed flush on O.J.'s cheek, hard enough to leave fingerprints.

It was the second time I'd struck him, and the last time, and I made it count.

As OJ. staggered backward, he said, "What was that for?"

"You know," I said.

On the first weekend in April, we took Sydney, Justin, and Arnelle to Las Vegas. O.J.'s older daughter had been off at Brown University, and I hadn't spent time with her before. She was perfectly cordial but seemed to keep me at arm's length.

We saw the Cirque du Soleil, the modern circus without animals, and dressed up in period costume at the medieval-themed Excalibur. It was great fun, but I could sense Sydney pulling back from me.

At breakfast at the Mirage, with the kids off with Arnelle, O.J. was silent as a stone. After I drew him out, he let me in on his problem: Marcus and Nicole had been sleeping together.

A few days earlier, Nicole had come to him and said she wanted to end the affair but that Marcus wouldn't let her alone. If O.J. didn't do something, she was going to tell Cathryn.

Then Marcus came to O.J. and guiltily confirmed Nicole's story.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," OJ. said, tears welling in his eyes. Not only had one of his best friends betrayed him, but Marcus and Cathryn were soon to be married at Rockingham. And Nicole was helping to organize the event.

There was more. According to O.J., Nicole had said some things about me that weren't very nice. He wouldn't go into detail, but I could see that it bothered him.

"I don't understand what you're talking about," I said. "She doesn't know anything about me."

"Well, I guess she heard something somewhere," OJ. said blandly.

Nicole had launched a campaign to get O.J. back, by fair means or foul.

Nicole and her girlfriends had shown up at the Riviera for a golf lesson and Nicole would spend the hour flirting with OJ.

A few days later, I dropped by Rockingham unannounced late one afternoon, as I often did. But this time OJ. looked pained.

"I can't stay right now," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"I've got to take the kids to dinner with their friends."

"Great," I said. "That sounds like fun."

And OJ. said, "No, Nicole's going to be there."

I tried to be cool and reasonable — "Okay, I understand" — but it was just an act. I left O.J.'s house crushed. Without even realizing it, I had become that pathetic, ridiculous cliche: the Other Woman.

Who keeps posting this shit and why? Other than proving you're a deranged jack ass, what the fuck are you hoping to accomplish with this shit, OP?

Muriel needs to red tag your dumb ass STAT!

R346 If the thread bothers you. Leave it and Fuck off.

OJ invited me on a romantic weekend in Mexico, but at the last moment I came to my senses and canceled. That was just as well, seeing as how Nicole- and the kids would turn up at the same resort . . . which kind of ruined the fun for OJ. — and the girl he invited after I pulled out.

So OJ. and I struggled on.

In my misery I despised Nicole. I would never say it aloud, not even to myself. But once the terrible thought had formed, it was easy to think it again . . . and go further. Nicole was ruining my life, taking back the man I loved. What gave her the right? I wished she would vanish from the face of the earth.

Nicole was pushing hard for a reconciliation, Everyday it was something different. She was bombarding him with cassettes of love songs, with videos of their wedding and the children. She'd also written OJ. a letter that basically said, "If Paula was to get pregnant, we'd lose our chance to get back together."

The campaign was taking its toll. It was raising the kids' hopes, and OJ. felt guiltier than ever about being a weekend dad. After he'd brought the children back to Nicole's condo one night, he tucked them in before leaving. "Daddy, I want you here in the morning," Sydney said. "I want you to stay."

That tore OJ. up. "I just don't know what to do," he told me.

"Look," I said, "I don't want to go through this anymore. It's not fair to me. I'm getting on this plane — either get on with me now, and we'll talk this through, or let's just call it quits."

I don't know what I expected. Had OJ. dropped everything, would we have lived happily ever after? As it turned out, he couldn't come, or wouldn't come. He had an appointment that afternoon, he said. He left me at the gate.

My ultimatum was left hanging. I think both of us knew that I lacked the courage to back it up.

I was happy enough not to be invited to Marcus and Cathryn's wedding at Rockingham. To watch two people pledge their futures together — to participate in the hypocrisy — was more than I could bear.

When I called OJ. on the morning of the wedding to see how things were going, Nicole answered the phone; she was putting out the flowers.

OJ. wasn't available, she said. The frost in her voice made me shiver.

"Just tell him that I called," I said.

By the time OJ. rang back, minutes later, I felt a new certainty. There was simply no room for me in his life.

I could never win out against Nicole — she had too many weapons for me to fight. She had history and two young children on her side, and the capacity to use them both. I was more frightened than anything else. Could she get him back?

OJ. claimed it was Sydney and Justin who were pulling him back, that Nicole wasn't part of the equation. But what if OJ. was hiding the truth, trying to break my fall?

Once you give in to jealousy, there is no telling how low you can sink. But the truth was hard for me to handle. It made me feel rejected and abandoned.

In his own way, I believe that O.J. was as conflicted and torn up as I was. Sometime around Mother's Day he told me he was go ing up to see his family in San Francisco. He asked me to come with him — he wanted to show me where he'd grown up but I had a job I couldn't get out of. O.J. seemed disappointed but not particularly upset.

Five days after he left, O.J walked through the door ofmy apartment, he looked haggard and confused as ever.

Not long after that, OJ. took me to dinner at La Dome. I somehow knew what was coming before I heard the words.

"I've got to resolve things with Nicole, one way or another," OJ. said. "I've got to give it a shot, for my kids' sake."

He'd decided to commit himself to a one-year trial reconciliation. Nicole and the children would remain in her condo — OJ. didn't want Sydney and Justin bouncing back and forth, in case things didn't pan out. But he'd be able to tuck them in at night and wake them up in the morning, just as Sydney had wanted.

It wasn't fair to hold me on a string, OJ. went on. He couldn't keep hurting me, so he'd stay away for the next twelve months. Until he knew what the future held.

I listened and nodded as my heart plunged through the floor. I didn't try to change his mind or ask a single question, though I suspected this was less than the whole truth. I knew O.J.'s concern about his children was real and deep-seated, but I wasn't so sure how Nicole fit in.

But I also recognized that OJ. had to go back, or he'd never understand why he divorced Nicole in the first place.

R346 this is obviously done with the sanction of the board's management.

Our farewell dinner plunged me into depression. Nights were the worst. I waited for a call I knew wasn't coming. I missed OJ's voice, his smile, his body next to mine.

I stayed in touch with Cathy Randa, the one person who thought that OJ. and I could have a future.

My friends thought I should be dating. They reasoned that I couldn't put OJ. behind me until I had someone else to look forward to. I tried, very tentatively, and without much success.

April 1994, It was around this time that O.J. and I began speaking again He was in Puerto Rico, filming an NBC pilot called Frogman. Nicole had been supposed to join him there but as usual changed her mind and never made it.

He said that Nicole has been acting weird. One day she loved him and the next day she hated him.

In any case, O.J. promised me, Nicole was history: "I couldn't come to you any sooner — I'm sorry, but I couldn't hurt you, and I needed to do this first." He was telling me that he'd put in his year, held up his part of the bargain. And wasn't he a loyal, trustworthy person for not pursuing me in the meantime?

I wasn't buying. I'd moved on, I kept telling myself. There was life after OJ., and it wasn't so bad.

"If the thread bothers you. Leave it and Fuck off."

Right back at ya, psycho.

On May 8, 1994. Mother's Day, when I was visiting Mom in Florida, OJ. sent her a huge bouquet with a card that read, "I guess I cant call you Mom yet. ..."

After getting off the plane from Miami, I was looking for my limo driver and wondering why he wasn't at the gate. I started walking toward the concourse, pulling my luggage behind me . . . when I saw OJ. in my peripheral vision,

"Hey, good-lookin', what's cookin'?"

"I can't believe you," I said

O.J. had canceled my limo driver to pick me up himself. I loved his spontaneity in spite of myself. He told me again that it was all over with Nicole. When he asked me to dinner — sushi, one of my great weaknesses — I heard myself say yes, impetuous as ever.

But with hindsight, the evening was a watershed. If I'd turned away from O.J. at LAX, if I'd kept on walking and hailed a cab — if I'd kept saying no, and meant it — I wouldn't have wound up dating him the night before the murders.

So why did I agree to try again? If I was thinking at all, it might have been that you can't hate someone without loving him, too. If I felt that violently toward O.J., there must be something there worth another shot.

But while I might have been crazy, I wasn't stupid. I was not about to leap into romance and fall flat again. My fear of abandonment was real. We would take small steps, I told O.J., one at a time, and see where they led.

I didn't know if our relationship could be fixed, but I felt certain it had no shot without help. At our sushi dinner I'd told O.J. that I wouldn't see him again unless he agreed to meet with a therapist we'd gone to the year before. O.J.agreed.

he accepted the invitation. I think he took it as a challenge. Walking us out the door, my therapist whispered to me, "I think he's workable."

The truth was, I didn't know what I expected from OJ. Not marriage, or to move in with him (he'd already asked, and I'd refused). Not to give up golf forever — I wanted none of those things. There wasn't any way OJ. could wrap the world in a bow for me. There weren't any magic words for him to say. Because it wasn't the words that were missing. It was trust, and when trust is missing there are no words.

In my visits to Rockingham that May and June 1994, I noticed something missing: Michelle, OJ.'s jewel of a housekeeper.

Earlier that year Nicole had ended an argument by slapping Michelle, a tiny woman who might have come up to Nicole's shoulder. Michelle quit her job after the incident.

Around that time, Nicole had wrecked her Ferrari while she was under the influence. and OJ got real concerned when he dropped his children off at Nicole's condo and found Faye Resnick staying there, "wired out of her mind."

In refreshing contrast to DolphLundgren, O.J. steered clear of drugs. I never saw him do cocaine, a big plus. After witnessing how coke had hurt my brother Michael, I knew that I could never live around drugs again.

During the time I spent with him, in fact, O.J. took nothing stronger than Motrin, which he needed daily for his arthritis.

One day I was at Rockingham when Nicole called. As soon as OJ. picked up, even I could guess she was furious, she was screaming at him — OJ. was trying in vain to calm her down. It was all about Nicole's friend Faye Resnick, who'd recently told OJ and me that she wanted to be friends with us, too.

Now Faye had invited herself along to an upcoming dinner at Cedars-Sinai that we'd be attending.

OJ. didn't think Faye was really the issue for Nicole. It was how sad Nicole felt when OJ. and I got back together.

After hearing Nicole out, OJ. said, "Look, I didn't invite her. I don't even like her. She invited herself. I don't care if she goes or doesn't go." He was talking loud, as usual, but he sounded more exasperated than really angry.

OJ. was already put out with Nicole. She'd tried to fudge on the IRS by keeping Rockingham as her legal address, which would give her a big tax benefit. OJ. was one ofthose by-the-book businessmen, and he didn't want the IRS coming after him. He had his lawyer send Nicole a letter saying she could no longer use the Rockingham address.

Those small incidents aside, Nicole seemed very much in the background in those first two weeks of June. OJ. hardly talked about her. He had enough to worry about with me and our therapy.

To be continued later.

Hopefully Muriel red tags you first, r358

Sometimes Muriel has deleted threads with numerous, large blocks of copyright protected text. Copyright violations and too many threads on the same topic are pretty much the only things that compel Muriel to delete threads.

OJ should have left USA after the trial. His life would have been much better.

R357 This Paula is a dreary name dropper and a tedious writer who broke up with Simpson on the day that his wife was murdered. Enough of this cunt!

OP you got me at first but now it's apparent your a fkin troll and me don't like.

the Barbieri bitch has no insight into anything. It's an unending collection of the minutiae of her life.

[quote]Premeditated??? IF OJ really did it (we will never really know), It was Not premeditated at all. It was during an unfortunate blackout moment. No way OJ would do this while his kids were asleep upstairs Nor he would deliberately kill anyone let alone the mother of his children.

Wearing a black track suit with a black knit cap in the dark, bringing a knife, pulling one's vehicle up to a back driveway, then sneaking up to the front door of the resident one plans to slaughter = premeditation.

There was no blackout, but there was a deliberate, methodical cover-up, including taking Kato to McDonald's to use as an alibi.

Yup, Mcdonald's was a set-up for an alibi, although he stupidly still didn't have an alibi for about 90 minutes.

R365 R366 Kato himself testified in both the criminal and civil trial that OJ didn't ask him to go to McDonald's with him. Kato said that OJ told him I'm going to get something to eat , and Kato invited himself, and asked "can I come with you?" and OJ said sure.

OJ didn't plan anything.

Remember how he accidently crushed a crystal drinking glass in his Chicago hotel room, explaining the cut on his hand? He was so *horrified* to hear of her death, he lost control. My ass.

Please. Cheap ass Kato knew he was getting a free dinner and probably free drugs with OJ. Of course he would invite himself.

Kilo while speaking on the phone to his girlfriend on the night of the murder heard a thump against the wall of the guesthouse.

The girl told her friends that after Kato went out to check what was going on he told her it was OJ. She later rescinded that comment.

OJ parked his car not in his driveway but around the corner because a driver was waiting for him at his front gate to take him to the airport.

This was about 10:30 at night which means that OJ would have had time to kill Ron and Nicole and then drive home there was a window of opportunity.

So OJ climbed onto his property to avoid being seen by Allen Parker the driver.

Kato is a parasite and Simpson is a killer Kato.

Wow, did OJ have NO security at his mansion? Does Nicole just saunter into his house? Nobody at the gate to monitor who comes in and out?

R370 Kato was a grifter and freeloader but fun.

OJ is Not a killer. He was acquitted and not convicted of murder. It's only your (and people) opinion though.

Continued From "The Other Woman: My Years With O.J. Simpson" book by Paula Barbieri:

On June 5, we took Sydney and Justin to a high-profile pediatric AIDS benefit. I spent most of my time with the kids, "Are you Daddy's best friend?" Sydney asked me. I didn't really know what to tell her.

OJ. was used to winning, in everything. He was sure he could charm me back. Earlier that spring, he'd sent me a card: "I guess this is just a process we're going through. I just pray that when we are old and laying around together, we can look back on this and laugh."

On Friday, June 10, I picked OJ. up at LAX with a smile. My tension had dissolved, because I'd finally made up my mind.

On Saturday night, June 11, OJ. and I had a longstanding date at a blacktie fundraiser in Bel Air to honor Leah Rabin, the wife of Israel's prime minister.

I didn't have the heart to spoil it for him.

When OJ. picked me up in his Bentley for the party, he had one word: "Wow." Gold sequins can do that to a man.

I felt at ease with him. I was receptive; O.J. was attentive. When he greeted someone- he knew. he'd tell them, 'This is my girlfriend, Paula." I leaned back on OJ., smiling and sleepy. Having made my big decision, I could relax with him at last . After so much grief and anxiety, I thought, we deserved one night for its own sake.

I'd already told him that I might be flying to Las Vegas the next day. I never informed him why I was going. If I told OJ. about Michael Bolton, it would only hurt him and confuse things. Michael wasn't the reason we were breaking up.

On Sunday, June 12, I didn't pick up my phone until seven in the morning. By that time, OJ. figured to be on the third fairway, with his cell phone back in his car. There would be no one to hear my voice except OJ.'s computerized answering service. I knew it was a cop-out to say good-bye in a phone message, but I didn't know how else to do it.

[quote]OJ didn't plan anything.

He planned to stab his ex-wife to death. And he executed his plan. He didn't plan for Ron Goldman to be there, so he slaughtered him too so that he wouldn't have an eyewitness to his plan to stab his ex-wife to death and then leave.

[quote]Remember how he accidently crushed a crystal drinking glass in his Chicago hotel room, explaining the cut on his hand? He was so *horrified* to hear of her death, he lost control. My ass.

And how he didn't bother to ask the police how Nicole had died when they called and told him she was dead. He just accepted the news without any questions.

It was terribly hard to make that call. I slowly punched in the number and uttered a small wish: Please don't pick up, please don t pick up . . .After four tense rings, I heard O.J.'s lighthearted recording and then my starting gun, the beep.

"I know you've been trying to work things out," I began, just as I'd rehearsed, "and I've been trying very hard, too. But between work and golf and the kids and my schedule and your schedule, there isn't enough time to figure out all these things that hurt so much.

"I just couldn't get the answers I needed. There's no one to blame — we're just two people in different worlds. "The pain is too much for me. I can't go on sleeping with you and then moving to the couch and crying for hours — the feelings are tearing me apart."

I told O.J. that I deserved to have a family, but that it couldn't be with him — "You already have two families, and you won't want to start a third, even though you've said you would."

Once I got started, I went on for quite a while, maybe fifteen minutes. It was painful for me, too, but I thought it for the best. I closed with words I hoped O.J. would accept and understand, both for what they were and what they weren't: "I love you."

OP, none of your excerpts mention that many of Nicole's friends stated that Nicole had told them that OJ was going to kill her and that he would get by with it. Must be an innocent oversight on your part. Surely you wouldn't deliberately leave an important detail like that out of such a comprehensive thread like this.

We were walking back toward the pool when my cell phone rang. It was Tom, my theatrical manager. As soon as I heard his voice — strained, nearly breaking — I got scared.

"Something terrible has happened to Nicole!" Tom said.

"What do you mean?"

"Go back to your room — I'll call you there."

The phone was ringing as we passed through the door. "Turn on the television," Tom said. Now he sounded even worse.

Within ten seconds I'd heard the nation's top news story: Nicole Brown Simpson and Ronald Goldman had been found murdered near the front steps of Nicole's condo.

I prayed hysterically: "Please please please forgive me, please please please forgive me, please please please . .

