The Search for Justice (57 page)

“I wish more people would ask questions like Mr. Shapiro does,” the judge said. “That includes you, Mr. Cochran.”

“I ’ll try, Your Honor,” said Cochran.

By now, O.J. was as ready as anyone for it all to end. He told us that he ’d talked to his son Justin the day before on the
phone. Justin had asked him, “Daddy, why doesn ’t Dita [Juditha Brown] bring you home to have dinner with us?”

Judge Ito was going to present his instructions to the jury prior to the closing statements of the prosecution and defense.
Gerry Uelmen and Brian Kelberg argued back and forth over what Ito would be able to instruct the jury.

When the judge said that the jurors would be told they
should disregard Ron Shipp ’s dream statement if they found either that it wasn ’t made, or that it was expressing “unconscious
thoughts,” Kelberg objected. Ito asked if he was objecting because “Shipp happens.” Everybody in the courtroom laughed.

The defense wanted Ito to instruct the jury that they would be allowed to reject all of Mark Fuhrman ’s testimony if they
decided he testified falsely about anything. As to the specific murder charges the judge would instruct the jury to consider,
Gerry Uelmen argued for a charge of first degree murder only. Kelberg asked for an instruction for both first and second degree
(unpremeditated) murder, because he didn ’t want the jury faced with what he called an all-or-nothing Hobson ’s Choice of
either sending O.J. to prison for life or setting him completely free.

Ito denied our motion on Fuhrman and informed us he would instruct the jury that they could find for either first- or second-degree
murder. He then called a recess for lunch and left the bench. As he did, Barry Scheck slammed his legal pad to the table.
“How many ways can we get fucked?” he said under his breath, and walked out of the room. He later apologized to the judge,
who had heard the remark. Seeing the end in sight, Ito said only, “We ’ll take it up later, Mr. Scheck.”

On Friday, September 22, O.J. Simpson was given a chance to address the judge outside the presence of the jury. We had been
in chambers, and the judge had indicated that since O.J. had decided not to testify in open court, he needed that waiver on
the record.

The defense indicated that O.J. wished to make a statement to the judge. When Judge Ito came out on the bench to hear that
statement, Marcia Clark pleaded with him. “Please, don ’t do this, Your Honor. I beg you, don ’t do this.”

She believed that any statement by Simpson that was not subject to cross-examination was inappropriate. She suggested
that it was being done deliberately by the defense in hopes that whatever he said would eventually leak to the jury, perhaps
via conjugal or family visits.

Ito overruled her objection and indicated that he was ready to hear the defendant ’s statement. O.J. rose to his feet and
said, “As much as I would like to address some of the misrepresentations made about myself and Nicole concerning our life
together, I am mindful of the mood and stamina of this jury. I have confidence—a lot more, it seems, than Ms. Clark has—of
their integrity and that they will find as the record stands now that I did not, could not, and would not have committed this
murder. I have four kids, two kids I haven ’t seen in a year. They ask me every week, ‘Dad, how much longer? ’ “

As Judge Ito began to interrupt him, O.J. quickly finished. “I want this trial over. Thank you.”

“Mr. Simpson, you do understand your right to testify?” the judge asked.

“Yes, I do.”

“And you choose to waive that right?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” O.J. said. “I do.”

The defense rested.

J
udge Ito assured the jury that after they heard his instructions, the prosecution and defense closing arguments would proceed
as quickly as possible, without any breaks. There were scattered smiles among them, exhaustion mixed with anticipation, as
though they had been on a long ocean voyage that was coming to an end.

At the prosecution table, Chris Darden and Marcia Clark were joined by Brian Kelberg. For the defense, in the front row sat
myself, Cochran, O.J., Bob Blasier, Peter Neufeld, and Gerry Uelmen; behind us were Carl Douglas, Robert Kardashian, and Barry
Scheck.

Looking very stern, Judge Ito addressed the jury. “It is now my duty to instruct you on the law as it applies to this case.…
You must accept and follow the law as I state it to you, whether or not you agree with the law. You must not be influenced
by pity for the defendant or prejudice against him. You must not be influenced by sentiment, sympathy, conjecture, passion,
prejudice, public opinion, or public feeling. You must weigh the evidence, apply the law, and reach a just verdict regardless
of the consequence.”

