Read Online The Search for Justice by Robert L Shapiro - Free Book Online Page B

up. I thought we ’d have another couple of days before this would happen.
     He ’s talking to his personal attorney, there ’s the matter of his two small children. He has to get his affairs in order,
     talk with the rest of his family, Jason and Arnelle, and his mother. There are doctors here examining him. Marcia, let me
     call Parker Center and see if we can stretch this a little.”
    She agreed that I could call the police and ask for some leeway. They gave us until eleven o ’clock. By eleven, although we
     were getting close, we still weren ’t ready to leave, and everyone ’s nerves were getting a little raw. At the center of itall was O.J. He had written and sealed some letters, addressed to family and friends. Now he was sitting in his underwear,
     methodically arranging custody of his children and power of attorney over his personal and business affairs while nurses drew
     blood out of his arms and scientists pulled hairs out of his head.
    And then, as we came down to the wire, he walked into another room with A.C. to talk privately. All through the previous days,
     A.C. had been a constant presence, solid as a rock. We didn ’t worry about O.J. as long as he was with his friend, who seemed
     to have grown bigger and stronger as O.J. became quieter and more passive.
    After they ’d gone, Michael Baden and I spoke quietly to Dr. Faerstein, who was very concerned about O.J. ’s state of mind.
     I was genuinely concerned about the potential for suicide. For a man who defined himself in physical expression and motion,
     there was a curious stillness to O.J., a leaden presence. His skin was ashen and his eyes seemed somehow flattened out in
     his head. Michael Baden had observed all through the week that although O.J. ’s weight had remained the same, his body seemed
     to have shrunk somehow. Perhaps it would be a good idea, Baden suggested, if Faerstein called the doctor at the jail, to let
     him know what was going on and make sure that O.J. was put on suicide watch once he got there.
    I made another call to the police and the district attorney ’s office, trying to negotiate more time for O.J. ’s surrender.
     But finally, when it was close to one o ’clock, Detective Lange announced, “No more time. We ’re coming to arrest him.”
    I said, “Look, we ’re all driving down to Parker Center together, in two cars—his doctors, me, A.C., my driver, Bob Kardashian.
     Just give us a little more time.”
    “No go,” he said. “We ’re on our way to you now.”
    “Wait, wait, just talk to his doctor,” I said. I put Dr. Faerstein on the line, and he tried to talk to them about O.J. ’s
     condition and his professional concerns about a possible suicide attempt. But Faerstein had no success. “The commander saidthis has gone past the deadline,” Lange told him. “We have a warrant. What ’s your location?”
    Defeated, Faerstein just looked at me. “They want to know where we are,” he said. “They have a warrant.”
    I passed the phone to Kardashian. “We don ’t have a choice, there ’s a warrant for his arrest. We have to give him up, now,”
     I told him. “Tell them where we are.”
    In order not to panic O.J., we decided among ourselves not to go downstairs and tell him and A.C. that the police were on
     their way. We would wait, we decided, until they got here. Fifteen minutes, twenty minutes. It was grim.
    When the two police cars finally arrived, Kardashian went down and opened the front door to let the four officers in, showing
     them where O.J. was waiting for them. Only he wasn ’t. And neither was A.C. My heart just fell. O.J., I thought, what have
     you done?
    Kardashian mentioned the letters O.J. had written. We quickly found them and opened the one addressed “To my friends.” It
     was handwritten, and quite long. We read it over each other ’s shoulders.
    To whom it may concern: First, everyone understand, I have nothing to do with Nicole ’s murder. I loved her. I