I was asking forgiveness from the person I'd despised in my most anguished hours. I had been full o fresentment because she'd beaten me and taken my man away.

How many times had I wished — my awful private secret, breathed aloud to no one — that Nicole would just vanish from the face of this earth?

With robot fingers I dialed into my answering service. There were a dozen or more messages: from Cathy Randa, O.J.'s longtime secretary; from his friends on both coasts.

And there were several messages from O.J. himself, all pretty much the same: "I need to talk to you right away, please call me." He didn't sound good.

My mom called the room. A little high-strung in the best of times, she was ready to break. "Whatever you do, promise me that you won't go back to Los Angeles," she cried.

Mickey Sherman called, just to see what I was doing. No one in Michael Bolton's party was aware of my involvement with OJ. Michael knew that I'd broken up with someone but he'd been too much of a gentleman to pry.

Mickey was at my door in seconds, armed with his laptop, and took charge. "Now calm down," he said. "Everything's going to be all right." He started tapping at his computer to get more information.

I can't be sure of what happened next. I was so fogged in that I lost my sense of sequence. But it might have been around then that I watched O.J. return to his Brentwood home — he was back from Chicago. Then I watched him get handcuffed by the police, who were taking him to Parker Center for questioning.

That's impossible, I thought. I couldn't imagine how OJ. could cope with what was happening; it must be tearing him apart.

"To begin with, you shouldn't call OJ. back," Mickey said in his criminal attorney's voice. "He might say something incriminating to you over the phone, and if he does, that would be the worst thing for you to have to handle.

"Now let me ask you this," he went on. "Did OJ. ever hit you?

"No, he didn't" I'd told Mickey the truth, and yet I couldn't believe I was having this conversation.

Mickey left to talk to Michael. I knew I should break the news first and rang Michael's suite. "I have something that's really hard to tell you. I don't know exactly how to say it."

Go ahead, Michael said.

"Remember I told you about my ex-boyfriend?" I took another deep breath. "Well, it's O.J."

"You know, I kind offigured that," Michael said gently. He tried to soothe me, and we agreed to get together later.

I called OJ.'s cell-phone number. I reached him, I believe, as O.J. was coming home from Parker Center after his interrogation.

"How are you doing?" I said, straining to sound normal.

"I need you," O.J. said. His voice was flat and dull, like a bad imitation of himself.

Then he asked me a question: "What happened to the messages I left you last night?"

"I erased them," I said. Having no reason to vary it, I'd just followed my routine.

"Good," he said. "I don't need them to start picking on that, too."

That sounded reasonable to me. If the police were looking to stick these crimes on O.J., it was a terrible mistake. I wouldn't want his messages confusing things even more. I was glad that I'd erased them.

"I need you," O.J. said again.

"Look, I can't talk any more right now — I just can't," I said. I felt myself losing control, and I didn't want to bring O.J. down with me.

"Okay," he said.

"I just can't make sense right now."

"That's all right," he said. He sounded like a man resigned to the worst.

God, everyone was in this story. Grant Cramer (from Y&R), Michael Bolton, Kris Jenner, before she pimped out her kids...

After so much chaos in so little time, I felt unsure of my next move. O.J. had sounded so pathetic, like a little boy lost, that I wished I were with him that moment.

After an early dinner with Mark and Suzanne, I kept my promise. O.J.'s sister Shirley answered the phone at his house in Brentwood. O.J. was very bad off, she said. He was already in bed and had asked not to be disturbed. Unless I called, that is, and then they were to put me through right away.

"How are you?" I said after O.J. picked up.

"Every time Shirley goes out of the room I pick up the gun," he told me. "If she wasn't here, I would have done it."

I didn't know which was more alarming, the words I was hearing or O.J.'s deadly, somber tone.

"You can't do that," I begged him. "People who commit suicide don't go to heaven."

"You've got to come back," O.J. said. "I need you."

For me it was a pivotal point. Once- I heard O.J.'s pain, my decision was made. I might have broken up with the man, but it didn't change my human obligation to him. If didn't go back, OJ would die. It was, I thought, that simple.

I'll be there for you,' I told O.J. "If you need me, I'll be there.

"We're going to change houses tomorrow,' O.J. said. "Cathy will arrange your flight and where to take you from the airport.'

When I heard O.J. making plans — actually thinking about the next day — I knew I was doing the right thing.

Other people weren't so sure. My mother had been pushing Tom Hahn to do something, anything — lock me up in a cabin in Montana if he had to. When she heard what I'd decided, she was beside herself.

"He's going to kill you both," she sobbed.

Even as I tried to calm her, I thought to myself, That would be all right, too. knew exactly what OJ. was going through. I was feeling so much hurt myself that I just wanted it to stop.

Michael came to my room, concern furrowed into his face.

"You don't realize the magnitude this is going to take on," he said. "You can't even imagine how it's going to change your life."

No one could move me, not even the most beautiful man in the world. "I can handle this," I told him. "Everything's going to be okay."

Michael softly touched my face. He would miss me. "I wont be able to be there for you," he said. "It's just too huge."

I gazed at the television, trying to grasp the unfathomable: that O.J. was suspected of committing this gruesome crime. That people believed he could have killed the mother of his children, while those children slept just yards away.

That's absurd, I kept thinking. Or maybe I was talking aloud, to the walls. Something is terribly wrong — cant they see?

My new friends feared for me to be alone. As Michael got ready to perform Tuesday night, Mickey brought me into a backstage dressing room. I sat there, staring off into space.

Later I went out front to hear Michael sing "Completely." He squeezed the last ounce of feeling out of it, till I broke from my trance

But it was another ballad that really moved me that night. If I still had any doubts about the course I'd chosen, Michael erased them as he sang:

Lean on me, when you're not strong. And I'll be yourfriend, I'll help you carry on

I had to go back. There was too much guilt and pain to resist. Too much history with a man I thought I'd left behind me.

I said good-bye to Michael after his concert. He gave me a hug of reassurance, It wrenched me to break that hug and let him go. I was so zoomed in on O.J., and on what he needed, that I couldn't begin to focus on anyone else.

..... We headed north, into the San Fernando Valley suburbs. After half an hour we passed through a wooded area and pulled up to a large, modern, cream-colored house in an isolated part of Encino — the home of Robert Kardashian, a close friend of OJ.'s.

Cathy Randa met me in the marble entryway and walked me into the sunken living room. By that time both of us were crying.

And now I was back at OJ.'s side. Back where I belonged.

OJ. was out, visiting the funeral home that was handling Nicole's funeral arrangements. I kept dwelling on the guns locked up in his office at home, the revolver he kept in his car. I considered hunting through his bags but shrank back. I didn't want to add to the invasion of his life.

OJ's sister and brother-in-law would have packed OJ. for the trip. Surely, I thought, they wouldn't have let a weapon get through.

As much as the guns worried me, I thought they could work in OJ.'s favor. Even if OJ. was capable of killing someone, a claim I would not accept, why use a knife when he had a gun?

Mom wasn't taking it well. By the time I called her from Encino, she was a basket case. Once again she begged me to come home. "He's going to kill himself and kill you too," she kept repeating. I tried to settle her down, but it didn't help.

That afternoon I heard some noise at the front door and rushed to the entryway. It was O.J., shell-shocked. He seemed so sad and beaten. His face was drawn, his brawny shoulders hunched down. He looked somehow smaller than the cheerful, confident man I'd left four days before. Seeing Nicole in her casket must have destroyed him.

If the notion that O.J. might commit suicide ever seemed abstract to me, it didn't anymore.

O.J. looked relieved when he saw me, though he couldn't muster a smile. "I'm glad you're here," he said. He hugged me with more need than strength, like a man clinging to a life raft in the middle of the ocean.

I watched his every expression and movement. I expected him to collapse, right there.

I took O.J. up to his room. Helped him undress to his briefs. Watched him crumple into bed. That was a knife to my heart, to see the most exuberant person in the world look so helpless and vulnerable.

Then I met the owner of the house, Robert Kardashian, who'd been out with O.J. that afternoon. He was short and intense, friendly but contained, like a character out of The Godfather. Kardashian said that they'd been staying with OJ. every minute. The only time OJ. had been on his own was in the bathroom.

Now it would be my turn.

As OJ. slept, I searched the bedroom and adjoining bath for razor blades, finding none.

OJ. was so stoned out on the sedatives, we had few options. I gave him his evening pill and unplugged the phone, and soon he was deep in slumber.

I sat on the bed all night and watched OJ. sleep. The night was still, but my mind skittered through a jumble of anxious thoughts. I brooded about OJ. and what would happen to his children if he wasn't around. How they'd hear ugly whispers for the rest oftheir lives.

I mentally played back the "Dear John" message I'd left for OJ. Sunday morning — had I said the wrong thing? Had I somehow set off this terrible chain of events?

Yet I wasn't thinking that OJ. might be guilty. It was more that I had done it, by wishing Nicole away.

Most of all, I prayed. Not for a happy ending, nor to see our lives go back to normal. That seemed too much to ask. I just prayed for the strength to make it to the next day.

To be continued Tomorrow.

Paula makes herself out to be a martyr.

No wonder Nicole couldn't stand her.

[quote]OJ is a good person who was pushed to the edge by a nasty mean woman.

OP is the type who believes Michael Jackson shared his bed with very young boys out of politeness because, of course, that's what you do, you share your bed (duh), and believes Jussie Smollett was attacked at 2 in the morning during a polar vortex by two bigots who were angry because he was in the MAGA country area of Chicago.

R375 LOL! He didn't need to ask the police how she died. He knew exactly what happened. He knew more about it than they did!

The look on the security officers, on each side of OJ, is priceless.

R389 I believe MJ was a serial pedophile and Jussie Smollett is a lying scam. so STFU with your wrong assumptions.

Nicole Brown was a nasty abusive POS who ruined a good man's life.

God, can't Muriel take care of this POS OP?

R393 Sorry I hurt your feeling about your beloved Nasty POS Nicole Brown. Truth hurts.

Nicole Brown would call OJ's father "f#g"

OJ admitted this in his deposition during the civil trial in 1996.

Nicole was an abusive immoral cunt.

OJ's father was a faggot! R395

Paula was better-looking than Nicole.

Michael Bolton has definitely dated a lot of women.

R397 Certainly, Paula was beautiful with warm kind personality .

Nicole Brown was harsh tran#y looking with nasty rotten personality. But from several different accounts, the sex must have been magic between the OJ and Nicole and that's what glued them together in this toxic disastrous relationship.

Has there been any mention yet of OJ's cocaine and steroid habits, er addictions.

Of course not. He's so nice while providing the powder. It happens...

R396 people on DL must be so proud of you and of Nicole Brown who used to call her husband's father a f#g.

R399 If there was significant mention of cocaine use/addiction. It was about Nicole and Faye Resnick's cocaine and Alcohol addiction. Nicole even smashed her ferrari in January 1994 while being under the influence of Cocaine.

But you believe OJ never was, r401?

Nicole was a good mother.

R402 probably socially during the 1980s like the rich and famous.

R403 yeah a good mother who was doing drugs, serving a bartender orally and having sex parties in the her house while her young kids are sleeping upstairs.

[quote]yeah a good mother who was doing drugs, serving a bartender orally and having sex parties in the her house while her young kids are sleeping upstairs.

A lot of this was probably exaggerated so that lowlifes like Faye Resnick and Kato Kaelin could sell books, but your hero, OJ the good man, murdered the mother of the "kids sleeping upstairs" you seem to suddenly care about.

Seems likely that OP is still a "kid sleeping downstairs" in Mom's basement. Just strikes me as that type.

The OP is pro-OJ which leads me to believe they have a lot in common.

They hate women.

They hate sexually empowered women.

OJ, OP. OP, OJ.

Makes sense.

R406 First of all, OJ didn't murder anyone. It's only your opinion. He was tried and found Not guilty.

Second, yes, believe it or not, OJ is a good father and cared about his kids more than their careless nasty mother.

It's not only Faye Resnick (who was a particpant with Nicole), who said about the drugs and sex parties. Nicole's close friends like Cora Fischman and others said the same about Nicole, she even told them. Nicole was basically a coked out whore in the last years of her life, hanging out with trash low life friends. She should have whored in peace and left the man alone. But she wanted both her old stable life with OJ and wanted her coked out whoring life. It couldn't be done and She took OJ down with her nasty manipulative behavior.

Also, No responsible good mother would give a bartender a blow job in the open in her living room with her young kids sleeping upstairs or hold drug fueled sex parties at her home with 2 small children living there.

Continued From "The Other Woman: My Years With O.J. Simpson" book by Paula Barbieri:

After OJ. left for the service, my mother called "Get out ofthere, Paula," my mother persisted. It was her fifth call of the day. "You don't belong there."

"I'm fine, Mom," I said. "Everything's okay, and I'll be home soon."

She wasn't convinced. "I'm a little older than you are," she said, "and I know that we all have a breaking point. These people were divorced, and they couldn't leave each other alone — Paula, if he did it, people would understand. Everybody has that breaking point —"

"He didn't do it — he didn't" I snapped. "Don't talk like that!" My mother never questioned O.J.'s innocence again.

The bad dream was real. They were arresting him. I had to snap him out of it. Tears and sympathy weren't going to get it done. "Okay, there's really no time to be upset about this," I said briskly. "You've got to get this legal stuff taken care of so you can be there to raise your kids."

At the mention of OJ.'s children, I saw a glimmer of response. I kept going: "You have to be there, because Sydney has to go to Vassar — she has so much potential."

"Sydney is a very smart girl," OJ. said.

"And Justin will do great things in his life."

"There's nothing better," said O.J., lost in space, "than one of Justin's hugs."

This wasn't going so well, I thought. OJ. sounded like someone remembering the wonderful things in his life one last time.

"If you're not there to tell the kids the truth about your life, they'll hear lies from someone else, and that will be so awful for them. You have to be strong for them."

No response — he was slipping away from me.

"You've got Bob Shapiro taking care of this," I said. "It's going to be all right — you just have to get over this hurdle."

OJ. stayed vacant.

"You're innocent — you can beat this. Bob told me that he has the best doctors in the country coming to examine you." In truth, I thought OJ.'s body might be his best defense. I hadn't seen a scratch or bruise on him.

O.J. kept staring straight ahead, and I thought: This is the last time I'll ever see him. I was certain he would kill himself; the only question was where. He cared about Kardashian too much to do it in the house.

But I also knew that O.J. Simpson was a very resourceful man.

Time was up for pep talks; O.J. had to get ready for the doctors who'd been hired by the defense to gather any physical evidence that might help his case. He took a shower and I waited in the bathroom, as before. He put on some jeans and a golf shirt, and then he went into the den to talk to A.C.

When I entered the den, I found O.J. on the phone with Louis Marks, a friend and financial adviser. What I heard chilled me to the quick: O.J. was discussing his will and asking Louis to make sure that his children were taken care of.

O.J. put down the phone and looked at A.C, who said, "It's going to be okay, man." Now the two football players were crying together, and I made it a threesome.

When I got back, O.J. was writing on a sheet of unlined paper He looked up at me and said pensively, "I can't forget my Peola. That was O.J.'s nickname for me, a simple play on my first name that he used when he felt affectionate or playful. Now he was using it in a totally different tone of voice. I didn't know it yet, but now he was writing his good-byes.

A.C. said sadly, "I thought we were going to grow old together, man. I love you"

OJ. just sat there with his shoulders slumped. Every now and then he'd look over to me with a ghost of a smile, as if to contain my worry.

It was around then that OJ. seemed to straighten up. Something clicked inside. He looked at me and said, "Paula, I don't want you here when the cops arrive. You should be with your family — please pack your things and go."

"I'll wait till you leave and then I'll go," I said.

"Don't argue with me," he said, more pleading than impatient. "Just get your stuff together and have Tom come get you."

I knew OJ. well enough to know he wouldn't budge. I went back to the bedroom, called my theatrical manager, threw my things in my bag. .The doctors were done. I met OJ. at the staircase, That's when I lost it, as we walked down those stairs with his arm around my shoulder. Death was in the air, choking me — I couldn't catch my breath between sobs. I begged OJ. again to let me stay, but he wouldn't hear of it.

"Then promise me," I said desperately, "that I'll see you again. Please, please don't hurt yourself. Promise me that you'll see this through."

OJ. said, "I've got to talk to Tom for a minute. A.C.'s got something for you.' As OJ. and Tom huddled on the front steps, A.C. handed me a wad of hundred-dollar bills, around $2,000. "O.J. wanted me to give you this so you can get on a plane and go home," he said.

OJ. opened the Jeep's passenger door — a gentleman to the end, I thought grimly — and closed it after me. Then OJ. said good-bye to me in a way I'd never want to hear again. He reminded me of a boy I'd known back in high school, the class valedictorian and a rock-solid Christian. Whenever OJ. claimed that all men cheated, I'd point to that young man as proof that he was wrong.

"Now you promise me something," OJ. said through the closed window. "You promise me that you'll get out of California and go back to Panama City and marry that guy back home."

Not really R400 he was a tranny, so I'm not really what he should be called.

And do you have any problem with a woman who was brutally murdered being judged for being so sexually active on DL? So, she deserved to be brutally murdered by a monster who also killed someone he didn't even know without any regret or hesitation.

And interestingly there's really no negative comments or name calling of OJ who was very sexually active as well. Double standard?

I didn't question the emotional logic of OJ.'s ending his life. The loss of Nicole, the brutality ofthe crime, the humiliation of being a prime suspect — wouldn't I want to end it had I been in his place?

And yet ... as Tom and I drove away, I got all twisted. I got lost in the place, deep down inside, where our scariest thoughts live without words.

