If I Did It

by The Goldman Family

  The attorneys called the Browns one last time and offered them a portion of what News Corp. had offered our family. We received a call from them the following day, and they said “no way.” The book was pulled from publication hours later. That move would set new wheels in motion.

  It marked the beginning of the long and twisted journey that has resulted in our family publishing the killer’s confession in 2007. So much happened between his book being yanked and this book finding its way back. We learned through contracts, depositions, and declarations that he had created a company called Lorraine Brooke Associates (LBA) that served as the conduit between HarperCollins and his bank account. LBA was named after the middle names of his two daughters, Arnelle Lorraine and Sydney Brooke. We learned that Arnelle is the president, and that his children with Nicole, Justin and Sydney, are each 25% owners in the company that allowed an estimated $630,000 to flow into their father’s pockets for the publication of If I Did It. We learned that his family knew about this book and signed off on it back in March 2006. And in his own words, he said he did it so his kids could make millions. Despite the fact that he spent the entire advance on bills, the kids each stood to benefit from the sale of this project.

  By this point, we realized what we had thought was a “manual for murder” was no such thing: it read much more like a confession than anything else. That helped slightly when the attorneys came to us and advised us that the best thing to do to completely stop him from ever publishing and profiting from this book would be to levy on it; meaning place a lien on all rights, title, and interest of his interest in the book. We were struggling again, but now it was over the idea of owning this book that we had worked so hard to remove from society. How could we show our faces again and justify publishing the book ourselves after we had shouted so loudly about how disgusting it was that it had ever been written?

  Again, we went back to our options: Do nothing and then he gets it, publishes it, hides the money, and continues to profit along with his children, or fight him tooth and nail to end up with the book ourselves, knowing we took away his work product, his “meal ticket.” At this point, aware of all his efforts to defraud us, the choice was clear. We decided to follow the law; we decided to fight, yet again. We took a very deep breath and gave the attorneys the green light. We’re not sure we have let that breath out yet.

  The California state court awarded us the ability to sell the killer’s rights, title, and interest in If I Did It at an auction to be held by the Sheriff’s Department of Sacramento in April 2007. Because our family had a multi-million dollar outstanding debt owed to us, we essentially had a $38 million credit card to use to purchase the book. Days before the auction, we were still undecided about what we would do if we ended up with the manuscript, but, fortunately or unfortunately, we never got the chance to pursue that path. Just before we were to leave to attend the Sheriff’s sale, the Brown family, specifically the Estate of Nicole Brown, filed a claim requesting half the proceeds of the book. The judge denied the claim and everything resumed as planned … for about seven minutes.

  As we walked out of the courthouse to discuss our next move, we received a phone call informing us that LBA had filed bankruptcy and everything was off the table.

  Of course it would happen this way—of course we would spend hours debating in our hearts and minds over what to do and how to proceed, only to be distracted by yet another move on his behalf to stop us from succeeding. The attorneys told us that forcing the book into bankruptcy court would prove to be the best thing for our family. In that moment, we only felt defeat and exhaustion; there was no silver lining, we saw nothing but another long and endless road leading us to Miami.

  LBA’s attorneys filed bankruptcy with the hope that the corporation would retain the rights to the book, and that they could just restructure their phony company and publish the book on their own. After months of hearings and depositions, their efforts proved futile. The federal bankruptcy court ruled that LBA was a sham company, only established to perpetrate a fraud. This echoed the same ruling made weeks earlier in a California court that had also deemed LBA a sham corporation. LBA was a shield designed to avoid having to honor the civil judgment. We had been the only ones who stood to lose in this chaotic situation, and now a court breathed a bit of energy back our way. We had caught a glimpse of the silver lining, ever so slightly. To hear two judges say it was a fraud was a validation of what we had known all this time.

  After weeks of negotiating with the bankruptcy trustee, whose main responsibility is to liquidate the assets of a company in order to satisfy all its debt, they finally agreed to sell us the book rights. Days before the judge was slated to sign off on this agreement, the Brown family filed yet another motion asserting their civil judgment and asking for 40% of the proceeds from the book. A team of attorneys argued before a judge in Miami and the motion was denied. Moments later, our deal was approved, and then the judge made a comment in open court that moved us to tears. He said, “The Goldman family’s offer to publish the book and turn over 10% of the proceeds to the bankruptcy court is more than reasonable.” He went on to say that he didn’t feel there was any better choice than for our family to pursue this option, as we were motivated and committed to actively pursuing the civil judgment as reflected by our efforts over the last decade. He wished us luck and we were done. We had finally succeeded, 100%.

  The killer swore he would never work a day in his life to honor the judgment … well, he just had. He had worked hard on this book, thought he would retire off of it, and we took it right out from under him. He had escaped our reach for nearly eleven years, but not this time.

