Michael Jackson (85 page)

By the time Michael Jackson’s tour took him to Mexico City, on 24 October 1993, there was talk of a pending warrant for a
police strip search of his body. This seemed odd, almost unthinkable. Making matters worse, the Los Angeles Police Department
had seized medical records from the offices of two of Jackson’s physicians, Beverly Hills dermatologist, Arnie Kleins and
Santa Monica plastic surgeon, Stephen Hoefflin. ‘What do they want my medical records for?’ a bewildered Michael asked one
of his team members in a longdistance telephone call. ‘They can’t do that, can they?’

‘Hell, yeah, man, they can do that,’ confirmed the associate. ‘They think they can do anything they want to do. When the rest
of the troops get down there, you’d better whip them into shape. Things are bad here, Mike.’

The records were needed to verify aspects of Jordie’s testimony. Did the authorities really think such documents would still
be in place? All of Michael’s medical records from both doctors were long gone by the time the police arrived to take them.
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Still, one can only imagine the stress for a person as pathologically private as Michael Jackson, to know that the police
were trying to locate his confidential medical records.

The heat was on. The investigation would not let up, that much was clear.

At this same time, the police raided Michael’s Hayvenhurst estate in Encino. When the Jacksons went to Phoenix for the funeral
of Joseph’s father, the police used the opportunity to inspect the estate and look for evidence there. A locksmith helped
them gain entrance.

The officers seized books, magazines, photos, tapes and anything else they thought might be interesting – including Katherine’s
high blood pressure pills. They also found a videotape called
Chicks
, which promised to be valuable evidence since the slang word ‘chicks’ is sometimes used by paedophiles when referring to
young boys. When the cops got back to the police station, the first thing they did was review the tape. Much to their frustration,
what they saw was a video about… chicks, as in birds.

The ‘troops’ to which Michael’s adviser had referred were those Jackson team members on their way to Mexico City: attorneys
John Branca, Howard Weitzman, Bert Fields, as well as Dr Arnold Klein (to deal with a skin condition brought on by Jackson’s
anxiety) and Elizabeth Taylor. They hoped to convince Michael to return to the States. The longer he stayed away the guiltier
he looked to his fans. Lisa Marie Presley also hoped to go on the trip.

For the last few years, Elizabeth had been trying to convince Michael to open himself up to a romantic relationship. However,
when it began to happen with Lisa, she suddenly felt left out. ‘She has a deep insecurity about other women, especially younger
women,’ says a friend of Michael’s. ‘I spent a great deal of time in her company and saw for myself the competitive way she
dealt with Lisa.’

One of Jackson’s associates was with Elizabeth and Lisa during a meeting. Both were sitting in the adviser’s office, discussing
their concern about Michael. Elizabeth looked grand in a black, turtleneck sweater and matching skirt, her hair in a bouffant
style. Her eyes, the world’s most famous violet pair, were concealed by large sunglasses, which she even wore indoors. By
contrast, Lisa looked like a punk rocker in torn denim slacks, a white T-shirt and a black leather jacket. (‘I can understand
if she doesn’t want to be a star like her father,’ Elizabeth said of Lisa, later. ‘However, one would think she would at least
want to
dress
like one.’)

‘I think we should get him into rehab,’ Lisa said, speaking of the beleaguered Michael. ‘Fly to be at his side. Do whatever
it takes.’

Liz gave Lisa an icy stare. ‘It’s taken care of, dear,’ she said. ‘I’ve been rescuing Michael for years.’

‘Well, maybe that’s the problem,’ Lisa countered. ‘Maybe he needs to grow up, do things on his own – ’

Elizabeth cut her off. ‘Or maybe
not
, dear,’ she said. With her tone sickeningly sweet, she made her point: Lisa was an interloper. Perhaps she realized she’d
acted rudely, because Elizabeth then apologized and blamed her attitude on the stress of the times.

Still, Lisa was chagrined and felt that Elizabeth had treated her as if she was one of Michael’s groupies, rather than a trusted
friend. She decided not to go to Mexico City because, as she later explained, she didn’t want to make things worse for Michael.
However, from that point onward, Lisa considered Elizabeth to be, as she put it, ‘opposing counsel’.