An innocent man going down without a fight? A man like O.J., so strong and with so much to live for —

"He killed them, didn't he!" I burst out to Tom. Now my conflict was an open wound. I started babbling like a madwoman, straining to make some sense of things, going back and forth and back — "No, he couldn't do it!"

We were climbing Mulholland Drive, into the canyons; Tom lived on top of a mountain. With a hysterical woman beside him.

I listened for the phone, hoping Cathy might call. But my first information came over Tom's television instead, in a live news conference at around 2 p.m. Police Commander David Gascon took the podium — and I gasped as I heard him declare OJ. a fugitive.

"He is a wanted murder suspect," Gascon said, "and we will go find him."

I immediately feared the worst: The police would never find OJ. alive.

It was probably too late already, I thought . I could barely speak, but I forced myself to call OJ.'s house in Brentwood. Jason, O.J. s grown son from his first marriage, would be there. I didn't know Jason all that well, but I loved him through his father. I wanted to tell him I'd be there if he needed anything.

"Dad's gone — nobody can find him," Jason said, cutting me off. "You've got to tell me where he is."

"I can't," I said. "I don't know."

"Come on, this is really important." Jason sounded scared to death. "If you don't tell me, something bad is going to happen."

"I know that," I said. That's why I was calling, to console a boy about to lose his father.

"Look," Jason said, "the police are here — they want to talk to you."

"We need to speak with you," the officer said.

"I don't know anything," I said. "I just left the house a little while ago, and I really don't know where —"

"Just stay where you are — we're on our way."

It didn't take those police officers long to realize I knew less than they did. They were aggressive and mechanical, and I could see how they'd scared the pants off Jason. When I warned them to get the guns out of O.J.'s house, they didn't seem to listen. They were too busy searching Tom's garage, and then they were gone.

An hour later, CNN broke into Larry King with a shot ofthe San Diego Freeway, northbound. I gaped at the sight of A.C.'s white Bronco rolling down the middle ofthe road, with a dozen or more squad cars in slow pursuit.

O.J. was in the backseat, the newsman said he was alive! Though the district attorney would try to suggest there had been no conspiracy at Kardashian's house. Given the sedatives he was taking and the despair that had swamped him, OJ. lacked the heart or mind for any escape.

OJ. had fled not to run, I knew in my gut, but to die. By riding off with A.C, he'd seized his last chance to go out on his terms. As I watched the screen, barely blinking, my elation faded. Now there were two ways that OJ. could end his life: by his own hand (my instinct told me he had a gun with him) or by one itchy policeman's.

I was desperate for the Bronco to pull over, for OJ. to step out.

A.C.'s Bronco left the freeway at Sunset Boulevard and turned toward OJ.'s home. I'd been feeling a little better since hearing that O.J. wanted to talk to his mom. He worshipped his mother. Once he reached her, I thought, there was no way he could do it.

I suffered through the final hour's standoff at the house. And I can hardly describe my relief when OJ. was finally coaxed out of the truck and into custody — I wept with relief and thanked God. OJ. would see another day.

Only months later, after a private talk with OJ. in jail, would I learn just how dangerous his journey had been. Well before the police picked up his trail, he'd asked A.C. to take him to Nicole's grave in Orange County. That was where OJ. planned to use the revolver he was holding in his lap, wrapped in a towel.

When they found that the police had the cemetery covered, they pulled off into an orange grove instead. A.C. got out of the truck — perhaps OJ. had asked for a few moments alone.

OJ told me "I took the gun and I put it in my mouth, I pulled the trigger and the towel jammed the trigger"

[quote]First of all, OJ didn't murder anyone. It's only your opinion. He was tried and found Not guilty.

By jurors with an ax to grind against the Los Angeles Police Department. The verdict was jury nullification, obviously. OJ murdered two people in cold blood. He left more evidence behind than most attorneys and prosecutors have ever had.

[quote]Second, yes, believe it or not, OJ is a good father and cared about his kids more than their careless nasty mother.

He terrorized their mother off and on for years and then stabbed her and a young adult male to death. Maybe you were raised by wolves and don't understand this, but that's not a good and caring father.

[quote]No responsible good mother would give a bartender a blow job in the open in her living room with her young kids sleeping upstairs or hold drug fueled sex parties at her home with 2 small children living there.

Okay, but OJ didn't slaughter her because of her lack of good mothering skills. He killed her because he was insanely controlling and she was finally pulling away from him for good after he threatened to call the IRS and bankrupt her, which she interpreted as meaning he was going to start affecting the kids' quality of life as revenge against her. She shunned him at the recital and he became enraged because no one ignores or says no to OJ. A few hours later, he killed her.

OJ told me, "I took the gun and I put it in my mouth I pulled the trigger, and the towel jammed the trigger"

"It didn't take those police officers long to realize I knew less than they did" - Paula Barbieri

It wouldn't take anyone very long to realize that Paula knew less than they did

OJ opened the Jeep's passenger door a- gentleman to the end, I thought grimly-Paula

There's nothing better, said OJ, lost in space, than one of Justin's hugs-Paula

He looked at me and said, 'Paula, I don't want you here when the cops arrive you should be home with your family- please pack your things and go'

Translation: get the **** out !

Now you promised me something, OJ said through the closed window. You promise me that you'll get out of California and go back to Panama City and marry that guy back home

Here, OP:

But during their relationship, Paula was frightened by his temper, as she later revealed in her 1997 book The Other Woman: My Years With O.J. Simpson. For example, she described a fight they had during their time together in Panama City, FL. “I thought he looked ready to lunge at me, to pick me up and shake me,” she wrote, per Radar Online. “He seemed to be fighting with himself, as if there were some other person struggling inside. A person who was wild and violent, a person who scared even O.J.”

CTE, drugs, and people licking your ass most of your adult life will produce a person prone to tantrum whenever any little thing is not how they desire it.

It doesn't matter where she was giving blowjobs or to whom. She didn't involve her children in her sex life, unless you have some proof she was demonstrating technique for them.

More "women are supposed to become sexless slaves to motherhood and deny all other needs". Yeah, I guess from OJs perspective this was true but it's bullshit.

If she had been blowing him, he wouldn't have had a problem with it.

Paula's mom sounded like she understood the dynamic betw. OJ and Nicole. She (mother of Paula) sounded like she could understand why OJ killed Nicole.

Paula sounds dumber and dumber, the more she writes.

R409 other than OJ was there ever anyone who was considered a suspect in the murders of Nicole and Ron" Ever!

R409 and was OJ concerned that his children would discover two bloody bodies outside of their home with their mother's corpse being nearly decapitated?

Okay folks, Calm down

Leaving aside Nicole being a coked out whore, Please, Think honestly, with an open mind without hatred and hostility for a minute here. It's okay to have different opinions. It's Not a war here. and I'm not saying it's justifcation for killing anybody but put yourself in OJ's situation and think.

Nicole really emotionally and psychologically abused OJ, really fucked up his mind. don't undermine this type of abuse and manipulation. OJ was deeply in love with Nicole, she asked for a divorce, he divorced her, had a difficulty letting go for a while but finally gave up on her and moved on with his life and started a happy stable relationship with other woman/Paula.

Nicole comes back, aggressively pushing for a reconciliation, basically stalking him (but the media ignores this part of course), sending him letters, love songs, wedding video, using her children, basically a heavy intense campain to win him back. He finally gave in and agreed on one year trial.

At this point, Nicole had a strange hate/love relationship with OJ, maybe she wanted to drive crazy, I really don't know. But someday she loved him and everything was fine, the next day she hated him, ignoring him, treating him like trash. basically keeping him off balance. In normal situation, you can say, why didn't he leave her, he is a grown man, but remember that he really loved her. and she didn't help the situation, till the end, she kept going back to him, being totally devoted to him oneday then refusing to talk to him the next day, sending him mixed signals, acting jealous and mad when he reunited again with Paula, making it difficult for him to see his kids, insulting him, and basically pushing all his buttons.

Of course, He should have controlled his emotions and totally cut her off but he is a human being after all who was being jerked off and humiliated by Nicole for a whole year, I have great compassion and empathy for OJ and I can understand why and how he reached the breaking point and was pushed to the edge IF he really did it (during a blackout of anger)

He is not a monster or an abstract evil, he is a good man who helped many people throughout his life and did a lot of good, but was put in an unfortunate tragic situation that ruined his whole life.

If people thought he got away with a crime, he really didn't. He was constantly punished by the society (until now). He lost everything, money, job, reputation, friends.. ect

This will not change people's thoughts but it's the other side of the story that the media/people and prosecuters want to ignore and If people feel disgusted and repulsed by this thread, they can simply ignore it.

Peace

Nicole

R428/ OP here.

I swear to God ,I didn't write Nicole at the end of my previous post. I don't know how it has been misplaced here.

You don't kill people who drive you nuts. You walk away and stay away.

Especially if you've gone around and around with this person and they won't change.

I bet she felt the very same way: "I've gone around and around with this person, and the bad things are still bad and the good things are still good".

The problem becomes very difficult when those two things are nearly equal parts of the relationship, and the bad things are serious and not "I hate the sound of him/her slurping soup".

He could always walk away, tell her it is absolutely over, arrange the finances and children duties and just stay out of it.

There isn't any "she manipulated me until I was crazy". He did that himself by staying or repeatedly giving her chances the way she probably kept giving him chances.

You need to remember that we don't really know her side and it is likely to be equally valid, from her perspective. Whatever that may have been.

I wonder when OJ started planning her murder. The fact that she ignored him at the recital must have been a big motivation and the push for him to do it. The fact that she didn't acquiesce to him probably enraged him.

I also wonder if he picked the dumb-as-rocks Paula as a girlfriend and treated her so sweetly so that she would say "Oh, OJ never hit me".

R431 He started dating Paula in early 1992 (after Nicole filing for divorce).

It's not like OJ picked Paula just before the murder. They were already together for 2 years.

Continued From "The Other Woman: My Years With O.J. Simpson" book by Paula Barbieri:

"You couldn't miss OJ.'s new address. It was squat and beige and ugly, with a billboard of a sign in bright orange letters: los angeles county sheriff men's central jail.

OJ. was seated in the farthest glass room. As I made my way down the narrow corridor for visitors, the inmates stared at me through the glass. I'd been undressed by men's eyes before, but never with such weird intensity.

OJ. and I were separated by a gray Formica counter with a three-foot-high panel of glass on top of it. We weren't allowed to touch.

OJ. welcomed me with a self-conscious smile. Rubbing his face, he broke my heart as he said, "Look at me." He was wearing a navy blue short-sleeved jumpsuit. His coloring was awful under the fluorescent lights, a sick-looking yellow.

I could see that O.J.'s canvas Reeboks had no shoelaces and that his legs were shackled to iron rings on the floor. I forced myself not to look down, not to wince or stare — I wanted OJ. to know I was okay with this.

"You look good," I said, almost too perkily. "I thought you were going to look a lot worse, I really did."

"I look terrible," OJ. said. "But you look great."

He put his hand up to the glass and I did the same. For the rest o fthat visit and every visit to come, our palms or fingertips would stay as close to touching as the rules allowed.

We shed a lot of tears over the next two hours. OJ. was putting up his best front, but his torment was never far beneath the surface. Behind his forced smile he was a man who'd lost everything but his pain.

We talked about our families and the lawyers and how much we'd missed each other. It was like old times, in the best sense.

Then OJ. drifted away from me. His pauses grew longer; I could tell he'd stopped listening. His forehead creased and his mouth turned down, and he let out an anguished howl from deep in his belly.

"I didn't do it. I never killed anyone — I can t understand why this is happening."

I pressed my hand to the glass so hard my knuckles got white. I wanted to reach through to OJ., to hold him and tell him everything was all right. But I couldn't, and it wasn't.

As the clock struck eight and visiting hours were over, OJ. asked me to leave first. He didn't want me to see the guard lock his wrists back to his waist or lead him away in a slow prison shuffle. He's still got some pride left, I thought.

I wanted to ask someone, "Can't I just go get a sleeping bag and come back and camp out for a while?" OJ. kept looking at me until the steel door slammed shut.

I've stayed at Rockingham. It was where OJ. wanted me and where I thought I'd feel safest.

At night I'd lie down on his big bed, on the left side, where I'd always slept. Whenever he called, I'd reach over to the right side, his side, to pick up the telephone. In a strange way, the phone replaced him. It was all that was left of the vivid man who'd once lived here.

As O.J. would tell me, "You're the first voice I want to hear in the morning and the last voice I want to hear before I go to sleep." That was how I lived my life, from one call to the next. I settled into a routine. At eight sharp O.J. would call and wake me.

OJ. had already been up and grumbling for three hours — without golf as an incentive, he loathed his 5 a.m. reveilles. We'd say our good mornings and how much we cared for each other. We couldn't talk long, as the deputies would be rushing O.J. off to the van and to court.

If he was able to sneak F. Lee Bailey's cell phone into the courthouse holding cell, O.J. would call again later in the morning: peptalk time. We'd take turns, based on who was feeling the bluest that day.

Those night calls were partly postmortems. OJ. would be eager to review what had happened in court that day and to plan ahead for the next. I'd play operator and put through a conference call to Johnnie Cochran or F. Lee Bailey at their homes. Though I'd keep quiet when the lawyers were on, OJ. wanted me on the line. It was our way of staying together for every possible moment.

After our third party hung up, OJ. and I had our private time. I might put the Winans on the stereo and crank up the volume so OJ. could hear it. Or we might watch a movie or TV show over the phone together. — OJ. on the small set he could squint at through his bars, me on the big screen in OJ.'s living room.

OJ. and I both enjoyed a good Clint Eastwood shoot-'em-up, but I was appalled when the deputies put on a rented video of the jail movie The Shawshank Redemption. "That's not very encouraging," I complained to OJ.

We were at the guards' mercy, of course. Lots of times they'd switch in the middle of a show to something ridiculous. OJ. would holler out in frustration, "Come on, man, that was a good movie!'

As we got close to ten o'clock, when the phones would be shut down, O.J. took his sleeping pill.

Sometimes OJ. tried to hang on after closing time. He'd desperately beg the guard, "Please, I just want to say good night to my girlfriend. Leave me alone for five more minutes."

The guards didn't like that. Some ofthem got aggressive, right up in O.J.'s face: "Get off the phone right now." They held all the cards. If you bucked them you lost your privileges, and that was that.

As I look back, I wasn't even conscious ofhow we were sliding back into our old verbal intimacy. Once I'd resolved to forget the past and ignore the future, my feelings of the moment held sway. Because I did love OJ. I'd never stopped loving him — not even when I left that message on the morning of June 12.

By the time ofmy first visit, jail life was taking its physical toll on OJ. His knees were getting worse. The poor lighting strained his eyes — OJ. was devouring five novels a week for escape, and he needed reading glasses for the first time in his life.

Basic hygiene was a constant issue. OJ. was humiliated when I saw his toenails, which had grown long and grotesque. It took several weeks and a court order to get him a nail clipper, just as it would for his thermal underwear. Then OJ. developed an excruciating fungus on his feet.

As far as I could tell, OJ.'s celebrity status mostly worked against him inside the jail. He was totally isolated, in theory for his own protection. When OJ. was taken out of his cell and down a corridor, the other inmates were ordered to turn their backs and look away. The guards didn't even want them making eye contact.

One fellow prisoner did connect with O.J., through a note that basically said, "Hang in there — Erik Menendez." OJ. was disinclined to write back. "Oh, that's perfect — me and the Menendez boys," he said ruefully.

When the general population played basketball on the roof deck, OJ. watched from a nearby cage; his own "recreation" consisted of an hour of sunlight and fresh air per week. OJ. would have given a year of his life to get into a game and shoot a few hoops.

But what they couldn't take away was OJ.'s charisma. He'd be stuck in that rooftop cage, and the other inmates would trot by and say, "Juice, hang in there. You're gonna make it. You're gonna be all right." O.J. might start singing an Aaron Neville song and the players would join in. For those few minutes they were all together.

By nature a man of action, he now had time to burn in his cell. To reflect on every legal detail. To agonize about the course his life had taken, and where he might have gone wrong. Sometimes he'd get lost in the brambles of second-guessing.

But even in his low moments, and there were plenty of them, O.J. never resembled the lost soul I'd seen in Encino. When he told me about his suicide attempt in the Bronco, he seemed ashamed of himself.

"I think I'm still here for a reason," O.J. told me. He was letting me know that he'd never try anything like that again, and I was grateful.

When the lawyers came in to discuss the case, they'd usually ask me to leave. But I'd stick around for visitors. As you might expect, OJ.'s circle of friends shrank after his arrest, but the few that hung in were steadfast. A.C. and Bobby Chandler, his old Buffalo teammates, were tremendous.

Don Ohlmeyer, the president of NBC, came by almost every week. So did OJ.'s golfing buddies, particularly Craig Baumgarten, a movie producer.

Going into October, our big concern was the blood evidence at Rockingham and what the DNA tests would reveal.

After OJ. finished talking to the lawyers that evening, he called me to say good night. He sounded flabbergasted, worse than he had in weeks. "I didn't do this," he said — and I felt so bad for him, that he needed to affirm himself to me.

I shared the lawyers' distrust of any evidence gathered by the LAPD. These were the same detectives who had scaled the wall at Rockingham without a warrant, using the flimsy excuse that they'd feared for O.J.'s safety.

In one call I set up for OJ. , Alan Dershowitz, the Dream Team's Constitutional expert, was vehement that the detectives had violated O.J.'s rights. "They've opened a huge door for an appeal," Alan said.

