Kardashian’s divorce from Kristen pained him, especially because she left him for Bruce Jenner, the former Olympic decathlon champion. Jenner and Kristen later married, and at the time of the murders they were starring in a frequently played infomercial for a thigh-exercising device. According to a close associate of Kardashian’s, “It bothered him that she was on TV all the time with the Thighmaster. This case was his way to step over them. This was better than infomercials.”
Head bowed, with no words of introduction or explanation, Kardashian followed Shapiro to the podium at the June 17 press conference and began speaking into the nest of microphones. His audience surely dwarfed that of any infomercial. “This letter was written by O.J. today,” Kardashian said. Actually, it was not. The letter was headed “6/15/94,” two days earlier. Then Kardashian began reading: “To whom it may concern …”
Suicide notes vary. Some tell the truth; some don’t. Some reflect a genuine intention to commit the deed; some merely display a taste for melodrama. There is, of course, no way to tell for sure what O.J. Simpson truly intended to do when he composed the letter that Robert Kardashian read to the world on the afternoon of June 17, 1994. It is safe to say, however, that Simpson intended his letter to be understood as a suicide note—and as a public last will and testament. As such, it provides both intentional and unintentional clues to the nature of its author—and in particular to the banality, self-pity, and narcissism that are the touchstones of his character.
First everyone understand nothing to do with Nicole’s murder. I loved her, allways have and always will. If we had a promblem it’s because I loved her so much. Recitly we came to the understanding that for now we were’nt right for each other at least for now. Dispite our love we were different and thats why we murtually agreed to go our spaerate ways.
Kardashian edited as he went along, first by omitting the date at the top of the letter. Shapiro had suggested that Simpson had given this and two other letters to Kardashian right after he wrote them. But if O.J. had actually written them two days earlier, Kardashian might have had a clue that Simpson was contemplating not surrendering. By leaving out the date, Kardashian avoided uncomfortable questions about his own role in O.J.’s disappearance.
Kardashian also began his recitation by quoting the letter as saying “First, everyone understand I had nothing to do with Nicole’s murder.” The text illustrates that Simpson in fact omitted these two important words. The “suicide note” showed that Simpson was a terrible writer and speller, so it is difficult to draw any conclusions from his errors except about his near-illiteracy. However, it is tempting to infer some psychological significance from Simpson’s failure to render correctly this most important sentence of his letter. (Most newspapers that printed excerpts of the letter cleaned up the grammar and spelling, thereby leaving the impression that Simpson was more literate than he was.)
Two days earlier, standing before Nicole’s body at the O’Connor Mortuary in Laguna Beach, her mother, Juditha, had asked O.J. whether he had anything to do with Nicole’s death. Staring at Nicole’s corpse as he answered, Simpson used words similar to those in this note: “I loved her,” O.J. told Nicole’s mother. “I loved her too much.” From both the letter and the remark, it seems that O.J. believed his love for Nicole was in some way excessive.
It was tough spitting for a second time but we both knew it was for the best. Inside I had no doubt that in the future we would be close as friend or more. Unlike whats been in the press, Nicole + I had a great relationship for most of our lives together. Like all long term relationships, we had a few downs + ups. I took the heat New Years 1989 because that what I was suppose to do I did not plea no contest for any other reason but to protect our privicy and was advise it would end the press hype.
Kardashian rendered that last sentence in a considerably more grammatical way than Simpson wrote it.
I don’t want to belabor knocking the press but I cant beleive what’s being said. Most of it tottally made up. I know you have a job to do but as a last wish, please, please, please leave my children in peace. Their lives will be tough enough.
Leaving aside the question of whether a criminal conviction for spousal abuse and Nicole’s repeated pleas to 911 qualified as something more than “a few downs + ups,” it is Simpson’s self-obsession that is so striking here. He not only denies responsibility for beating Nicole but congratulates himself for accepting the blame for it. Ironically, there was in fact very little “press hype” about the 1989 beating incident. Notwithstanding his criminal conviction, Simpson received generally glowing press coverage from 1989 until even the week after the murders. That O.J. should have been so wounded by what little criticism there was again demonstrates his vast self-regard.
