Venting this here so I can finally let go of my anger over it... we had to put our dog down. He was only four and lost the battle with kidney failure. My MIL "bought" him when he was a puppy but never did anything to raise him except take him away from her husband for awhile when they lived apart. Then my husband came in and took the dog as his own and truly raised him for about three years; there is no question of whose dog he was.
When we dropped the news that we'd decided to euthanize him, MIL insisted on coming with us to the vet. She and her husband came over before to say a proper goodbye to the dog too, and the entire time, she ranted on and on about how much she hates her neighbor. She made the sad day more stressful and upsetting by refusing to shut up about her stupid life that we hear about constantly and sitting and sulking and not acknowledging we were too upset to even be able to muster up our usual "mhm" for her rants. (Her abusive helicoptering, narcissism, and lack of boundaries is an entire post of its own.)
When we got to the vet, she started calling him her dog and saying he was always her dog and her sweet puppy. Whenever anyone tried to say goodbye or share a memory, she would cut in with how he was her best dog and try to top our stories of him. She talked so much, my husband finally asked her to be quiet. When she called to arrange coming over the night before, she ranted on and on about how her dogs (rat dogs that everyone hates because they're aggressive yappy footballs that pee everywhere) are waiting for our sweet boy in heaven.
Finally, we leave the vet after a lot of sobbing, and she sends his dad in to tell us to come over for dinner and "a wake." (She sends dad in most of the time because we hate saying no to him.) We politely say no and that we want to grieve privately. She says she understands and then cries more and tells us how great of dog owners we are and that she just wants to take the hurt away from us.
We get to grieve privately for about three hours before she texts me. She's learned to leave her son alone when he's upset, but now she treats me as a gateway to talk to him when he doesn't reply to her. The night before, she'd sent me a bunch of pictures of the dog saying she didn't want to upset her son. Like thanks, I'm upset too, but thanks. I ignore her text, we watch TV, cry some more, and go to bed.
We wake up to her having posted about the dog's passing on Facebook again insinuating he's HER dog. She also texts us both that she's blocked my husband's ex-gf so "she won't get any personal information about us." Like lady, you posted to the whole world that my husband and I eloped almost before I had a chance to announce it. She calls us and wants to talk about her neighbor and said she did the Facebook post and blocking his ex so we wouldn't be upset and for all her weird cult-ish friends who "were praying for us." My husband just responded with, "If you thought it would upset us, why would you even bring it up now? Forget my ex; you blasted the news to the world."
We're both still grief-stricken and trying to process everything, and I'm angry that she ruined a very sad moment continuously and didn't respect our wish to grieve. And that she ever dared say that our precious boy was her dog. I'm of the mindset grief can make us bitter or better, and I refuse to waste more energy than I have being bitter toward her, but today it just hurts.

WARNING: THIS IS LONG! IF YOU ARE READING / LISTENING VIA TEXT TO SPEECH BE READY FOR A LONG ONE!
Made this account specifically to discuss this somewhere without family seeing this.
I have been putting this off for 2 years because I believed to some degree that I was missing important information, or Iwasn't able to figure out something obvious about the situation I had missed, that perhaps I was in the wrong about this entire situation.
But after an experience with a bullying therapist, I recognized all the problems I'd gone through reflected back at me in under an hour, and decided I couldn't take it anymore. I might also not have a place to live in the next few months due to the rising energy prices. I have to let this out.
So at the high recommendation of a close friend of mine and the desperate need for some catharsis, here's the story.
What you are about to hearead will sound outlandish, and the way I have presented it may seem distasteful or untrustworthy I know there is nothing I can do to prove such suspicions otherwise, but everything here is true. - The presentation is more of a coping mechanism on my part.
To keep things simple I'll bullet point stuff by subject.
SUBJECTS: Starting off School 1 Ndad Appears Again Step-Dad Appears [future Nstepdad] School 2 Ndad's attempt at a family again Sixth-Form & Living with Ndad -halfway- University Finding Work Running Away From Home Getting My Own Place New Place, New Job DLC - Bully Therapist that made me finally post this - What's been keeping me sane?
= STORY START =
Starting off:

• Born to Nmom & Ndad.
• Ndad leaves for 4 years leaving Nmom and me to ourselves.
• Nmom didn't grow up very wealthy and, having been left in the dust financially, struggles with me for the first decade of our lives together, her dream home is to live wealthily with animals on land she owns. Worked as a social worker for the first 10 years of my life.
• Ndad grew up very wealthy but was told to keep my grandfather's secret of cheating on my nana, developing truth and trust issues.
• Grew up in the countryside, a terrace house, with brilliant scenery surrounding

School 1:

• Grew up and started school in the British equivalent of a WASP town [White Anglo-Saxon Protestants].
• Most kids started out here with a belief in God and were brought up with loosely traditional Christian values, which everyone cast aside as they aged.
• At this time I enjoyed making my Nmom laugh and entertaining her whenever I could.
• Teachers noticed I had a knack for art, music, performance, and science.
• Had an affinity for animals, and loved studying them. Nmom rode horses and put me on them, and I sort of grew a natural ability to ride from an early age.
• Developed the ambition to be an actor because I wanted to travel the world and prove I wasn't a nobody. - [I know, very stupid decision, and I stuck with it from the age of 6 onwards]
• Struggled with communication, reading social cues, telling when someone was joking, and remembering nearly all forms of data [numbers, time, dates, names, titles, grammar, etc], was behind on reading, writing, and maths, and overall struggled with the majority of my subjects other than art and a bit of algebra. - [Very stereotypical, I know].
• If ever I said something that I didn't know how to phrase or seemed unnerving while at home, Nmom simply told me to "stop being a wimp.", "you see, this is why everyone is calling you weird.", "Don't say stupid things.", and "maybe don't tell anybody these feelings, they'll try and stay away from you, and none of us want that".
• She would insult my friends when they weren't around and would criticize folks she thought shouldn't be my friend, often pushing me in the direction of the more successful children.
• If ever I faltered in my studies, Nmom would compare me to my friends, and anybody else in the school who excelled, believing that if they could do it, then so could I, that there was nothing wrong with me. - Teachers suggested to Nmom a few times that I should be in lower grade classes for the support, but she assured them that I could work at the level I was at. And after pushing myself, I did succeed, but at the minimum, as that's all I was really capable of. In my head, I had no important skills and was talentless [something I'm still trying to get out of my head today].
• Nmom taught me how to steal stuff and stalk folks that piqued our interest, that we should be nosey in other people's business. To my surprise, and no one else's, Nmom was the town gossip and kept secrets about everyone, often insulting people behind their backs after they'd told her their personal feelings, calling them "freaks", "weirdos", and "drama queens". This is also about her friends, who I would later learn, are severely depressed, bipolar, and/or suicidal.
• Feelings of being watched, followed, that there were things out there that I couldn't see, or things I didn't know that others did, these all early signs of what would later manifest as full-on paranoia, anxiety, and schizophrenic symptoms. - Not to mention an extreme distrust in my own thoughts and memories which persists to today.

