The Search for Justice (41 page)

On February 12, a Sunday, the jury went to view Rockingham and Bundy. Everybody went—the prosecution, the defense, Ito (in
a car by himself), O.J. (in a car with deputies), more deputies, and the jury (traveling on a bus with blacked-out windows).
This had to rank as one of the strangest field trips any of the participants had ever taken, using the bus and thirteen other
vehicles to move from place to place, with citywide security rivaling that of a presidential visit. From beginning to end,
the trip went without a hitch, impeccably planned and carried out by Judge Ito and the police and sheriff ’s departments.
I couldn ’t imagine how much it must have cost to put the expedition together.

When we gathered at the courthouse before leaving, I was met by Gloria Allred, who walked up and handed me some kind of document.
The cameras immediately started whirring. “Gloria, did you come all the way here on this Sunday morning to serve a lawsuit
on me?” I asked.

It was a request on behalf of the Brown family that O.J. not go into the Bundy residence. However, this had been arranged
before Allred ’s letter. It was not a photo op any of us wanted. Instead, O.J. stayed in the police car about a block away.

Dominique Brown was at Bundy as a representative of her family, and she stood outside, very forlorn and solitary as the jury
went through the condominium for two hours. Walking through the rooms four at a time, the jurors were very solemn. They didn
’t make eye contact with any of us, and no one was allowed to talk, although some jurors took notes. The apartment
was silent and empty, and it was difficult to shake off the feeling of melancholy after everyone had left.

By contrast, O.J. ’s home was decorated with fresh flowers and family portraits and was filled with a sense of life. His Heisman
trophy was on display, and the children ’s rooms were bright and cheerful, as though they ’d just been there. It gave a radically
different impression from the starkness at Bundy. “You might ’ve made a mistake bringing them here,” I said to Scott Gordon,
one of the young prosecutors who ’d come along.

O.J. was happy to be at Rockingham, in spite of the fact that his constant companions were members of the sheriff ’s department
and the L.A.P.D. He went through the house in much the same way the jurors did, looking closely at the mementos, stopping
occasionally to take it all in. “Who would give all this up?” he scoffed. “Who would jeopardize this kind of life, this kind
of family?”

He pointed out the play area he and Nicole had designed for the children, with its swing set and a large sandbox. “That ’s
where I practiced my golf swing,” he said.

On Monday, I learned from Carl Douglas that Johnnie had decided Lee Bailey would cross-examine Mark Fuhrman. I was surprised
about this, telling him that surely nothing could ’ve been more powerful than a black man asking a white officer whether he
had any racial bias, or asking if he ’d ever used the term “nigger.”

But Carl said that Johnnie didn ’t want to examine Fuhrman because “he didn ’t want to have blood on his hands or get a negative
reaction from the community.” Cochran had had an uncomfortable run with publicity lately. There had been a rash of tabloid
stories about his personal life and his relationships. He was cautious about making moves or taking steps that could be misinterpreted
or exaggerated in the press.

I had the same response to headlines about Johnnie ’s private life as I did to headlines about mine: It was none of anybody
’s
business who we were when we weren ’t in a courtroom. Let them hack away at our strategy or our presentation or even our wardrobes
if they wanted. Our private lives should have been left alone.

On February 16, O.J. talked all during Marcia Clark ’s examination of Detective Ron Phillips. Johnnie would do the cross the
next day. Phillips testified that the police had spent the better part of an hour looking for O.J. ’s phone number, when Nicole
’s phone had a speed-dial button clearly marked “Daddy.”

There were many sidebars during that session, and too much off-the-record yakking, with Judge Ito steadily growing more impatient.
I was wearing a pin on my suit lapel that said “sidebar” with a line drawn through it. I had little hope of it being taken
literally. Each day seemed longer than the one before it, and we were still early in the process.

Typically, I ’d arrive home a little before seven
P.M
., unless we had a meeting after court. If one of the kids had an ice-hockey game, I ’d feel guilty for not being able to
go; if they each had one, Linell had to figure out how to be in two places at one time and would head off in two different
directions. If there were no ice-hockey or social obligations (and those had been severely reduced once the trial began),
I ’d try to take a quick nap, box from eight to nine-thirty, and have a light supper with my wife. Then I ’d review the day,
check my messages from my office, prepare for the next day ’s witnesses, and head for bed just after midnight. Luckily, I
was able to go to sleep instantly during this time, because it was as close to a competitive training schedule as I ’ve ever
been on, and insomnia would ’ve just about killed me.

When we came back for Ron Phillips ’s second day of testimony, I found that although he was present in court, he ’d spent
the previous night at the hospital, with chest pains. He ’d had a bypass the year before, and even his cardiologist had advised
him not to get on the stand this morning. Marcia Clark suggested
that we all go easy on him because of his heart condition, and the fact that we ’d basically put him in the hospital the night
before.

