The Search for Justice (6 page)

This changed significantly when Bill Pavelic contacted Gary Randa, Cathy Randa ’s adult son, and in essence hired him as our
video archivist. Gary ’s mission was to tape, each and every day, anything on television regarding O.J. ’s case. That included
news segments in the morning, both local and national, all the talk shows throughout the day, the evening news wrap-ups, and
everything on Court TV and CNN. Every few days, the defense team and the investigators would go through the tapes, paying
close attention to the “court of public opinion” that was transpiring outside our office door.

The video archive solved the problem of my tunnel vision, providing a way to be both inside the Simpson case and outside,
watching and listening to the same information and punditry the public was getting. We paid close attention as rumors circulated,
“eyewitnesses” were identified and then discredited, clues surfaced and then were discounted. Our unofficial, and unpaid,
consultants soon included everyone from legal and scientific experts all across the country to the citizen on the street—who
was also a potential juror. No one was hesitant to critique my performance, offer theories of the crime, or comment on both
prosecution and defense strategies. It was invaluable, although I did have to overcome my impulse to talk back to the TV when
someone said something particularly inane.

On Wednesday afternoon, I went down to Parker Center, the Los Angeles police department headquarters. The building has surprisingly
limited security and open access, and I easily took the elevator to the robbery and homicide division, the L.A.P.D. ’s elite
corps of detectives. There I met with Captain William Gartland, Lieutenant John Rogers, and detectives Tom Lange and Philip
Vannatter to introduce myself as O.J. ’s attorney; Detective Mark Fuhrman, who was taken off the investigation early on the
first day, was not at that meeting. I wanted to assure the police that I would be personally responsible for making O.J. available.
I also wanted to discover whatever I could about the state and stage of their investigation. I told them that I had retained
doctors Lee, Baden, and Wolf, explaining that these were the most respected professionals in their fields and that we were
offering their services to the police department, to aid in the investigation to any extent that the police would allow. Their
response, not surprisingly, was “No, thanks”—they had their own perfectly fine crime lab, their coroner ’s office always did
a great job, and we didn ’t have to be concerned about that.

When I asked what the time frame of their investigation
was, no one could tell me. “Can you give us an estimate?” I asked. “A couple of weeks? More? I have a client who ’s going
through a difficult time. If you ’re going to charge him, I need to prepare him for that and have him available to surrender.”

But their only comment was, “We have a lot of work to do, and we just got started.” Before leaving, I made sure they had my
phone numbers, I told them how to locate me day or night, and I assured them that with an hour or so notice O.J. would be
available to them at any time.

When I left the building, the press had already assembled. I introduced myself, explaining that I was now representing Mr.
Simpson, that we had engaged the services of the best investigators with the intention of finding the killer, and that in
the meantime it was our intention to cooperate with the police department in every way possible.

In general, my attitude toward law enforcement has always been one of respect—a respect that I believe has become mutual over
the last twenty-five years. I am, as are the lawyers in the district attorney ’s office, an officer of the court. I ’m viewed
by them as a vigorous advocate for my client but one who always operates within the boundaries of fairness. I have a reputation
as a keen negotiator, attempting to resolve cases without trials but being well prepared when trials are necessary, and I
don ’t believe in cheap shots. It ’s a waste of time and energy, and it ’s neither professional nor pragmatic: Once one trial
is over, another begins, and we all have to deal with each other in that courtroom every day.

In addition, anybody who practices criminal law has to have one quality in the eyes of police and prosecutors, and that ’s
credibility. I had a good history with the department, and my credibility was respected to such a degree that when the time
came, they were prepared on my word alone to allow a voluntary surrender on O.J. ’s part, because for the previous twenty-five
years, in all cases, I had always kept my word to them.

That said, it ’s no secret that in recent times the Los Angeles Police Department has had its difficulties, both with procedure
and personnel. The overwhelming majority of these cops are honest and hardworking men and women, doing what has become an
increasingly difficult job with courage and integrity. They ’re constantly confronted with horrendous crimes and violence,
much of it aimed directly at them, most of it having to do with narcotics. The public and the politicians have responded by
leaning on the cops, hard. It ’s no wonder that crime has come to be viewed as a shell game by the police: Somewhere under
those three shells is the pea—the criminal—and we ’ve got to get him, even if it means smashing up all three shells in the
process. And the pressure gets even worse in a big case, a media-driven high-profile case, a “sure-thing” case.

A detective ’s job is, literally, to detect. To solve crime. But once “getting the guy” becomes the goal, then it doesn ’t
matter how it gets done, as long as it gets done. In my opinion, that ’s not only constitutionally improper, it ’s strategically
foolish as well; because when there ’s a rush to judgment for whatever reason, evidence is overlooked or mishandled, and serious
procedural and investigative mistakes are made.