Ndad Appears Again:

• I'm reintroduced to my father and begin staying at his every fortnight on the weekends. He was much stricter and also very Christian himself. Believed heavily in strong manners, universal love [ironically], and respect for the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost.
• Was not very financially stable, and would attempt various ways to earn money from property, to catering, to delivering and selling drinks shipped in from Amazon, and nowadays he does accounting.
• Cheap and believed strongly in the value of money, taught me to do chores, and often took me to cultural festivals and religious holidays to teach me about the world [which I am thankful to him for].
• He taught me to wash myself using the sink, a flannel, and soap to conserve water.
• If ever I did something he didn't like, or I made a mistake, misremembered something, anything like that, he would tell me I was "lazy", "you don't actually care about me, do you? - Prove it, do better.", "Sorry means you'll never do it again.", "spoilt brat", and "You're selfish and don't think of anyone but yourself." - This also goes for if he thought I was lying.
• I became scared of talking to him about anything I thought was true or personal, and if I ever did I taught myself to speak as fast as possible to justify myself before he could interrupt.
• If he thought I wasn't being compliant or sulking, he would drag me by the arm across the floor in public, or hit me on the arm.
• I believed that this was how every dad was, that other kids just had something that I didn't, that I was missing something important that others could see and were smart enough to figure out.

Step-Dad Appears [future Nstepdad]:

• Very intelligent, very nerdy, film buff accountant with adoration for vintage America and UK.
• I greatly looked up to him
• Nmom would proceed to shout at him for business decisions that weren't hers to make, complained he was too work focused then criticized his decisions at his own work, would make attempts to manage his hobbies, insult him for his weight, and turn him away from his friends that he had in the town that we lived. Now she's a a joint owner of their accounting business.
• He now is afraid to talk against her too strong and if ever I came to him with a problem I'm struggling with that Nmom might not approve of, he tells me not to mention that I told him first in any way, out of fear Nmom would berate him about it.

School 2:

• Went to a secondary school that specialized in music and technology.
• Joined a choir and then left because I didn't move up the ranks. Joined a brass band and left because I didn't progress. At this point, I couldn't figure out why I was struggling and feeling so frustrated.
• I already had a dislike for myself but throughout Secondary School I grew a visceral hatred of myself, opting myself to stay out of events every other kid was involved in, and actively avoided attention from teachers unless it was a subject I felt like I could express myself creatively in like Art, Music, English, or Textiles (the design and research aspect).
• Became the boy equivalent of a Tumblr girl. Couldn't afford any of the looks and was too scared to make any kinds of posts or blogs, so a lot of the culture I experienced was second-hand.
• Spent my time in the music building where I felt safe, the older kids looking after the younger ones that didn't fit in anywhere else in the school particularly well. - [Yes we were the stereotypical theatre kids]
• Same things happen in this school as the last school, bullying, teachers suggesting I should be moved down to lower grade classes, I push on to try and exceed the bare minimum while being compared to my friends, eventually scoring the highest marks I could in the foundation set.
• Hopeless at maths.
• Started hitting bullies back, and teachers thought I should be suggested for anger management.
• I didn't know how to cope when I got in trouble and would beat myself with a ruler or press the razors of pencil sharpeners to my fingers to ready myself for the fear or potential physical pain [physical stuff rarely happens but for some reason, I was so sure that it would I even said to Mom to not hit me in public, even though she rarely did].
• Started to realize I didn't feel in control of my own actions, that how I was seeing things was like a movie, that it wasn't normal that I kept forgetting things so much, that there shouldn't be this constant drone visually, auditorily, or tactile.
• Had my first mental breakdown and major panic attack. I started questioning myself, my motives, my morals, etc. - I felt like I was going to die one night, and I drilled the mindset into myself that I have to be prepared for anything - [This later manifested as PTSD and the skill to stay perfectly calm in dangerous situations, but not in calm ones]. - This would lead me to forget an entire fortnight of secondary school and to this day I have no idea what happened during those 2 weeks.
• Violent, sexual, and disruptive intrusive thoughts, which at first I thought were just normal, start getting worse, and I'm scared of what horrible images and urges are coming into my mind. These intrusive thoughts as well as the feelings of nausea, dizziness, and disassociation left me wandering the halls of the school multiple times to the point I almost got in trouble for missing out on so many days because of these instances.
• Nmom's response to hearing me talking about any of the 3 above points prompted the responses, "stop getting all airiated, we all think stuff like that. Just get on with it.", "Don't tell anybody about this, nobody will want to talk to you, and they'll think you're a bit weird.", "You better not bring this up with your friends or mine.", "Oh shut up, we all feel bad every now and then, it's not the end of the bloody world." - Firmly reinforcing the idea in my head that every kid experiences these feelings and has something that I don't that allows them to cope, excel and socialize.
• I avoid trying to seek help for my problems, afraid that my life would be severely affected if I did tell anyone, or that I was just being weak-minded.
• Nmom would repeatedly exaggerate problems I came to her with to her friends, often personal feelings. And I would be teased for saying and doing things I never actually said or did by adults who I barely knew. - You could see the discomfort in their face when struggled to understand, but I didn't realize at the time that this was going on. Folks were genuinely surprised when I tried hard to work at something.

Ndad's attempt at a family again:

• Between Secondary & Sixth-Form, Ndad attempted a relationship with another woman, who herself had 3 kids. They had already come off of a physically abusive relationship. I had developed a pseudo-sibling relationship with 3 kids. And we had this understanding I didn't have a normal sibling relationship, that there was this natural distance between us which I accepted, but even today I still hold them close. For this section I'll refer to them as I-Fam. [Found out there's an irl youtuber that goes by this, but don't worry there's no relation]
• Ndad would repeatedly force his values onto I-Fam. If I-Fam weren't feeling bad when Ndad was he'd say everyone was being inappropriate. Ndad would physically drag the children across the floor in public spaces if any of them cried or misbehaved, smacked their arm repeatedly while they cried, including berating them without actually teaching them what they did wrong, just the same insults he threw at me, but this time I actually saw what he was doing to children from an outside perspective and I told my Nmom, who, to give her credit, told him that she'd speak to social services if things got worse.
• It got worse.
• But much later.
• I-Fam mother would suffer a severe fall causing lasting brain damage, and according to a farewell text she sent me, Ndad's treatment of her was horrible, it was not love, and she wanted to leave everything related to Ndad behind for good.
• As far as I care, that was Ndad's last chance. After this incident Ndad lost all my respect.... yeah I know, it should've been much sooner. I just didn't realize at the time what bad shit he was actually doing, and that it was far from normal or even healthy.