My suspicions were confirmed in another three-way call, this one with Dr. Henry Lee, the Connecticut criminologist. Dr. Lee told OJ. that it looked like someone had tampered with the evidence. I had tremendous respect for Dr. Lee's integrity. If he'd thought O.J. guilty, I was certain he would have pulled back.

I could draw only one conclusion: O.J. was being framed, plain and simple. It just wasn't logical for him to have killed Nicole — who would raise his children while he traveled all over the country? O.J. had nothing to gain and everything to lose by Nicole's death.

I didn't consider the possibility that logic had nothing to do with this crime — that it might have been an act of passion. I'd embraced O.J.'s claim that he and Nicole had no emotional ties as of June 1994, and that he'd returned to his family for the children's sake. Though O.J.'s suicide note had indicated otherwise,

[quote]basically a heavy intense campain to win him back.

Oh, dear.

PROBLEM: the blood evidence at Rockingham and what the DNA tests would reveal @R236

SOLUTION: seat a jury too stupid to understand DNA evidence

From the start, O.J. was saying that the murders were connected to Nicole's friend Faye Resnick and a drug deal gone bad. That seemed reasonable to me. I remembered when my brother Michael had a drug debt and a guy threatened to leave blood all over our front lawn if we didn't pay up.

That summer, while still in Panama City, I hired two local investigators to see what they could come up with. They flew out to Los Angeles and nosed around. "Some strange things" were going on out there, they reported. They found a lot of drug use at one of the nightclubs that Ron Goldman had been promoting, as a sideline to his waiter's job.

Then came the punch line: The guy who took over the promotion job from Ron had been found murdered in his front yard. With his throat cut.

We wouldn't be able to bring that chilling story into evidence, however. And once the trial began, OJ.'s team had to focus on the issues raised by the prosecution. From that point on, we were literally on the defensive.

The true story of what had happened on South Bundy Drive, it appeared, would remain a mystery.

Whenever O.J. got upset by some development in court or report in the press, he'd tearfully profess his innocence — to me or anyone else in earshot. He always sounded spontaneous, never calculated.

Once OJ. asked me where I'd been on the night of June 12, as if he were checking my alibi. That floored me yet confirmed my faith in him.

And that's exactly what I had, a faith in O.J. that was nearly spiritual. I wouldn't ask him hard questions about the night of the murders. I couldn't bear the thought of hurting him, not when he was under attack from every side. My job was to be supportive. To keep O.J.'s head up, and mine as well.

As the preliminaries ground on, OJ. became more insistent about taking the stand. "Who knows my life better than me?" he'd say.

"You don't know what lawyers do," Bob Shapiro told him one day in the visiting room.

"But I know what I did, and I know what I'm talking about," OJ. insisted.

Appreciating how hard it was to argue with O.J., Bob took a different tack. "All right," he said. "Let me give you a little taste of what it's like."

As I watched, both fascinated and horrified, Bob tore OJ. apart in two minutes.

He started with harmless-sounding questions like "Did you ever raise your voice with Nicole?" Then he subtly stepped up his attack, maneuvering OJ. into corners he couldn't just skate his way out of. And if OJ. tried to explain, there would be four more questions waiting to knock him back again.

At the end, OJ. was in checkmate. Bob had made him look like the most terrible guy in the world.

"You don't belong on the stand," I told OJ. "Please, please don't do this."

"I get the point," he said. But OJ. being O.J., he wasn't deflated for long. The next day he told Bob, "Let's get somebody to work with me."

OJ. practiced over the next several weeks. When his visitors asked, "Are you really going to testify?" he had a ready reply: "Let me give you an example of what it's like."

He'd proceed to grill them on what they'd done the previous Saturday night. OJ. beat them all; he did it to me, too. You couldn't be honest without hesitating, but if you hesitated it sounded incriminating.

None of the attorneys was eager for OJ. to testify. But neither did they rule it out. AsJohnnie Cochran said, "We'll see what cards are dealt us, and take it day by day."

For the most part, OJ.'s grown children and I got along well at Rockingham, though it bothered me that they visited their father so rarely.

Jason and I would hang together out by the pool and Jacuzzi and play catch with his pit bull in the water. We were also partners in mischief.

But as time went on, I could feel the tension rise between us. Jason and Arnelle had lost someone they loved, and now here I was in his place.

It didn't help when OJ. called and one of his kids answered. "Hey, how are you?" O.J. would say. "Put Peola on the phone." Then we'd talk until the guards shut us down — it had to hurt Jason and Arnelle.

When I confided to O.J. that I felt uncomfortable around Nicole's photographs, he told me to take them down. Arnelle had a real attitude toward me after that.

The bad feelings spread to Marquerite, who called one night and told me, very abruptly, "Get the housekeeper on the phone."

Wanting to heal the rift, I wrote to Arnelle: "I'm not askingfor pity, just understanding. Ym herefor yourfather."

At least Shapiro was able to talk him into not testifying during the defense portion of the trial.

Shapiro said that Simpson still owes him money. I wouldn't be surprised if he owes each and every one of the "Dream Team," including Kardashian, attorney's fees.

Not long after that, my friends Debbie and Terri Whitehurst flew out to L.A. to check how I was doing. After a day at Disneyland, we stopped at Rockingham for a cup of tea before heading back to the airport.

We spent fifteen minutes out by the tennis court. "See, it's peaceful and quiet here," I said. As we were leaving, Arnelle stepped out the door and coolly stared at us.

We'd just pulled out of the drive when my cell phone rang. "Who were those people?" It was Jason, screeching at the top ofhis lungs. "How could you bring anyone here? This isn't your house. It's my father's, and you have to show him some respect!"

I understood that Jason was marking territory and that he'd been stressed-out himself, but I was steaming.

"I'm not going to talk about this with you," I said. "You talk to your father about it, and you talk to him about your attitude, because I'm not going to deal with you."

I couldn't desert O.J. because of Jason. But I was ready to pick up my stuff and stay in my apartment for the duration. "No, that's not right," O.J. told me. "I want you at the house." As he saw it, to be in his house was to stay part of his life. So I continued to split time between the two addresses, but it was never quite the same between Jason and me.

On November 15, the National Enquirer ran the following story: "O.J. 's Girlfriend Kicked Out Of His Mansion — After His Son Finds Her With 2 Men!"

I saw OJ. drawing closer to God as well. His talks with Mr. Whitehurst had made their mark, and he was moved by the letters and Bibles sent by Christians through the mail.

For a while the sheriff's department sent in their jailhouse psychiatrist to check on him, but OJ. didn't see the point. "He comes in to make sure I'm not suicidal, and I'm not suicidal," OJ. said impatiently one day after the doctor had left. "You don't see me trying to find shoelaces to hang myself, do you?"

As we went on to discuss the Bible together, I could see that O.J. found more solace there than in any psychiatric analysis.

We got a big lift when Rosey Grier, the ordained minister and former football star, began praying and studying with us on the weekends, when visits were held in the jail infirmary. As big and tough as Rosey looks, the strongest part of him is his spirit. Rosey prayed like no one else I'd ever met.

He'd start his closing prayer, and OJ. and I would bow our heads. Twenty minutes later we'd steal a glance at each other — Rosey was still going strong.

During O.J.'s year and more in jail, I believe he was walking in the right direction. His faith was growing, but he had yet to get that hunger for God.

Every now and again, OJ. would backslide. One time in the jail, I casually remarked that I'd seen Steven Spielberg in his light green Mercedes convertible, my favorite color. Sometime later, OJ. told me, "I'd love to get you that little green Mercedes convertible." He was trying to be nice, but it sparked a big fight between us.

I was running through my savings, just getting by on residual checks from old commercials, and here was OJ. talking about a $120,000 car.

I might have seen then that OJ. had kept one foot in the material world, and that he'd swing back into it if given half a chance.

O.J. spoke with Sydney and Justin twice a week on the phone, unless Nicole's parents were out — or, OJ. suspected, refusing to pick up the phone. I could tell when he'd just gotten off with the children; he'd be really down.

O.J. missed the hugs from "little Justila" and really worried about Sydney. He knew that she was old enough to be hearing terrible things about him, maybe even from the Browns. "Sydney needs her daddy," he said. "You can tell she's unhappy where she's at."

When O.J. felt guiltiest about being gone, I'd tell him, "No matter what, Daddy can't do any wrong. Whatever your father does, you still love him. You put him on a pedestal so high, and you know that he loves you."

But OJ. couldn't rise out of his gloom. "I've been a good guy all my life," he kept saying.

.... Chris Darden's opening made no sense to me. I couldn't fathom that OJ. would have killed Nicole "out ofjealousy . . . because he couldn't have her." I remembered how Nicole had asked O.J. for advice about her love life, and how pleased and relaxed he'd been about giving it to her.

Once, in the fall, I tried to talk to O.J. about my June 12 message and the feelings behind it.

He'd just discovered that I'd been with Michael Bolton that day. I was distressed about it; I wanted to clear the air.

"There was so much that was wrong with us," I began. "Remember how I said our schedules weren't working — "

I could see OJ. rolling his eyes at Nicole Pulvers, as if to say, What's wrong with this girl now?

I was breaking down. I got even more upset to see OJ. mouthing silently to Nicole, I have no idea what she's talking about.

I never brought the message up again. Over time, I stopped dwelling on it. Maybe OJ. had never received it. Maybe he'd heard it but taken it lightly.

Maybe I never really meant what I'd said. How could I have ever wanted to leave OJ., after all? What could my life have been without him? It was like trying to fathom a life without water, or oxygen, or love.

I knew what I wanted, or at least I knew the words. A genuine Christian life. A trusting relationship with a man who would be a good father. But I also wanted O.J., first and last. Everything else would wait.

"Juice," Bobby Bender said one night, "you better not screw up. You better marry this girl when this trial gets over. After all the crap she's been through, man, I'm going to have the preacher ready at my house."

Bobby was teasing, but marriage no longer sounded like such a crazy idea. Everything was fitting together for O.J. and me: the compassion, the closeness, that thousand-volt energy we had in the visiting room.

"We've been through so much, and we're still talking," OJ. would tell me. "It's meant to be — we're supposed to be together."

Once the trial got under way, O.J. would tell me, half-kidding, that I'd have to wed him in jail if the verdict went the other way: "Girl, you better marry me — I'm going to need that conjugal visit."

I thought it was just another OJ. fantasy, But as time passed, O.J.'s tone changed. He started talking about moving Sydney and Justin to a new life in New York, where mixed-race children could easily blend in.

He particularly liked the Benders' town on Long Island. "Bobby, is that vacant lot down the street from you still there?" he asked.

"It's waiting for you, Juice," Bobby replied.

"When I get out," OJ. would sigh, "I just want to get my Peola and my kiddos, and go far, far away."

On March 4, 1995, I did a shoot with Annie Leibovitz for a photo essay on the trial, to be published in the New Yorker.

When she asked me to lie on a couch in an open man's shirt (one of OJ.'s shirts, for the record), I complied.

As we explored different poses, I was just doing what I did, which was to model. It was natural for me to move into the position that ultimately appeared in the magazine. I wasn't thinking about how suggestive it might look.

As the photograph turned out, I appeared to be naked under O.J.'s shirt. I actually had on my underwear, but I'd been around long enough to know that perception beats reality, every time. Packaged among the attorneys in their power suits, I stood out as an object of titillation, just what I'd hoped to avoid.

If I'd had it to do over again, I would have turned Annie down from the start.

"I can't believe you did this," O.J. said after seeing the magazine. He was really upset with me. "You should have been in pants or a skirt and a jacket — this is just so explosive."

He was right. I felt stupid. If I were just a model, that photograph would have been a great career step. It would have won me recognition and new clients. But I wasn't just a model, not anymore.

I wasn't the only woman in the Simpson trial to be taken down a peg through overexposure. One day Marcia Clark broke down sobbing at the counsel table after the National Enquirer found some old topless photographs of her and shared them with the world.

OJ. thought Marcia had great legs and appreciated her short skirts. He also marveled at her vile language. By all accounts, Marcia had a mouth like a truck driver.

I remember one visit when OJ. walked in with a smug grin on his face. What was so funny, I asked. "Marcia said the 'C-word' today," he replied.

OJ. had an uncanny way of gauging a woman's menstrual cycle. Cathy Randa, Nicole Pulvers, myself— he could always tell when we were two days from our period, or "in that zone," as he put it. I thought it was an obnoxious little game, but I had to hand it to him: He was never wrong.

During the trial, Marcia got under OJ.'s skin about every other hour. But once a month he would get his revenge. When he determined that Marcia was premenstrual, he would pass it on to Johnnie Cochran and tell him to work her over.

"Johnnie's gonna push her buttons today, " O.J. would confide to me at lunchtime. "I told him that Marcia was in the zone."

That afternoon, as often as not, Marcia would lose it, and I knew that O.J. was hard-pressed to keep from laughing out loud.

Marcia said the C -word today he (OJ) replied R450

butter wouldn't melt in OJ's mouth. He couldn't even bring himself to say the word cunt, but he could stab one to death.

[quote]O.J. spoke with Sydney and Justin twice a week on the phone, unless Nicole's parents were out — or, OJ. suspected, refusing to pick up the phone. I could tell when he'd just gotten off with the children; he'd be really down. O.J. missed the hugs from "little Justila" and really worried about Sydney. He knew that she was old enough to be hearing terrible things about him, maybe even from the Browns. "Sydney needs her daddy," he said. "You can tell she's unhappy where she's at." O.J. couldn't rise out of his gloom. "I've been a good guy all my life," he kept saying.

Oh, poor Juice. He missed hugs from his little boy and he knew his little girl was unhappy staying with her grandparents, those terrible people who had the nerve to not pick up the phone every single time the man who murdered their daughter/the mother of their grandchildren called. His kids needed to be back with the man who slaughtered their mother and left her body just outside the front door of the house where they were sleeping and could have come upon at any moment, and who left them alone in the house for the night while he made his escape from the crime scene to go create an alibi. The kids needed to be with him, the (self-proclaimed) good guy!

That Paula sure is a twit. (Was there anyone who didn't make money off of those poor people's horrific murder?)

Say what you want about OJ. But his kids Love him and he is a good father (believe it or not). He rightfully won the custody of his kids in 1997, going through the court system, judges and psychologists. All ruled that the kids can be with him and he successfully won the custody of his kids as he should.

By all accounts, even by the Brown family's account (including the sisters who can't stand OJ), they all said over the years that Sydney and Justin are doing good in their lives and turned out to be stable and fine.

The kids love their dad and this says a lot, Justin even wrote a card to his father during father day in 2000, and wrote him "You're the best mother in the world", because he is both father and mother to them.

In retrospect, If Nicole was alive, Justin and Sydeny would have ended up as spoiled attention whoring brats, like the Kardashians. Khloe said that Sydeny was her best friend when Nicole was alive.

It's a good thing that they were brought up by their father OJ.

Continued: From "The Other Woman: My Years With O.J. Simpson" book by Paula Barbieri:

In May, Gretchen Stockdale joined the circus. A model and former Los Angeles Raiders cheerleader, she surfaced with a taperecorded voice mail that OJ. left her at 7:35 P.M.June 12, or about three hours before the murders.

Inevitably, the text of OJ.'s message leaked out to the press: "Hey, Gretchen, sweetheart, it's Orenthal James, who is finally at a place in his life where he's like, totally, totally, unattached with everybody. Ha haaaahl . . . "I'm catching a red-eye at midnight or something to Chicago, but I'll be back Monday night. If you leave me a message, leave it on —"

The same night, O.J. had also talked to another model, a Playboy centerfold named Tracy Adele, shortly before Sydney's five o'clock recital. "I've got everything in the world, but I'm not a happy man," O.J. told her. "How can you make me happy, Tracy?"

OJ.'s coarse and casual overtures were less than appealing. I couldn't deny feeling jealous when I read them. But I also couldn't say OJ. was cheating on me. I'd broken up with him that morning, after all, and I was with someone else myself that day.

Besides, I had other, more serious concerns. When I heard about Gretchen, I was facing a crisis that was truly undeniable. I was losing my home.

To add insult to injury, the press kept pumping out this image of me as a shallow, greedy woman who'd do anything for money. Even as I gave up my home, a Philadelphia paper reported that I was condo-hunting in Florida and would look at nothing under $2.5 million.

The media never came close to seeing who I was: a lonely person who was losing everything in her life.

I needed time and space to heal. I hated the idea of abandoning O.J., even for a while, but self-preservation kicked in.

I had a very strong suspicion that I was about to break down. On April 7, I went down to the jail to tell OJ. I was leaving. I didn't even sit — I wanted to say good-bye and gun the Bronco to the airport, without looking back.

"I just can t stay anymore," I told OJ., holding my hand to the glass, tears streaming down my checks. I began moving toward the visitors' door.

"You can't just walk away now," he said. "Come back here and talk to me."

"I love you, but I can't talk right now."

"I can't follow you — I can't get up, I've got these chains on me," OJ. pleaded. Now he was crying too. "Don't do this, please.'

But I was gone, oblivious to guards and Menendezes and reporters, just beelining to my truck.

I returned to Los Angeles on May 3 and camped out at Rockingham. Life resumed as if I'd never been away, with the same daily cycle of visits and phone calls. Grateful that I'd returned, O.J. was, if anything, more loving and appreciative than before.

But as the year marker of the murders approached, we both felt the weight of O.J.'s time in jail. I knew I couldn't stand to be in L.A. on June 12. That day would be all about Nicole for O.J., and it still hurt me to talk about her.

When OJ. started venting in that direction — Why would anyone want to hurt her? — I kept changing the subject.

What could I possibly say about Nicole not being there? What could I do to make a difference?

