by Kim Goldman
I called my attorney. He told me to determine the children’s location, but not to attempt to do anything over the weekend.
I drove to Mary’s house. Sure enough, Ron and Kim were playing outside, but I hung back and followed my lawyer’s advice. My children never knew I was there, but I kept a sharp eye on them the entire weekend.
On Monday morning, we were in court. I told the judge what had happened and showed him the written agreement Sharon and I had signed regarding the children’s custody. In an angry, no-nonsense tone he slammed down the gavel and decreed that the kids were in my hands until the matter was fully resolved. Then I petitioned the court for full and complete custody.
From court, my fiancée, Joan, and I went immediately to Sharon’s apartment to retrieve the kids, but her housekeeper resisted. She tried to restrain Ron and Kim as they yelled, “Daddy! Daddy!” Ron broke loose and ran to me, but the housekeeper pulled Kim back inside the apartment and locked the door.
Joan took Ron out to the car and I went back upstairs to get Kim.
The housekeeper screamed at me and threatened to call the police. I invited her to do so.
Soon, Sharon’s boyfriend arrived. He was a police officer who promptly informed me that he would “throw my butt in jail” for causing all these problems. I thrust the court order at him and reminded him that as an officer of the court, he was obligated to obey it.
Kim cowered in a corner, scared and crying. Then Sharon arrived and demanded that her boyfriend arrest me. But I told him that if he did not restrain Sharon, I would have her arrested for attempting to defy the court. By that time, he had read the court order and told her to back off.
I swept Kim into my arms and kept her there while I gathered the clothes and toys that were strewn about. Then we went home.
Only later did I learn that Sharon had told Ron and Kim, “Your daddy doesn’t want you anymore, so you’re coming with me.”
Ron and Kim had been with me ever since.
* * *
Kim received a small package in the mail. When she opened it, she found a note and a lovely necklace. They were from Ron’s last girlfriend, Andrea Scott. “I found this necklace in my car,” Andrea wrote, “and I know that Ron would want you to have it.”
Kim examined the necklace. It had one simple pendant, in the shape of an Egyptian ankh—a symbol Ron had spoken of so often. What a lovely thing to do, Kim thought.
She fastened the necklace around her neck, and has not removed it since.
The strategy of Simpson’s defense team became ever more obvious—delay, obstruct, object, confuse, entangle, confound, perplex. Judge Ito seemed to cater to them, conducting one interminable pretrial hearing after another.
Controversy began to swirl around Detective Mark Fuhrman. Defense lawyers accused him of being a racist, based on remarks he made in a 1983 pension case. Fuhrman filed a declaration explaining his remarks. “These statements attributed to me were misquoted and taken out of context,” he stated. “Any other racially insensitive comments that I may have made … were in the context of a therapeutic session and were specifically intended to refer to my work with violent gangs and gang members and the emotion that this stressful, dangerous and difficult type of police work engendered in me.”
We had a lot of admiration for the way Detective Fuhrman carried himself, and we felt bad for him. Here was an obvious effort by the defense to attack the messenger. Why? Because he found a key piece of evidence—the bloody glove. Patti said nervously, “Now his reputation has been sullied. I don’t like the way this feels.”
I struggled to understand this. Racism repels me. But this case had nothing to do with racism.
We were still clinging to the delusion that everyone in the courtroom was ultimately after the same goal: the truth.
Jury selection was scheduled to begin on September 16, although that date would likely be pushed back because the defense continued to file motion after motion, tying up everyone’s time. Just a few weeks before that date the postal service, which was forwarding Ron’s mail to us, delivered an official-looking letter summoning Ronald Lyle Goldman to jury duty on the same date: September 16, 1994.
When we called Kim and told her about this bizarre coincidence, she, too, was incredulous. A part of her thought: Don’t they know he’s dead? And another part wondered if this was some kind of message or omen. For a moment she was speechless, then she echoed our thoughts. “Unbelievable,” she said.
There is an element of the American press that seems to delight in rumors and innuendo and, since the media knew so little about Ron and apparently did not check their facts carefully, they seemed eager to speculate on everything, from Ron’s so-called relationship with Nicole to his sexuality. Tabloid headlines routinely shouted that he was Nicole’s lover, that he was gay, that he was a would-be this or a wannabe-that, and that he lived his life in California’s fastest lane. Apparently the fact that he was a young man blessed with a gregarious and caring personality, who devoted hours of his time to working with cerebral palsy sufferers, who cherished his family and friends, who always viewed life with a “the glass is half full rather than half empty” mentality simply would not sell tabloids. We were angered and hurt by the sloppy and irresponsible reporting, and determined to introduce the Ron whom we knew and loved to anyone who would listen.
Speaking in public comes relatively easily to me, as it does to Kim. Patti, Michael, and Lauren much prefer to remain in the background, but we decided to approach this task as a family.
We considered calling a press conference, but Kim wanted to do more than that, for Ron’s sake, so we decided to grant a single, selective interview. Patti and Kim had always admired Barbara Walters, and wondered if she would help us give Ron an identity. At a serendipitous moment, just as we were discussing how to get in touch with her, Barbara Walters called us.
