My Life Outside the Ring (37 page)

Jennifer. Laila. Michael. James. From personal friends to spiritual guides, I suddenly had new people in my life that cared about my spiritual and emotional well-being. For all these years I had agents and accountants who watched out for my money and career. I had doctors who cared for my aches and pains. But this huge, important area of life had been mostly void of contact going all the way back to when I was a teenager.

It’s almost like a set of support beams was added to stabilize this big crooked frame of mine—just in time for the hurricanes that were about to pummel my shore.

My Hometown

Back in Tampa, the media frenzy around Nick’s accident stayed at a fever pitch from the day after the crash straight through that spring of 2008. The news would come and go in the national press, but in Tampa? It never slowed down. Mostly because one DJ on one local radio station decided to focus on Nick’s case—a DJ that goes by the name MJ.

Now, here’s where Tampa being such a small town comes into play. MJ, many years earlier, had come to me with a plan to buy the local radio station. He and his partner were the top DJs in the Tampa market, and they thought if they bought the station they could corner that market. I’m not sure why they thought Hulk Hogan would be the perfect guy to put up the big money to make this happen, but that’s what they thought. I turned them down. It was nothing personal. I just looked at the deal they were offering, and what my return on investment would be, and I didn’t think it was a good business deal. So I passed.

Years go by, and I become really good friends with another DJ in town who goes by the name Bubba the Love Sponge. I would appear on Bubba’s radio show whenever I could just to help him out. Well, as time went by, Bubba became the number-one DJ in Tampa. He just blew MJ right out of the water.

I think that caused more than a little bad blood. So when this accident happened, MJ started hammering away at Nick, nonstop, every morning, for months on end. He put a call out to listeners. “Did anyone see Nick Hogan racing that night? Did anyone see Nick Hogan drinking that night? Who out there has embarrassing stories to tell about Nick Hogan. Call in now!” He inspired all these anonymous idiots to call in with crazy stories about Nick and John and Danny and Barry—the whole bunch of them—and he did his best to hammer me, too. It was his radio show that stirred up the whole ridiculous controversy over whether or not Nick went into the liquor store with me that Sunday in August to buy beer.

Now, you may think the words of a local DJ aren’t anything to worry about. In this case? The words of a local DJ kept heat on Nick’s case. It seemed the whole Tampa metro area turned against my son. All of a sudden it was a lynch-mob mentality. MJ’s listeners were whipped into a frenzy thinking Nick was at fault for this accident and he should burn at the stake.

My friend Bubba did everything he could to make the counterargument. He would go on the air and talk about the fact that John was the adult in this situation, that John was the one drinking that day, that John was a marine and was certainly responsible for his own behavior. None of us wanted to say bad things about John, though, and no matter what was said it was difficult to undo the damage that MJ’s listeners did to my son.

No matter how blind justice is supposed to be, it is impossible for judges to sit on a bench and not be influenced by the mob mentality and media frenzy of a case like Nick’s. Think of Judge Ito displaying mugs on his desk during the O.J. trial. Think of that teary-eyed judge in the Anna Nicole Smith case. Cameras change everything. So does the sway of the local community.

It didn’t help that Nick’s case came up in the middle of an election year. Do you think the mob mentality shared by tens of thousands of MJ’s local listeners every morning didn’t have any sway? Anyone who’s ever watched an episode of
Law & Order
knows better than that.

There was more. When Nick finally received a hearing date on his case, we were assigned a female judge. My lawyers were excited. They said she was one of the most reasonable, fair-minded judges around. A woman who was unlikely to be swayed by the morning DJs or the celebrity factor of this case. As soon as my attorneys walked in the room for a prehearing conference, though, that judge removed herself from the case. Turns out many years ago my attorney, Lee Fugate, was responsible for putting that judge’s brother in jail for life. It was a conflict of interest.

My attorney said he forgot.

Welcome to the hillbilly circus of the Greater Tampa justice system.

Knowing how this whole thing turned out, I can’t help but wonder if I should have objected to her replacement judge as well: Judge Philip J. Federico.

Years earlier, I actually helped Judge Federico’s brother, Rick, break into the wrestling business. I changed his name from Rick to Rico Federico and helped launch his career. He did quite well as a wrestler, so I didn’t think of it as a conflict of interest, but could there be some kind of bad blood I’m not even aware of? It’s easy to drive yourself crazy second-guessing these things. Still, I can’t help but think it was impossible for Nick to receive fair and impartial treatment in the small-town circus of the Tampa-Clearwater region. Unfortunately, it was the only circus in town. All of us would have to learn to accept that.

Judgment Day

The last thing any of us wanted was a long, drawn-out trial. Nick was driving the Supra that night in August, and while he wasn’t driving crazy or racing the way the media still insists he was to this day, he agreed with our lawyers that the right thing to do was to stand up and take responsibility.

He wasn’t “guilty.” So he wouldn’t plead “guilty.” He would plead “no contest.” In other words, without admitting any guilt, he would simply stand up and face the charges. It’s an option the legal system offers, and for Nick, it seemed like the best option we had.

Our lawyers were very clear about the possibilities Nick would face. A charge of reckless driving with serious bodily injury could carry jail time. Any judge would have that option in this case. However, the legal precedent made the possibility of jail time extremely remote. According to my attorneys, no minor in the state of Florida had ever gone to jail for that charge. Ever. In fact, the standard sentence for that charge was six months’ probation.

