The Search for Justice (61 page)

Mark Fuhrman should never have been investigating a crime in June 1994. He should have long since been shown the door by his
police colleagues and supervisors, who knew what he was and turned a blind eye to that. Is he credible? Not very. At the very
least, he lied; at the worst, he planted evidence. However, Fuhrman is an anomaly. He ’s neither a typical cop nor a
typical American. And where else except in Hollywood will you find a rogue cop undone by an aspiring screenwriter?

Our country has experienced a great deal of growth in race relations since the civil rights movement. Granted, not enough.
We are not color-blind. In fact, the question increasingly raised is whether Americans
should
be color blind, which would imply a denial of color rather than respect and acknowledgment of the diversity of individuals.
But whatever gains we ’ve made have been more than set back by the polarization that grew out of this case. As Jimmy Breslin
wrote, “The devil played the race card on the day the world began, and now, all these centuries later, it ’s still on the
table.”

When the Fuhrman tapes were released, black America ’s response was “I told you so.” White America ’s response was “I don
’t believe it.” We still, it seems, have a lot to learn about each other.

As for fortune and fame: Contrary to headlines, there were no fortunes made here. Indeed, all the defense attorneys and experts
are still owed large sums of money. Throughout my time on this case, I had a law practice to maintain, with law associates
and employees to pay, and all the expenses of running an office. I sustained that practice with loans, not from any money
I received from O.J. Simpson. I ’m not complaining about economics, however. I ’ve been blessed in the practice of law and
my success in it.

As for fame: I ’ve had clients who, because of their celebrity, must live their whole lives in their homes, and those homes
are behind walls. They don ’t go out for dinner or to malls or amusement parks, they don ’t go to watch their kids play sports.
Their entertainment is inside their own walls; if you want to see them, you go there.

I never understood that way of life. I thought it had more to do with Hollywood than reality, and that these people were either
eccentric or arrogant. And then I saw the flip side. When
even panhandlers call you by your first name, it ’s hard to ever have privacy again. Fortunately, most people who come up
and greet me on the street are wonderfully kind and respectful.

However, the autonomy that comes with privacy is gone, and with constant scrutiny comes constant judgment. I am occasionally
taken aback when an angry voice shouts “Guilty!” from across a street, especially when my wife and children are with me.

Add to that the constant attacking nature of the thousands of words written about all the lawyers, and it becomes easier to
understand the downside of a case with this kind of notoriety. Said Andrea Ford of the
Los Angeles Times:
“What I found most disturbing has been the attitude in the press corps and in newsrooms that is anti-defense. A disdainful,
dismissive attitude taken toward the defense… automatically seen as sleazy and dishonest.… The prosecution is automatically
seen as virtuous.”

Was this the Trial of the Century? I don ’t know. Consider the Lindbergh kidnapping, the trial of the Rosenbergs, the Chicago
Seven, the Watergate hearings, Oliver North, Iran-Contra, and any number of gruesome murder trials such as Manson and Dahmer.
Certainly the Nuremberg trial fifty years ago was a legal arena where mankind and morality were put under a bigger—and ultimately
more important—spotlight than was ever shone on the O.J. Simpson case. If anything, the Simpson trial was the Media Trial
of the Century.

There are fourteen hundred murders in Los Angeles County each year. This trial was about one of them, made larger (in scale,
not in import) by its celebrity, by the issues it raised, and by being televised. Millions of people learned about sidebars,
the nature of objections to testimony, sanctions on lawyers, the First Amendment versus the Fourth—in short, the process,
however unwieldy, of a criminal trial. It was a remarkable civics lesson.

In the trial ’s wake, we ’ll continue to debate the social, cultural, and legal issues it raised long after the spotlight
has
moved on to something else. However, there is nothing in or about this trial to occasion either an overhaul or eulogy for
the American system of justice.

When this case began, I made a commitment to O.J. and Skip Taft that I would devote all my energies and resources to the defense,
and I did that. I ’m proud of the stance and positions I took. I knew that the case would provide the pinnacle of my career
as a criminal defense lawyer; at any rate, I suspected that it would be the last major criminal case I would try. The experience
was grueling, not unlike going through surgery. You know you ’ll feel better once it ’s all over, but you can ’t imagine how
you ’ll get through it while it ’s going on.