She told us that she would be in L.A. on a certain date and asked if Patti and I would meet for dinner at Adriano’s, off Mulholland Drive. That way we could get to know one another, and we could decide whether to tape an interview.
As the evening approached, we became apprehensive. Just before we were to meet Barbara for dinner, we called her at the hotel and told her we had decided against the interview.
She was very understanding. She did not push us, but encouraged us to meet her for dinner anyway. We felt bad that she had flown all the way to L.A. for this meeting, and realized that it would be rude to cancel it altogether. So we decided to go ahead with the dinner, but not the interview.
When we arrived at the restaurant, we spotted Barbara immediately, sitting at a corner table with one of her producers, Shelley Ross. After a few minutes of conversation, we felt as if we had known her for years. The entire evening was relaxed and enjoyable. We told her that we were quiet people, and were apprehensive about appearing on national television. She assured us that if we decided to go ahead with the interview, she would see to it that the taping would be as easy and comfortable as this dinner meeting.
As Patti and I drove out of the parking lot, we looked at each another and said in unison, “I think we should do it.”
Kim flew home from San Francisco immediately, and the interview was taped the next day at the Peninsula Hotel. We reserved comment on the guilt or innocence of the man who would be tried for Ron’s murder. It was Ron whom we wanted to discuss. There were no pre-set guidelines for the interview, but Kim made it clear that she wanted it known that Sharon had no relationship with Ron.
Barbara began by asking me why we had agreed to the interview. I responded, “I think it’s probably because so much time has gone by that we as a family have begun to feel that Ron is a bit forgotten. And we’d like for people to know who the real Ron was, and where he came from.”
When Barbara asked Kim what kind of brother Ron was, the tears began slide down her cheek. “My brother was very protective,” Kim said. “He was like a second father to me.”
Patti said that it was unbe
lievable how well the various members of our family came together.
Michael agreed. Ron, he said, “was just like another brother to me … anytime there was a problem I went to him, probably first, because he understood all my problems because he went through them all, too.”
Lauren remembered how much fun Ron had been at her Bat Mitzvah.
To counter one of the press’s hackneyed images of Ron as a party animal, Kim disclosed a “little secret” that she had shared with her brother. I knew that Ron had expressed interest in opening a restaurant but, according to Kim, he was much farther along in his plans than I had ever realized. When Kim had asked Ron why he did not tell me of this, he answered, “’Cause I want to put it all together so I can present it to him, ’cause I want him to be a part of it.”
Turning her attention to the upcoming trial, Barbara noted that it is a common defense tactic to attempt to put the victim on trial. She asked, “Are you prepared for that?”
I answered, “I think that I expect almost anything to occur.”
After the interview was taped, Kim flew back to San Francisco. Joe saw her slipping increasingly into despair, and he enlisted Kim’s friend Amy in a plot to bring some cheer into Kim’s life. On their way back from a soccer game, they stopped at an animal shelter. A short time later, Amy burst through the door of Kim’s apartment. Kim looked up as Amy skipped across the room, followed by what looked like a little black rat. Kim chased after the animal and picked up what she said was “the cutest little kitten I have ever seen.”
“Dakota” became an instant member of the family.
Lauren was ready to start high school. It was a painful time for her because she associated Ron with so many of the “firsts” in her life. One year, when she toddled off to her first day at a new school, she looked about her at all the strange sights and unfamiliar faces and realized that she was very scared. Then she flipped open her brand-new notebook and discovered a warm and friendly message:
Have a good day, you’ll do great!
Love, Ron
We had created a supply of buttons with Ron’s picture on them. Now, as she dressed for her first day of high school, she pinned one of them to her blouse. It was the only way her big brother could be there for her.
If ever a murder case involved “special circumstances,” this was it. Punishment was a key question. The district attorney’s office had to decide whether or not to seek the death penalty, and D.A. Gil Garcetti was pressured for a decision from all sides.
Gloria Allred, a prominent attorney and activist for women’s issues, urged Garcetti to seek the death penalty, arguing that to do otherwise would be unfair to battered women.
Various groups of African-American leaders complained that the decision would be in the hands of the all-white, all-male Special Circumstances Committee.
Michael was angry. He argued, “Had these gruesome murders been committed by some average person, there wouldn’t have been any question about the death penalty.”
On September 8, Garcetti phoned to alert us that at a press conference the following day he would announce that the prosecution would not seek the death penalty. He explained that the defendant’s celebrity status would make it difficult for a jury to sentence him to death and that we stood a better chance of conviction if the penalty was life in prison without the possibility of parole. We understood the logic, but thought it disgusting that, if this was indeed the man who murdered Ron and Nicole, he should be given any special treatment whatsoever. However, the decision was not up to us, and we knew it.
My problem was that Garcetti felt he had to include any portion of the community in his decision.
Being in jail did not seem like adequate punishment for this man. He could still get up and wash his face, eat breakfast, work out, read his mail, visit with his friends—things that Ron could never do again. However, we kept our thoughts private. Questioned by a reporter outside our home, I declared, “That’s not an issue I want to comment on publicly.”