Immediately after that first June 1, meeting, I faxed a letter to detectives Vannatter and Lange (with copies faxed to the
district attorney ’s office and the county coroner as well), repeating our offer of expert services from doctors Baden and
Lee. In addition, I asked that a second autopsy be performed, stating that while I felt it was inappropriate for me to ask
this of the Goldman and Brown families at this difficult time, I would appreciate the request for permission being passed
along to them. I was quickly informed that the autopsies had been completed, and the bodies were en route to two separate
funeral homes.

In that same letter, I also responded to Detective Lange ’s request that O.J. take a lie-detector test, stating that we were
willing that he do so, on the condition that the results be admissible in any potential criminal litigation.

The use of the lie detector, or polygraph, in the criminal justice system is full of inconsistencies. Every law-enforcement
agency employs polygraphers; the FBI has done so for at least
twenty-five years, and the CIA and military use polygraphs on a regular basis. The L.A.P.D. employs a full-time staff of polygraphers
and commonly uses them for internal investigation of police misconduct cases. The test results create charts that can be interpreted
and reinterpreted by experts, and challenged on the basis that the operator asked the wrong questions, framed them the wrong
way, or misinterpreted the data. Because the results are open to such wide interpretation, prosecutors have traditionally
been averse to use polygraphy, especially in the courtroom. In fact, in California, polygraph tests are specifically precluded
by law unless both sides stipulate that the results will be admissible.

At that time Marcia Clark, an assistant to William Hodgman (the head of L.A. ’s Special Trials Unit), and David Conn had been
assigned by the district attorney to prosecute the case. They responded that the D.A. ’s office would allow O.J. to be tested,
but they would not stipulate that the results would be admissible. I wasn ’t surprised at their answer, but I wanted it on
the record.

When Gil Garcetti, the Los Angeles district attorney, picked Marcia Clark to prosecute this case, it seemed a refreshing choice
to me. I had been friends with Harvey Giss, her mentor, and had known Marcia herself for nearly twenty years—from Kleks to
Horowitz to Clark, I joked, referring to the name changes reflecting her first and second marriages.

Marcia Clark ’s reputation as a prosecutor was excellent; she hadn ’t lost a case in more than ten years, and some of the
convictions were high profile, including the Robert Bardo case (Bardo was convicted for stalking and ultimately murdering
the young television actress Rebecca Schaeffer) and the Lewis and Oliver case (where two men used a sawed-off shotgun to fire
into a Bible class at the Mt. Olive Church of God in South Central L.A., killing two people).

Shortly before my involvement on the Simpson case, my
office had taken on the defense of a young man who ’d been initially accused of first-degree murder, as well as aiding and
abetting a robbery. Marcia Clark was the prosecutor we dealt with. After she reviewed the facts of the case and spoke with
the trial deputy, she and Karen Filipi negotiated the charges to voluntary manslaughter. The client, however, wanted a trial,
which ultimately took place a few doors down from the Simpson trial and lasted three weeks. The jury, out five days, eventually
acquitted him on the charges of first-degree murder and robbery and “hung” between second-degree and involuntary manslaughter.
He was ultimately released after having served a little more than a year in jail. The two cases provided an odd point-counterpoint,
involving as they did associates of Marcia and myself, and a potential first-degree conviction. Because of our negotiations,
in this and other cases we ’d settled, Marcia impressed me as a professional colleague I could talk to, whom I could trust,
who was straightforward. I was confident that she would be an honorable adversary in the Simpson case.

We were to find out some weeks later that we had more in common than we knew. in 1989, nine years after Marcia and her first
husband, Gaby Horowitz, were divorced, he was shot. Horowitz, a professional backgammon player originally from Israel, was
also a gun collector. He was inspecting a Colt .45 of another collector when the gun accidentally discharged while still in
its holster, critically wounding Horowitz in the head and leaving him a paraplegic. I happened to represent the owner of the
Colt.

Imagine my surprise—and Marcia ’s—when the tabloids ran a story about how Shapiro defended the man who shot Marcia Clark ’s
husband!

With two people dying in a violent struggle, as Nicole Brown and Ron Goldman had, the murderer had to have sustained some
bodily injury also—at the very least some cuts and bruises. Clearly we had to address O.J. ’s physical condition
and get a record of it immediately. On Wednesday, June 15, I contacted Dr. Rob Huizenga, a Harvard-educated physician, sports-medicine
specialist, and the former team doctor for the Los Angeles Raiders, and set up an immediate appointment with him for O.J.
I knew Huizenga and his reputation through my own longtime physician and friend Dr. Robert Koblin, and believed that he was
exactly the kind of man and doctor to reassure and calm O.J. during a physical examination.