The Search for Justice (17 page)

On July 8, I made my closing arguments to the preliminary hearing, which included the following:

If in fact the killer lived at the Simpson residence [Rockingham], the court would have to believe the following: that in
a window period of less than an hour, the killer was able to leave the crime scene that has been described with a victim with
two arteries in the neck cut, two jugular veins cut, and massive blood from both victims. A clear inference would be that
the murderer was indeed covered with blood. The murderer would then have to do the following: abandon the bloody clothing,
because they have not been found or presented; abandon the murder weapon, because that has not been found or discovered; abandon
bloody shoes, because they have not been found or discovered, and then go back to his house and leave a bloody glove in his
backyard. That just doesn ’t stand up to logic…. This is a case that the police admit is still under investigation, where
other suspects are being sought, where the
medical examiner admits that two weapons could have been used—a clear inference that there may be more than one killer.

I don ’t want to go through each and every area of impeachment with the witnesses, but I think it is very, very clear that
everybody who has participated in this investigation has not done so in a professional manner. From the time the Los Angeles
Police Department arrived on the crime scene, it was nearly ten hours later until they started the scientific investigation
and even took the temperature of the body. There was testimony that the fire department obviously was there and left and didn
’t do anything, yet the coroner ’s records clearly indicate that the fire department chief was the person who pronounced the
bodies dead. I doubt if he did that from a distance.

This is a case that everybody has jumped to an immediate and unrealistic conclusion as to the state of this evidence. This
is a case that is not ready yet to come to court.

At the end of that day ’s hearing, Judge Kennedy-Powell returned her ruling that O.J. Simpson be bound over for trial, for
two counts of first-degree murder. The formal arraignment was scheduled for July 22, Just as he ’d spent Father ’s Day in
jail, he would spend his forty-seventh birthday there as well.

The sudden prominence of Mark Fuhrman in the preliminary hearing rang all of Bill Pavelic ’s alarm bells. Prior to that, we
’d barely been aware of Fuhrman ’s involvement in the case, let alone that he was a key—if not
the
key—police detective in the investigation, at least in the all-important first hours. In the early reports provided to us
by the prosecution, Mark Fuhrman ’s name never appeared at all: He wasn ’t in the arrest reports filed on O.J. and A.C.; the
property reports didn ’t mention him; the coroner ’s report didn ’t mention him; the June 1, follow-up report didn ’t mention
him; the murder reports didn ’t mention him; the June 1, and June 2, search warrants and affidavits didn ’t mention him. Furthermore,
nowhere was it stated, in
any
L.A.P.D. report, that Fuhrman was the one who discovered the glove at each scene.

“Why are they shielding him?” Bill wondered. He had a nodding acquaintance with Fuhrman; they ’d both once moonlighted for
Johnny Carson. In addition, we had reports that Fuhrman was involved in a lawsuit, in something called an “officer-involved
shooting” case.

Months before jury selection had begun and soon after Mark Fuhrman had testified in the televised preliminary hearing, Bill
Pavelic reported that he was in communication with an attorney named Robert Deutsch, whose client Joseph J. Britton was suing
the City of Los Angeles for excessive use of force. In the fall 0f 1993, Britton was apprehended while fleeing from a robbery
which he ’d committed. Mark Fuhrman had been one of the police officers involved, and he had reportedly fired ten rounds at
Britton, both as he was falling and after he was down on the ground. Britton took five bullets, and his injuries were quite
serious. Fuhrman ’s personnel records were included in the records Deutsch had compiled in the suit, which was eventually
settled by the city for $100,000.

As a consultant to Deutsch, Bill had done what he calls a “biopsy” of the case, reconstructing the time line in conjunction
with the police logs and Britton ’s testimony. He came to a strong conclusion that the knife Britton had dropped while running
from the police had later been planted near his body in order to justify the shooting.

After Fuhrman ’s televised session at the preliminary, we started receiving phone calls on both the 800-number line and the
office lines, from attorneys who ’d had dealings with Fuhrman, from anonymous police personnel, and from anonymous people
who had known him. Everybody had a Mark Fuhrman story.

Bonnie passed these messages on to Bill; Bill checked out the ones that he could. In the meantime, Gerry Uelmen and I immediately
prepared a motion to obtain Fuhrman ’s police-department personnel records, certain of which were already part of the lawsuit
against him.

The information we received on Fuhrman was deeply troubling.
In the early eighties, in an attempt to get a disability-related early retirement with full benefits from the police department,
he underwent a battery of physical and psychological tests in order to establish his self-described inability to do the job
anymore because of his hatred for the people he had to deal with, in particular Mexicans and blacks. In a process that went
on for more than two years, and included a lawsuit that Fuhrman filed because he wasn ’t granted the retirement, various medical
specialists described him as “narcissistic, self-indulgent, emotionally unstable” with a “history of depression, tension,
and stomach aches” and a great rage “with the public and the city.”

