by Kim Goldman
The bailiff yelled out, “The jury’s still here!”
We did not care. We had been silenced at the conclusion of the criminal trial and muffled for months by Judge Fujisaki’s frustrating gag order. This was our time. This was our moment.
I wrapped my arms tightly around Kim, and she hugged back, more tightly than she had in a long time. We both said, “We did it. We did it for Ron!”
The killer and his attorneys slipped out of the room quickly, like thieves in the night.
We stepped outside the courtroom to find ourselves engulfed by cheers from a crowd that seemed to have grown even larger. As we began the walk across the street, still holding hands, we raised our arms in the air. “This is your time, Fred,” Dan encouraged.
The scene reminded Kim of the throngs who had come to Ron’s funeral. For a few moments, all Kim could see was her brother’s smile, captured on the photograph of him holding a baseball bat.
We were smiling, crying, shaking, completely overwhelmed by the crowds and their shouts of support. Patti’s hands were numb from squeezing Kim’s and Lauren’s so hard, for so long.
Our group spilled into the hotel lobby and we managed to cram inside an elevator. Away from the media and the spectators, we let loose with shrieks of joy and relief.
Up in Room 205 Dan ran about yelling, “Twelve-zip! Twelve-zip!”
Bottles of champagne appeared.
It was a strange, intoxicating feeling. Our relief and gratitude, our excitement and euphoria were tempered by the knowledge of what had brought this all about. Yes, we had won. But Ron was still gone.
I offered a toast: “Today marks two and a half years and we finally have justice. Our family is grateful for the verdict.”
Dan said, “Ron would be proud.”
Kim corrected, “Ron is proud.”
My voice cracked as I proclaimed, “Thank God! Thank God for some justice for Ron and Nicole.”
I turned to my family and said, “Twelve-zero. It is just what we wanted. The only thing that could have been sweeter was to see Ron walk through that door.”
The comment reminded Kim of the image that Dan had evoked during his closing argument, of Ron striding through the courtroom door. She said to all of us, “Do you know how honored and grateful Ron would be to Dan, to everybody here, for what they’ve done? I can see the look in his eyes, the expression on his face. Remember how he looked when he watched Jimmy Connors or Andre Agassi play flawless tennis? That’s how he would have looked watching Dan demand justice for him. He always recognized and appreciated excellence.”
She could see the firm handshakes, the pats on the back, the exuberant high-fives he would share with everyone. She could feel the heat of his infectious, radiant smile and hear him bellow, “Way to go!” Then she could hear his voice soften and see his brown eyes, flecked with green, widen as he said, “Thanks, guys, you did me proud!”
If the killer had been convicted at the criminal trial, we would have presented our victims’ statements prior to sentencing. But we never had the opportunity, until now.
We have composed our statements independently, choosing not to share them with each other until they appeared in print.
Lauren
I wish I could have said this directly to you, but I wasn’t given the chance.
You won’t hear me refer to you as “Mr. Simpson,” or “O.J.,” because our family refers to you as the “killer” who took our wonderful Ronny away from us.
When I stepped in that courtroom for the first time, I expected to see a man in a blue jail uniform. Instead I saw a coward. A man with a grin on his face wearing a newly pressed suit.
I shuddered at your size—I almost vomited when I realized that your big hands murdered my innocent brother.
Your psychopathic mind has probably convinced you that you didn’t commit these murders. You have probably placed the blame on your battered wife or better yet, Ron. You held the knife that lunged into my brother’s body so many times.
Did you ever think of Ron and the family that he was leaving behind? Did you ever realize that there were many other people who love Ron and would miss him? Did you ever stop and wonder if Ron might have dreams and aspirations? Did you even care, for that matter?
My life has fallen apart. I have lost my faith in the justice system. My oldest brother was ripped away from me, and you are still alive to talk about it.
Ron will never have the opportunity to watch me grow up. There are things that I want to share with him on a day-to-day basis. I’m sure that you know what that’s like with your children. I want to ask him advice, I want to make sure that I’m taking the right path. Now I can’t!
My brother wanted to have children; he wanted to settle down and get married. He had dreams to live and to fulfill, and you stopped him dead in his tracks.
A hero is someone we all look up to, someone to admire, someone who would do anything for anyone. Ron was a hero. He risked his life to stop your malicious hand from striking violence on your ex-wife one last time, but unfortunately, he was unsuccessful.
My life has a huge gap which I will feel forever. I often get emotional at the drop of a pin, and I sometimes have dreams about Ron and what his future would have been like. These dreams should be a reality.
When I thought of Ron’s death, I thought car accident or some sort of everyday accident. I never thought about a murderer—with a knife. You took a knife and stabbed it into Ron. You took two wonderful human beings off this earth—and everyone is suffering now except you.
I was brought up not to use the word “hate,” but I have made an exception. I HATE YOU!!! I hate the fact that you are able to breathe. I hate the fact that you are able to function as a human being. I hate the fact that you are alive. I hate the fact that you ruined my life. I hate the fact that another murderer is loose in our society.