Shortly after the arrival of the Jackson contingent, a shouting match erupted between Bert Fields and Michael’s loyal head
of security, Bill Bray (who had known and worked for Michael since the star was about twelve years old). The protective Bray
accused Fields of mishandling the case. In front of witnesses, he screamed at the attorney, ‘You’re blowing the whole damn
thing! Mike is gonna end up in jail. What is going on?’

One witness said, ‘Elizabeth agreed with Bill that the attorneys weren’t being aggressive enough. It was as if they were waiting
for time to pass to see what would happen next. ‘You need to get out there and start deposing these people,’ she said. ‘There
are liars all over the place, and they need to be revealed for who they are… all these housekeepers and maids and butlers.
I know good help is hard to find, Michael,’ she said turning to him, ‘but where did you find
these
people? Look at how they turned on you.’ Michael sat staring at her with his mouth open. ‘My maid turned on me?’ he said.
‘Not my sweet Blanca?’ he asked, sounding pretty dumb. [He was referring to his maid, Blanca Francia.]

‘Where she once felt that Michael was capable of taking charge, she could see that he was now in bad shape. He was so drugged
out, he couldn’t handle anything. “I think now that he can’t make important decisions,” she said. “Look at him! What do you
expect of him? I’ve been there,” she said, referring to her own drug use, “and I know he can’t make any decisions right now.
We have to help this boy. Enough is enough.”

‘She was angry at just about everyone in Michael’s camp. Michael was so affected by Elizabeth’s outburst, he collapsed into
racking sobs. “What am I going do?” he asked. “If you people can’t figure this goddamn thing out, how can I?” Elizabeth went
over and embraced him. “We’re fighting, Michael, but it’s because we love you,” she said, almost as if she was talking to
a child whose parents were divorcing. It was touching. “And I’ll be goddamned if you have to suffer another second over this
bullshit. We will work it out. I promise you.’”

Michael pulled away from Elizabeth. ‘I want you people to fix this thing, now,’ he said, addressing everyone in the room.
‘I’m serious,’ he added. ‘My life will not end this way. You’ll all be out –
fired
before that happens.’

‘Hear, hear,’ said Elizabeth, clapping her hands. ‘That’s telling ’em, Michael. Right out on their asses!’ Then, after a beat,
she added, ‘Just to be clear, you don’t mean me too, now do you, dear?’

He couldn’t help himself; Michael burst into laughter, as did everyone on his team.

After that day’s discussions, it was decided that attorney Johnnie Cochran, well respected in Los Angeles’ black and legal
communities, would be added to the legal team. Elizabeth had said that she wanted her own attorney, Neal Papiano, to join
the team. However, she eventually agreed with Branca and Weitzman that Cochran (who would later successfully defend O. J.
Simpson of charges that he had murdered his wife and a friend of hers) was the man for the job. Johnnie would have one job
and only one job: to settle ‘this goddamn thing’ with money. There would be no trial, it was agreed. Michael would not,
could
not survive it. He was now too emotionally devastated to present a strong image for himself on the witness stand. Whatever
it would cost, it was decided, he would have to pay it. If the public construed any financial settlement as an indication
of guilt, it was decided, there was nothing anyone could do about it. ‘He will just have to say he didn’t do it, as he has
been saying, and that’s going to have to be the denial that lasts through the ages,’ said one of the attorneys. ‘The thing
for us to do now is to save the man’s life, not worry about the superstar’s image.’

On 12 November 1993, looking thin, tired and haggard, Michael Jackson performed what would turn out to be the final show of
his Dangerous tour at El Estadio del Azteca in Mexico City. The rest of the engagements were cancelled.