By his own words, Fuhrman acknowledged his anger, as well as his propensity for violence. In his years in gang-ridden East
Los Angeles, he said, he routinely put suspects in the hospital with “broken hands, faces, arms, and knees.” After he was
transferred to the downtown Central division, he had to deal with “more slimes and assholes.” If anyone resisted arrest, he
said, “they went back unconscious.” His three rules when dealing with a crime situation were quoted as being, “You don ’t
see, you don ’t remember, it didn ’t happen.” The L.A.P.D. was fully aware of his negative behavior toward minorities and
women and had “counseled” him on its inappropriateness. Months later, we heard that one police officer had even kept a personal
log of “Fuhrman incidents” but had destroyed it when our investigation became known.

The physicians who examined him were not unanimous, however, on what Fuhrman ’s fate should be. “There is some suggestion
here that the patient is trying to feign the presence of severe psychopathology,” said one. Another wrote, “This suggests
a person who expects immediate attention and pity.” Yet another said, “This man is no longer suited for police work.”

With specialists in both physical and mental health unable to agree, Mark Fuhrman didn ’t get his early retirement. What he
got instead was a promotion. In my opinion Mark Fuhrman
was either mentally unstable, even dangerous, or a skilled liar. Either way, his credibility as a witness had simply disappeared.

Just before the preliminary, the editors at
People
magazine informed me that they were preparing a piece on me and wanted to send a reporter for an interview. Initially I was
quite reluctant. My rule has always been that if it doesn ’t do anything on behalf of the client, don ’t do it. But they let
me know that they were prepared to put the story together without my cooperation, and it would be a better—and fairer—story
if I would agree to be part of it. When they said they wanted photographs, I contacted Peter Borsari, a West Coast freelance
photographer that Linell and I had used previously for our charity events and family pictures. The magazine wanted informal
shots, so Peter took pictures of me hitting the punching bag in my garage, bungee jumping at Lake Tahoe, relaxing in the pool
with Linell. There was one particularly nice family shot of us with the two boys.

Throughout I remained somewhat apprehensive; I think of myself as a serious professional, and here, I thought, would be all
these images that might contradict that. On the other hand, I play as hard as I work, believing that mental health doesn ’t
come from sitting at a desk, and the pictures were an accurate reflection of that belief. The time I spend with my wife and
sons, the discipline I learn from trading punches with a sparring partner, the joy I get from skiing or boating—all these
things enrich and strengthen my life and, I believe, make me a better, more focused lawyer. And as hard as it was for O.J.
to sit in that small cell, he never seemed to begrudge these activities. As an athlete and competitor, he understood and respected
my need for them.

When the article was published, my professional credentials and integrity were given equal time with the bungee jumping and
the boxing, and I decided that all in all it was fairly harmless.
However, my family was now in the celebrity spotlight in a way they hadn ’t been before.

For eight years, Linell had been involved with a charity organization called Quest, for children afflicted with Prader-Wille
syndrome. Prader-Wille, somewhat similar to Down syndrome, results in mental and physical retardation, immune-system deficiency,
and a sometimes fatal eating disorder. When the Simpson trial began, Linell was president of Quest, leading a fund drive for
a home for the children. She asked friends to lend their support; in return, they asked her to support their causes, and of
course she did.

Attending charity-related black-tie events had always been a normal part of our lives. Now, however, my appearance at them,
and the resulting media attention, would divert attention from the cause and focus it on me instead. When someone was quoted
in the
Los Angeles Times
as saying, “Bob Shapiro goes everywhere now, you can see him at a supermarket opening,” Linell was stung. We started second-guessing
not just black-tie events but ordinary evenings out at our favorite restaurants. They were keeping track of what she wore,
where we went, what we ate and drank. “This is starting to feel like an out-of-body experience,” said my wife.

My second experience with a national magazine was a more complex one. I had been contacted by Susan Mercandetti on behalf
of the
New Yorker
. They were preparing what they called a photo essay of all the people involved with the Simpson case, and the black-and-white
portraits were to be taken by famed photographer Richard Avedon. There would be no text, no need for an interview, but if
I was willing, we needed to set up a mutually convenient time for the photo shoot.

Shortly after the pictures were taken, I received a call (as Susan Mercandetti said I might) from Jeffrey Toobin, a reporter
for the
New Yorker
and himself a former litigator and former law student of Alan Dershowitz. Toobin was one of a number
of writers who had already become regular fixtures around the courtroom. Dominick Dunne, Joe Bosco, Joe McGinniss, the AP
’s Linda Deutsch, Bill Boyarsky, Jim Newton, and Andrea Ford of the
Los Angeles Times,
David Margolick of the
New York Times,
and Shirley Perlman of
Newsday
were among the others.