Without a Doubt - [3]

I also remain concerned that, especially in high profile cases, witnesses who could offer vital testimony might not come forward if they don’t like the limelight, while others who crave attention may fabricate testimony. Of course this can happen even when no cameras are involved, but their presence may heighten both fear and temptation.

Despite these reservations, I’ve come to believe that people should be able to see our justice system at work, not least because individual cases can bring to light widespread social problems.

Media coverage of the Simpson case laid bare and even had a measurable impact on one such issue: the pervasive and deadly nature of spousal abuse. Nicole’s prophetic words haunted me throughout the trial. She had said to friends and family, “He’s going to kill me, and he’ll get away with it, because he’s O. J. Simpson.” It breaks my heart that I was unable to prove her wrong.

Prior to the trial, people still largely viewed violence between partners as a “family matter,” not really even a crime. More often than not, it was swept under the rug-along with the women’s shattered lives. And few realized just how often domestic violence results in death.

Even now, the statistics are chilling.

Every year, 4,744,000 women in the United States are physically assaulted by their partners.

Every day, three women are murdered by their male partners.

Twice as many women were murdered by current or former male partners between 2001 and 2012 as there were troops killed in Afghanistan and Iraq.

There is hope. Three Violence Against Women Acts have been signed into law since 1994. As a result, victim advocates and government agencies can work together more effectively. These laws have also enacted harsher punishments for certain violent crimes and created new prevention and victim assistance programs.

Domestic violence support groups and hotlines have multiplied since the Simpson case. There are now over fifty shelters in Los Angeles County alone. This is a very real step forward because without such resources victims often have nowhere to turn. I want to take this opportunity to applaud all the workers whose tireless efforts help the survivors of domestic violence. You save lives every day.

But what can we ordinary citizens do? We’ve learned the right words to say. We now know better than to blame the victim. We no longer pretend it’s just a family concern or a normal part of relationships, but we clearly have a long way to go. Fortunately, one of the most effective ways to stop this abuse is well within our reach. Boys who see their fathers beat their mothers will likely grow up to be men who beat their wives. Conversely, boys who are taught that physical violence is never acceptable will likely grow up to resolve their marital differences peaceably-or at least without their fists. If we, as parents, set a good example, we’ll make tremendous strides toward wiping out intimate partner violence.

I’m glad that the Simpson trial continues to provoke debate about these critical issues, but we should also not forget that two innocent people were brutally murdered. So I want to end this foreword by honoring Nicole Brown and Ron Goldman. We owe them a great debt.

By documenting the years of torture she suffered at Simpson’s hands, Nicole helped pave the way for new laws and organizations that aid the victims of spousal abuse. And because Ron Goldman surprised Simpson that night and fought so valiantly, we wound up with much of the evidence that proves Simpson’s guilt.

This edition is dedicated to you, Nicole and Ron.

– Marcia Clark,

February 2016

P rologue

April 30, 1996

This is painful. I don’t even know where to begin. When I try to find a starting place, headaches, backaches, this damned cough that won’t go away, all pull me down. My confidence collapses out from under me and I have to curl up on the couch until I feel better. I hope for sleep. But sleep won’t come.

I drink Glenlivet, but then you probably know that. And you know that I smoke Dunhills. And you know, or at least you think you do, that my “addictions” include crossword puzzles and detective novels, and that I have “unpredictable” taste in men. I am reading now from People magazine. I’ve never talked to anyone from People, but they seem to like me. Funny-when the media likes you, they can take scraps that your friends toss out, and spin them into flattering fairy tales. (But when they don’t like you, they take the scraps from ex-husbands.) God, don’t get me started. I look at myself in the Globe and see a man-crazy lush. And then I look at Ladies’ Home Journal and see a serene professional woman at the top of her game. And I look and look and look and don’t see myself at all.

All the attention I’ve gotten-it’s something I still cannot wrap my mind around. There was a time when I would have been thrilled by it. Back in high school, I wanted to be an actress. No fifteen-year-old wants to be an actress without wanting to be famous. Somewhere along the line, I outgrew wanting to be famous. I wanted to do something truly useful with my life. I wanted to make a real contribution. The irony, of course, is that the most serious job I ever undertook turned into a damned circus.