I want to send my love and thanks to all my friend. I’m sorry I can’t name every one of you. Especially A.C., Man, thanks for being in my life. The support and friendship I receive from so many, Wayne Hughes, Louis Marx, Frank Olson, Marc Packer, Bender, Bobby Kardashian I wish we had spend more time together in recite years.
Hughes is a USC benefactor and the owner of a chain of private warehouse facilities; Marx is a private investor who sold off his father’s toy company at great profit; Olson is the longtime chief executive officer of Hertz; Packer is a New York–based restaurateur; Bobby Bender is a garment-industry executive in New York. As for Kardashian, the letter suggests that even Simpson was astonished by the extent and intensity of his friend’s sycophancy.
My golfing buddie, Hoss, Alan Austin, Mike, Craig, Bender, Wyler, Sandy, Jay, Donnie Sofer, thank for the fun.
The first four mentioned were all playing partners of O.J.’s at the Riviera Country Club, near Simpson’s home in Brentwood. “Hoss” is Bob Hoskins, a Los Angeles–based businessman; Alan Austin ran a women’s wear boutique in Beverly Hills for many years; Mike Melchiori was a semiretired printing executive (he died of a heart attack in April 1996); and Craig Baumgarten, a former senior executive at Columbia Pictures, is now an independent movie producer. Wyler is Bender’s partner in the garment business. Sandy, Jay, and Don Soffer (correct spelling) were Simpson’s East Coast golfing companions. It is worth noting, given the way his case unfolded, that in this list of O.J.’s fifteen best friends, all of them except Cowlings are wealthy, middle-aged white men.
All my teammatte over the years. Reggie, you were the soul of my pro career. Ahmad I never stop being proud of you. Marcus you got a great lady in Katherine Don’t mess it up. Bobby Chandler thanks for always being there.
When he turned to his fellow athletes, the style of the letter shifted to that of a high school yearbook. Reggie McKenzie was Simpson’s top blocker on the Buffalo Bills; Ahmad Rashad played wide receiver for the Bills and later the Minnesota Vikings and was O.J.’s colleague and sometime rival at NBC Sports; Marcus Allen, who won the Heisman as a running back thirteen years after Simpson at USC, had a magnificent professional career with the Raiders and Kansas City Chiefs; Chandler, a teammate of O.J.’s at USC, played for the Raiders in the NFL. (He would die of cancer while O.J. was in jail during his trial.)
The reference to Allen was especially intriguing. Marcus Allen was in some ways O.J.’s protégé, the man who came closest to equaling his feats at USC and in the professional ranks. Not surprisingly, their relationship generated tensions, which were exacerbated by Allen’s on-and-off affair with Nicole. Some of O.J. and Nicole’s friends believe that it was jealousy about Allen in particular that ultimately drove Simpson to murder her. O.J. apparently knew about this affair and at least forgave Allen for it, allowing Marcus and Kathryn (the correct spelling) to marry in his home on Rockingham in 1993. But the instruction to Allen about his marriage—“Don’t mess it up”—may be a subtle reminder that O.J.’s resentments against him lingered.
Skip + Cathy I love you guys without you I never would have made it this far. Marquerite thanks for those early years. We had some fun. Paula, what can I say, You are special I’m sorry we’re not going to hav
e our chanc. God brought you to me. I now see, as I leave, you’ll be in my thoughs.
Skip Taft was O.J.’s business manager; Cathy Randa, his secretary; Marguerite, his first wife and the mother of Jason, Arnelle, and Aaren, the child who drowned in the pool at Rockingham. Barbieri was, of course, his principal—but far from exclusive—girlfriend during the period after his separation from Nicole. The only women mentioned in the suicide note are secretaries, wives, and girlfriends—an apt summary of O.J.’s view of the place of women in the world.
