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Authors: J. Randy Taraborrelli

Michael Jackson (87 page)

BOOK: Michael Jackson
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Michael Jackson has been hailed as a genius of a businessman. No matter how eccentric he seemed, it was said, he was actually
a shrewd marketing genius – and the joke was on us. Maybe on some level that was true. However, one can’t help but wonder if
such a ‘genius’ would not know when to just… stop. Many of Michael’s actions, especially in the last ten years, have caused
observers to question if the perception of ingenuity in the 1980s was actually just good timing, and his willingness to take
full advantage of it. Is it possible that Michael just made a couple of amazing albums, and then inherited the world because
of his showmanship and ability to surround himself with
others
who were true marketing geniuses, like John Branca?

Others have argued that Michael’s insistence that he be seen in the company of young boys demonstrates a consciousness of
innocence on his part. If he had been guilty of the crime for which he had been accused, would he continue to flaunt his relationships
with youngsters?

The bottom line is that Michael has done whatever he has wanted to do for most of his life, living in a world of privilege
and entitlement simply because he is who he is. He has never understood the notion of ‘appropriate behaviour’ because, in
truth, he’s never had any reason to live appropriately. It’s a strange commentary on celebrity and fame that the public’s
perception of Michael as being bizarre has had its advantages. After all, how can he be judged by normal, common-sense standards
when he’s ‘Wacko-Jacko’?

However, in December of 1993 Michael was about to experience, if just for one day, what it might be like in the real world,
where people often have to do things they may not necessarily want to do.

Upon Michael’s return to the United States, he was immediately served with a warrant for the long-threatened strip search
by the police. According to the order, officers expected to examine, photograph and videotape Michael’s entire body, ‘including
his penis, anus, hips, buttocks and any other part of his body. Michael Jackson should be notified,’ according to the order,
‘that he has no right to refuse the examination and photographs. Any refusal to cooperate with this order will be admissible
in a court and an indication of his guilt.’ Also, it was explained to his attorneys that if he didn’t cooperate, the police
would probably just arrest him on ‘probable cause’ and take him away in handcuffs, in front of photographers. This scenario
was more than anyone in his camp could even fathom.

Apparently, Jordie had claimed that Michael had distinguishing marks on his genitals. He even drew a diagram of Michael’s
penis on a napkin for police, and wrote on it: ‘Michael is circumcised. He has short pubic hair. His testicles are marked
with pink and brown marks. Like a cow, not white but pink colour. He has brown patches on ass, on his left glut.’

The police were now determined to learn if Jordie’s description was accurate. If so, then he obviously had seen Michael Jackson
unclothed.

The photo session, set for 20 December, promised to be as torturous an experience as Michael ever had in his life. Present
from Santa Barbara would be its District Attorney, Thomas Sneddon, as well as a detective, photographer and a doctor. From
Los Angeles, were Michael’s attorneys, Johnnie Cochran and Howard Weitzman, and Dr David Forecast, one of Michael’s physicians
from the United Kingdom, as well as another detective and another photographer (employed by Michael), all of whom had arrived
by helicopter.

After everyone arrived at Neverland, it took Johnnie Cochran and Howard Weitzman an hour to get Michael to leave his bedroom
and go into the parlour, where the photos were to be taken. Finally, Michael came into the room, wearing a brown robe. It
was agreed that his attorneys and Sneddon would leave the room and not be present for the photos. Bodyguard Bill Bray was
allowed to remain, as would the two detectives and two photographers and two doctors.

As everyone was getting settled, Michael took a look at one of the detectives and, for no reason anyone could think of (except
that he may have mistaken him for someone he knew), began shouting at him. ‘You! Get out! I don’t want you here for this.
Get out!’ Michael then tried to storm from the room. However, one of the doctors grabbed him. ‘Hold on, Michael,’ he said,
‘hold on.’ Johnnie and Howard, upon hearing the ruckus, came back into the room. ‘Get these sons of bitches out of here,’
Michael screamed at them, now referring to everyone in the room. He was agitated beyond all measure and actually seemed high,
though everyone present hoped that was not the case.