We were still talking every day, still exchanging our I-love you's,

"You know," I told OJ. one night, "I was moving on when all this started."

"I'm sorry that you're pulled into this," he said. "I'm just a big trouble for everybody."

I wished I could take my cruel words back — how could I say such a horrible thing?

I never stopped caring about O.J., and I never stopped supporting him, but we weren't doing each other much good of late. As his fortunes in court improved, he seemed stronger and less dependent on me.

Toward the end of June, I decided to go home to Florida indefinitely.

I'd done my civil duty, my friendship duty, my loving duty, my human duty — I'd done it all.

O.J. was going to be okay, I thought. It was time to get myself straight.

I watched the trial less consistently; it just didn't seem like a healthy thing to do. But I was always by the phone when O.J. called in at 10 p.m. Central Time, after visiting hours at the jail.

While I missed him severely, physical distance seemed to take the edge off our problems. And O.J. wasn't a fool — he knew he had to step back for a while and let me sort things out.

O.J. seemed to understand that his old life was over, and to welcome the change. He wanted out of the Hollywood fast lane, he said — he wanted to live among people who'd stood by him, and who shared his faith in God.

I liked to muse about where we'd be twenty years down the road. OJ. 's legs were so bad that I might be pushing him in a wheelchair, but that didn't seem so bleak to me. I loved him so much that nothing else would matter. I'd take however many years God gave us, and be content.

In July I moved back into Rockingham one last time. While in Hawaii Tom tried, in a last-ditch attempt, to get me interested in my old life. I agreed to work on a low-budget, made-for-HBO show called Night Eyes. they were offering $30,000 for three weeks' work, and I had bills to pay.

OJ. had always encouraged me to be the best actress I could be. "It doesn't matter how small the part is," he'd tell me. "As long as you're working, you're an actor. It's the experience that counts."

But when I told O.J. about Night Eyes, he thought it was bad news. Having seen previous episodes, he considered it soft-core pornography.

"But I'm not doing any of the nudity," I protested. "They're using body doubles, and they won't look anything like me."

O.J. laughed derisively. "Don't fool yourself," he said. "Do you think the guy in Middle America knows whose body it is?"

The finished product was as bad as OJ. had warned. They'd plugged in a love scene every few minutes, and the body doubles did all sorts of obscene things.

Worse yet was the rental-video version, which the producers had thoughtfully sent me. The cover of the box had three main elements: my name; a nude still of a body double, and a crude illustration of a knife-wielding man in a ski mask.

The masked man was an especially inspired touch, since there was no such character in the movie.

When I'd watched Mark Fuhrman testify in March, he seemed to be one of the prosecution's most effective witnesses: clean-cut and competent.

That was before a set of audiotapes revealed Fuhrman to be a racist and a perjurer, a man who apparently took delight in beating up helpless black people. When Fuhrman returned to the stand in August, O.J. could hardly contain himself. He was furious when Judge Ito barred the jury from knowing that Fuhrman had pleaded the Fifth Amendment.

The judge, O.J. said, "might as well be part of the prosecution."

Once the jury heard excerpts from the tapes, the Dream Team knew that O.J. had a strong chance of acquittal. But while our conference calls were upbeat, the Fuhrman affair left me uneasy.

I'd been reading about the Ku Klux Klan and how it was spreading. I worried what it would be like for O.J. after he got out.

As a girl from the Deep South, I knew that a lot of people thought like Mark Fuhrman. Would O.J. have to watch his back for the rest of his life?

One thing seemed certain: This trial wouldn't end when the verdict came in.

As the end of the trial loomed and the future became less abstract, pressure built. O.J. and I never talked about the coming verdict, but our turmoil was there, just under the surface. What would happen when the trial was over? Where would we go? What would we do?

O.J. was beginning to waffle about moving out of Los Angeles. "I need to get my life together first," he said. "I've got a lot of things to deal with."

I knew O.J. was worried about a custody battle with the Browns, but the conversation unsettled me. What did that mean? I wondered. Where do I fit into the picture?

Late on Friday, September 29, the case went to the jury. After eighteen minutes of deliberation, the jurors stopped for the weekend — giving O.J. and his lawyers more than sixty hours to rehash the entire case, with me listening in.

The lawyers' consensus was that we were looking at a hung jury, in the worst case. O.J. was ready for that, though I couldn't imagine how I'd get through another year or more of this ordeal.

"No, you're going home," I told OJ. "Next week this time, you'll be home."

"Let's just wait and see," OJ. said.

We figured that the jury would be out at least a week, maybe as long as three, and we didn't want to jinx ourselves.

On Monday, October 2, my mother and I went for an early dinner at Captain Anderson's. Midway through, our waitress came over all excited and said, "Paula, they reached a verdict!" I thought she was joking.

But when I got home, I saw the news: It was true. The jury was finished, and the verdict would be read the next day. I felt ill. All the commentators were saying that a quick verdict was a bad sign for OJ.

"Say your prayers," a subdued OJ. told me before we hung up for the night.

I remembered a warning from F. Lee Bailey, when he'd recently stopped off in Florida and made me a gift of a laptop computer; he'd been so kind to me throughout the trial. "Be prepared for the worst," Lee had cautioned.

I was up by six the next morning, or four o'clock in Los Angeles. A long time to wait. I sat with CNN in the upstairs loft outside my bedroom.

The consensus was for conviction; all the legal experts seemed very sure of themselves. I was dying inside.

At around ten, OJ. called before leaving for the courtroom. "I love you, girl," he said.

"I love you, Orenthal James." I tried to keep the tremor out of my voice, but by that time my hands were shaking, and I don't think I did a good job.

"Got to go," O.J. said. I listened to the dial tone for several seconds before I hung up.

When I heard those two blessed words — not guilty! — I think I must have screamed. I know that I clutched Joe's neck and fell into his arms. So often I'd thought this trial would never end. Yet now, as it happened, the ending felt very real and right and fair.

O.J. had earned it; I was thrilled for him. I looked at my mother — she'd come up unnoticed in my haze — and the first thing I said was, "Dad must be mad right now." I was right on the money.

Soon Dad was up there on the TV, a bigot to the finish. "The son of a bitch walked," he grumbled.

I was delighted when CNN cut to a jubilant church gathering in L.A.'s black community. Then the angry white people around the courthouse brought me down again. I thought of the clerk in the Brentwood video store, and the bitterness that could grow in people's hearts.

But that didn't matter so much at the moment. O.J. was innocent. O.J. was free. He wouldn't have to spend the rest of his life in jail.

The phone rang. I knew it was him before I heard his voice, which was racing like my heart: "I can't believe it, I'm on the freeway, I never thought I would enjoy being on the freeway as much as I am now."

O.J. started reeling off the interchange signs, every little landmark on the road, as if they were wonders of the world.

"I love you!" I shouted.

"I love you," O.J. said. "Listen, I'm going home, I'm going to get my kids, and then I'm coming to get you, girl."

I couldn't wait. We would be together — how could I doubt it?

Get help, R453. Seriously. You seem sociopathic.

We talked and giggled until O.J. reached his exit, when I snapped to and told him about the storm. I had to get off and get ready; a mandatory evacuation was nothing to play with. "I'll give Cathy the number where you can reach me," I said.

Meanwhile, all the power and phones were out, including the station that bounced calls to my cell phone. There was no way for O.J. to reach me.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again," O.J. said over the phone when he finally got through. Come on out, he said. The Benders had a prepaid ticket waiting for me at the airport; I could stay at the Beverly Hills Hotel.

"I can't come out just now," I said. "There are things I have to take care of around here."

I needed O.J. to come see me in Panama City. I knew it might take a while — he'd have to get his sea legs, spend time with his kids. He needed to experience his freedom without my being there to cloud things.

I'd waited fifteen months to hold O.J. in my arms. I would wait a few more days and be patient and understanding, because that was right for OJ.

When the jet touched down in Panama City. I felt like an eager bride whose soldier was home from the war. I was hopping up and down on the runway. My wait was almost over. But as focused as I was on OJ. as he came off the plane, OJ. was dressed in chinos and a white golf shirt, and he looked wonderful. We flowed into our hug and kiss. I smelled vanilla, and breathed deep. He 's so skinny, I thought, feeling O.J.'s ribs. I'd idealized this moment for so long, and now it was as perfect as I'd dreamed it.

But then reality began to intrude. I felt inhibited with so many people around, almost as if I were onstage. Everyone was staring at OJ.

I felt shy and embarrassed. The whole atmosphere smacked of a first date, no matter how well I thought I knew this man. OJ. had been simmering in jail for so long, and now I wasn't sure that I could live up to his fantasies of me.

We took off with Casey driving and O.J.'s bodyguards behind us in a rental car. We went directly to a condo I'd reserved on the beach, and Casey dropped us off.

After fifteen months of virtually nonstop conversation, there was nothing more to say. We both knew why we were there and what had to happen next.

It didn't seem like anything special for him. He didn't act like a man who'd gone fifteen months without sex. I thought back to the stories about his coming-home party and the women who were on hand.

The sore subject — our future — was out. We hadn't talked about it since O.J. had arrived, but I could read between the lines. He'd kept referring to the upcoming civil trial and the custody battle with the Browns, and how badly he needed money pay some pressing bills.

Throw in Larry Schiller and the publicist, and I could see that there wasn't much room for that quiet, Christian life I'd pined for.

And there wasn't any room for me. As OJ. would exclaim to my mother, some weeks later: "What did she expect me to do — marry her?"

It was the next day, his third in Panama City, that we truly fell apart. Back in the condo after the morning's golf, OJ. was lying down in the bedroom. I was in the living room, where an article about us.

I shouted into the bedroom, "I can't believe your publicist made money with this crap!"

O.J. got up, full of righteous indignation. "At my house," he growled, "we have a rule — we don't talk about gossip. Besides," O.J. said, digging in for the debate, "my Mamma read that story, and she thought it was a very complimentary story."

"Then why don't you go marry your Mamma!" I screamed. I knew I shouldn't have said that; you don't disrespect a guy's mother.

Though seated in his chair, he could barely contain himself "What's wrong with you?" he barked. He seemed to be fighting with himself, as if there were some other person struggling inside, a person who scared even OJ.

Then OJ. outdid himself: "I waited two whole weeks to make love to you, and now you lay this crap on me!, I am not going to argue with you about this shit!"

O.J.'s jet was waiting. We had a hug and a light kiss. "You need to start eating more, Peola," O.J. said.

"Take care of yourself," I told him. As I walked him onto the plane, I touched his sleeve — for luck? I still feared for O.J.'s safety in Los Angeles, and I had a weird feeling that this was the last time I'd ever see him.

O.J. wasn't talking much about God lately. He'd used the Bible as a crutch, and now he'd cast it off. He thought he could walk straight and tall without it. He didn't realize he was limping worse than ever, and his arthritis was the least of it.

To me, it seemed that OJ. had gotten intoxicated with his freedom. I can't entirely blame him. It must have been mindaltering to step out of his cell and jump back into the luxury of Rockingham.

What did OJ. in, I think, was his desperate need to be liked. It wasn't enough to be acquitted; he had to win back his public's affection. I think that's what he was trying to "fix" with his publicist and his video, which made him a good sum of money up front.

But he went about it too fast and all wrong. Rather than gain back people's love, he inflamed them all the more.

At the same time, he got caught up in pleasing the opportunists who came creeping around him. A lot of people were whispering sweet nothings to OJ. about deals with big numbers attached. OJ. wanted to believe them; he thought they could help him retrieve his old life. He was denying the obvious: that there wasn't any glamour anymore.

I've agreed to do my second interview with Diane Sawyer with maximum visibility. PrimeTime Live.

It was a drastic step — humiliating for O.J., terrifying for me.

But I wasn't quite so certain of things when I watched the program on November 1. It was such a big step I'd taken, to confirm that I had no relationship "of any kind" with OJ.

I wasn't seeking revenge through Diane Sawyer. "I just want to put a closure to this," I told Diane at the end of our segment.

With all the people OJ. and I knew in common, the drums were always beating. I wasn't surprised when he called me shortly after Diane left Panama City, just before I was on TV

"So how was your interview?" OJ. said, trying his best to sound nonchalant.

"Fine," I said.

"I hope you feel better now that you've done it" OJ said

After the show was aired, O.J.'s therapist called me. "You've said your piece now, Paula," Bert Kitay told me. "Now it's time to quiet down and go away. Remember — whoever's the right man for you will be watching what you do now"

In the days and weeks that followed PrimeTime Live I faced a huge void in my life. I couldn't live with O.J., that much was for sure.

Op is a non caucasian, racist and a misogynist. He only loves one woman, Beyond C...

Does Paula believe in unicorns and fairies?

Black unicorns and black fairies.

Continued: From "The Other Woman: My Years With O.J. Simpson" book by Paula Barbieri:

In the days and weeks that followed PrimeTime Live I faced a huge void in my life. I couldn't live with O.J., that much was for sure. We'd had three chances and struck out each time.

But how could I live without him?

Or to put it another way: I knew all about the person I wasn't. I wasn't O.J.'s "girlfriend" anymore or even a special "friend."

Viewers of A Current Affair saw on an eight-year-old home video which resurfaced in October: that I was an incorrigible, racist redneck.

The video was shot in 1987, when I was twenty years old and on a catalogue assignment in North Miami Beach. As I joked around with a second model, our conversation turned to a black delivery man.

The delivery man was black, and I flippantly let loose with a string of primitive remarks that could have come straight from my father's mouth.

My past had come back to bite me, in the most wounding way imaginable. I wondered what OJ.'s sister Carmelita must think of me now. I liked her so much, and we'd spent so much time together — we'd been almost like sisters.

I couldn't blame her if she never spoke to me again.

The video forced me to think about the course my life had taken. I'd been raised in a poor white family with more than its share of problems. Racial epithets rolled off our tongues; we were just ignorant that way It was like we needed someone else to look down upon.

I didn't really begin to change until after I started working in Los Angeles and met Stevie Ray Vaughn. We were hanging out with some friends of his when I lapsed into talking "southern," making careless racial comments the way we did back home. Stevie picked up on it and said to me, "Be ready to go out tomorrow night."

That's when I joined Stevie and his girlfriend to see an all-black musical called Mamma, I Want to Sing. The performers were so beautiful and stirring; I admired them so much.

My outlook on race began to change after that evening. I looked at black people with more respect. But I still went through life with my eyes half-shut. I was like the good German in Nazi Germany — when confronted with racism, I put my blinders on and thought, It's not my fault. When I heard someone talk about "those people," I'd get angry, sure. But I wouldn't respond.

Even after OJ. and I started dating. I told myself that the fact that I was with a black man should be statement enough. I was intimidated, I guess. And besides, I would never say such a thing — not any longer, at least.

But after being shamed on national television, I started looking for small ways to make a difference.

Aft,ter my second appearance with Diane Sawyer, OJ.'s world pulled away from me. Jason, Arnelle, Carmelita, Cathy Randa — none ofthem called from that day on.

I'd hoped that someone would thank me for my support, or just say it was all right, the way things ended. But I guess that was wishful thinking. I couldn't be a part of O.J. 's circle anymore, despite what we'd all been through together.

I was a nonperson.

When I was subpoenaed to give the first deposition for OJ.'s civil trial, on December 14, 1995, 1 assumed that Michael Nasatir would continue to represent me. But Skip Taft, who'd hired Michael to help me with A.C.'s grand jury, wouldn't even take his calls.

I had no money to pay Michael — I was two months behind on my Bay Point mortgage and staring at bankruptcy. I felt confused and abandoned all over.

Then Susan Keenberg, a lawyer I'd known for years, stepped into the breach. She led me to Larry Stein, an attorney who would represent me while deferring his fee.

When I went upstairs and emerged from the elevator, I found a greeting party of just one: Fred Goldman.

I gave him a hug, and he hugged me back.

"I hope you can help us," Mr. Goldman said.

"I can just tell the truth," I told him.

We stood in the corridor, waiting for the inevitable: waiting for OJ. When he stepped out of the elevator, trailing a bodyguard. I was anxious about the encounter, but I wanted to see him . I couldn't help myself; I missed him.

Just as OJ. came up to me, the dizziness got worse, till I was ready to fall over. I excused myself and rushed to the bathroom, splashed some cold water on my face.

As the morning wore on and I felt more and more lightheaded, I lost concentration and fell into a passive rhythm: "Yes; no; yes; no." Or the lawyers might get me on a roll of "Yes, yes, yes, yes." My head was hurting so bad that 1 didn't care; I probably lost a number of questions altogether.

I snapped out of it when I heard a frustrated sigh on my left. I glanced over to see OJ. rolling his eyes, and then I realized what I'd done. Mr. Petrocelli had asked me if I'd ever heard O.J. deny committing the murders. I'd answered in the negative, when of course he had — how many times had I heard O.J. wail, "I didn't do it, I never killed anyone'"? After a break I corrected my mistake.

But I didn't stop there — I came clean. I pushed a weight off my chest that had lain there like a rock for a year and a half: the "Dear John" message I'd left for O.J. before taking off for Vegas.

When Mr. Petrocelli asked me if I believed that OJ. had received my message, I affirmed that I thought he had, based on the messages I'd gotten back from him.

I was afraid to so much as peek at OJ. from the corner of my eye. I wasn't looking to "get" OJ. in my deposition, or even to help Mr. Goldman. I just told the truth.

Toward the end of the day, Mr. Petrocelli asked about a talk I'd had with OJ. just before leaving Kardashian's house, on the day of the Bronco chase.

