At approximately 10:15 pm on the evening of June 12, 1994, Orenthal James Simpson drove his Bronco Blanco to 874 South Bundy in Brentwood,
where he murdered his ex-wife Nicole Simpson on a tree shrouded walkway by first delivering a blow to the head that knocked her unconscious so he could turn his attention to Nicole’s untimely friend Ronald Goldman who Orenthal cornered between a railing and a tree along the north fence rendering him unable to protect against the swift powerful knife slash that severed Goldman’s jugular vein, allowing Orenthal to return to the limp body of his ex-wife who he lifted by her hair and delivered the fatal slit to her throat – but not before losing his watch cap and one of his Aris Light gloves – then continuing on the walkway along the side of Nicole’s condo where Orenthal drops bits of his own blood when not leaving bloody shoe impressions from his pricey size 12 Bruno Maglis
and then climbing back into the Bronco Blanco leaving a dog to plaintively wail and inadvertently smearing traces of the victims’ blood on his dashboard and door handle before hastily parking along Rockingham Avenue and thumping the guest house wall inches from house guest Kato Kaelin’s head while discarding the other blood-soaked Aris Light glove and then continuing the blood drop trail – under the nose of a watchful limo driver – into his front foyer and up the stairs to his master bath.
Either that or he was in the shower.
I will not admit on the Internets how closely I followed the OJ Simpson trial. It would be unbecoming and just a tad embarrassing for everyone across the world to know that I pretty much know every single detail of that fiasco.
It would also be a real embarrassment for people to know that I was on a business trip in LA during the trial and found OJ’s house and jumped out of the car and stood in front of the infamous gate as my husband snapped a photo of me standing there…as I was thinking to myself…what? Do I *smile?* THAT wouldn’t be right. So, my expression in the photo looks really, really morbid.
And then a mexican lady’s voice came on the speaker intercom thingy and told me to GET OUT OF THE DRIVEWAY!
I won’t admit that I was at a really cool restaurant and ran into one of the lawyers, whose name is escaping me at that moment. I also ran into Seal, Dennis Miller and Diane Cannon. She was whipping champagne out of her trunk as she valet parked handing out bottles to the valet drivers.
Total hollywood.
Back to OJ.
What a scumbag.