Sixth-Form & Living with Ndad:

• Sixth-Form was near where my Ndad lived and we attempted to try living at his for long durations of time and try the reverse of the fortnightly stay deal with my Nmom.
• Take all the problems from Ndad Appears Again and Ndads Attempt At Family Again, then double that.
• This led to me finally writing a letter to Ndad telling him I didn't want him in my life anymore, that he made me really upset.
• I harbored malicious feelings towards him and I just couldn't take it so I left.
• ...
• And went right back to Nmom thinking she was a "better choice", not realizing it was just a different form of abuse that I didn't know existed.
• Had what I believe was my first depressive episode when I returned from a day out with a future very-close friend. I was getting extremely agitated with what I was seeing in the streets, and left the city with this overwhelming sensation of anger, sadness, and exhaustion, believing it to just be a sad day. I tell my Nmom that I was feeling sad about it all, overwhelmed that I hadn't felt anything like that before. She tells me "Oh boohoo you had a bad day! Grow up! Everyone has one! We think, oh, that wasn't very nice, but it's not the end of the world! Move on!".
• Between here and University I would go through several jobs, but because of my living situation going back and forth from the city to the countryside, jobs were either a couple day thing, 6 months or under, or straight-up impossible to maintain, not to mention by this point Nmom had acquired her dream house with Nstepdad, which was even more isolated, making it harder to find work despite being right next to a major train line into the city, but with the late hours and commute time, it took most jobs off the table that weren't agency shifts.
• Spoke to counselors and they were... Kay if you're from the UK you might have experienced the problem of our Mental Health system being horrendously underfunded, with many in the profession being untrained, very unfitting for the job, with the whole experience being a gamble HOPING you'll get the right doctor that MIGHT have an idea of what the fuck is wrong with you. - So the sixth-form counselor just ruled it as anxiety and that he didn't know what else to do and that was it... No referral, no advice, nothing, all they asked was if I had suicidal tendencies or the desire to self-harm. They didn't think much of anything else.
• So for a few years, I tried my hardest to work in spite of the idea that I had anxiety, to the point I almost forgot I had a problem with reading and writing, believing that it was just me being lazy, not understanding that it could be a permanent problem. So if ever I felt like I was struggling or my concentration wavered during study time I just told myself to try harder.

:::If you're reading this in full and want to take a break, nows the time, cause it gets worse here onwards:::
University:

• I realized that at some point between Sixth-Form and first year of University that I'd forgotten how to laugh... No I'm not joking, I had to teach myself to laugh again, and even today my laugh is controlled because I was trying to control my speech and demeanour to such a degree that I felt as though my laugh was wrong. I was afraid to react and let myself move without me thinking or disassociating because I wanted to be as normal as possible.
• So I came out as bi...
• Got kicked out of the house and went back to my student dorms crying, Nstepdad asking why mentioned that he knew before she did and that I should've kept his name out of it instead of... you know, standing up for me. Nmom called me f*****t, and after repeatedly calling me a disappointment out in the middle of a public restaurant, saying that I should consider how SHE feels and how this makes her look, she contacts my then-boyfriend [who I'm still close with], calls him a groomer, tells me that I should be dating a "good looking man, not a fat bastard.", and that I'm just confused and going through a phase.
• ...it wasn't a phase.
• It went the worst possible way I could've imagined and she didn't calm down for 2 weeks, during which she was crying and complaining to her friends, who, being family friends that knew me well, called Nmom out on her behavior, but did this give her a hint that her behavior was unwarranted?
• No.
• Couple of months later, cue a fortnight of hallucinations and delusions, seeing pink insects, little shadow men that run and hide when I came near, music playing in jumbled notes, walls getting bigger and shrinking, massive gaps in memory of what happened from week to week, skeletal ghostly fingers appearing over my hands, breathing beds [honestly I don't mind this one, it's like resting on a big comfy monster], the clear voice of a woman speaking directly behind me, intrusive thoughts now ramping up REALLY HIGH, full-on yelling panic attacks, and the nightly PTSD bouts staying every night from that point on for almost 5 years and counting.
• Time to see counselors again.
• Generalized Anxiety Disorder, maybe some autism, they had no clue. Same thing as last time, no referrals, no advice, only concerned about self-harm and suicidal thoughts (which this time there were but I didn't realize at the time they were suicidal until much later).
• Weed.
• Weed helped.
• Weed helped a lot.
• I come to the realization that... yeah acting isn't for me. My skills were in everything else. By this point I knew that pursuing the profession was horrible for my health, the community is beyond toxic, and that even if you got what you wanted, one wrong word in public and that's bye-bye to your career. And I wasn't a very good actor as was, I was really good at public speaking, but not acting. My condition made it hard to be self-aware of my actions and change my voice at necessary times, and if ever my anxiety clicked onstage, then I was done for. - Besides I'd already earnt an award at a film festival with a local film team and even got scouted by a foreign filmmaker, but in the end, I had to focus on my studies. That's more than a lot of folks get and I'm content.
• And so came the end of a nearly 15-year pursuit.
• Throughout the years at Uni I would attend festivals as bar staff, they're one my favorite jobs to work, not because of the chance to enjoy the festivities, but because the music was so loud and tangible in the air that none of the problems would ever crop up! Same with working at Football stadiums. The only problem was remembering order details.
• Graduation.

Finding Work:

• So after putting an end to a 15-year pursuit, taking my time to adjust to things outside of education, and struggling to search for a job, was Nmom content with that? - NOPE!
• It got to a point that she physically drove to my cousin who had opened a food bank kitchen, and WHAT A SHOCK, I was actually a hard worker! Even offered a spot as the Prep Chef, and would go on to work at 3 different kitchens including that one. - That's its own story, but I discovered a talent and love for cooking, but eventually it came to an end when I got a job that required a commute, and with the late work hours it would cost extremely high amounts for Taxis back home because the trains didn't run past closing hours.
• ...Back to square 1.
• And the insults, provoking and gaslighting got worse. She insulted my friends whenever I brought up that I was speaking to them at night, telling me that if I have time to talk to my friends at night, then I have the time to be job searching, to the point she threatened to take away my laptop and TV at night.... which I was supposed to be using for job searching? - yeah I don't get the logic either. The exaggerations got even more outlandish, she claimed that I was still angry at her for kicking me out when coming out of the closet, that I'm just using their hospitality to avoid work... you know, that hospitality you need to be watchful of... in your own family home. Under no circumstances did she want it to look like I was a "lazy bum" to herself or her friends. And yes, her friends from her WASP hobbies would mock me for not having a job, again looking uncomfortable and confused when I was able to talk back and give detailed responses as well as determination and WANT to work at times.
• It got to the point she was literally yelling at me over the dinner table nightly. Full-on screaming when her horse died.
• My intrusive thoughts were getting bad, like, really bad. I could feel violent urges and extreme suicidal thoughts almost every day. I wanted to kill myself to spite my own family because I had to think of a way to prove to them that I don't have a way out other than this because that's how it genuinely felt. My intrusive thoughts were telling me to kill my own family and then myself, or just kill myself and leave a letter telling them it was their felt. And as soon as plans started appearing in my mind of how I was going to