By the end, the letter came to resemble the speech Simpson gave on August 3, 1985, upon his induction to the professional football Hall of Fame in Canton, Ohio. O.J. thanked many of the same people, in much the same style. (“… I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Skip Taft and Cathy Randa …”) Notwithstanding the macabre circumstances, Simpson seems to have composed his suicide note in the manner of the celebrity intent upon allowing a few friends to share in his reflected glory.
I think of my life and feel I’v done most of the right things. so why do I end up like this. I can’t go on, no matter what the outcome people will look and point. I can’t take that. I can’t subject my children to that. This way they can move on and go on with thair lives. Please, if I’v done anything worthwhile in my life, let my kids live in peace from you (press).
Simpson demonstrated a certain prescience here. Even though he was ultimately acquitted, he did become a pariah; people do look and point. But what is peculiar is how he converted his own inability to cope with unpopularity into a problem for his children: “I can’t subject my children to that.” Sydney and Justin had lost their mother. A more rational and generous reaction might have been to hold them close and assure them that they were not going to lose their father, too. Simpson’s ego compelled him to imagine that his own problems with the public would torture his children—when of course it was he, not they, who could not abide the humiliation.
I’v had a good life I’m proud of how I lived, my momma tought me to do un to other. I treated people the way I wanted to be treated I’v always tryed to be up + helpful so why is this happening? I’m sorry for the Goldman family. I kwow how much it hurts. Nicole and I had a good life together, all this press talk about a rocky relationship was no morr than what ever long term relationship expriences. All her friends will confrim that I’v been tottally loving and understanding of what she’s been going through. At times I’v felt like a battered husband or boyfriend but I loved her, made that clear to everyone and would take whatever to make us work.
Though it is theoretically possible that the 5-foot-5-inch, 129-pound Nicole battered her husband, a 6-foot-2-inch, 210-pound football player, there is apparently no record of O.J.’s seeking medical assistance because of her physical abuse.
Don’t feel sorry for me. I’v had a great life made great friends. Please think of the real O.J. and not this lost person. Thank for making my life special I hope I help yours. Peace + Love O.J.
Inside the O in his name, Simpson scrawled a happy face—a flourish that is almost too perverse to contemplate.
For all that the content of the letter reveals of its author, what is perhaps most striking is something that is absent from it. Simpson portrays himself as an unjustly accused murderer, but his letter does not even request the police to locate the “real” killer of his ex-wife and her friend.
Shapiro handled the questions from the reporters at the press conference. One asked why Kardashian had read the letter. After all the letter, on the whole, was highly incriminating of Shapiro’s client. “We read it because it is the only words that we have from O.J.,” Shapiro replied. This answer says much about the care and feeding of celebrity clients. O.J. wanted it done, so it was done. It is possible that Simpson wanted the letter read only in the event that he committed suicide. (Others who attended the meeting at Kardashian’s house were appalled that the letter was read to the public.) There would have been no harm in Shapiro’s waiting a while and then deciding whether to read the letter. But reading the letter simultaneously granted O.J.’s last wish and served Shapiro’s own interests, by demonstrating that the lawyer had been duped by a despondent and possibly deranged man. Elaborating on the question of why he had the letter read, Shapiro went on, “I have never felt worse in my professional career as a result of what has happened today.” In other words, Shapiro had it read, in part, because it made him feel better.
Another question again illustrated the way Simpson’s status as a celebrity affected the way his case was conducted. Shapiro mentioned that three letters had been found at Kardashian’s house—one to the public (which Kardashian had read out loud), one to his children, and one to his mother. A reporter asked if Shapiro had read all three. No, the lawyer said. “They are under seal and will be turned over to the persons to whom they are addressed.” All three letters constituted crucial evidence in locating a fugitive accused of murder. First and foremost, it was the police who were entitled to seize and read those letters. Yet Shapiro and Kardashian blithely walked out of the house with them and then announced that the fugitive, not the police, would determine who read them. This was so much the natural order of things in Los Angeles that the removal of the letters from the house scarcely drew a word of comment in the local media.