Apparently, Michael’s mental state had truly disintegrated while in Mexico City; the damage to his $12,000-a-week, five-room
suite on the forty-second floor of the Hotel Presidente was evidence of his serious abuse of drugs. After he checked out,
the hotel staff was stunned to discover that the carpets in the living room and in Michael’s bedrooms were stained with vomit.
There were deep dents and cracks in the plaster of the living-room wall, as if someone had either banged his head, or his
fists, against it. There was enough rubbish in the room to fill two large, trash bags. There were scribblings on the walls
(‘I love you. I love you.’), and even on the fabric of some of the furniture. Chewing gum was squashed into the carpet, everywhere.

After the final show, Michael, Elizabeth and Larry boarded an MGM Grand 727 jet, chartered for the occasion by Elizabeth,
to London. When they arrived at Heathrow Airport, bodyguard Steve Tarling met them at the tarmac. All three had on dark glasses
and long coats with hoods covering their heads, as if on some kind of espionage mission. Michael seemed drugged as he walked
to the waiting van, held up on one side by a cloaked Elizabeth and on the other by her husband. ‘He looked like a transvestite
who’d had the same makeup on for a couple of weeks,’ recalled Tarling. ‘What shocked me most was the tip of his nose, which
was like an open cut when it congeals into a scab. It looked awfully painful.’

The strategy had been to drive Michael directly to Charter Nightingale Clinic. However, that plan had to be changed when it
was learned that reporters had begun to stake out the hospital because word had leaked that Michael might be showing up there.
Instead, Michael was whisked off to the home of Elton John’s manager, John Reid.

He didn’t even make it inside the house. As he stepped from the van, he crumpled on to the ground. ‘That’s it,’ Elizabeth
decided. ‘The press be damned. He has to go straight to the clinic. Now.’

In a matter of hours, Michael was at the Charter, taken in through the laundry entrance in what turned out to be a successful
effort to avoid the paparazzi awaiting his arrival in front. He was immediately searched for drugs and, sure enough, eighteen
vials of medicine were found in one of his suitcases. Of course, they were confiscated. After a quick induction meeting, Michael
was officially enrolled in the centre – albeit in a way befitting the King of Pop: he took over the entire fourth floor of the
hospital, at fifty thousand dollars a week, and was expected to remain there for about a month and a half. Michael was immediately
put on Valium IV, part of the process of weaning him from painkillers.

The next day, 13 November, Michael announced in a press statement that he was cancelling the remainder of the tour because
he was now an addict. He explained that he had begun using painkillers seven months earlier after having undergone reconstructive
surgery for a scalp burn suffered during the filming of the Pepsi commercial in 1984. ‘The medications were used sparingly
at first,’ Michael said, but increased as the molestation allegations consumed him.

‘As I left on this tour, I had been the target of an extortion attempt and shortly thereafter was accused of horrifying and
outrageous conduct. I was humiliated, embarrassed, hurt and suffering great pain in my heart,’ he said in the statement. ‘The
pressure resulting from these false allegations coupled with the incredible energy necessary for me to perform caused me so
much distress that it left me physically and emotionally exhausted. I became dependent on the painkillers to get through the
days of the tour.’ Of Elizabeth Taylor, he said that she’d been ‘a source of strength and counsel as this crisis came about.
I shall never forget her unconditional love and encouragement in helping me through this period.’

Many observers felt that the drug addiction was a perfectly timed hoax designed solely to keep Michael away from the United
States and, thus, allow him to evade prosecution. Bert Fields addressed the cynicism directly, saying, ‘The last thing in
the world he would want would be the humiliation of admitting that he has become an addict. He’s a man who has hated drugs
all his life. If we wanted a smoke screen,’ allowed Bert, ‘we would have stayed on tour. That was the perfect one.’ Bert also
told reporters that Michael was ‘barely able to function adequately on an intellectual level.’

Others in Jackson’s camp thought it a mistake to portray Michael as being out of control. John Branca would later send a news
clipping to Michael quoting Bert as having made such a statement. Michael was angry about it, even if it was true. ‘That pisses
me off,’ he told John. ‘Bert’s not thinking about my fans. How does that look to them? And my mother? How must she feel?’
In his own defence, Bert explained, ‘I felt that honesty was important. Larry [Feldman] was trying to make a case that Michael
wanted to evade prosecution. I wanted to dispel that notion.’