Was Ron afraid? Do his pleas haunt you every night before you go to sleep? Do you realize that Ron will never get to do anything that you are doing? Ron suffered because of your ignorance and your disgusting, jealous behavior.
I would love to have you in a room and pound on you until you told me—How? Why? There are no answers. Murder is final.
Is it fair that all that I have left are videotapes, memories, and pictures? I deserve to have Ron as a part of my life. Ron deserved to live. It should be your useless body six feet under, not Ron’s!
When I sat in the courtroom and made eye contact with you, I had to restrain myself from jumping over the railing. I wanted to put you through torture. I wanted you to suffer like Ron suffered. Unfortunately, this was only a daydream.
Not only did you break the hearts of millions of people across the country, but you broke my heart. You broke the circle of love that once knit my family together. You took a huge piece of me when you took Ron.
Ron was the type of person whom I could always count on. He would listen to me for hours on end, comforting me and telling me that everything would turn out for the better. Well, nothing is better. My life is a mess. I had to teach myself to be happy again. I had to try to stop thinking about the murder scene. I had to try to find some kind of normalcy. Do you know what it’s like to have a huge chunk of your life missing because of one ignorant human being?
Ron didn’t even get a chance to see me off on my first date, to lecture me about guys, to guide me with my dreams. He was always waiting for that chance. He wanted to protect me from everything and make sure that no one would ever hurt me. I didn’t get a chance to protect Ron. I didn’t think I would need to.
As I sit here with tears rolling down my cheeks, all that I feel is hatred toward you—a murderer!
You will never get to see our Ronny again because you are going to burn in hell with all of the murderers, drug dealers, and robbers of this world, while Ronny rests peacefully in heaven!
Michael
I have spent countless numbers of hours thinking about what I would say to the man who killed my brother if I had the chance.
Now that chance is mine. The hate that I feel toward you cannot be paralleled. I think about what you did to my brother—on a day-to-day basis. To think that a human being was capable of that kind of brutality makes me sick. The way you pranced into the courtroom with your “Scheme Team” made me sick. When it was all said and done, and you heard the verdict, I hated you for the way you stared at Kim when she was in tears. Then it happened. Juror 6 decided to throw up a black power sign. That summed it all up. It was not about you killing my brother and Nicole. It was about racism. I bet you felt great when you walked on the streets as a free man—something my brother will never have the chance to do. I have a little news for you, Mr. Killer: You are not a free man. Life just can’t be the same for you anymore. You used to be an athlete, but now all you are is a coward and a murderer. You took something from me that I can never replace. Ron was a caring person who gave up his life to save a friend. I really do not know what your fate holds, but I do know that one day you will have to answer to a much higher justice. A justice that does not see color and does not hear racism. What are you going to do then? Think really hard, because life has a strange way of giving things back to people. I have gone over what happened that night thousands of times in my head. All is see is a HERO running in to save a friend, and a coward stabbing him to death. When you took Ron away, it was not only my family’s loss, it was the world’s loss, because that’s the kind of person Ron was. All I can tell you is, you are lucky that I was not there the night of June 12, 1994, because you would be the one who was six feet under now. You say that you feel like the victim; what about Ron and Nicole. What about their families and loved ones? They are the true victims. Like I said before, What goes around, comes around. I believe that yours is on the way. To look at the emptiness in Kim’s and Fred’s eyes is enough to make me want to kill you. I understand that killing is not a way to fix a problem, but the thought has crossed my mind many times. You killed my brother, and with him a piece of me. I hate you, and there will be a day when you will have nowhere to run. One more thing. Ron and Nicole know when you are coming, but you will be in a place where the heat will be scorching your corrupt soul. You were never a football hero, a hero is my brother, not someone who murders. I hope your life is miserable. I hate you.
Patti
As I sit here today to express my feelings, I am filled with raw emotions—anger, frustration, sadness, deception, fear, and hatred. I was raised with morals, values, to tell the truth and to be respectful to and of others, whatever their race. I have tried to live up to and by those standards and have instilled the same in my own children. I ask myself almost every day, What is happening in our society? What has happened to our justice system? Why is there more violence and racism than ever before? What message are we giving our children? If you have money and/or you are a celebrity, you can get away with LYING … you can get away with CHEATING … you can get away with VIOLENCE … you can get away with RAPE … you can get away with a BRUTAL MURDER! You are treated differently from others. There has not been a day since I felt you were responsible for Ron’s death that I have not hoped you would experience the pain—emotionally, mentally, and physically—that you inflicted upon Ron and Nicole. You never shed a tear, you never expressed sorrow, you never showed the slightest bit of remorse. As I watched you in court every day of the criminal trial and for several days of the civil trial, I am convinced that you are not capable of feeling any pain or remorse for the heinous crime that you committed. You took Ron’s life from him and from others whom he befriended. You also took away a major part of our lives. As a parent, I can’t imagine anything worse than losing a child due to an illness, an accident, or to a natural cause. But to lose a child caused by the brutality of another human being is beyond comprehension and acceptance. I experience an overwhelming sadness each and every day for the pain and suffering I see in Kim and Fred especially, not to mention the pain experienced by my children, Brian, Michael, and Lauren, and by me. I wish that something could and would bring Ron back from this horrendous nightmare, but you have made such a miracle impossible. We were a normal, blended family who wanted to live life to its fullest—quietly and peacefully. Our lives will never be the same. There will always be a void—that being the loss of Ron’s love, his affection, his warmth, his laughter, his smile … his everyday presence. Our family will always be associated with the “Trial of the Century” and we will always be remembered as a family who honored Ron and gave him a name—an identity. We searched and fought for justice, with all of our strength, determination, and love. Ron was and still is a real “hero.” He made a choice to help his friend Nicole, the mother of your children. In the process, he sacrificed his own life. I will forever hold you responsible for Ron’s brutal, savage, and untimely murder. You will be recognized, despised, branded, ostracized, and, someday, hopefully punished for being the “killer”—who got away with murder. For this, my hatred for you is and always will be indelibly etched in my mind.