Running Away From Home:

• I had already decided to run away but there was one last thing I needed to do. During our work search, we'd found an opportunity for me to teach Drama to a youth group all the way over in the city, which I wanted to prove to myself that I could do. We organized a mock lesson practice with the family friends' kids, and each responded with positive feedback, and then on the day I received praise from the organizer... but then I told them I couldn't take the job. Now that I saw the ugly face of what Nmom was really like when things didn't go her way, a face I really should've seen years ago. I went to prove to myself that I could teach, that I could use my skills, that I had some talent, and I did.
• MISSION - ESCAPE TEH FARM
• The night before escape I pack 5 bags worth of stuff to take with me to London, where one of my closest friends had their own place for work.
• 3 of the bags I had upstairs
• 2 other bags, the largest ones I put downstairs and hide them under the massive horse coats.
• I get up at 6:00 AM
• Nmom usually gets up around 7:00 AM
• I go downstairs with a couple of the bags to put them all in 1 place ready to go.
• Go back up to get the last 1, I enter the room where the hidden bags are being kept under the horse coats, Nmom is standing there, putting her boots on ready to tend to the horses.
• She woke up early.
• I pretend its a normal morning, saying that I got up early to look for work and then that I was seeing a friend later.
• She heads down to the stables.
• BATTLEFIELD STATISTICS - Drive is in sight of the farm downhill, a line of cars provides cover to escape. Not to mention one of her dogs is rather yappy and could give away my position, as she is prone to barking at and chasing walkers. - I had to make my way to the end of the drive, and out of sight with 5 bags on me, all very heavy.
• I head out the door, 5 bags on me and keep as low as I can without killing my legs, moving behind the cars, there's an open spot on the drive where I have to input the code to the gate, at which point it will take a few seconds to fully open.
• I look down, Nmom has her head deep in a hey container, literally legs in the air, reaching down to clean it out.
• NOW WAS MY CHANCE!
• I input the gate code, keep to the opening and book it as soon as there is a gap wide enough to go through.
• I run down the driveway slowly, the heavy bags weighing me down.
• And then I hear... barking.
• I turn around and see Nmom's little dog following me to the end of the drive, but Nmom isn't with her.
• I tell the little dog to go back, "shoo"s, "that way"s, and all that.
• IT WORKS!
• Little dog returns back home, and I'm LITERALLY home free!
• I head out from the drive, down the road where walkers usually exit the field and over the water bridge.
• However…
• There was a hill going up.
• When I tell you I have never felt more desperate, terrified and triumphant than walking up that hill with those bags trying to escape my former house, it is a mere understatement.
• I got up to the canal and walked to the train station.
• There I sat at the station, catching my breath for… like 30 mins? Persisting onto the train.
• During my time sat there I had to be vigilant of Nstepdad who drove right past the train station nearly every day to get to and from work. I had to hope he wouldn’t spot me sitting there at any possible moment, so my eyes were firmly fixed on the road until the train came.
• And when it came the feeling of relief was like nothing I had ever felt before OR since.
• I arrived at my station, not London, the line there was too expensive, instead, I got a National Express Coach and road for 6 hours all the way to London.
• My friend embraced me when we got to his doorstep and I got in, poured a drink between the 2 of us, I cried for the first time in YEARS, and told him EVERYTHING...
• ...
• And it still wasn't over.
• This... THIS was the point I should've made this post! 2 years ago! but I was still afraid, still concerned that there was some piece of data I'd missed out or forgotten, or perhaps misinterpreted.
• Eventually, Nmom & Nstepdad found out.
• What followed?
• Threats of calling the police on my friend who was keeping me safe, gaslighting me, believing that this was all still because of my sexuality, that my friend is trying to financially exploit me, that I am being scammed, that I am being groomed or abused, that it's not safe, that this is an attack on her. She even threatened legal action against my friends own family because I ran away, and she believed my friend's own mother was in on the whole thing.
• Cue more ranting about how my sexuality is wrong, that this is all a phase, she's ashamed of me, wishing I wasn't born, then turning around on that saying she wishes I was back home because she missed me, that I've left them with too much to do, that it's self that I'm not able to do their chores anymore or any extra office work that me Nstepdad needed me to do.
• Nmom thought using Nstepdad to try and communicate to me would somehow change things.
• It didn't.
• He instead shouted at me over the phone, telling me I should comply and that I was making things worse for myself.
• EVERY text or threat they sent me I passed on to my friend, who messaged back telling them EXACTLY what they didn't want to hear.
• That I'd made my own decision to do that.
• I would then learn that apparently everyone in my hometown hated her, they could hardly stand Nmom! She was exploitative and dropped friends at the drop of a hat, insulting them and their pets that weren't purebred or of a special breed. - No joke, Nmom said to the mother of one of my childhood besties that she was "superior" to her.
• AND DESPITE ALL THIS!... to this day she still doesn't understand why I left the house, even still exaggerating to her friends, but far less then before, as I try and give her as little to work with as possible.
• And then... BANG!
• COVID HAPPENED!
• And I was stuck in London for almost 6 Months.
• We realized something... My family never taught me how to apply for mental health support, do my taxes, and set up automatic payments, something literally ALL MY FRIENDS knew how to do. I didn't because every time I offered Nmom & Nstepdad would offer to do it themselves, and whenever the time came for that stuff to be important, they'd blame me for it not being done. And when I tell them that they offered, the response was "well you should've looked into it anyway". Crossed with a difficulty keeping track of stuff and an inability to pick up on social cues this was an UTTER NIGHTMARE!
• So my friends are the ones who've taught me how to sort all this stuff out.... sort of. We'll get into why not later.
• But most importantly, I needed a job.
• I tried looking locally but everywhere was closed, and the 1 physical interview I was able to get, I failed.
• So we thought of a way to earn money using a skill I had that I could do just from my computer.
• Doodling.
• And so for 1 whole year, my income was earnt primarily from art and animation commissions. I spent my time drawing using nothing but a trackpad.
• When I learned I could animate I felt incredible, I had a talent I could use to earn money that wasn't actually my parents or from some faceless company that I was working for.
• Eventually, I had to start paying my way in London, things were tough and I paid my rent after the first month.
• My entire time there was an experience I won't be forgetting easily and I helped me learn a lot about how... well, healthy people lived, how families were actually meant to treat each other, and that some of the feelings and fears that I had weren't something to hide.
• Overcoming my suicidal tendencies was and is still, extremely difficult, my friends, or rather, my actual family, have helped me push through it.
• I eventually moved out of London and into another friend's house for a short while, where I tried looking for jobs... and came up short once more.
• No changes, and this time I was on universal credit.
• My friend had a suspicion, that if I ended up getting closer to my former home, I would regress on my progress...
• And I almost did.