  The specifics of the bankruptcy agreement are confusing. The simplest way to explain it is this: we levied on the book back in January 2007, so we had a secured claim on that asset. When it was forced into bankruptcy court, we had the biggest vested interest, since we also had the biggest claim ($38 million). We agreed to turn over a portion of the proceeds to the court in an effort to pay off LBA’s other debts, which included the Estate of Nicole Brown (Justin and Sydney), which is owed $20 million, and a few attorneys who are owed hundreds of thousands of dollars. The ironic twist is that we were now ordered to publish a book to help pay down our own judgment to help pay off his other outstanding “bills,” and to pass money along to the family that helped create this drama to begin with. But again … it came down to him or us.

  So here we sit, having to take on this incredibly controversial book project, which many deemed abhorrent, disgusting, and dirty, and turn it into something powerful and positive. Having read the manuscript in great detail, we are more determined than ever to put this product out into the world as an exposé of a murderer. We recall the language of the civil verdict: “he willfully and wrongfully caused the deaths of Ron and Nicole with malice and oppression.” According to the civil code, malice and oppression means “despicable conduct carried out by the defendant, to cause injury and that subjects a person to cruel and unjust hardship.” This is what you will see when you read his confession.

  The journey to get here was painful. We spent endless nights, hours and hours of conversation with our team of attorneys, literary agent, publisher, and friends trying to find the light at the end of the tunnel. We argued, cried, negotiated, and experienced ups and downs worse than the biggest roller coaster ride, just to ensure that we were doing the right thing. We knew that our decision to pursue this book might not sit well in the hearts of the people who stand so close beside us. We risked the back-lash and the criticism, believing that this was a just course of action to take, that this book would ultimately turn his own words against him and expose him for the murderer that he is. We put faith in ourselves that, at the end of the day, our commitment to Ron is the only thing that matters—that our intentions are pure and authentic. We put faith in you, the public, trusting that you will understand why we did this and why this was the only option we had to get justice for Ron.

  Many assume
that being the victim of a crime leaves you powerless. Those of us who live in that world know all too well that we are survivors and we are a mighty force. We have a will within us that is deep and empowering. We have a need to right a wrong and to make the path less painful for those who will inevitably follow in our footsteps. We have a determination to make our lives as full as we can, despite having a huge part left empty. We have a need to keep our loved ones’ memories alive and to honor them with our strength and courage to go on living, despite sometimes wanting to give up. We can not give up.

  We have spent years traveling the country and meeting thousands of victims and survivors who walk down the same path we do—we see their bravery and their determination and we are in awe. We are inspired, motivated, and comforted by these incredible people who fight the system every day just to see some measure of justice. We are a mighty force.

  When we had the chance to write this portion of this book, we knew immediately what we wanted to say. Our first priority was to explain why we changed our minds about the publication of this book. We want to show readers how deceitful and disrespectful he continues to be, and give insight into how we feel about his confession being out in the world. It’s no secret that we think he is guilty; we are not asking people to change their opinions based on what we think—but now readers will have a chance to read his version of how and why he stabbed Ron and Nicole to death on June 12th, 1994. There is no doubt in our minds that this book was originally written so that he could finally tell his side of what happened. After all, the killer was quoted in a television interview on MN1 as saying, “I’m tired of people talking for me.”

  Since announcing that we were publishing this book, we have taken quite a few hits. We have been cast as “hypocrites” for changing our minds and going forward with the publication. Truthfully, we expected to feel some heat, but not to the degree that we have felt it. Our attorneys have been criticized, our literary agent, publicist, and publisher have received tremendous amounts of hateful emails and phone calls, and we have been the subject of numerous smear campaigns on the internet. We have heard people accuse us of “commercializing blood money,” saying that we sold ourselves to the devil, that we are now in the same class as the killer, and finally, that we were purposefully causing Justin and Sydney to relive the pain of losing their mother. We have been called every name in the book and our religious affiliation has been attacked. We have suffered immense pain and anguish and are now having to face critics in the public who once said, “good for you for fighting and getting that judgment,” but now say, “you’re taking blood money.” How can it be both?

  In our heart of hearts, we believe we had no other choice. And thank goodness for the majority of the public who continue to stand beside us. Those voices are the ones that give us the strength to stay our course. We didn’t do this to cause pain, we didn’t do this to “reopen” wounds, we didn’t do this thinking it would “bring Ron back,” we didn’t do this to get rich. We did this because it’s the right course of action to take against the beast that stabbed Ron to death. We can’t feel bad for a killer. We can’t abandon our pain and our mission because people don’t always agree or understand. If we walked away now, wouldn’t that be the truest definition of hypocrisy?

  For us, the hardest part of reading this book was hearing him talk about that night. We have seen all the evidence and heard all the testimony, but nothing prepares you for hearing it straight from his mouth. Listening to him talk about taunting Ron and about how Ron tried to defuse the situation was gutwrenching—but we also heard about how Ron stayed to protect Nicole instead of running away. We were once again reminded that Ron is a hero. When we start to question “What should we do?” we pause and think of Ron.

  He stayed to fight and so will we.