The District Attorney’s photographer, Gary Spiegel, began taking photographs of Michael while he was still seated on the couch.
Michael blocked his face with his hands, as if thwarting a paparazzo.

Finally, an anguished Michael was told to stand on a platform in the middle of the room as if about to have his pants hemmed
by a tailor. He was still wearing a bathrobe. ‘Please don’t make me do this,’ he said, his doe-like eyes watery. ‘This is
terrible. Don’t make me.’

‘Sir, we have no choice,’ said one of the detectives.

Then, while standing on that platform and staring at a picture of Elizabeth Taylor on the wall, Michael took off the bathrobe.
Under it, he wore a bathing suit.

‘You’ll have to take it off, sir,’ said the detective.

Still staring at the photograph of Elizabeth, Michael slipped the bathing suit off… under which he had on boxers.

‘Sir, please.’

Crying softly now, Michael slipped off the boxers and stood, naked, stripped not only of his clothing but of the one illusion
he’d always had: that of his invincibility. All eyes went right to his penis, which did not appear to be circumcised.

‘Is the subject uncircumcised?’ asked the doctor. Everyone stepped in for a closer look.

‘Yes, he is…’

‘No, he’s not…’

‘Yes.’

‘No’

‘Oh my God,’ Michael whimpered. He looked dizzy, as if about to faint.

‘You don’t know?’ asked one of the detectives of Michael’s physician.

Michael’s medic became indignant. ‘Sir, I have never seen his penis before now.’

‘Well, the subject is clearly
not
circumcised,’ decided the other doctor, finally. He made a note of his finding.

As everyone circled him slowly, they began making other feverish notations about Michael’s body.

Yes, he did have patchy-coloured skin on his buttocks, as Jordie described.

Yes, he had short pubic hair.

Yes, his testicles were marked, pink and brown.

However, no matter how many different ways they looked at it, all seemed to agree that his penis was uncircumcised. But, did
that matter? In fact, an uncircumcised penis can look circumcised when aroused. If Michael had been sexually excited when
seen by Jordie, would anyone, let alone a thirteen-year-old know if he was circumcised or not? But there was now doubt about
the identity of the person in question.

‘I then took several photographs of Jackson’s penis,’ said Gary Spiegel. ‘First the right side, then the left. When I was
photographing the left side, the D.A.’s doctor told Michael Jackson to lift up his penis. He didn’t want to, so there was
a lot of discussion about that. Finally he did it. Then, he angrily jumped off the platform. ‘That’s it,’ Jackson said. ‘That’s
enough.’ He put on his robe and ran out of the room.’

The detectives looked at each other, one of them moved towards the room in which Michael’s attorneys had been waiting. Then,
as the detective headed back into the living room, Michael’s lawyers stomped down the hall to get their client back before
the waiting cameras. The cops were uncomfortable as they listened to what most would have guessed to be a rebellious teenager
arguing loudly with strict, disappointed parents. Then, after fifteen minutes of cries, shrieks and pleas – silence. A moment
later, the sound of one loud plaintive wail resonated through the house. Michael Jackson had been broken. He pounded his bare
feet hard against the wood floor, moving towards the room he had worked so hard to make perfect for waiting guests.

‘When this whole thing is done, I want pictures of
you
,’ Michael said, pointing angrily at one of the photographers, ‘and you, too,’ he said, jabbing his finger at the other one.

Again, Michael stood naked. More pictures. Then, videotape.

‘Please,’ Michael said, his tone now pleading. ‘Can we stop now?’

One of the doctors pulled out a ruler.

‘That’s it,’ said Michael’s physician. ‘Mike, get dressed. This is a joke. I can’t believe it myself.’