Getting My Own Place:

• I met up with my Narcissistic Family again [here on shall be called N-Fam], and we agreed that I was never returning to that house to live there. So we decided to look for a place for me to rent that they would help organize the finances for.
• All of which I did not want them to do, they took out their savings for me to put into this flat, all while I didn't have any modicum of stable income or job. There was no way I was going to be able to sustain this flat without mental health support or a stable job, especially the former.
• ...And I was right, I am currently under threat of nearly being homeless again, BUT OFFICIALLY THIS TIME, which I'm waiting on the support from the government's mental health teams.
• Don't get me wrong, I love the flat that I was able to get, but all the finance was handled by N-Fam which was the exact opposite of what I wanted. I learned nothing about the truly necessary parts of living independently or even experiencing initiating it.
• At this point, I wanted to try and get on an okay relationship with N-Fam, because the shouting had stopped and they'd help me find where I am currently living. But as soon as I do something they disagree with the ugliness peaks out again, and I don't care if the insults and stuff are happening less, they insulted and threatened my friends, I'm not tolerating that anymore. Every time since, when they've made comments about my friends, I tell them that I'll be passing them on. It shuts them right up.
• The next step was to start earning. My mistake was not saying "fuck that" and focusing on my health beforehand, because this is what happened.

New Place, New Job:

• My universal credit scheme decided to put me onto a Kickstarter scheme because, like a curse, the job market seems to hate me asides from agency work which was helping me earn extra money alongside my doodles and animations.
• I wanted to be as professional as possible, and show that I could do it, that I wasn't lazy or selfish like I had been accused of for years.
• I failed.
• The job was accounts.
• Remember what I said further up? About forgetting all about how I struggle with reading, writing, data, memory, etc? - Well that reared its head here.
• There were days where I was completely fine, no problems, normal work... but all the other days?
• Tired for no reason, could take upwards of 10 mins to input a single small receipt into the system, inability to concentrate, forgetting what tasks I had already done and ended up repeating them not knowing I'd done them, completely lost with given instructions having to ask for very precise clarification on nearly everything, turns out I was a path to leading this branch of the company and I had to tell them that I don't think it was something I was able to to do, fatigue, and I took the flexible hours as best as I could and because of my little number problem, I racked up an entire days worth of missing hours by the end of the month because I kept going home early because I felt either emotionally wrecked or I was seeing stuff that wasn't there. Oh and on top of that, because of the memory problems I never was able to progress in productivity past the first week, I kept making mistakes a rookie would 5 months into the contract, and it's been the same for every employer I've been with. ALL OF THIS could've been solved if my N-Fam got me treatment or a diagnosis as a kid, because then I would've figured out how to tackle these problems sooner.
• But no.
• And I got fired before the kickstarter scheme was up after I had a severe panic attack, genuinly terrified that I was going to attack my boss with a hammer to the back of the head [similair feelings to when I was back at the farm], I wasn't technically even on the company's payroll, and I didn't even make to the end of the 6 months. And to this day I have yet to hold down a job for longer than that, that wasn't agency work or my own doodles.
• So when folks ask me what do labels get you anyway? A fucking lot, it gets me support at my work, treatment, the possibility of living a life without fearing of losing everything due to your own mistakes, and if you're a parent it could literally save your child's life in advance with the right treatment.
• And so that was an entire 5 months of my life wasted.
• I dare not tell N-Fam about any of this.
• I have been unemployed for a year, and the money I make is through my art which has gradually increased in monthly income.
• One day there may be a time when I blow up and tell N-Fam the reason I escaped the farm but until then I'm trying to keep things as non-flammable as possible.

DLC - Bully Therapist that made me finally post this:

• I was advised to seek therapy, but practically nobody I know knows how to navigate the mental health circuit to gain support, very few actually do but they've been of great help.
• Anti-Depressants don't help with whatever is wrong with me, it makes the thoughts and hallucinations so much worse.
• Nearly every doctor I've seen has referred me back and forth, and because for the longest, I didn't know the terminology or what to say to convey what I needed to say, to get the help I needed. - In fact most people in the UK have NO CLUE what to say or do! There're no guides or advice and the ones you do find are only with specific mental health charities.
• I try to make a step forward with my mental health and I go to see a talking therapy, and I have been with this talking therapy for nearly 4 months, and after yesterday I am not seeking another appointment from there ever again.
• The therapist DURING THE SESSION told me to just "get a job", I tell him that I want to but it's incredibly difficult. Familiair feelings comming back to me now. The man proceeds to taunt, mock my accent and the way I speak, telling me that I was upset because the fact I needed to get a job simply wasn't something i wanted to hear, and when I told him the finances were the hardest part to balance [what with universal credit, rising energy bills, and my mental difficulties and extreme stress with numbers], he took out his wallet, grabbed a wad of £10 notes, held those out in front of me and said: "is this the advice that you want". - There's more to it thats private but I have never felt so insulted in my life. [I'll make an update when the whole situation is over.] Oh and the comparisons, it just wouldn't be an N-Fam moment without the comparisons to his own life, saying that if he were in my shoes, everything would be fine.
• This time, however, I'm not going to stand for it, I'm taking a stance and doing what I should've done with N-Fam, and reporting this bastard while I have the chance.
• This one bad therapy session is what caused me to start writing all of this, I began at 10pm and it's coming up to 5am now.