Q. And did you reiterate to Mr. Simpson how much you loved him? A. Yes, sir.

Q. And you did love him. A. Yes, sir.

Q. And you still love him, don't you? A. Yes, sir

Before I could go , O.J. came up to me and said, "I'm sorry that you had to go through this." Then he gave me a hug.

For a moment I froze. The plaintiffs' lawyers were coolly gauging my reaction. I felt like I'd just run a marathon on a broken ankle, and here was this strong pair of arms, this pillar of a chest to lean on and make the rest of the world go away.

OJ. was keeping a civil distance. I hadn't heard from him since my deposition, except for this birthday card, typed in capital letters: "Wish I were with you today to help eat your birthday cake. I'm with you in spirit, Your friend from the West."

I hadn't spoken to OJ. for more than a year, going back to my deposition. When my father died, O.J. sent a card.

But it wasn't until the day in December 1996 when he won custody of Sydney and Justin that O.J. called my house.

We talked for a good hour, mostly about the children. We were friendly, engaged, lighthearted, just like we used to be.

I told O.J. how important it was for him to raise his kids in a good Christian lifestyle — how he needed to set the example himself, by joining a church family and bringing the kids into it.

At the end of the call, O.J. sighed "Couldn't we just have one of those jailhouse phone conversations for a minute?"

I couldn't help thinking how remarkable it was for OJ. to feel nostalgia for Central Jail.

Then again, I missed our old talks, too.

OJ. was never lonely for long. He'd met Nicole while still married to Marquerite. After splitting from Nicole, he was soon finding comfort from other women — the infamous Robin, for one, whom I'd met that first day in O.J.'s kitchen — and then he was primed to meet me. He always had backup.

When you were OJ. Simpson, there was always a woman ready to share your life, or at least a night of it.

I remember times at Rockingham when I'd awake in the dark to find O.J.'s side of the bed empty. He'd be taking one of his latenight ambles around the house, pausing now and then to gaze out a window over his grounds. He was simply in awe of how wonderfully his life had turned out. This was his beautiful house, his stunning estate.

Had O.J. loved me? Of course he had. He'd loved plenty of women over the years. But a hard look at his track record tells me that all but one of those women were replaceable.

Q. Do you still believe he's innocent? A. Yes.

Q. Completely? A. Yes.

Q. Never one night, lying awake, during this entire year, thinking? A. Uh-uh. Faith. Faith. He didn't do this.

— My second interview with Diane Sawyer, November 1, 1995

I left my relationship with O.J. when I finally grasped what a life with him would be like, I needed clarity in my life. I needed a sense of direction and the inner calm to use it. How could I get those things from a man whose every movement was a national circus, whose bodyguards had to be stationed in the next apartment?

I did not leave the relationship because I thought O.J. committed murder.

Some people might think that my history with O.J. gives me a unique insight into the question ofhis guilt or innocence.

To be honest, I've grown tired of Diane Sawyer's question — it seems pointless to me, and unfair. The justice system has run its course; the killer, whoever he is, will have to answer to God.

It took a while, but I feel no bitterness toward OJ. anymore. He seems to me a sad figure, a shadow of the man I met five years ago.

Even ifhe puts his life back together financially, OJ. will never regain what he cared about most: the affection of his public.

The most outgoing man I've ever known is a pariah, cut off at every turn. That may not be enough for the people who think him guilty, but it is a hard, hard sentence, all the same.

While OJ. and I haven't talked for months, our channels stay open through friends. On a visit to New York this spring, I phoned the Benders to confirm a dinner date. When we got together the following evening, Bobby said, "It's just uncanny, the two of you."

"What are you talking about?" I said.

"Just ten minutes after we hung up the phone with you, O.J. called," Bobby related. 'And we hadn't talked to him in four weeks."

Things like that have been going on for years with O.J. and me. Sometimes O.J. would joke with Cathy Randa that I had to be a witch.

"When we told him we were having dinner with you," Bobby continued, "he said, 'Well, tell her I love her.'

As soon as the Benders mentioned O.J.'s name, I started thinking about the good times, and how I missed those fabulous phone calls. I thought of how much I still cared for him. O.J. would always be part of me; there was no way around that.

And when I heard what O.J. said about loving me, I know that I blushed and — this sounds absolutely crazy — my sleeping heart stirred and lifted up, like a wild bird uncaged.

I heard my own voice then. It had the good sense to stay inside my head, but it startled me nonetheless.

I love you too, it said. '

Next: OJ Simpson's side of the story from "If I did It" book

I wonder what Paula thinks of the overwhelming DNA evidence or can her pretty little head comprehend such complex ideas such as that samples of OJ's blood that matched the blood samples found next to the bloody footprints at the crime scene.

Does Paula mention whether OJ was cut or uncut any size meat verification?

The bloody footprint was from a size 12 Bruno Magli shoe which is the same size worn by OJ. The knit cap found at the scene of the crime had hair that matched OJ's

The prosecution produced corroborating evidence of hair follicles, clothing fibers from the victims with fibers found in Simpsons Ford Bronco.

Did Paula believe the theory that the police planted the blood evidence?

How much did Paula get paid for writing the book?

Did Paula ever address the set of keys to Nicole's condominium that were missing and then were found on OJ's person after the murders?

A gay man named Brian Heiss has a YouTube channel dedicated to proving OJ’s innocence. His channel debunks many of the lies and misrepresentations about the trial evidence.

Look up the unsolved murders of Brett Cantor and Michael Nigg. They have connections to Nicole and Ron.

Or don't.

From Cora Fischman (Nicole Brown's best friend) deposition - 1996

Q: And isn't it also true that O.J. called you and said, "What's going on here? I left her in April. In Cabo we were like the best lovers. We were planning to be together. She was going to go to Florida and she was going to go to Puerto Rico with me and all of a sudden, what happened? What happened?" Didn't O.J. say that to you?

A: Yes.

Q: Okay. And what made her change her mind?

A: Oh, God, she said that Faye and she met a guy in Cabo and that he's a good-looking guy.

Q: This man named Brett?

A: Yeah. She said, "I mess around with her" -- "with him." I'm sorry.

Q: This is not Brett Shaves, by the way. Right?

A: No

Q: This is another Brett. Right?

A: Another Brett. He's an actor, apparently.

Q: Okay. He lives here in town?

A: Yes.

Q: What Mr. Simpson was complaining to you about was that Nicole kept going back and forth with him, and he didn't understand that and he was confused and it was making him upset. Correct?

A: He was confused, yes, uh-huh.

Q: O.J. Simpson told you he wanted the relationship with Nicole to work when he talked to you in his office. Right?

A: No. At the time he really was -- he says, you know, "Either we work it out or we don't work it out, but I" -- you know, he said, "I have another life here, Cora. I can't go on like this. Either" --

Q: Can't go on like what?

A: The back and forth, the back and forth situation "I want to go back" and then "I don't want to go back."

Q: Nicole was initiating this back and forth --

A: Exactly.

Q: -- like a yo-yo. Right?

A: Exactly.

Q: Did you think that was unfair, what Nicole was doing to him?

A: At that time Nicole even felt it that way. She told me, "I guess I should just leave O.J. alone."

Q: Did you tell that to O.J. Simpson, that Nicole had said that?

A: Well, I told O.J. before, "Just give her some time. Give her some time. she's goive through a phase in her life" I told him, I said, "You're the one who told her that she's going through a phase in her life where, you know, in the thirties she's going to go through this difficult time." And even Nicole told me how O.J. is understanding. "At least he understands what I'm going through. You know, Cora, it's really not O.J. It's not Ron. It's us,"

Q: Who's Ron?

A: My husband at the time, Ron Fischman.

Q: What does Ron Fischman have to do with this conversation you're having with O.J. Simpson?

A: Well, we always talked about how we need to do something for ourselves, "We're married to wealthy men, and we need to do something for ourself," , I told Nicole.

"We cannot just run all the time. And it's not Ron. It's not O.J. It's us, you know, Cora, we're the ones who screwed up. 99 percent of women would love to have what we have." That's what Nicole told me.

Q: And what would he say in response to that?

A: He said, you know, "Cora, I feel like a battered husband here. emotionally I mean, I want to have my own life with Paula, and then here comes" -- "she wants to come back" -- you know, like, "I want to have my own life, and then when she sees that I have my own life, she comes back." He says, "What does she want? Tell me what she wants."

Q: And what did you tell him?

A: I told him, I said, "Give her some time. Give her some time."

Q: And what did he say?

A: He says, "I don't know what to do. What do we do here?" As he said, "I'm in the back nine. You're in the front nine." You know, "I'm 47 years old."

Q: Did Mr. Simpson tell you that he felt like a battered husband?

A: Yeah, he told me that. That was at the conversation in the office. In fact, even Nicole said, "God, gee," you know, "they feel they're battered husbands here,"

Q: What was your reaction to his statement to you that he was a battered husband?

A: At the time Nicole and I were thinking -- see, I guess what battered to me meant was emotionally, the back and forth. That's all. You know, Nicole bringing tapes and bringing letters to O.J. and then, you know, "I want my family back," and then, "I don't want my family back. I still want to have the year off." I mean --

Q: Did Mr. -- do you know why Mr. Simpson -- Withdrawn.

Is that conversation with him in the office the last one you had with him?

A: As far as I can recall, yes.

Continued from From Cora Fischman (Nicole Brown's best friend) deposition - 1996

About Nicole Brown and Ron Goldman:

Q: Now, in May of 1994 did you ever get introduced to Ron Goldman?

A: Yes.

Q: And how many times did you meet Mr. Goldman?

A: I actually just met him once. That was the day when we were at Starbucks, and [Name Deleted] said hello to us, and he came and said, "This is our friend Ron," and that's where we met him.

Q: And had you ever heard his name mentioned again -- before Nicole's death? Before Nicole's death?

A: Yes.

Q: When?

A: Nicole -- actually, one evening Nicole, Faye and Ron and [Name Deleted] went out. They went to Roxbury, and so that's why.

Q: How did you find out about that?

A: Because that evening Ron had those things for the club, free entrance, and invited Nicole to go to that, to Roxbury. And so she invited me to go. I said, "No, I don't want to go." She said, "Oh, that's okay. I'll take Faye with me."

So they went. So Nicole then told me, yeah, they did go, and they were very drunk and that Ron was the one who drove them home.

Q: She told you that the next day?

A: Yes. She said she couldn't drive, that Ron had to drive the Ferrari home.

Q: And did she tell you that they had gone out other than on this one occasion?

A: I know they went out to dinner. They went to Locanda Veneta.

Q: How do you know that?

A: Because she told me. Because she told me that she paid for that dinner.

Q: Why did she pay for it? Did she tell you?

A: Because she felt bad. She said, you know, "This guy don't have any money, and I felt bad."

Q: Do you have any information as to why Ron Goldman was at her condominium that evening on June 12 when he was killed?

A: No, I didn't know that he was there.

Q: You had no information about him being there except what you heard in the media afterwards. Right?

A: Right. And also what Faye Resnick told me.

Q: What did Faye tell you?

A: Faye told me that Ron was going to be there that evening, and that --

Q: When did Faye tell you this?

A: That day that Faye and I had coffee in Starbucks.

Q: After Nicole's death?

A: Yes.

Q: How long afterwards?

A: I don't know. Week, two weeks after.

Q: And she said to you that Ron Goldman was what?

A: .Because she spoke -- Faye spoke to Nicole, she said, around 9:30 on June 12, and that Nicole had told her that Ron Goldman was coming.

Q: Did she say -- did Faye tell you why Ron Goldman was coming over?

A: Well, Faye told me that he was going -- she was going to see if he's good, and then if he's good, that they were going to do the three thing, the threesome thing.

Q: Faye told you that if who's good? I'm confused. Could you relate that conversation to me again?

A: They were trying to -- Faye told me that Nicole was going to try Ron Goldman and... that they were giggling and said that "Ron Goldman's gonna come tonight" --

Q: Who was giggling?

A: Nicole and Faye over the phone were -- you know, she said that they were giggling and they say that they were -- that Ron Goldman was gonna come that evening.

Q: -- Nicole told her that Ron Goldman was on his way over to see her, Nicole?

A: Right.

Q: For what purpose?

A: They were giggling that they were gonna do it.

Q: Okay. And is that all that Faye told you?

A: She told me that Nicole was going to see if he's good --

Q: Good at sex?

A: Right, if he's good in bed. Then when she comes out of the rehab, that they were gonna do it.

Q: Who was going to do it?

A: The three of them.

Q: Did Faye tell you anything else about this conversation?

A: Faye told me that -- that's pretty much what I told you, that Nicole just kept on wanting to do this, you know, this thing that they just did with Brett, and she wanted to try it out again, and they thought that Ron Goldman would be the next guy that they could try.

Continued from From Cora Fischman (Nicole Brown's best friend) deposition - 1996

About Nicole Brown abusing OJ:

Q: Those are statements that Nicole and OJ. made in your presence?

A: Right. I felt like OJ. was abused too is because Niccole kind of destroyed him to a point where she really was saying, 'How dare you. You're too old, I don't wanna be with you anymore. You're no fun to be with"

And then OJ. would say: "Hey, listen, I'm 47-okay, my knees start cracking, but I've worked hard, I used to (blank) you know, when I was 29 I was...all tight."

Q: OJ. used to say that?

A: Yes.

Q: In your presence?

A: Yeah, we had that conversation.

Old online comment from someone who knew OJ and Nicole:

" I know that Nicole was no angel and was even worse when she drank. I wonder how many people knew that she was under therapy for her temper. She pushed OJ's buttons and one day she pushed too hard. It is just that simple. Just the things she would say to him about pushing a man around in a wheel chair one day. Well sweetheart that man that you are pushing around in that wheelchair made it possible for you to live the life that you did live. I will never understand this though, if she was so afraid of him, why did she go back to him?? He was doing very well with Paula until she wanted to come home, like some spoiled brat. Now I am not saying what happened to her should have happened to her; but I am saying that once you are divorced and have a one-half million dollar settlement plus child support, then you move clear across country. No but she had to stay up under O. J. For what?? love? I don't think so."

From "I'm Not Dancing Anymore" book by Terri Baker (OJ Simpson's niece):

Things went pretty well that summer. I'd gotten straight A's at Santa Monica College and been accepted into UCLA. Uncle O.J. was pleased with my success and suggested I stay in Los Angeles instead of returning to San Francisco State that fall. I wanted to stay, too, so in late August Minnie and I decided to move into our own apartment.

Uncle O.J. offered to pay my rent while I was at UCLA. He was also paying Nicole's sister Minnie's tuition at USC. I thought it was a generous offer, and I wanted to make him proud of me. I told him what the rent was going to cost, and I assumed he'd send a check to my landlord every month to cover it, but that didn't turn out to be the case. Nicole controlled the household accounts. That meant I had to go to Rockingham and ask her to write me a check to pay my rent every month.

It was an uncomfortable arrangement. I sensed that Nicole resented paying my rent, even though it was Uncle O.J.'s idea in the first place—and even though he was paying a fortune in tuition so her sister could go to USC. I'd welcomed the gesture in part because I thought I was finally being accepted by my uncle the way Nicole's family was. And I knew how grateful my parents had been for his offer.

Yet as the months went by, it became increasingly awkward to ask Nicole for the money. Even though Uncle O.J. had suggested the arrangement, and even though I was working hard at school and my job, I still felt like a freeloader.

After a while I found myself putting off the trips to Rockingham to ask for the check as long as possible. As a result, I was chronically late with my rent. This went on for months, and with each month that passed, the pressure within me built. I should have confronted the situation directly, but at that age I was too insecure to say anything. Eventually, I became paralyzed. I just couldn't go to Nicole for that check again.

I weighed my options. If I was late with my rent one more time, my landlord would kick me out. I didn't want to ask my parents, and I couldn't possibly raise the full amount on my own by the first of the month. My second cousin Carla was also going to UCLA at the time, and we used to spend time together. One day, I was at her place and I saw her bankbook lying there. I picked it up. On an impulse that I'll always regret, I decided to "borrow" some of her money from her—without asking. I rationalized that she wouldn't mind; she was family, and I could pay it back before she even missed it. It would be just like borrowing from one of my sisters until payday, I told myself.

Soon afterward, Carla discovered that the money had been taken out of her account. All hell broke loose. She suspected me immediately, saying, "You're the only one who could have done it! Nobody else had a chance to get my passbook!" Overwhelmed with panic, I denied taking it, but Carla knew I was lying.

When Uncle O.J. found out, he took charge of the situation. Uncle O.J. brought Carla and me to the bank to meet with the manager. The manager ran a check, and there it was on a black-and-white security video—me, withdrawing the money. A camera had captured it all. It was the worst moment of my life. There was no denying it any longer. Overcome with guilt and shame, I didn't say a word as Uncle O.J., Carla and I drove back to my apartment. I had stolen the money, and I had lied about it, too. I was a thief. In my heart, of course, I d known how wrong it was from the beginning.

Unfortunately, the nightmare was only beginning. By the time we arrived at my apartment, Nicole and her sisters had searched my room, looking for stolen items. Apparently, when Nicole had heard what I'd done, she d been convinced I'd been stealing from her and everyone else since I'd arrived the summer before. Nicole and her sisters went through everything in my drawers and closet as if I were a criminal. In their eyes, I guess I was. What gave them the right to go through my belongings?

I'm sure that Uncle O.J. didn't know that Nicole would be there going through my things that day. The Browns were sitting in Minnie's room and as soon as I walked in, they began to yell accusations at me and call me terrible names.

I just stood there in shame, too devastated to even protest. I'd desperately needed my uncle to control the situation, but he didn't say a word. And, after a few minutes, he was gone.