The jury was tired. Juror number one, our odds-on favorite for foreman, was the only one taking notes. When Ito read the
instruction that the defendant had no obligation to prove who committed these crimes, she carefully wrote it down.

Number two was clearly exhausted, with heavy eyes and mussed hair, looking like a student who had just finished her last final.
Number three determinedly showed no change in her expression. Number four looked sleepy, with bags under his eyes and the
youthful smile fading. Number five had looked exhausted for weeks; we ’d heard the day before that she was taking pain medication
for an infection, and I wondered about her ability or even her willingness to concentrate.

Juror number six had his right hand under his chin, looking stoic, ready to decide. Number seven seemed angry, as though she
had no interest in the closing statements. “Why are they doing this?” her expression said. “I ’m ready to deliberate
now.”

Juror number eight was very focused and seemed the least weary. Number nine had routinely shown more expression than anyone
else and often seemed to wear her heart on her sleeve. Number ten was sitting up ramrod straight, looking directly at Ito.

Number eleven was the least expressive and most anonymous. Youth has its advantages, and throughout the trial, she had rarely
showed any stress. Number twelve looked resigned, somehow pragmatic, as though thinking, “Life goes on. Let ’s get on with
it.”

The two remaining alternates were clearly ready to go home. The man looked sharp, the only one in a suit and tie on a Friday
when everyone else wore jeans and a T-shirt. The woman seemed downcast, isolated from the others now that she knew she was
not going to be deliberating after months of hearing evidence.

As Ito delivered his instructions, O.J. was fingering the family Bible on the table in front of him. Ito ’s clerk, Deirdre
Robertson, kept opening mail at her desk. It was so quiet in the courtroom, you could hear the paper tear.

Fred Goldman was leaning forward, his eyes on Ito. His wife was sitting back in her chair. They were holding hands
and silently praying, their hands clasped so tightly the skin looked like marble. Their daughter Kim looked like she would
burst into tears any minute. It was almost over for us, yet for them, it must have seemed endless. When I caught Goldman ’s
eye, he looked back with pure hatred. And I understood it. I wanted to reach out to him, to tell him I was sorry. I knew I
would never, never be able to do that.

Arnelle was the only Simpson family member in court that day. She was rubbing her head, a clear sign of stress and fear, and
halfway through the judge ’s instructions, she began to cry. When Ito began, I noted the time: 10:20
A.M
. and fifty seconds. At the finish, it was 11:57
A.M
. and thirty seconds. Except for the sound of Arnelle weeping, the room was totally silent.

September 25, the night before closing statements were to begin, was Rosh Hashanah, the celebration of the Jewish New Year.
We attended services at Stephen Weiss Temple. Rabbi Zeldin gave me the Torah to hold throughout the entire service, announcing
to the congregation that “Bob Shapiro has the honor of holding the Torah because he ’s going to need this blessing in the
new year more than anyone.” It was an astonishing gesture of faith and support on his part, and one for which he would be
roundly criticized in the days to come. I was profoundly grateful for it.

On September 26, the prosecution began their closing statements. Marcia Clark would speak first.

That morning, I arrived at the courthouse to the largest crowd since the beginning of the case. O.J. and I met in the lockup
briefly. My adrenaline was pumping. I turned to O.J. and said, “I can ’t imagine how you feel.”

He was hyper, his words coming faster than usual. He was upset about his clothes. “They took the tie I usually wear with
this,” he said distractedly. As we walked in, he said, “Marcia Clark ’s going to do a great job.”

We would get only one chance in front of the jury; the prosecution, since they were allowed to rebut, would get two. “We ’re
ready,” Johnnie said, reassuring O.J. “We ’re ready.”

Before court started, Juditha Brown and Eunice Simpson, in her wheelchair, were whispering out in the hall, their heads close
together. They may have been sitting on opposite sides of the courtroom, but the most important thing to them was always that
they were grandmothers to the same children. Juditha later came into the courtroom with Tanya Brown; neither Denise nor Lou
was there. Arnelle and Jason Simpson weren ’t there; O.J. ’s mother and two sisters were. The three Goldmans were there.