Consider for a moment the stories of scandal-plagued CEO’s and CFO’s having to sell their yachts and mansions and cars to pay for their white collar crimes. We delight in repossessing the homes of fat cat corporate executives who “cooked the books”, but when a man is found to be liable for the brutal murders of two innocent people, we make sure his home and his income are safe.
Some system.
My heart just aches for Fred Goldman. As the father of a son who is about the same age as Ron Goldman was when he was killed, I just cannot imagine how Mr. Goldman gets through the day. His son did nothing more than try and return a pair of eyeglasses, perhaps looking forward to developing a romantic relationship with a beautiful woman. How could he have known that this filthy animal named O.J. would be waiting for him in the bushes, ready to pounce and attack like the jealous madman he is?
For Fred Goldman, or any of Ron or Nicole’s family members, to have to re-live this true life nightmare is positively unfathomable. This must be like ripping open all the old wounds of the painful loss they suffered. Once more, our culture makes a celebrity out of a low-life piece of garbage, just to make a few lousy, stinking dollars.
It’s been said that Simpson is fawned over every where he goes. He signs autographs, poses for pictures, and claims to sleep with more beautiful women than he knows what to do with. I guess it’s impossible to stop ReganBooks from publishing Simpson’s vile book. But I am left with one single hope. Let the publisher make its money. So what if Simpson pockets a bunch of cash. May this book, allegedly filled with the specifics of how he did it, be his final undoing. Let’s pray that this “confession” will finally be what it takes for Americans everywhere to wake up and realize what a murdering, cowardly scum he is. Perhaps after people digest what he has to say, they’ll stop the stupidity of treating him like a beloved movie star.
I want to hear stories of how restaurants will refuse to serve him, how hotels will refuse to let him spend the night. I hope to hear accounts of ordinary citizens hissing, “murderer” as he walks through the grocery store. I long to read about people finally and fully treating him like the pariah he is.
Most of all, I want to pick up a paper or turn on a radio and hear how he finally administered justice to himself. After all, the guilt is clearly tearing him up. Why else would he open himself up to this kind of publicity just to write a book? Perhaps he’s living such a miserable, bitter, guilt-ridden life that he has to keep re-visiting the scene of his crime in his evil mind.
Maybe, one day, he’ll take a long look in the mirror and despise himself as much as the rest of us do. Perhaps he already does.
We can only hope. And that’s no joke.