“Marcia, you ’ve had him on the stand for a day and a half,” Johnnie said. “If you want him off, stop asking questions.”

“Are you sure you ’re all right?” I asked Phillips.

“I ’m fine,” he answered. “I have to do my job, and this is part of it. I appreciate your asking, though.”

Johnnie ’s cross of Phillips was relatively gentle. Although he ’d been Mark Fuhrman ’s partner, and was with him during the
crucial early hours of June 13, there was no point in telegraphing our strategy. We were willing to save the fireworks until
later.

It appeared we were going to lose another juror, Michael Knox. When he ’d worn a San Francisco ‘49ers ’ jacket on the field
trip to Bundy and Rockingham, I thought that alone would get him kicked off the panel, but Judge Ito had found that he had
been negotiating for a book, and reportedly had told someone on the jury that an acquittal would guarantee more money. In
addition, there was some concern that he ’d once been arrested for spousal abuse, which he hadn ’t disclosed on his questionnaire.

The judge had requested Knox ’s divorce file to see if it referred to this incident. When Marcia Clark said “I wouldn ’t want
anyone to see my divorce file,” Judge Ito quipped “It ’s too late, Marcia, they already have.”

We ’d heard that one or more television stations had hired lip-readers to watch O.J. in court and report on what he said at
the counsel table. They reported that when the blue cap found at Bundy was entered into evidence, O.J. smiled. His friends
had always joked about the enormous size of his head. “That cap wouldn ’t fit me,” he said.

“No cap would,” I joked.

The term for what fighters or ball players do when they bait each other during the game, using profanity and personal insults,
is “talking shit” or “talking trash.” In all my years in court—and all my hours at the gym—I had never heard more trash-talking
than what constantly took place between Cochran and Darden, especially at sidebar conferences.

“You ’re an embarrassment, you ’ll never be allowed back in the neighborhood,” Johnnie would say to Chris.

“I wouldn ’t even want to go into your neighborhood,” Chris would answer.

“Can I get the rights to these outtakes?” I once asked Judge Ito.

“That ’s what I like about you, Bob,” Ito said, laughing. “You ’re always thinking.”

On February 22, Chris Darden examined Detective Tom Lange; for the following two days, Johnnie did the cross. Ito gave him
a tremendous amount of leeway, allowing him to ask very detailed questions on police procedure. The jury heard two key details
from Lange: that plastic bags weren ’t immediately put on Nicole ’s hands to preserve trace evidence, and that the coroner
didn ’t arrive at the scene for ten hours.

At one point, Cochran asked Lange about Sydney Simpson ’s statement to the police that “Mommy was talking to her best friend
and crying.” We suspected this was a reference to Faye Resnick, who had been staying with Nicole recently and had gone into
a drug rehab a few days before the murders.

Clark immediately went to a sidebar, saying, “The only witness for that is Sydney, and she ’s not on your witness list.”

“Well then, I ’ll put her on,” Johnnie said.

“You know you ’re not going to call her,” Marcia scoffed. “O.J. would
never
let you call her.”

“I ’m running this case, I ’m going to do what I want,” Cochran snapped. “And if you people were real lawyers, you ’d stick
to trying your own case.”

That got to Darden. “He thinks he ’s the only lawyer in the world, Judge,” he said angrily. “Well, he ’s not.”

“Mr. Darden, stop now,” Ito warned him.

“He ’s out of line, Judge,” argued Darden, “and you shouldn ’t allow this.”

“I ’ve warned you,” Ito said carefully, “and I ’ll warn you again, Mr. Darden. If this continues, I ’ll hold you in contempt.”

“Go ahead and hold me in contempt,” Darden said.

Ito dismissed the jury. “Now take three deep breaths, Mr. Darden, and calm down,” he said after they ’d gone. “And then come
back when you can make an appropriate statement to the court.”

Darden adamantly refused to apologize. Marcia Clark came back to plead on his behalf, but Ito wouldn ’t hear it. “If you ’re
his lawyer, fine. If he wants another lawyer, fine. But I invite him to settle this quickly with a simple apology, or he ’ll
find himself in contempt. Those are his choices.”

Everybody was always fighting for the last word, rather than the most effective one, and Clark was the worst offender. If
a ruling went against her, she ’d continue to argue, until Ito would use a version of his increasingly familiar “That ’s
enough
, Miss Clark!” This time even Bill Hodgman got involved, and the three prosecuting attorneys stood talking together for a
few moments. Finally, Darden gave in and apologized to the judge; Ito, in turn, apologized to Darden. The press reacted like
it was the most important moment of the trial so far. I assured the reporters that it had absolutely no substantive effect
whatsoever, and we needed to move on.