Nor was that Shapiro’s most remarkable answer at the press conference. “What were the last words you heard from O.J. Simpson?” a reporter asked.
This question called for him to reveal a communication that may have been subject to Simpson’s attorney-client privilege, yet Shapiro did not hesitate to answer. “My personal words with him were of a complimentary nature to the way I had been with him and for him to thank me for everything I had done up-to-date,” he replied. The response raised another question (which went unasked): If Simpson was offering you valedictory thanks about your efforts on the case, why didn’t you think he was about to flee?
Many lawyers with a client on the run would have gone straight to their desks and worked the phones to sniff out any clue of the missing man’s whereabouts. But Shapiro had never liked to spend any more time than necessary at the office. After the press conference, he simply went home. His wife, Linell, greeted him at the door.
“Where have you been?” she asked. “He’s on television, Bob.”
The LAPD had put out an all-points bulletin for Al Cowlings right around the time of Gascon’s press conference, at 2:00 P.M. Around that time, Vannatter, Lange, and their colleagues put in their first calls to the many police departments whose jurisdictions abut that of the LAPD. But because the police had never seized Simpson’s passport, the cops had to cast an even wider net. They alerted the U.S. Border Patrol, as well as the airlines, the U.S. Customs Service, and the Mexican Judicial Police.
It wasn’t until just after Shapiro’s press conference ended, however, at around 6:00 P.M., that the Los Angeles media confirmed the description of the car the police were seeking: a 1993 white Ford Bronco with California license plate 3DHY503. Not surprisingly, perhaps, given the vast public interest in the case, it was the broadcast announcement, not the law enforcement effort, that produced almost immediate results.
Chris Thomas had been watching television at home in Mission Viejo when he learned Simpson was on the run. At 6:25 P.M., he and his girlfriend, Kathy Ferrigno, were heading north on Interstate 5, the Santa Ana Freeway, on their way to a weekend of camping. They had been joking about O.J.’s disappearance, studying in a halfhearted way the cars coming toward them, seeing if Simpson might be among them, on his way to Mexico. After a few minutes of this, Ferrigno looked into the passenger-side rearview mirror and started saying, “Oh my God!—Chris, Chris, Chris!” Thomas slowed down and in a moment Ferrigno was face-to-face with Al Cowlings. When he noticed that she was staring at him, Cowlings glowered at her. Their location at that moment was about eighty miles south of Kardashian’s house in Encino, near the El Toro interchange on Interstate 5. They were about a five-minute drive from the gravesite of Nicole B
rown Simpson. The Bronco—and this later proved important—was heading north, that is, back toward Los Angeles and away from the Mexican border.
Ferrigno jotted down the Bronco’s license plate, and Thomas pulled to the side of the freeway by a call box. Thomas called the California Highway Patrol and gave the dispatcher his impression of Cowlings’s demeanor: “We looked at him, you know, and he like stared us down, like he was death.”
As Simpson described it in his deposition in the civil case, he and Cowlings left Interstate 5 intending to go to Nicole’s grave, but they retreated when they saw that the cemetery was staked out by police. Just a few minutes after Thomas’s telephone call, Orange County sheriff’s deputy Larry Pool saw the Bronco heading on an on-ramp returning to the northbound Santa Ana. Pool sped alongside the Bronco and looked inside. Cowlings smiled nervously at him. The officer then radioed in to check the plate on the Bronco and learned that it was a match for Cowlings’s.
“Ten-four, I’m behind it,” Pool said into his radio, and with that, all air traffic on the police radio band receded into a stunned silence.
As the Bronco began to move on the freeway through the city of Santa Ana, the traffic grew heavier and then came to a complete standstill. Pool and a colleague in another car, Jim Sewell, used the opportunity to leave their cars and, with guns drawn, advance by foot on the Bronco.
“Turn off your engine,” the officers shouted to Cowlings.
The Run of His Life Page 12