I later found out that Nicole had been telling people for some time that money was being taken from her wallet, and personal items were missing and that she suspected my family. She could be very insulting to people when she was angry.

She'd even complained to Uncle O.J. that whenever our family was around, things would be missing. That didn't make much sense. Except for my summer at Rockingham, we'd rarely even been there. My parents, who are the most honest people I know, didn't appreciate the implication or the arrogance that made Nicole believe she had the right to suspect us that way.

And now, in a moment of incredible stupidity, I had confirmed not only her suspicions but the ugly stereotypes that inspired them. My theft from Carla's savings account had provided the perfect excuse for her to exclude our family from their lives even more.

Uncle O.J. had never forgiven me for embarrassing him, and Nicole considered me a pariah. As far as they were concerned, I had forfeited my place as a member of his family.

I didn't see Uncle O.J. or Nicole for a long time after Grandpa's funeral. In the interval, Justin had been born. I still hadn't seen Uncle O.J.'s youngest children. I kept hoping that Nicole would soften her attitude toward me since so many years had passed.

One summer afternoon in the late eighties I was down in L.A. visiting, and I thought about Sydney and Justin. I was having lunch that day at Gladstone's, a popular beachfront restaurant, and thinking about how long it had been since I'd seen my uncle's family. I had just broken up with my latest boyfriend and was feeling down, so I decided to call Nicole and O.J.'s condo in Laguna and see if they'd let me come by for a visit. Maybe I can see the kids, I thought. I finally worked up my courage, found a pay phone, and called their house. Nicole answered.

"Hi," I said nervously, "this is Terri. I'm in town for a few days. I wondered if I could come over and visit you and the kids this afternoon."

Nicole broke into a hysterical laugh.

"You're the nerviest bitch I've ever met. There is no way in hell I would ever let you step into my house—much less see my kids. You'd steal everything in the place."

My heart plummeted. The old familiar pain and shame washed over me. It had been so long since I'd taken the money from Carla, and I'd paid it back. And I'd never stolen a penny from Nicole or her family (or anyone besides Carla), never done anything to Nicole. Why did she hate me so much? Would she ever let me live it down? I hung up the phone. Why do I even try? I wondered.

In 1992, It soon became clear to everyone in the family that Uncle O.J.'s marriage to Nicole was in serious trouble. After a while Nicole moved out of Rockingham and took the children with her, Nicole filed for divorce. About that same time, Paula Barbieri started to become visible in Uncle O.J.'s life. From all appearances, the marriage was over. But just about the time we accepted the separation as final, Nicole wanted a reconcilation and came back again, spending time at Rockingham with Uncle O.J.

I wondered how Nicole was going to survive in the "real world" after being supported in a celebrity lifestyle since she was seventeen. Apart from the financial implications, over the years she'd developed the attitude that she was entitled to treat those beneath her on the economic scale with contempt.

Michelle was the classic example. Michelle was the housekeeper at Rockingham by then; she'd been there for years, ever since Nicole's cousin Maria had left. Michelle was an excellent employee, able to meet Uncle O.J.'s exacting standards and fiercely loyal to him.

Then one day Nicole took the children over to Rockingham to play in the pool, and Sydney took a cushion off one of the patio lounges and put it next to the Jacuzzi, where it was soaking up chlorinated water. The cushion was expensive; it required dry cleaning and wasn't supposed to be used near the pool. When Michelle saw it lying on the ground, she rushed over to Sydney, and said, "Get that cushion off the ground! You know you're not supposed to play with it!"

Apparently Nicole overheard this interchange and was furious that Michelle would reprimand Sydney. She went over to Michelle and she slapped Michelle, hard, in the face. Michelle just stood there, so shocked she couldn't respond. Then Nicole ran to Uncle O.J. and told him what she had done.

Michelle said Uncle O.J. looked uncomfortable but refused to make a decision, saying Michelle would have to handle things the way she thought best. Michelle threatened to leave if Uncle O.J. didn't say anything to Nicole about the incident, but he wouldn't do it. It was clear that he didn't like what had happened, but he wasn't willing to stand up to Nicole, even-if that meant losing a loyal employee.

It made me think of the day years before he'd stood uncomfortably by as Nicole and her sisters ransacked my apartment. In the end, Michelle left.

[quote]Right. I felt like OJ. was abused too is because Niccole kind of destroyed him to a point where she really was saying, 'How dare you. You're too old, I don't wanna be with you anymore. You're no fun to be with"

Yes ... because that's in the same league as beating the shit out of someone many times, breaking their arm, etc.

Why hasn't Muriel nuked this vile thread yet?

Continued from From "I'm Not Dancing Anymore" book by Terri Baker (OJ Simpson's niece):

I first met Nicole Brown at a football game in the fall of 1979. Uncle O.J. was playing for the 49ers by then, and Mom and Dad had taken us all to the game that afternoon. Uncle O.J. had gotten us seats near the sidelines, and during halftime Nicole and her sister Denise came down from one of the reserved boxes up above and introduced herself to us as a friend of Uncle O.J.'s. She was twenty years old but seemed older, and self-assured.

About a year after Nicole moved into Rockingham, my family came down to Los Angeles to visit. My sister Toni was playing in a band at South City High that year, and her band was going to perform at Disneyland. So the whole family came down to watch her. Mom called ahead to let Uncle O.J. know we were coming, and he said we could stay at Rockingham if we wanted to—"My house is your house," or something to that effect. But when we actually got there, it was awkward.

Nicole was distant , and Uncle O.J. told us to make ourselves at home, but then they went about their business as though we weren't there.

When evening came, Uncle O.J. and Nicole sat and chatted about where they were going for dinner, and then Denise showed upa little while later with a date. The four of them went out to eat at a restaurant and left Mom and Dad with us. I was indignant, and I said so. I remember asking my parents, "Why are they going out to dinner and leaving you here? Why didn't they invite you to go along?"

I couldn't imagine having someone come that far for a visit and then going to dinner without inviting them. I was angry and embarrassed for my parents. As usual, though, they rushed to defend him. Mom said, "We don't want to go," and Dad said, "O.J. knows we don't want to go. We don't need to be involved with that."

They were gone all evening, and we pretty much sat around and watched a movie. Eventually we found something to eat and went up to bed.

It was much later that night, well past midnight, that we heard them come in. And it was an hour or so later that we first heard the fighting. Nicole's voice was filled with rage, and she was screaming and cussing at Uncle O.J. We could hear him reply occasionally, but his voice was too low for us to tell what he was saying.

A short while later we heard the sound of things being thrown and of breaking glass. We could hear them storming up the stairs to the second floor, Nicole was still screaming obscenities, as we stayed behind the closed doors of Jason's and Arnelle's rooms in nervous silence and after a while a door slammed, and it grew quiet.

The next morning, when we made our way downstairs, there were pieces of glass all over and broken picture frames with photos of Uncle OJ and Nicole scattered around. Uncle O.J. was sitting in the TV room, looking very depressed. Nicole was in the garden.

Uncle O.J. said Nicole had gotten really mad and pulled all the pictures off the wall to throw them at him. Then he said she'd just attacked him, so he'd had to push her out the front door until she calmed down.

It wasn't until I moved there during the summer of 1983 that I discovered how involved Uncle O.J. already was with Nicole's family. We knew Nicole had been living there for three years by then, but we had no idea that most of her family seemed to live there, too.

Nicole's sister Minnie was already living in the guesthouse that summer, so I stayed in the maid's quarters. Nicole's cousin Maria was the housekeeper at the time, but she lived at home and commuted every morning. Maria's husband Rolph took care of the gardens, so between them all, virtually everyone who was there was one of Nicole's relatives.

Uncle O.J. had set Lou Brown up in business. Juditha was a travel agent, and Uncle O.J. had set it up so all his wealthy friends, many of whom traveled a great deal, did their bookings through her. I couldn't help but wonder how the Browns had made a living before Nicole moved in with Uncle O.J. Nicole's sister Denise was around a lot, too, swimming and just hanging out.

I found the whole setup astonishing. It wasn't only Nicole who had moved in; her whole family had apparently "moved in" with her. And of course, I couldn't help comparing the situation to Uncle O.J.'s relationship with my family.

Until I broke the invisible barrier and uncle OJ invited me to stay with him, he'd been disconnected from his own family for years. It was clear that he didn't need us. The Browns had become his new family.

I couldn't help noticing, when he published his book I Want To Tell You during the trial, that the people he constantly refers to in the book as "his family" are the Browns.

The longer I stayed at Rockingham that summer, though, the more I came to understand that there was more to the family separation than first met the eye. It wasn't just that we didn't fit the celebrity image he cultivated among his friends; it was also that there were many more serious differences between the families, too many things he didn't want us to know about the way they lived.

One night, for example, Nicole had gone down to Laguna to spend the night with her parents, and Uncle O.J. and I were alone at Rockingham. Late that evening Uncle O.J. buzzed down to the maid's room where I was staying on the intercom to ask me for a favor.

He wanted me to call some restaurant in Westwood and ask for a certain waitress. I was supposed to say, "Hi, is so-and-so there?" When she came on the phone, I'd say, "Could you please hold on a second? O.J. Simpson would like to talk to you." I buzzed Uncle O.J. to take the call, and he did.

I knew Nicole was no angel herself. She would taunt Uncle O.J. when she was angry, belittling and comparing him to other men, and sometimes she would come on to other men herself.

I had never seen any evidence that Uncle O.J. had ever hurt her. On the contrary, I had seen her lose her temper and fly in his face (and other people's faces). When Nicole was angry, she would also spout the most vile insults ever.

......... I went there with Ron Fischman to pick up Sydeny and Justin. Lou and Juditha, Denise and Minnie and Tanya were already packing up Nicole's things. Apparently the officer had just sent in Ron's name, because the minute they saw me, Minnie got really angry and upset. She pointed right at me: "What is she doing here?"

A moment later Denise and Minnie came back out with the officers and stood there next to them. I looked at Minnie's and Denise's faces. They were masks of hatred and contempt. Suddenly I flashed back to the day they had ransacked my apartment with Nicole, the day Nicole had called me a filthy little thief and other terrible names. I had seen the same expressions on their faces that day. Over ten years had gone by, but they hadn't forgotten. They still saw me through Nicole's eyes.

I was humiliated to my soul. One of the officers escorted me out through the garage and into the alley, where I waited alone until Ron came back.

.... The worst from my point of view, was Denise Brown. What a hypocrite, I thought. I'd always thought Denise was jealous of Nicole and Uncle O.J. When Nicole and Denise were younger, Denise had been the glamorous one, the Ford model. But when her modeling career ended and her marriage fell apart, she was stuck living in her parents' three-bedroom house with a young son. Meanwhile, Nicole had moved into Brentwood with a celebrity. It had always seemed to gall Denise.

I had no doubt that she and Nicole had been close, but I also knew how important it was for Denise to get what Nicole had. If any of Uncle O.J.'s friends had offered to marry her and give her Nicole's lifestyle, I believe Denise would have jumped at it in a New York minute.

And when had Denise become such an expert on abuse? A week after Nicole's murder, Denise was speaking out on TV on behalf of women's groups on the importance of getting out of abusive marriages. If Denise was so concerned and knowledgeable, I thought, why hadn't she ever tried to get Nicole away from my uncle? On the contrary, whenever Nicole and Uncle O.J. were together, Denise was usually there to join the party.

Honestly, All of the arguments I'd ever overheard and saw between Uncle O.J. and Nicole, Nicole had been the aggressor . I'd heard her screaming obscenities at him.

I was in the Polo department setting up a display when my sales manager came over to tell me that there was a phone call for me at the register. "Who is it?" I asked. I assumed it was one of the buyers. "It's your mother," the manager said. The moment he said that, I knew something was wrong. In all the years I'd worked for Ralph Lauren, my mother had never called me at a store.

"Have you heard the news?" my mom said.

"What news?"

"Nicole has been murdered. She was shot in the front yard with some guy." My mother's voice was tense and dominating— her crisis voice.

For a minute I couldn't take it in. "Nicole? What do you mean, shot? When? What guy?"

"We don't know anything yet. We just heard on the news that she was shot in her front yard with some guy."

My mind spun quickly. Was it a man friend? Had Nicole gotten in his face, slapped him, insulted him? I knew what she could be like at times, and if she'd lost her temper with the wrong man, maybe ... I shoved the thought guiltily aside. What was I thinking? Then I wondered why Mom was calling me at the store. I was in Las Vegas; what could I do to help until I got home?

There was a silence, and I realized there was something more to come. Something else was wrong.

"Mom? What is it?"

Her voice became even more authoritarian. ' They're talking crazy. They're saying on the news the police think maybe your uncle had something to do with it."

My mind went blank. Uncle O.J.? My mom's brother? They had to be kidding. He was self-centered, distant, even irritating, but he wasn't violent. and he certainly wasn't a criminal.

I thought about Nicole, my uncle O.J.'s feisty, carelessly arrogant wife. I couldn't comprehend that she was dead, much less murdered. It had been on San Vincente, just five blocks from the murder scene, that I'd seen her last, just a month before. The scene ran through my mind as I drove. I was with Michelle, the maid who'd left Uncle O.J.'s after Nicole had slapped her a few weeks before. We'd become friends and were having coffee at Starbucks on the corner of Barrington and San Vicente.

It was a hard time for Michelle , so we sat at Starbucks talking about the changes in her life. Just then Nicole walked into Starbucks. She was meeting Cora Fischman there. They bought coffee and took a table outside. I remember feeling very awkward sitting there with Michelle, with Nicole and Cora just a few yards away.

When we got up to leave and walked outside, to my surprise Nicole casually greeted Michelle, saying, "Hi, Michelle," and the two of them fell into polite conversation about the kids and what they were both doing. I remember thinking how odd it was. Nicole had just slapped Michelle and insulted her, Michelle had lost her job as a result, yet the two of them stood there chatting as though nothing had happened.

I felt intensely uncomfortable, so I just stood quietly in the background, and after a minute or two Nicole said, "Hi, Terri," as though she always said hello to me. I replied, "Hi," feeling even more awkward at the unaccustomed greeting.

............Then Bob Kardashian came out in front of the cameras at his house and read aloud what he described as Uncle O.J.'s suicide note. My heart stopped. I was sick with fear and anger.

How could this be happening? As Bob Kardashian' s voice went on and on, reading my uncle's words, I heard name after name mentioned. Uncle O.J. was thanking all the people who had loved and supported him through the hard times: Bob Kardashian, his and Nicole's friends, Paula Barbieri, even his golfing buddies. But nowhere in that damned letter, not even once, did I hear him mention anyone in his own family. I listened in vain for my mother's name, his mother's name.

I began to tremble with rage. How dare he? How dare he take his own life just five days after his children had lost their mother? Over and over again I kept thinking, How can you do this? How can you leave your own children alone at a time like this? They need you. How can you be so selfish? He was about to kill his children's only other parent, and he was thanking Paula Barbieri, the woman whose main attraction was that she provided him with "incredible sex."

Everyone was panicking, desperate. Jason and Arnelle got on the phones and started calling around, trying to find out where he'd gone. We just needed to talk to him to see if it could possibly be true. We felt so helpless.

..... As soon as the Bronco had swung into sight, Arnelle had started jumping up and down, waving and screaming at her father: "We're here. Over here, Dad!" The police grabbed us and pulled us back out of the Bronco's path, but Jason was too quick for them.

When he finally he put the gun down and climbed out, and nobody shot him; they just stepped carefully forward and put handcuffs around his wrists.

Relief flowed over us like a cool wind; we started crying, saying, 'Thank you, God, thank you, thank you." When other people look at the tape of that moment they always say, "How terrible for you. They're taking him to jail." But we were sobbing with joy and crying out, "He's going to jail! He's going to jail! Isn't that wonderful? He's going to jail! He's going to be safe!"

And I remember thinking at that moment, Even if he has to spend the rest of his life in jail, he 's alive. He 's safe. We haven't lost him.

But of all the people I encountered behind bars during those endless visits, the capper had to be Paula Barbieri. I'd met her once before, about six months before Nicole died. My parents had come down one weekend to visit.

We had just walked into the living room and said hello to Uncle O.J. before going into the kitchen with him. Paula was sitting there reading at the kitchen table. Uncle O.J. introduced my parents to Paula but didn't introduce me (he rarely introduces us "kids").

Paula was friendly to my parents, but not at all friendly to me. Later, after I walked into the other room, Paula asked Michelle on the side who I was. Michelle told me later that Paula was angry and suspicious at seeing an anonymous young woman on intimate terms with Uncle O.J.

As soon as Michelle told her I was O.J.'s niece, Paula apparently said, "Oh, thank God." Suddenly she got very friendly with me, exuding Southern charm and asking me about myself. I thought the whole incident was pretty funny when Michelle told me about it because I'd always felt so unglamorous around Uncle O.J.'s gorgeous female friends.

Evidently Paula was insecure about Uncle O.J. and other women.

The two things that Uncle O.J. always said about Paula was that she had a horrible temper and that she was insatiable sexually. Two things she had in common with Nicole.

We didn't see Paula during our early visits to the jail, but we heard about her. Uncle O.J. talked to her every day. To us she was kind of the invisible girlfriend, but eventually she did materialize. And what a picture she was.

On one hand, she was the epitome of the good girl, the traditional woman who only wants a husband and children. She nearly always had her Bible with her when she visited Uncle O.J. She would read it aloud to him in jail; she even sat and read it in the waiting room while other people were visiting him.

One day many months later, she said to me, "All I want to do when this is over is get married and have kids and only have to worry about dropping them off and picking them up from school every day."