Kim
I have thought long and hard about how and what to say. I think I got caught up in trying in some way to say something that would affect you … but then again, what could I possibly say that would affect a beast who slits his wife’s throat and leaves her for his children to find? And a beast who traps his victim in a corner, brutally stabbing him over and over, thirty times over? A beast who has no remorse for the pain, grief, and anguish he has left behind? How could I possibly affect a beast who beats “his” wife in “his” house and blames her? A beast who, while in jail, signs autographs and writes a “poor me” book during the trial of his murdered wife? A beast who walks around chatting and telling jokes while the victims’ families sit a few feet away? A beast who cares nothing about finding the true killer because he knows he wouldn’t have far to search?
What could I possibly say that would inflict as much pain on you as you have left with me? What could I do to you that would leave you feeling as empty as I am? The answer is nothing. There will never be anything that would reach my level of sadness, which will forever be a part of my life. All I can do is tell you that, while you were so enraged, wielding a six-inch blade, stabbing Ron in the heart and lungs, that while you were viciously and maliciously cutting Ron down, you single-handedly, in one minute’s time, destroyed all of our lives.
You took my best friend, my confidant, my only sibling. You took my hero. You stripped society of a gift: Ron. You took his dreams, his hopes, his future. You took a wife and a family that will never be. You took his entire life. A human life. What gave you the right to take all of that? Did you know that each time you sliced my brother you were cutting me, too? With each stab you were taking pieces of me. You have killed a huge part of me. So, while you may have thought that you were physically hurting only Ron, you were simultaneously taking away my life. What gave you the right to my life?
My life was to be shared with my only brother. We depended on each other completely. We knew each other better than anyone. We were to share our successes and our failures together. We were going to raise our children together. We were supposed to share our adulthood together. We were going to be together forever. We were inseparable. What gave you the right to destroy that?
I will never again see his smile, hear his voice, or listen to his laughter. I will never again hold his hand, touch his face, feel his arms around me, or give him a kiss. I will never again be able to tell Ron how much I love and adore him. I will never again be able to express my pride for his accomplishments. I will never be able to sit in Ron’s restaurant, the Ankh. I will never again have my big brother to comfort me in sadness and celebrate with me in good times. I will never play with his son or daughter. I will never have him to walk me down the aisle. I will never be able to see if my children look like their Uncle Ron. We will never again share memories. My photo album will be empty. I will never again have someone say how much we look alike and how similar we are. I will never again hear the words, “You are my best friend, Munchkin, and I love
you.” I will never again be whole.
I will forever be asking myself the what-ifs, the what should have beens … the could have beens and the what will never bes. … I will forever be tormented with the desire to have Ron by my side. And what will you, a double butcher, be tormented with? I have a few wishes:
I wish that, for the rest of the days that you walk on this earth, you are shadowed with guilt, and that it slowly and quietly engulfs you until you wither up and disappear. And, until that happens, I wish that society ostracizes and harasses you and labels you the Butcher of Brentwood that we proved that you are. I wish you misery and a never-ending nightmare. I wish that Ron’s eyes, the same eyes that watched you slaughter Nicole and then watched as you plunged the knife deeper into his body, the same big brown eyes that watched as you left him to die … that they always follow you, wherever you go. I wish that Ron’s face is what you wake up to, in a cold sweat, in the middle of the night: the image of a beautiful young man, a bigger man than you will ever be.
Ron is a hero. You savagely butchered a hero.
I will never let you forget.
Fred
To the sociopathic coward who murdered my son:
The desire to confront you, to tell you exactly what I think of you, has simmered and burned in me since it because so obvious that you were guilty of taking away from me, forever, the opportunity to hug my son and share his life and laughter. Now that I have the chance to confront you, I realize, with breathtaking certainty, that there is no dictionary, not thesaurus on earth that contains the words I need.
You took from Ron his entire future.