  PROLOGUE

  IN LATE APRIL, 2006, Judith Regan, the publisher, called me about a highly confidential project. O.J. Simpson was going to write a book for her, she said, to confess to the murders of Nicole Brown Simpson and Ron Goldman. Only it wasn’t exactly a confession. The book was going to be called “If I Did It” and it would be sold as an account of what might have happened on the night of the murders. When I told Judith I wasn’t sure I understood what that meant, she said, “He wants to confess, and I’m being assured it’s a confession. But this is the only way he’ll do it.”

  As soon as we got off the phone, I spoke to the only two other people at ReganBooks who were in the loop. One was a senior editor, the other a company attorney. I already had misgivings about the book, partly because I didn’t understand what O.J. was selling, and partly because there are laws about criminals cashing in on their crimes. I knew that this law only applied to convicted criminals, but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

  No, no, no, I was told. O.J. himself wouldn’t be making a penny. All the profits were being funneled into a corporation that was owned and controlled by his children. I thought that sounded more than slightly suspect, but I’m not an attorney. Surely, if a deal was being made with O.J.’s kids, it was being done with the blessing of the parent company, News Corp., and the powers that be at HarperCollins.

  Of course, part of me didn’t want to probe too deeply. I was being given an opportunity to sit in a room with O.J. Simpson and listen to his confession, or an ersatz version of a confession, and it was simply too good to pass up. That he wanted to describe it as “hypothetical” meant very little to me. I’d assumed from the start that he was guilty, and in the years since I’d heard nothing to make me change my mind.

  Not long after, I had lunch with the attorney who had brought the project to Judith. He told me that the idea for the book, and the bizarre title, had originated with a guy who operated on the fringes of the entertainment industry, and who was friendly with O.J.’s eldest daughter, Arnelle. I still wasn’t entirely sure what, exactly, the book was supposed to be, and neither was he, but I was assured, as Judith had been, that O.J. would be confessing, and that I’d be hearing details only he could possibly know. By the time the check arrived, we had hammered out a deal. I would be paid a guaranteed, upfront fee, plus a share of the book’s profits.

  I kept waiting for the attorney to ask me about my history with O.J., but he never did. Ten years earlier, during the criminal trial, I testified for the prosecution. I had described the “plaintive wail” of Nicole’s dog, and Marcia Clark used the information to try to establish a timeline for the murders. I lived on Gretna Green Way, one street over from Bundy, and I shared a back alley with Nicole. On the night in question, the unhappy dog had begun to make himself heard at around 10:15 or 10:20, leading to the assumption that the murders had already taken place. If that was indeed the case, O.J. would have had plenty of time to get home, wash up, and climb into the waiting limo for the ride to the airport.

  I flew down to Miami in early June, and the following morning I went off to meet O.J. at a Coconut Grove hotel. The attorney was waiting for me in the lobby, along with one of O.J.’s handlers, and we went up to the suite they’d booked for the occasion. We waited. And we waited some more. O.J., apparently feeling skittish, didn’t show up until noon. Even then, reluctant to come upstairs, he rang from the lobby and asked if we might meet in the hotel restaurant.

  He was already seated when we arrived, and he stood to greet me as I approached. He had a hard time getting to his feet—he had a bum knee—and looked like an older, faded version of his former self, heavier, with an unhealthy pallor, his hair going gray. He thanked me for making the trip, apologized for being late, and offered me his hand. It felt as big as a baseball mitt. He then gestured toward the empty chair beside him, and before I’d even settled in he said, “Tell me something. What is this ‘wailing dog’ bullshit? You ever hear of anyone putting a man away based on the testimony of a wailing dog?”

  Okay. I got the message. He remembered me from the trial, and he wanted me to know he remembered. Or maybe he didn’t remember, but someone in his camp had the sense to Googl
e me before I flew down.

  We had lunch, and he talked a little bit about his knee, and about his arthritis. I wondered if he was trying to elicit sympathy, but I was thinking about something else entirely. I kept asking myself why he had agreed to write this crazy book, and I could only come up with three reasons: One, he needed the money. Two, he missed the attention. And three, he genuinely wanted to confess. I was hoping for number three, of course, but there was one other nagging possibility: The whole thing was a con.

  After lunch, we made our way down the corridor, with O.J. limping beside me, the attorney and handler close behind. We got into the elevator and went up to the suite, and I readied my laptop and recorder. I generally don’t tape my interviews—I type pretty fast, and the typing itself somehow brings everything into sharper focus for me: words, tone, attitude, voice. In this case, however, I thought taping was a good idea.

  O.J. dropped into a chair, grimacing, and plunged right in: “I’m not going to talk about the murders because I wasn’t there that night and I don’t know anything about it.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.”

  I turned to look at the attorney. “Then why am I here?” I said. “It was my understanding that I was going to hear a confession, or at least a hypothetical confession.”

  “I’m not confessing to anything,” O.J. said. “I have nothing to confess.”