= STORY END =
What's been keeping me sane?:

• My friends, my actual family, they've saved my life.
• The kink community. While this part I keep mostly private, I got into the kink community when returning from London up which I got back in contact with that part of the community my first boyfriend was a part of, and they have helped me regain intimacy, and have given me a way to really tackle my trust issues developed via N-Fam.
• Writing.
• Call of Cthulhu, yeah, I'm serious, this game helped a lot in the past 2 years. Because I had basically been living in someone else's fantasy my entire life, I've developed this discomfort with more traditional fantasy, and the horror and mystery-solving in CoC has helped me tackle my condition in a whole new way.
• Taking the actual f*cking time to work on my head. I might never have a stable job in my life because of my condition, whatever it turns out to be, so I have to prioritize my well-being by taking the time to cater to it. I usually don't speak about it like this, and I'm saying all this now because I'm afraid that in a few days time I will regress again and think twice about what I have done, but speaking with my friends, asking for their perspectives helps keep me grounded.

Honestly, I'm still unsure about this all. I've never confessed anything like this in such a way. It's scary, but I'm glad I finally did it.
TL;DR: bullying from therapist ironically triggers the need to write about life of abuse to feel some catharsis from the whole situation

FRIDAY

• NHL Carolina Hurricanes vs. NY Islanders, PNC Arena, Raleigh
• Opening Weekend - Carolina Mudcats vs. Down East Wood Ducks, Five County Stadium, Zebulon
• Brit Floyd - World Tour 2022, DPAC, Durham
• Doc & Cover, A.J. Fletcher Opera Theater at Duke Energy Center for the Performing Arts, Raleigh
• The Magic Flute - North Carolina Opera, Memorial Auditorium at Duke Energy Center for the Performing Arts, Raleigh
• Statewide Star Party at Prairie Ridge, Prairie Ridge Ecostation, Raleigh
• Vir Das’ Manic Man World Tour, Carolina Theatre, Durham
• Gershwin Piano Concerto, Meymandi Concert Hall at Duke Energy Center for the Performing Arts, Raleigh
• Boy Harsher, Motorco Music Hall, Durham
• Duke Jazz Ensemble with guest artist Ingrid Jensen, trumpet, Baldwin Auditorium, Duke University, Durham
• Live Jazz: The Tommy Jackson Trio, The Oak House, Durham
• USA Baseball National High School Invitational, USA Baseball National Training Complex, Cary
• Denny's 175: NASCAR Weekly Series, Wake County Speedway, Garner
• Paranormal Cirque Raleigh, International Foods, Raleigh
• Little River Community Complex Fair, Durham County Memorial Stadium, Durham
• Statewide Star Party, Old North Durham Park, Durham

​
SATURDAY

• Bon Jovi, PNC Arena, Raleigh
• North Carolina FC vs. Chattanooga Red Wolves, WakeMed Soccer Park, Cary
• UNC Spring Football Game, Kenan Memorial Stadium, Chapel Hill
• Opening Weekend - Carolina Mudcats vs. Down East Wood Ducks, Five County Stadium, Zebulon
• Historic Oakwood 33rd Annual Garden Tour, Historic Oakwood - Check In at the Tucker House, Raleigh
• Yappy Hour, Dorothea Dix Park, Raleigh
• Mayor's Unity Day, Moore Square, Raleigh
• Brian Regan, DPAC, Durham
• The Magnetic Fields, A.J. Fletcher Opera Theater at Duke Energy Center for the Performing Arts, Raleigh
• Jerry Cantrell, The Ritz, Raleigh
• Kountry Wayne: Straight Out The Mud Tour, Carolina Theatre, Durham
• Gershwin Piano Concerto, Meymandi Concert Hall at Duke Energy Center for the Performing Arts, Raleigh
• Spring Fling Festival, Knightdale Station Park, Knightdale
• Marvel's 'Morbius' Premiere, Triangle Drive-in, Raleigh
• SOLE Defined, Wake Forest Renaissance Centre for the Arts, Wake Forest
• Historic Homes Tour - Zebulon, Various Locations, Zebulon
• "Blending Over Backwards" - Whiskey Tour & Tasting, Olde Raleigh Distillery, Zebulon
• USA Baseball National High School Invitational, USA Baseball National Training Complex, Cary
• Spring Hootenanny & Foodie Festival presented by Cheerwine, Phillips Farms, Cary
• Genesis Owusu, Motorco Music Hall, Durham
• Duke University Wind Symphony: Gala Concert, Baldwin Auditorium, Durham
• Addy's Birthday: A Children's Tour of Historic Stagville, Stagville State Historic Site, Durham
• 35th annual Egg Hunt, West Point on the Eno, Durham
• NC MLK Black History Month Parade & Block Party, From W.G. Pearson Elementary School to NCCU, Durham
• Little River Community Complex Fair, Durham County Memorial Stadium, Durham
• Queer Agenda Dance Party, The Pinhook, Durham
• Paranormal Cirque Raleigh, International Foods, Raleigh

​
SUNDAY

• NHL Carolina Hurricanes vs. Anaheim Ducks, PNC Arena, Raleigh
• Cary Downtown Chowdown, Downtown, Cary
• Historic Oakwood 33rd Annual Garden Tour, Historic Oakwood - Check In at the Tucker House, Raleigh
• Opening Weekend - Carolina Mudcats vs. Down East Wood Ducks, Five County Stadium, Zebulon
• Historic Homes Tour - Zebulon, Various Locations, Zebulon
• The Magnetic Fields, A.J. Fletcher Opera Theater at Duke Energy Center for the Performing Arts, Raleigh
• Launch of Geek and Grub Market, Mordecai Historic Park, Raleigh
• Chris Renzema, Lincoln Theatre, Raleigh
• New Hope Valley Railway - Hop Into Spring train rides, The North Carolina Railway Museum, Apex
• Little River Community Complex Fair, Durham County Memorial Stadium, Durham
• Mallarme Series Concert - Invisible Ritual, Sharp 9 Gallery, Durham
• Top Gun Airsoft Tournament, Xtreme Park Adventures, Durham

​
Join the Thingstodo919 email list here for a weekly events newsletter. Doing anything interesting this weekend? Let us know your plans in the comments!

As always, feel free to add events I may have missed in the comments. It’s also awesome to hear from folks who have attended these events and how they were.
There's tons of holiday stuff here, but don't give up hope if you aren't into Christmas. The weekday listings have some fun stuff that's not all about Santa and such.
Scroll to the bottom for links to other Things to Do lists and a link to my Reddit profile.
Have a great week, y’all!