Paula then drawled, "O.J. and I will get married and move to Florida. Of course, we'll have to get rid of our matching white Broncos, because it would draw too much attention in a little Southern town."

I thought, Who is this little twit, and where did Uncle O.J. find her?

'Twit' ' is actually one of the kinder words that went through my mind when I watched Paula in action. When she wasn't spouting scripture, she was talking about sex.

She was obsessed with it. She'd talk to anyone who would listen about how much she missed sex with Uncle O.J. At times like that she acted like a naughty teenager.

The first time she started going on about it to my parents, I couldn't believe it. They were so embarrassed they couldn't say a word. She seemed to have had no sense of how inappropriate her conversation was. Not only that, but I heard her joke with Uncle O.J. about giving him ' 'sneak peeks" during her visits.

Most of the conversation along the way was about the same thing: When will they finish releasing Uncle O.J.? When will we get to see him? Where should we meet him?

That question was answered for us much sooner than we'd expected—as soon, in fact, as we drove through the Rockingham gates. As we all started to pile out of our cars, the front door opened, and there stood Uncle O.J. One of the deputies had driven him home .

We couldn't believe he was standing there. For a minute it was like seeing a ghost. But then Mom and Aunt Como screamed with joy and went running to greet him. We all did. One after another we threw ourselves into his arms to congratulate him and tell him how much we loved him. It was pretty comical, really; my mother isn't a small woman, but she'd run and jumped on her brother like they were both still little kids.

As I took my turn putting my arms around him, I couldn't help but notice that he didn't quite seem to be taking it all in. He was pleasant, but he seemed almost detached, more like he was going through the motions of a homecoming than really feeling the moment. Somebody said, "Isn't it wonderful to be home, O.J.?" and he looked at them with a blank expression.

When the verdict was read and we fell to our knees to thank God, we hoped it would be the beginning of a new, wonderful life for my uncle O.J. God had saved him, snatched him back from the edge of the pit. It was God's will, we told each other. If God wanted to teach him a lesson during his incarceration, Uncle O.J. seemed to be a slow learner.

From the day my uncle returned home from jail, the gates at Rockingham were thronged with female groupies I nicknamed "yard rats." Uncle O.J. had always attracted women like flies, and his incarceration had only increased his appeal to the girls who spent their days at Rockingham. Celebrity prisoners are notorious for attracting groupies;

So when Uncle O.J. returned home after sixteen months in prison, there was no shortage of volunteers to meet his personal needs.

After a brief celebration interlude with Paula, he turned to the wider selection of women clustered literally on his front lawn. They would just show up in front of the gates at Rockingham, hang around, and make themselves available. They'd chat with the security guards Uncle O.J. had hired, and if they were cute enough, the guards would go inside and tell Uncle O.J. they had a good prospect for him. The chosen ones would be taken into the house to meet my uncle.

If they all had something in common, it was a tight body and an empty head. They flirted outrageously with Uncle O.J., even in front of my parents. If it was a weekend, and my parents were with Grandma in San Francisco, the guards would meet me outside and tell me that Uncle O.J. didn't want to be disturbed. The house was "private" for the weekend. I'd think, Here we go again.

Most of the yard rats who hung around Rockingham were merely irritating, but one of them began to worry me.

Her name is Christie . She was about twenty years old, with a botched bleach job. She did have a nice body and a very willing attitude, both of which seemed to be prerequisites for Uncle O.J. She didn't seem to be just another girl from L.A. with nothing better to do than hang around Rockingham; there seemed to be some method in her madness.

One day I found myself alone in the kitchen with her and decided to see if I could get some information in the form of a friendly chat. So I said, "Well, Alison, how long have you lived in L.A.?" She mumbled something vague. Then I asked her, "So, what are you doing? Are you working? Or are you out here going to school?" She said, "Oh, well, I'm thinking about doing both of them. I mean, I'm not really sure."

The rest of her answers were equally vague. Apparently she'd just turned up in Los Angeles with no job, no plans for school, no relatives or friends, no apparent reason for coming here, and happened to turn up at the gates of Rockingham.

I said to my mother and father later that night, "Does Uncle O.J. have any idea that this chick didn't just happen in off the street? That she came to L.A. to meet him?"

She was spending more time at Rockingham as the weeks went by. She seemed to be very uncomfortable at the house. Nobody was even sure who she was. Then I found out that her mother had come to town and met Uncle O.J. I thought, Oh boy. Is he just too stupid to see that they're working him?

It had already become clear to me that it would only take another blond girl with a good body for the whole cycle to start again. It was Nicole all over.

I suggested to my dad that someone should try to talk to Uncle O.J. about what was going on with Christie , but that idea was quickly abandoned. My parents didn't want to interfere in his personal life, and I knew he wasn't interested in my opinion. He never had been.

We knew from experience that once Uncle O.J. got involved with someone, accepting her was the price we had to pay if we wanted to be part of his life. He seemed to be slipping back into his old pattern.

All through the trial, we had discussed getting together to go on a vacation to celebrate as a family. But it never happened. Instead, Uncle O.J. chartered a plane so he could fly his buddies to Florida for a round of golf.

But, even if we'd actually made the trip we'd planned as a family, I couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like. The emergency caused by his arrest had drawn us together, but now that the crisis was over, what did we really have in common except blood?

Uncle O.J.'s lifestyle and values were so different from my family's.

In rehab, though, I got to talk. I got to say all the things I'd been storing up for years. Nobody knew or cared that I was O.J. Simpson's niece; I was just Terri, and they accepted me on that basis

The letters weren't the kind you actually send to people; they were therapeutic letters where I could pour out all my feelings without fear of what the person I wrote to might say. It was then, as I wrote those letters, that the anger started coming up. The first letter I wrote was to Uncle O.J., then one to my mother, and one to Grandma.

All the feelings I'd been storing up over the years came pouring out. I remembered the rage I' d felt the day during the trial when I'd raised the possibility that Uncle O.J. might have committed the murders, and my mother's reaction.

Then I went back in my mind ten years, to the day my theft of my cousin Carla's money was discovered; I remembered the humiliation of that moment, and how Uncle O.J. had stood silent and didn't defend me after Nicole and her sisters accused me of theft and had searched my apartment. I could see Nicole's face as she called me a Nig## filthy thief, and her sisters' faces years later as they repeated the insult on the day Uncle O.J. almost killed himself.

And for the first time in my life, I saw clearly that the sense of inferiority I felt in those moments had been with me all my life. On the outside I had been an achiever, the one who made my parents proud; but on the inside I had absorbed a deep sense of "not good enough," never fitting in with the people I loved the most.

About a week after I came home, I went over to Rockingham with a friend. I was a little nervous because I didn't know how much Uncle O.J. knew about what had happened with me. I was afraid Uncle O.J. would say, "Where have you been?"

But instead, when I said I could only stay a few minutes because I was on my way to a meeting, he asked, "Is it the one at the church down on San Vicente?" It was his way of letting me know that he understood what was going on.

I was very surprised that he knew the location, so I said, "Yeah. How did you know about that?" He explained that an old girlfriend of his had gone to meetings there all the time. I was pleasantly surprised that he was open-minded about my going to meetings, that he didn't attach a stigma to it like I'd expected.

My uncle O.J. lost his reputation, his wealth, and the illusion that he would not be held accountable for his choices. Whatever his part was in the events of that night, he is accountable for a lifetime of choices that have hurt the people who genuinely love him. As for the rest, that will be between him and God.

R84 "He wanted her for her looks and skin color. She wanted him for his money and fame. Two assholes fell in love, mistreated each other, cheated on each other, and one is physically dead, and the other is socially dead. I'm okay with this outcome."

This comment summarized this thread!

Anyone else find these "Christians" to be super ho's? By all means do soft porn Paula and Brentwood Hello Nicole. And of course OJ and other high earners shag as many as your like! So in keeping with your scripture! See you at church in Sunday!

R512 Agree.

Look, no one should get nearly decapitated anywhere, but especially in Beverly Hills or whatever equally nice adjacent neighbourhood Brentwood is. Especially in such a personal way and when the victim's kids are asleep upstairs. OP, I get your point. There are 2 sides to things but Jesus Christ these murders were horrific and extremely personal - not random. This is not a hill to die on. Find another hobby.

OP is disgusting, yes, but R7 is that special kind of cunt who brags like an uppity bitch about blocking the OP of this thread "a long time ago" but somehow miraculously manages to read the thread and post on it.

How amazing!

I guess OJ just presumed they would get back together and when Nicole ignored him at the recital and sent a message that she was done with him, it was too much for him.

I find it interesting, though, that whenever OJ talks about Nicole, he comes across as dispassionate about her. There's no sense of loss or any nostalgia in his voice. Like she never existed. Eerie.

R516 Nicole didn't send OJ any message the night of the murder.

It was Paula who sent him a message that afternoon, basically breaking up with him, because she wanted to attend Sydney's dance recital with OJ but he refused, He felt that it was a family day and he still didn't want to hurt Nicole's feelings by bringing Paula with him. He knew Nicole would get mad if Paula came with him.

On the other hand, Nicole and her freeloading family ignored him at the recital and when OJ asked her if he can be with Sydney and Justin after the recital, before going to Chicago that night. Nicole refused. She had already made it more difficult for him in the previous weeks to see his kids, making ridiculous last minute excuses every time.

Regarding "OJ talking dispassionatly about Nicole with no sense of loss or any nostalgia in his voice." Who really knows how he feels in private. But even if this is true, who can blame him. Nicole Brown was his downfall, she ruined him.

[quote]Who really knows how he feels in private. But even if this is true, who can blame him. Nicole Brown was his downfall, she ruined him.

Have you tried to reach out to OJ via his social media accounts? He would probably love to hear from a fan who invests so much thought, passion and understanding toward him and who justifies the fact that he murdered two innocent people in cold blood. Doubt he has very many people in his life who understand and support him like you do.

He was dispassionate about her after her murder because he killed her. I guess killing her freed him of his obsession.

If we will talk about obsession. It was Not one way street. They were both obsessed with each other.

OJ really loved Nicole But Nicole had more of love/hate relationship with OJ. She would tell Kris Jenner that every time OJ traveled, she wished his plane would crash and he dies. But at the same time, she wouldn't leave him alone. She just kept going back and forth and jerking him around like yoyo. one day being so loving with him, giving him hope then the next day, ignoring him and leaving him to crash down. As Kato, Cora Fischman and many of their friends said, she was purposely driving him crazy.

No one can drive someone crazy. OJ was an active participant in the crazy making.

Who is Michael the singer she refers to? Michael Bolton?

Paula: 'During the trial, Marcia got under OJ.'s skin about every other hour. But once a month he would get his revenge. When he determined that Marcia was premenstrual, he would pass it on to Johnnie Cochran and tell him to work her over.'

OJ was an animal. A bloodhound

"No responsible good mother would give a bartender a blow job in the open in her living room with her young kids sleeping upstairs or hold drug fueled sex parties at her home with 2 small children living there."

and what responsible father would kill the children's mother and leave her bloody body where the children might have discovered it?

[quote]Paula: 'During the trial, Marcia got under OJ.'s skin about every other hour. But once a month he would get his revenge. When he determined that Marcia was premenstrual, he would pass it on to Johnnie Cochran and tell him to work her over.'

Always after revenge. A true sociopath.

Kato believes in karma

Juror has change of mind

Uncle OJ

Witnesses that might have made a difference in the verdict

That infamous garment bag

and those 'ass ugly' Bruno Magli shoes

and those gloves.

everyone was put on trial

R529 Jill Shively debunked

R527 Juror says OJ was framed

I guess maybe black people cheering was less about O.J. and more about the politics of the LAPD at the time, police brutality. A lot of their catharsis was bigger than O.J. I can understand that. But at the end of the day, two people were murdered.

I think most people thought we based our decision on race. Race never came up in the topic of our deliberation, or even how the LAPD treated black people.

Like, regarding Fuhrman, none of his comments really …

The thing with Fuhrman was once his credibility was shot, you really could discount anything he said. He was definitely a liar — he lied on the stand — and when he came back to the court, he took the fifth on everything. Why would you trust anything he said? He was the detective that found all this evidence: the blood on the Bronco, on the back fence, on the glove … all of that created reasonable doubt.

Was there a moment in particular during the trial that really swayed your decision towards reasonable doubt?

Yeah, when they started talking about the blood evidence. There was, like, a milliliter of blood they couldn’t account for. And they found blood on the back fence of Nicole’s condo, and that particular blood also had the additive in there. That additive is only found in [a test tube of blood], so why would the blood sample on that back fence contain that additive unless somebody took the blood from the test tube and placed it there?

Do you think O.J. was framed?

I don’t know if he was necessarily framed. I think O.J. may know something about what happened, but I just don’t think he did it. I think it was more than one person, just because of the way she was killed. I don’t know how he could have just left that bloody scene — because it was bloody — and got back into his Bronco and not have it filled with blood. And then go back home and go in the front door, up the stairs to his bedroom … That carpet was snow white in his house. He should have blood all over him or bruises because Ron Goldman was definitely fighting for his life. He had defensive cuts on his shoes and on his hands.

O.J. only had that little cut on his finger. If [Goldman] was kicking to death, you would think that the killer would have gotten some bruises on his body. They showed us photos of O.J. with just his underwear just two days after, and he had no bruises or anything on his body.

You know, I have my personal opinion about what I think might have happened. In my gut, I can definitely see a scenario in which O.J. did commit these murders. However, what I’m concerned about was the show’s portrayal as the jurors as somewhat … bumbling. You did say there were jurors who weren’t very sophisticated, but the show sort of portrays the jurors as not taking anything seriously.

I agree with that. It was a poor portrayal of the jurors. Some of them were bumbling idiots, but all of us worked and did take it seriously. Unfortunately, a lot of those [jurors] who have come out to speak just substantiate that portrayal that was shown [in the finale].

There’s going to be another O.J. documentary coming out next month on ESPN, and I did speak with the director for that. He really was trying to get me to participate in the project and was trying to assure me that it wasn’t going to be like anything else. I told him I appreciated it, but I just am kind of fed up with the whole thing. I don’t regret doing it, because I felt that I was chosen in some way to do this. But I don’t want to keep putting myself out there for criticism and ridicule. People have such deep-rooted feelings about this case. I don’t think that a lot of people would ever change their minds, even if someone just came out of the woodwork and said they were the actual killer. [People would] still say, “No no, O.J. did it.”

Brett Ross Cantor (November 5, 1967 – July 30, 1993) was an American record label executive, concert promoter and nightclub owner.[1] He was born in New York to Rhonda and Paul Cantor, who managed acts such as B. J. Thomas and Dionne Warwick. In the early 1970s, he and his family moved to the Los Angeles area. In the early 1990s, he served as an A&R executive for the Chrysalis Music Group.

After signing Rage Against the Machine, Cantor left Chrysalis to work briefly as an agent and then a promoter, putting together some of the largest concert and dance events in the city at that time.[2] He also entered the nightclub business, taking a 10 percent stake in Dragonfly, a club known at the time for its 1970s and hip hop theme nights. At that time he was involved romantically with actress Rose McGowan.[3]

Cantor was found dead in his Hollywood home on July 30, 1993; he had been stabbed repeatedly in the upper body. No suspect has ever been identified and the investigation remains open. His death was the subject of renewed interest a year later, when, during preliminary motions in the trial of O. J. Simpson for the killings of his former wife, Nicole Simpson, and Ron Goldman, Judge Lance Ito ruled that defense lawyers could have access to the investigatory file in the Cantor case. The defense had argued that the similarity of the three killings suggested the same person or persons had committed them.[4] It has also been argued in books on the case that Cantor knew both Goldman and Nicole, and thus they may have been killed over mutual involvement in possibly illegal business activities.[5][6]

Michael Nigg (April 28, 1969 – September 8, 1995)[1] was an aspiring actor who worked as a waiter at a Beverly Hills restaurant. He was shot and killed during an apparent robbery attempt in Hollywood.[2] The Los Angeles Police Department later arrested three suspects but soon released them for lack of evidence. No other suspects have ever been identified, and the killing remains unsolved.[3]

The case attracted some media coverage at the time, because Nigg had formerly worked at the Mezzaluna restaurant in Brentwood, where he had befriended Ronald Goldman. Almost 15 months earlier, Goldman and Nicole Brown Simpson had been found slain at her home near the restaurant, after he had gone there to return her mother's eyeglasses, which had been left behind at Mezzaluna. Simpson's ex-husband, former football star O. J. Simpson, had been charged with the murders, and his highly publicized trial had reached closing arguments.

Simpson, who has consistently professed his innocence in the Brown and Goldman killings, was acquitted of the murder charges almost a month after Nigg's death.[a] Alternative theories of the murders, supposedly shared by Simpson, have suggested they were related to drug trafficking in the Los Angeles area,[4] and that Nigg was as well; Nigg apparently lived very well for a waiter,[5] and there were some allegations he, too, had been involved in the drug trade while working at the Mezzaluna branch in Colorado before.[6] Nigg and Goldman, it has also been noted, were not the only waiters at Mezzaluna to be the victims of criminal activity during the mid-1990s.[6]

Author Donald Freed (white man) defends the jury and the verdict against the racist media.

the gloves, shoe prints, the garment bag, the timeline and the motive fit

DNA blood evidence is killer

Words from a retired homicide detective and forensic coroner

a thump in the night on that night

no solid alibi from OJ

Run OJ run!

Window of opportunity

Innocent people don't run from the police and leave a suicide note, and then lead a police chase (albeit at slow speed) through the city be for surrendering.

OJ was a bloody mess

It's in the blood