Like any other life experience with peaks and valleys, time will help me continue to put it in perspective. As a name partner
in a major law firm, I ’m now looking forward to new and different challenges, ones that don ’t include the day-to-day roller
coaster rides of a criminal defense attorney.

As for my family, we ’re gradually returning to what used to pass for normal. Thanks to the patience and forebearance of my
law partners, we ’ve had time to spend together. Working on this book has given me many reasons to think of my family with
a heightened awareness of their great importance to my life. Fortunately, my parents are in great health, and I have the luxury
of spending more time with them as well. My focus now is on growing into the future with my boys as they become men, and in
renewing the relationship with my wife.

The difficulties that Linell endured during those months were enormous, and starkly different from my own. As a woman raising
two sons, she often found herself empathizing or identifying with each of the three families—the Browns, the Goldmans, the
Simpsons—in ways that were particularly painful to her. She made no secret of wanting me to leave the case, yet she knew I
would not, and struggled to support me in that decision. She had private doubts, public courage, and even at
her angriest never stopped being my champion. She is a strong, independent woman, and her overall attitude toward life has
always been a positive one. I love her dearly and hope that one day soon she will say that at the very least, the experience
taught us something about ourselves as a couple, as parents, and as a family.

As for that dinner that Judge Ito had hoped for, I suspect it won ’t ever take place.

I haven ’t seen or talked to Johnnie Cochran since immediately after the verdict, and I was not included on the list of those
invited to attend a Christmas celebration with the jurors. I brought Cochran into this case knowing full well that he was
a leader. We differed in many areas of strategy and I wasn ’t surprised that he tried to take over; in fact, he had every
right to do so. Unlike the friendship between Lee Bailey and me, Johnnie and I had no longtime personal bond, no preexisting
relationship. Just because I brought him in didn ’t mean he had to be loyal to me at the expense of what he thought was best
for this client and for this case. Nor did it mean he had to be in any way subservient to me or my judgment. He moved ahead
and made decisions as he thought fit, and he gained O.J. ’s confidence in the bargain. That ’s what happens when a team defense,
which was essential to the success of this case, is employed. That ’s not to say I don ’t regret the tensions, the words spoken
in anger or disappointment, or some of the ultimate choices that Cochran made. I acknowledge the strength of his ability,
and the risks he chooses to take as a man and as an attorney; however, I won ’t work with him again.

I did see Judge Ito at a fundraiser for a local judge sponsored by the Chinese American Bar Association, and we had our picture
taken together. We shared a few private moments there and we agreed that someday the two of us would sit down and have the
long talk that ’s been so long in coming.

I ’ve spoken with Chris Darden at two or three charity
events and congratulated him on his courage and hard work. He was looking forward to a year-long sabbatical, working on his
own book, and going back to teaching. His students will be fortunate to have him as a teacher and mentor.

Barry Scheck and Peter Neufeld returned to New York, where their Innocence Project will push science and advocacy as far as
the system will allow.

One day I ran into Marcia Clark at a restaurant. She was having lunch with her agent, Norman Brokaw, the genial and gracious
chairman of the William Morris Agency. During the trial, Brokaw had often raised the possibility of my being represented by
William Morris. Flattered by his attention, I nevertheless felt at the time that it was too soon for me to make a decision
that required careful thought and some perspective. Now, when I passed the table where they were sitting, I greeted them both.
Brokaw extended his hand. Marcia, however, turned her head away and concentrated on the menu in front of her.

I saw Bill Hodgman at a reception for his assistant, and my dear friend, Norman Shapiro, who had been appointed as a judge
of the superior court. I talked with Bill at great length, and I hope to do it many more times. I suspect that he, Judge Ito,
and I would have a lot to talk about.

And finally, I spoke with O.J. not long ago. He asked my advice about life after the trial, and I willingly gave it. However,
we were not friends before the case; as is common in a criminal representation, it was a one-time thing. I suspect our relationship
will be what it was before: professional acquaintances in a large city. Our professional business relationship ended the day
the verdict came back. We never had a personal relationship before, and we won ’t have one in the future.

T
he transcript for the O.J. Simpson trial totals more than fifty thousand pages; the pages of this book seemed just as daunting
when I first confronted the possibility of writing them. This book was in no way intended to be the definitive book on the
Simpson case. If such a book exists, it will be written by any of the numerous and talented writers who watched the drama
unfold both in- and outside the courtroom, and whose perspective and purpose differ significantly from my own.