Weekend & Multi-day Events

Dec 6 -20 HOLIDAY HOPE Adoption Event Dallas Animal Services
Dec 9-12 Dallas Symphony Christmas Pops Meyerson Symphony Center
Dec 9 -12 Ella’s Swinging Christmas Water Tower Theater
Dec 8 -12 NTPA Presents Scrooge, the Musical Courtyard Theatre, Plano
Dec 9 -10 AMOC AiR Very Good Dance Theatre Experiential Dance Arts Mission Oak Cliff
Dec 10-12 BMW Dallas Marathon Festival Downtown Dallas
Dec 10-12 Uptown Players Oy Vey in a Manger Kalita Humphreys Theater
Dec 10-11 Tim Gaither at Hyena’s Dallas
Dec 10-11 Jaston Williams in "Blood and Holly" Isis Theatre, Fort Worth

Holiday Things to Do

12 Beers of Christmas through Dec 24 at Cedar Creek Brewhouse & Eatery, Farmers Branch
Holiday at the Arboretum through Dec 31 at Dallas Arboretum
The Trains at Northpark through Jan 2 at NorthPark Center
Santaland (thru Dec 24) and SnowDay Dallas through Jan 17 at Dallas Galleria
Enchant Christmas through Jan 2 at Fair Park
Zoo Lights through Jan 2 at Dallas Zoo
Peppermint Park/North Pole, Texas weekends through Dec 24 at Hilton Anatole
Vitruvian Lights through Jan 2 at Vitruvian Park, Addison
Lights on the Farm through Dec 26 at Heritage Farmstead, Plano
The Light Park through Jan 2 at Lone Star Park, Grand Prairie
Prairie Lights through Dec 31 at Lynn Creek Park/Joe Pool Lake, Grand Prairie
Super American Christmas Circus through Jan 2 at Traders Village, Grand Prairie
Holiday in the Park through Jan 2 at Six Flags Over Texas
The Elf on the Shelf’s Magical Holiday Journey through Jan 2 at Choctaw Stadium, Arlington
Texas Christkindl Market through Jan 2 at Choctaw Stadium
Cowboys Christmas Extravaganza through Dec 18 at The Star, Frisco
Radiance! Light Show + Frozen through Jan 1 at Riders Field, Frisco
Gift of Lights through Jan 2 at Texas Motor Speedway
Christmas Capital of Texas through Jan 6 in Grapevine
Nashville Christmas Show at Reid Cabaret Theatre (Casa Mañana), Fort Worth
Holiday Cocktail/Food Pop-Ups in my Dallas Observer article

Local Exhibits

Chanukah Menorah-Mural and Celebration through Dec 6 at Klyde Warren Park
Bark + Build Pet Houses through Dec 6 at NorthPark Center
Trey Burns “Recent Landscapes” through Dec 18 at ex OVO Gallery
The Faith & Grief Memorial Arch through Dec 19 at Klyde Warren Park
Pets, People, and Places through Dec 31 at Heard-Craig Center for the Arts, McKinney
It's SEW Mckinney through Dec 31 at Heard-Craig Center for the Arts, McKinney
The Book Smugglers through Jan 2 at Holocaust and Human Rights Museum
Carolyn Brown and Palmyra: An Ancient City Through the Lens through Jan 2 at Crow Museum of Asian Art
Jurassic World: The Exhibition through Jan 2 at Grandscape (The Colony)
Carol Bove: Collage Sculptures through Jan 9 at the Nasher Sculpture Center
Ageless Passion Dec 4-Jan 29, 2022 at the Bathhouse Cultural Center
An Eye for Elegance: Carrie Marcus Neiman through Jan 28 at Fondren Library, SMU
Marian Ichaso Lefeld: Tierra de Gracia through Feb 2022 at the Latino Cultural Center
David Yarrow “Changing Lanes” through Feb 2022 at Samuel Lynne Galleries
Sepia: Past. Pride. Power. through Feb 2022 at the African American Museum
Patty Carroll “Anonymous Women: Domestic Demise” through Feb 2022 at Photos Do Not Bend Gallery
Van Gogh and the Olive Groves through Feb 2022 at Dallas Museum of Art
Larry Akers Geomekinetica through March 2022 at The Museum of Geometric and MADI Art
"Towers of Tomorrow with LEGO® Bricks" through April 2022 at The Perot Museum of Nature and Science
Focus: Jamal Cyrus through June 2022 at The Modern, Fort Worth

Local Theatre

Sweetpea through Dec 11 Second Thought Theater
Keith and Margo’s Slay Ride Mystery Dinner Theater through Dec 18 Old Mill Inn
Christmas Belles by Company of Rowlett Performers Dec 10-18 Plaza Theatre, Garland
It's a Wonderful Life through Dec 19 Theatre Coppell at Coppell Arts Center
Ebenezer Scrooge through Dec 23 Pocket Sandwich Theatre
A Christmas Carol through Dec 26 Wyly Theatre
A Bur-Less-Q Nutcracker through Dec 26 Studio Theatre, Addison
Elf, the Musical (Firehouse Theatre) Dec 1-12 The Sound at Cypress Waters
Black Nativity Dec 2-18 Bishop Arts Theatre Center
Inspecting Carol Dec 3-19 Richardson Theatre Centre
The Trial of Ebenezer Scrooge Dec 3-19 The Core Theatre,Richardso
Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer through Dec 30 Casa Mañana, Fort Worth