We knew Nick’s sentence would be harsher than that—the case was way too high-profile to think Nick would get off easy. A longer probation, a suspended license, community service—there was a whole arsenal the judge could throw at him if he wanted. We even had conversations with the lawyers about what kind of a jail he would be sent to if this judge decided to really, really make an example of him, and they told us: a minimum-security facility, where Nick could go out in the yard and play basketball, and watch TV, and spend time reading in a library. It would not be a hotel. It would not be pretty. It would not be easy. But it would not be dangerous, and he would not be mingling with hardened criminals.

I told Nick not to worry about going to jail at all. “What you think about, you bring about,” I reminded him. Unfortunately, in the days leading up to that trial, Nick spent most of his time with Linda and her family, and it was a depressing environment—even his grandparents kept on him about the possibility of it. Jail, jail, jail. “You’re going to jail. You’d better get ready!” Nick told me about all of this talk that surrounded him, and it just scared me to death.

The thing was, the law of attraction had been in play throughout this ordeal. As he started to understand it himself, Nick confessed to me that the night before the accident he and John had been watching videos of car crashes on the Internet. Car crash after car crash after car crash. Call it a coincidence. Call it what you want. Whatever you call it, thoughts and actions are interconnected.

I kept focused as best I could. The lawyers insisted no judge would want to set a new precedent. So I put the possibility of jail completely out of my mind.

It wouldn’t be enough.

On May 9, 2008, we all made our way over to the Pinellas County courthouse. Through Brooke and Nick, Linda and I had communicated enough to agree to sit together as a family in that courtroom as Nick stood up and entered his plea. It was the least we could do to put our differences aside for one day.

We did it, too. Linda and I didn’t really talk. We said hello, but that was pretty much it. It was strange to see her, especially sitting in the front row, and watching her new attorney, A. J. Barranco, holding her hand, and rubbing her hand, throughout the whole court proceeding. That was something I felt I should have been doing, even with all the problems. That was my wife. It was creepy, although the distance between us was just as big as it had been in the final months of our marriage. Being in her presence again didn’t change that.

Nick got dressed up in a suit and tie. He felt it was important to show the court that he took this matter seriously. And he did take this matter seriously. He had done nothing but take this matter seriously since day one.

Before we went into that courtroom, I looked Nick in the eye and said, “Just be grateful for whatever happens. We will definitely get through it.”

I carried a copy of the book
The Power of Now
into the courtroom with me that day. I needed all the positive energy I could get. So did my son.

Not only were we placing ourselves at the mercy of the court, but the gossip Web site TMZ had somehow arranged to put a camera in that courtroom and stream the whole event live over the World Wide Web. So whatever was said that day would be broadcast for the whole world to see. The fact that the court allowed that to happen already meant that Nick’s case was being treated differently than any normal, noncelebrity case. That was not a good sign.

This was just a hearing, not a trial. It was a chance for my son to enter a plea, and he did that. A plea of no contest. He placed his fate in the hands of the judge. The judge accepted Nick’s plea and then moved on to the sentencing portion of the proceedings. He could have put off sentencing to some other day, but he didn’t. It was all going down right now. In front of that TMZ camera.

Judge Federico opened the floor to both sides—the Hogans and the Grazianos—to speak out and make a case for why Nick should be sentenced one way or another. This was a chance for us to speak about the punishment Nick had already endured, seeing his friend in a hospital, and dealing with the guilt and shame of knowing he was behind the wheel when it happened. It was our chance to ask the judge for mercy, to talk about Nick’s character, and to ask the judge to simply allow Nick to be rehabilitated and reeducated just like any other minor who makes a terrible mistake. I personally begged the judge not to let my fame or the celebrity nature of this case influence his decision on my son.

When we stood up to speak, my family spoke the truth. Brooke made a tearful plea for her wonderful brother, reminding the judge and the Grazianos how sorry we all were about what happened to John, and how close we all were to John. Linda and I both agreed that John was like a son to us. Our family was suffering, too.

Nick spoke as well, turning to face the Grazianos as he apologized to them for what happened to John. I can’t imagine how difficult that moment was for him. It wasn’t difficult to say he was sorry. He had said he was sorry a hundred times as we gathered at the hospital in the wake of the accident. But to do it in front of a camera? And a judge? And a room full of strangers? It made me real proud that he had the strength to do that.

We then sat and listened as the Grazianos put on a united front and told the judge how their family was shattered by the accident. Ed Graziano talked about how he spent ten-hour days visiting John in the hospital. John’s former girlfriend stood up and went on about how she and John were still engaged, describing how Nick’s recklessness had cost her and John the future they were about to embark upon. Then Debbie said that Nick had never even apologized to her for what he had done to their son.

To the outside world, and especially to a judge, I’m sure it was heart wrenching. And the sadness of John’s condition is immense. We simply had to sit there and take it, and pray that the judge would show Nick some mercy.

Once they were through, it was finally Judge Federico’s turn to speak. My stomach clenched up like a fist. I listened closely to every word.

At first he talked about the circumstances of the accident, and Nick’s age, and what the law allowed for punishment for the various charges. He talked about his duty to give a minor a chance at rehabilitation. Then he said something that shook me to my bones: He used the phrase “because of who you are.” He said to Nick, more than once, that he was making the decision based in part on “who you are.”

Did he really just say that he’s going to treat my son differently because he’s on TV? Is my son going to suffer now because of who I am?

With that, Judge Federico sent my boy to jail for eight months. A completely unprecedented ruling. He also suspended his license for three full years and gave him five years’ probation and five hundred hours of community service.