(If) We Did It

December 5, 2007 at 2:20 pm (The Easy Chair)

I hear confession is good for the soul. For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been in need of redemption.

I just finished reading the OJ Simpson book, If I Did It. (Apparently he felt the need for redemption at some point.) While the book doesn’t bring many surprises, there was one part that caught me off guard. Since I turn into a knife-wielding maniac when someone spoils something I want to see or read from a fresh, untarnished perspective, I will warn you now that I intend to discuss the one thing that didn’t come out during the trials. (Or else I overlooked it.) So if you’re waiting to read the book, consider yourself warned. SPOILER ALERT.

Now, about that confession. I want to tell you…

Did you know OJ had an accomplice that infamous night? (Hypothetically, of course.) That’s right, after he’d been to his daughter’s recital, and was home packing for Chicago, a mysterious fellow named Charlie came by to say hello. It was about ten o’clock at night, and Charlie told him some not-very-nice things about OJ’s ex-wife and her friend. (Drugs, sluttiness, etc…) Charlie then drove OJ to Nicole’s, trying to talk him out of doing anything OJ would regret later. OJ, of course, always keeps a black hat, gloves and a butcher knife under the seat of his comped-by-Hertz Bronco. When OJ pulled the knife out, Charlie took it away from him.

Later, when OJ was confronting Ron Goldman and Nicole in the courtyard where they died, Charlie showed up, out of the darkness, holding the knife. OJ grabbed the knife away from Charlie, then blacked out. When he resurfaced, he was covered in blood, Ron and Nicole were dead, and Charlie was driving OJ back to the Rockingham house. OJ had Charlie repark his Bronco and throw away his bloody clothes.

The rest, of course, has been covered extensively by all forms of media. OJ had an accomplice named Charlie. Since I was prone to blackouts myself in those days, I thought back. Do I have an alibi?

As it turns out, I do. The day of the Simpson-Brown murders, I was working, and it was also the day one of my favorite brother-in-laws passed away. (After his funeral, we watched the White Bronco chase and chugged forties all afternoon.) While I was shocked by the murders, it didn’t necessarily surprise me. I’d heard stories from various sources that OJ was a great guy. If he liked you. Otherwise, watch your back.

If you ever get a chance, and enjoy unintentional humor, watch the movie Cocaine and Blue Eyes. OJ plays a Rockford Files-type private investigator. You will laugh and shudder at the same time.

Since I have an alibi, what do I have to confess? Well, it’s not really a confession, more of an explanation.

The book, If I Did It, has had an interesting path to publication. After much uproar over the writing, the Goldman family obtained rights to it, and put it out there. While I’d rather see them get the money than OJ, I’m not inclined to support either of them, so I reserved a copy from the Multnomah County Library. After thirteen months on the waiting list, it was my turn!

The day I was notified, I was at work, and unable to get to the library before it closed. Fortunately, my co-worker Weird Steven was going to the library. I gave him my library card and asked him to pick it up for me. He did, returning an hour or so later, book with library card inside. I stashed things in their usual places, but noticed the check-out slip telling me when it was due was missing. No biggie, I can check online.

A couple weeks later, I needed to know when the book was due, as I hadn’t read it. My account didn’t reflect it being checked out, and they wouldn’t have let Weird Steven check it out on his card. WTF?

The next time I saw Weird Steven, I asked about it. “I was wondering when you were going to notice that!” he said. “I was checking some stuff out when I ran into someone. We got to talking, and I forgot to check it out. I just walked out with it, and nobody stopped me!” And this is the library that is patrolled by sheriff’s deputies.

Had I read it in the allotted time, I wouldn’t worry. But it’s probably two weeks overdue by now, which means about $4 in fines, should I come clean and confess. Reading it wasn’t worth $4! While I could just throw it into the depository after hours, the guilt would gnaw at me until I’d have to write a book confessing my sins.

I turned to my jailhouse legal expert, Dr T. (Unlike OJ, I want some legal help before I talk to the authorities.) I think we have a plan.

Weird Steven is a library regular, and while I like him very much, I must point the finger at him as the perpetrator of this literary shenanigan. Since he weighs about as much as my left leg, and has a penchant for wearing blindingly bright Hawaiian shirts, there’s little doubt we’d be confused for each other. So here’s the plan-

I show up with Weird Steven and Dr T. Weird Steven will be dressed as usual, me as usual, and Dr T with his official-looking lawyer/pervert raincoat, to give us that look of legitimacy. I will explain the situation, and if they question my integrity, or try to charge me $4, I will look to my legal advisor, Dr T.

What will he say?

“If the Hawaiian shirt doesn’t fit, you must acquit!”

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1 Comment

  1. gee-no said,

    Dewey?

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