Michael quickly put on his robe. ‘Don’t you ever, ever,
ever
let that happen again,’ he said, unleashing his anger on poor Bill Bray, who just sat in the corner the whole time looking
mortified.

‘But I didn’t do nothin’, Mike,’ Bill said. ‘Why you hollerin’ at me?’

Ignoring Bill’s question, Michael stepped off the platform and ran from the living room. ‘How could this happen to me?’ he
screamed on his way out. He was shaking. Observers said it looked as if he was about to have a melt-down. ‘
How could this happen to me?
‘ he kept repeating.

LaToya in Madrid

It was in the winter of 1993 that perhaps the most damaging blow of all to Michael Jackson’s image was struck, and it came
from a family member: his own sister, LaToya. Though she had not seen or talked to him in a number of years, LaToya claimed
to have exclusive information about Michael. As it happened, like many of Michael’s household employees who had sold stories
to the tabloid press, LaToya and her husband, Jack, had their own sliding scale of scandal: for a fee of $50,000 she would
come forth with certain secrets about familial abuse that she had not yet revealed in her many interviews about the subject.
However, for twice that, she would open up twice as much – and for a half-million she would throw caution to the wind and just
come out and admit that Michael was a paedophile, and that she had proof to support her allegation.

The bidding war began with the British
News of the World
tabloid, who ponied up a substantial amount of money, only to be topped by the American
National Enquirer
and
Star
. However, during the course of the week, as editors pushed for details of LaToya’s revelations, negotiations collapsed. It
became clear that she didn’t have much to offer, after all. Left without his planned windfall, Jack then arranged for LaToya
to hold a press conference in Tel Aviv, Israel, where she was on tour.

‘Michael is my brother and I love him very much,’ she said, reading from a prepared statement, ‘but I cannot and will not
be a silent collaborator in his crimes against young children. If I remain silent, then that means I feel the guilt and humiliation
that these children are feeling, and I think it is very wrong. Forget about the superstar, forget about the icon. If he was
any other thirty-five-year-old man who was sleeping with little boys, you wouldn’t like this guy.’

She also said that she had seen cancelled cheques made out to several boys for large sums of money, shown to her she said
by her mother, Katherine, suggesting that Michael had bought their silence. She said that she sympathized with the children,
‘because I am a victim myself. When parents abuse their children, the children go on to be abusers themselves,’ she said.
‘Do you know how many children are going to psychiatrists because of Michael? So many, many children.’

The Jackson family, understandably upset by LaToya’s position, then hosted a press conference at their Encino estate. Distraught,
Katherine said, ‘LaToya’s lying. I’ll tell her to her face she’s lying. I can’t believe I have a daughter out there saying
these things to sell her brother down the river. She’s been brainwashed by her money-grabbing mongrel of a husband.’

For weeks to come, LaToya’s charges made big news, while she finally started making big money. That she is Michael’s sister
gave her point of view special credibility; her stories did more damage to Michael than anything that had ever been charged
by any housekeeper in his employ. From country to country, LaToya and Jack ventured forth, pitting television producers and
newspaper editors against one another in bidding wars for her anecdotes about Michael. Meanwhile, family members continued
to vilify LaToya. ‘But Michael supports the entire Jackson family, financially,’ LaToya said. ‘They have to support him.’

In December 1993 I was asked by the producers of a Spanish television show in Madrid called
La Máquina De Mentira
(
The Lying Machine
), to appear with LaToya and discuss with her the allegations she had made against Michael. As it was explained to me, LaToya
would be hooked up to a lie detector machine. Then, I was to ask her questions about why she believed Michael was a paedophile.
The television audience would be able to judge, by virtue of how LaToya fared on the test, the veracity of her observations.

Coincidentally, 22 December, the day we were in the studio and waiting to go on the air, was the same day Michael gave a four-minute
speech from Neverland, first carried live by CNN and then rebroadcast all over the world.

BOOK: Michael Jackson
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