Sometimes forget
Itry to be judicious when rerunning old columns; not only because imposter syndrome requires me to try to provide value for my paycheck, but because, as slow as these columns come, I never feel they are quite finished before deadlines require me to give them up.
But O.J. Simpson died last week and I remembered a column I wrote almost 29 years ago, after he was acquitted of the murders of Nicole Brown and Ronald Goldman. I remember Simpson at USC, and breaking records with the Buffalo Bills, and his sad autumn years with the 49ers. I watched him become someone who seemed to transcend race. Whereas Muhammad Ali was polarizing, everyone loved the O.J. who ran through airports for Hertz and clowned himself as Nordberg in the “Naked Gun” movies.
We were less cynical 30 years ago, more willing to accept people—even celebrities—at face value. O.J. seemed like a good hang in the ’80s; he seemed almost cuddly.
Then he wasn’t, then he got away with murder. And we realized that facts were not solid like we trusted they were, just another point of negotiation. I wrote about that acquittal, and afterwards a couple of people I admire told me I did a good job. I remembered that, and when Simpson died last week I looked up what I’d written. And I could stand to read it. So I thought maybe, with some light editing, it is worth rerunning.
The following originally appeared on Oct. 8, 1995:
One of the commonplaces of our American faith is it is better to let criminals go free than to convict an “innocent.” Before we commit a person to prison, we require that the government prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.
Accused defendants do not plead “innocent.” Juries do not decide who among us is “innocent.” “Not guilty” is the legal term, and it means merely that the government has failed to meet its burden of proof.
Certainly O.J. Simpson is not innocent. Few of us are. We know things we ought not know; we have seen things that have corrupted and spoiled us. We have done things that we would rather not become public knowledge; we have cause for shame. Innocence is not really an issue.
We ought to be satisfied with this jury’s verdict, because we ought to be willing to live by the rules we’ve created. One of the things we allow juries to do is fly in the face of conventional interpretations of evidence, the law, reason and common sense. They are the ones entrusted to decide these questions, it is up to them to apply whatever tests they deem appropriate.
We must trust them, we must accept that each juror followed heart and conscience and arrived where they arrived. It seems they felt the evidence offered by the prosecutors was unreliable; that there were too many compound lies, too much arrogance, too little earnest investigative industry. The man must be set free.
In the real world, it might be too much to expect the state to pursue a straightforward, unblinkered search for truth. Human beings are involved. Prosecutors are going to edit evidence and customize their theories to fit certain defendants. They are going to try to prove guilt and will avail themselves of investigators and “experts” who are willing to say what they need to hear; anyone who has watched a lot of criminal trials knows witnesses sometimes lie.
Anyone who has spent much time watching trials knows sometimes the police lie.
Yet if we cannot expect the state to uphold the ideal, we can at least require it to play by its own rules. And the rules provide for a jury, and proof beyond reasonable doubt, and the possibility that the jury will react to what it perceives as the state’s over-eagerness to convict.
Given what we know about the conduct of the police and the prosecution in the trial of O.J. Simpson, this jury’s verdict is not outrageous.
It is unfortunate this most public trial has ended in triumphant cheering and angry muttering. Once again, it is easy to see America as a country divided into racial camps.
It is disingenuous to pretend this case had nothing to do with skin color; murder is murder, but there is a great psychological gulf between America’s Black and white nations. All the polls showed whites more willing to trust the police, to believe the evidence, to doubt the existence of a labyrinthine conspiracy to frame O.J. Simpson.
Black people, many of whom have good reason not to trust the police, were much more likely to believe Simpson the victim of the state. They know such things happen. It is understandable when those who the state has declared the enemy celebrate the state’s comeuppance. Black citizens have been treated badly in the past; the Black community knows police corruption exists.
O.J. Simpson’s escape from criminal culpability is simply a convenient symbol—perhaps even a sign of progress. Now a rich Black man can beat the system, just like a rich white man.
And the anger of those who think that a murderer has been set free seems as inappropriate—and less understandable—as the euphoria of O.J. partisans.
None of this means that O.J. Simpson did not kill two people. But even if he did, it does not mean that our criminal justice system is broken and that drastic remedial measures are necessary.
It is important to remember that this was an extraordinary case, one that involved a famous bulletproof defendant with the resources to nearly match the government lawyer for lawyer, expert for expert, dollar for dollar.
Letting the occasional murderer go free is part of the cost of living in our relatively free society. It is an unfortunate but necessary novelty; I can think of other cases where people I believe were probably guilty were set free, and even a few where people I believe innocent were convicted.
What I believe—what you believe—is not the point. Whether or not we like the verdict, we ought to submit to it. The system worked; O.J. Simpson was not framed for murder.
Let him go, into whatever luxurious new life he can scrape together behind his gates. Let him fade into whatever marginal freak-show existence he can build from an influx of blood money and the indecent attention of voyeurs.
It is tragic that Nicole Brown and Ronald Goldman were killed. But not every tragedy can be redressed in this world.
Maybe some civil action will pauperize O.J. Simpson; maybe he’ll go on to cult-star status. Charles Manson has a fan club. Maybe he’ll wander alone through the rooms of his Brentwood manse, feeling the breath of ghosts on his skin. Perhaps we shouldn’t care, we should just forget him.
Decent people will.