Patti and I have always been firm believers in the death penalty, feeling that people who are genuine hazards to society should be eliminated, not placed in the revolving doors of our overcrowded prisons or sitting on death row for decades at taxpayers’ expense.
Kim, on the other hand, had always been an advocate of rehabilitation theories. Her psychology courses had convinced her that everyone deserves a “second chance.” But this was no longer an abstract concept, and her feelings took a 180-degree turn. She declared with venom in her voice, “I want to be there to see it. I want to see the murderer suffer and choke and I want to be the last face he sees before he dies.”
The Barbara Walters interview aired on 20-20 the evening of September 16. In addition to her discussion with us, Barbara had also spoken with many of Ron’s friends. She used photographs and videos to help paint a picture of Ron that was far more accurate than had previously been shown. That night, Ronald Lyle Goldman finally stepped from the shadows. We were pleased and grateful.
Kim watched the show in San Francisco with Joe. “I cried from the moment it started,” she told us. “I couldn’t believe that I was watching myself and my family on national television. It didn’t seem real that I was talking about my brother to Barbara Walters.”
We responded with both warm feelings and bitter tears when the show replayed the tape of Ron and me at Lauren’s Bat Mitzvah, lip-synching to “Old Time Rock ’n’ Roll.”
Then we all broke down as Ron, wearing a goofy headband, looked directly into the camera and said to Lauren, “Okay, obviously this is your older brother. We are not going to get to spend very much time together, so I am very glad I was able to be here and spend this time with you because—God knows where I’ll be in a year.”
TEN
Mike and Lisa Pincus had a baby girl, whom they named Savannah. We went to visit them, and were delighted for them, but I had a hard time looking at this happy, vital young wife and husband as they cradled their beautiful baby girl in their arms. I could not stop thinking about things that would never be. I would never see Ron married. I would never see him enjoy the miracle that Mike and Lisa experienced. Most painful of all, I would never see Ron.
I love Mike like a son, so I did not want to be impolite. I did not want to hurt his feelings, but it was painful being there.
It was all becoming too crazy. We could not watch television, pick up a newspaper, pass a magazine rack, or turn on the car radio without hearing some comment about the case. The onslaught continued, day after day, night after night.
Saturday Night Live aired a skit about Ron and Nicole and the defendant. Their position was clear—Simpson did it—but Kim found the routine offensive. She ran to the phone and tried to find out who was responsible for this trash, but she could not get through to the studio. Even an episode of Kim’s favorite soap opera, Another World, made an oblique reference to the upcoming trial.
Kim’s moods took her from periods of weeping despair to manic activity. At times she was almost immobile and unable to function. At other times she became hyper and obsessed about the future. She worried constantly about losing me. She loved Patti, Brian, Michael, and Lauren, but she had always counted on Ron being around once I was gone. She felt out of control and desperate for structure in her life. She wanted something to plan for, something to look forward to, and she began to push Joe in the direction of marriage.
On the second anniversary of their relationship, Joe took Kim out to dinner to celebrate.
But the magic of the romantic evening was quickly broken. Dinner had just been served when Kim overheard a conversation at an adjoining table. “He must have done it like this,” the man said and proceeded to pantomime his version of the murders. Kim’s stomach tightened and a wave of nausea swept over her. Damn it, she thought. I can’t even go out to dinner in peace. “I’ve got to say something,” she said to Joe.
Kim walked over to the table, where two men and a woman were seated. “I’m Kim,” she stammered
nervously. “I’m Ron’s brother—I mean—Ron is my sister—I mean—.” The words simply would not come out right. She tried again. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m trying to have a nice evening. Could you please just tone it down?”
The woman took Kim’s hand and began to cry. Her companions were also shaken. “We’re all behind you,” they reassured.
On another occasion, Kim tuned in to one of the frequent awards shows on TV. Kim thought: A few hours of mindless escape, that’s all I ask. But it was not to be. Almost everyone who took the stage had some tasteless joke to tell, some observation to share. Kim turned off the TV and called home, distraught. “Patti,” she complained, “I can’t even watch a stupid awards show.”
Patti empathized, but she reminded her, “Kim, we’re in the middle of this monumental thing—the so-called ‘Trial of the Century’!”
There was nowhere to hide.
Two columns caught our attention.
Jeffrey Hart wrote in The Valley Times-News: “So much attention has been focused upon the monstrous O. J. Simpson that little notice has been taken of young Ron Goldman, who was the genuine hero of the despicable affair.
“Goldman probably could have fled the scene and saved his own life. Instead, he stood and fought, and from the evidence, put up a terrific battle against a muscular man twice his size….
“Simpson’s glory is gone. Simpson’s occupations are gone. He stands naked, a killer, a bully, a coward and a fool.
“Goldman is the hero now.”
And in the Los Angeles Times, columnist Andrea Dworkin wrote: “Surrounded by family, friends, and a community of affluent acquaintances, Nicole Simpson was alone. Having turned to police, prosecutors, victim’s aid, therapists and a woman’s shelter, she was still alone. Ronald L. Goldman may have been the only person in 17 years with the courage to try to intervene physically in an attack on her; and he’s dead, killed by the same hand that killed her, an expensively gloved, extra-large hand.”