The OJ Simpson Trial, June 1994 to October 1995, by Erika
From MemoryArchive
Who: Erika What: Watching the OJ Simpson Trial When: June 1994 to October 1995 Where: My couch in Westford Massachsetts
The OJ Simpson trial consumed my mother and I. “Consuming” is the only word for it. It was better than any soap opera or any “make-over madness” episode of Oprah. I laugh at people who try to compare it to the Michael Jackson child molestation trial of 2005, and I am skeptical that the Manson or the Lindbergh baby trials were anything half as spectacular.
I read on the CNN website that over 2000 reporters covered the trial. Apparently there were 121 video feeds snaked out of the Criminal Courts building where it was held. There were over 80 miles of cable servicing 19 television stations and eight radio stations. There were 23 newspaper and magazines reporting on the trial. Over 80 books and thousands of articles have already been published, authored seemingly by everyone with any role in the trial. Here are my two cents.
The trial itself lasted nine months, but the eventual circus that was the OJ Simpson trial started with that infamous car chase. I was nine years old.
We were at our summerhouse in Maine on June 17, 1994. We had this small white TV/VCR combo that had one TV station if you held the antenna to the side while touching the couch. My brother and I had turned on the TV so we could play super Nintendo, but my mom for some reason made me hold the antenna.
There it was. The white Ford Bronco involved in high-speed chase with the LA police department. My mom was glued to the TV. “He’s heading for the airport”, she kept saying. We all huddled around the TV like moths to a flame. I’m pretty sure I had no real idea what was really happening, but I guess I could say the same about everyone else. Who would have thought a double homicide could consume and divide a nation? Who knew that over the next year this is how my mom and I would spend our afternoons?
The actual trial began on January 29,1995. I would come home everyday from school and I would watch the end of the Court TV coverage of the trial. Then my mum would get home and we’d watch the CNN recap of the day’s events. Then she’d make dinner, and my dad and I would watch the evening news (which would inevitably have a recap of the trial). Then usually because of a lack of anything better to watch, we’d sit through Inside Edition’s speculation of what would happen tomorrow, or an interview with Kato Kalin’s old landlord.
I didn’t know who the vice president was, but I could tell you all about Lance Ito or how Marcia Clark got a short haircut and a makeover halfway through the trial.
I’m not sure when it happened because the trial was an everyday thing, but all of a sudden the murders of Nicole Brown and Ron Goldman became much more. At the height of the trial, people kept saying that it didn’t matter if OJ was convicted or not. It only mattered whether or not a black man could find justice in a legal system designed by and largely administered by whites, or, conversely, whether a mostly minority jury would convict a black celebrity regardless of the weight of evidence against him.
I didn’t understand that at the time. What I understood, as a fourth grader living in a mostly white middle class town in Massachusetts, was that OJ had most likely killed his wife and her friend but the LAPD had messed up the crime scene. Most of the adults I knew thought he was guilty. So I thought he was guilty. That’s what my mom thought, and at ten years old, I was pretty sure my mom was always right
The trial was everywhere. I would go skiing and pretend my gloves didn’t fit, and say, “If the glove doesn’t fit, AQUIT!” Or at breakfast I would ask my brother if liked “OJ”. If he said no I would say, “You don’t like orange juice?” But if he said yes, I’d say, “YOU LIKE OJ SIMPSON???” It was ridiculous.
Then that fateful day came. October 3, 1995. The verdict. We all knew it was coming, but we didn’t know when. So I was sent off to school that day confident in a way only naive ten year olds can be, that OJ Simpson would be convicted of murder.
Everyone was talking about it and waiting. Even my teacher told us that once she found out she’d let us know… well, she didn’t have to tell us. A little bit after 10am my elementary school’s secretary came over the school’s ancient intercom, and said that the jury was giving the verdict. I was typing a Halloween story on one of those huge bulky Macintosh computers. Everyone froze. Then the secretary held the phone receiver of the intercom system up to her office TV and we heard something very fuzzy and muffled. This went on for a little bit and then I distinctly remember hearing the word “guilty”. I wasn’t the only one because my entire class cheered. For a moment we all thought OJ was guilty. Shortly after this the secretary came over the intercom and said, “I’ll repeat the verdict. OJ Simpson is NOT guilty.” Everyone was silent. We stood perfectly still. How could this have happened? My friend Eunice started crying.
When I got home later that day I sat on the couch with my mother and we watched the post trial commentary. She was just as shocked as I was.
We watched CNN later that night and I will remember this particular segment for the rest of my life because it sums up the whole trial perfectly for me. That morning CNN had staked out two coffee shops with camera crews: one at Harvard University and one at Howard University. The Harvard University coffee shop was full of mostly white students, while the Howard University coffee shop was full of mostly African American students. The segment showed the differences in the reactions of both coffee shops simultaneously using a split screen. At Howard, it was a big party. At Harvard, people were silently shaking their heads. It was a powerful image –even for a ten year old.