Daily Things to Do - Dec. 6-12

Monday, 12/6
Final Night of Hanukkah
Dallas Stars vs. Arizona Coyotes at American Airlines Center
Cassie’s Freakmas Onesie Party at JR’s Bar and Grill
Ricky Montgomery at House of Blues
Monday Beers With the Brewer at Westlake Brewing
Industry Night at Roy G’s
Kamikaze Karaoke at The Forum/BRIZO, Richardson
'Tis The Season with the Plano Civic Chorus at St. Thomas Aquinas Catholic Church, Plano
Winterfest: Flutasia Flute Choir at Valley Ranch Library, Irving
Tuesday, 12/7
Dallas Mavericks vs. Brooklyn Nets at American Airlines Center
WRR Caroling in the Arts District with the Turtle Creek Chorale at Moody Performance Hall
M-Line Trolley Holiday Express (and on 4 additional dates) at theTurntable at Uptown Station
Best New Restaurants 10-Course Dinner at On The Levee
The Brummies w/ Vlad Holiday at Three Links
Phat Tuesday at Bitter End
Book Club: BEWILDERMENT by Richard Powers at Interabang Books
FiberFrolic at Dallas Makerspace, Carrollton
Lord of the Rings Trivia Night at Legacy Hall Box Garden, Plano
Scotch Tasting at Kirby’s Southlake
Wednesday, 12/8
Painting With a View with Klarity & Khaos at Reunion Tower
Redemption & All Time Favs Improv Show at Dallas Comedy Club
Cory Wells w/ Born Without Bones at Ruins
Rosegarden Funeral Party Album Release at Granada Theater
Inner Moonlight: Shug Avery Poetry Reading at the Wild Detectives
Santa Paws Photos with Santa at Galleria Dallas
Elf Movie Night at the Box Garden at Legacy Hall
Jingle Dwell Holiday Party at Dwell with Dignity
Six Springs Shoot Out: Robot Bonfire vs. Backhand Sally at Six Springs Tavern, Richardson
Yappy Hour at Westin Dallas Stonebriar Golf Resort & Spa, Frisco (Facebook link)
Ladies Night at Third Rail at Harvest Hall, Grapevine
Christmas with the Beatles featuring Abbey Road at Arlington Music Hall, Arlington
Thursday, 12/9
Lindsay Buckingham at the Majestic Theatre
Jinjer: Coming to America Tour at House of Blues
Indoor Climbing Happy Hour at OSO Climbing Gym
W.E. Greiner Mariachi Los Unicos at Dallas Galleria
Texas Traditions Art Exhibition & Auction Benefiting AIR4arts at 1st United Bank Dallas Uptown
Nick Colletti at Improv Addison
Dallas Symphony Orchestra Trombone Quartet at The Boardwalk at Granite Park, Plano
Ugly Sweater Contest for Dogs + Dog Adoptions at Ginger Man Las Colinas, Irving
Read Southall Band at Lava Cantina The Colony
The Texas Tenors: Deep in the Heart Of Christmas (2 shows) at Arlington Music Hall
Opening Reception Wish You Were Here at Artspace 111, Fort Worth
Elvis' Rockin Christmas Show at Ridglea Theater
Friday, 12/10
Today is National Lager Day. Raise a glass at your favorite local brewer.
Holiday Movie Series: The Grinch at ArtPark (Instagram link)
Virtual Talk: The Transformative Power of Art at Dallas Museum of Art
Dallas Margarita Society Winter Wonderland Pub Crawl at American Flatbread
Uptown Night Market at McKinney & Olive
Quaker City Night Hawks at Granada Theater
All Young Dolph Everything "A Celebration Of His Music" at Trees
Nicky Romero at Stereo Live Dallas
DEMONS 35mm + Kombat // Imperial Slaughter // Behind the Screen at Texas Theatre
Tony Shhnow Live at CREATORS DONT DIE Gallery
Songwriters Round (Nashville style) at Opening Bell Coffee
Cracked Carols & Other Holiday Buffoonery at Stomping Ground Comedy Theater
BAILE FUNK (Brazilian Night) at Club VIVO
Beatles Tribute: Hard Night's Day at Legacy Hall, Plano
Chad Costa at Granite Park, Plano
Charley Crockett at Billy Bob’s Texas, Fort Worth
Saturday, 12/11
The Boho Market at Klyde Warren Park and at Toyota Music Factory
Movies in the Park: The Polar Express at Klyde Warren Park
Academy Espresso Nutcracker (in person and On demand streaming) at the Majestic Theatre
Build a Giant Gingerbread Village at J. Erik Jonsson Central Library
Cookies & Castles (Drive Thru Style) at Scottish Rite for Children
Turtle Creek Chorale Holiday Highlights at NorthPark Center
Trans-Siberian Orchestra (2 shows) at American Airlines Center
The Teddy Bear Party at the Echo Lounge & Music Hall
Honky Tonk Holiday Brunch at Lochland’s
Honey Dijon at It'll Do Club
Mocky Horror Picture Show: Reefer Madness at Dallas Comedy Club
Camp Out Beat Battle Championship at Club Dada
She And Him Christmas at McFarlin Auditorium
Nightmare Weekends Before Christmas at the Texas Triffid Ranch
Sip and Throw Pottery Lesson at Jump Into Art Studios, McKinney
Chelsea Handler at The Pavilion at Toyota Music Factory, Irving
Nutcracker in a Nutshell with North Central Ballet at Third Rail in Harvest Hall, Grapevine
Merry & Bright Christmas Drone Show at Harvest Hall - Peace Plaza, Grapevine
Asleep at the Wheel at Arlington Music Hall, Arlington
Mariachi Christmas at Artes de la Rosa - Cultural Center, Fort Worth
Sunday, 12/12
Dallas Cowboys vs. Washington Football Team at FedExField, Landover, MD
Posada at the Latino Cultural Center
Upside Down Cocoa at Commons Club, Virgin Hotels Dallas
Home Free at the Majestic Theatre
Neal Francis with special guest Kalu & The Electric Joint at The Kessler
Home Alone with Live Q/A with Devon Ratray aka "Buzz " at Texas Theatre
Jeff Rosenstock at Trees
22nd Annual Christmas Stocking Auction at the Round-Up Saloon
Intro to Improv Free In-Person Drop-In Class at Stomping Ground Comedy Theater
Bruce Robison & Kelly Willis Holiday Shindig at Lewisville Grand Theater, Lewisville

Other Things to Do Lists

Plan Your Week from Dallas Voice, The Premier Media Source for LGBT Texas
Do214 Top Picks
CultureMap Dallas Calendar
This Week’s Beer Events from BeerInBigD.com
Dallas News Events (This page is not paywalled.)

Link to My Profile

Let's go:
knightNight Era of Miracles – role-playing game. Rabbit's Quest is a metroidvania with a retro aesthetic. The path to domination is a role-playing game shapemania Deadmans Landing- point and click adventure There Was A Dream is an exploration and survival game Stink Train- puzzle game Strikers & Defenders is a fun soccer game made to play locally orbital-paladin-melchior-Y --shooting action and story-driven visual novel Elemental Warlord is Offline RPG game. Everybody Got Mad is a competitive (local) two player game 'Error#54' - first person indie horror game in P.T Alcarys Complex
. Village-Vampire-Feast - Action, Survival Explobers shadow-wrangler expandoscape roguescape ungrateful-birds chakravyuh iridescent-crown poly-vill lifelessgalaxy badlands horror-hotel-2 golden-quest golden-quest-2 street-football magma-and-ashes invasion-versus the-town-of-kheta Yappi Door Firefight! The Big Ol' MansterSoft Holiday Sale of 2019 Thanks : j_lusk

 Happy holidays and a happy New Year! 

Itch December Sales.

• Update (Dec 30 00:06H): ^{[Deadmans Landing](https://mojogameworx.itch.io/deadmans-landing}.)
• Update (Dec 31 19:45H): Post closed. Thanks for visiting my post :D

PS: Post will be marked as expired on Jan 1st

NEW (claimable)

Name and Author	OS	Sale End UTC+1	Sale page
Jam and the Mystery of the Mysteriously Spooky Mansion by Ray Clark	Windows - Linux - macOS	December 22nd at 08:59H	Holiday Sale
Paper Street by Ghetto Games	Windows - macOS	December 23rd at 00:00H	It's Free !!!!
Escape The Challenge by Voidkiller Studios	Windows	December 25th at 22:59H	Our Christmas gift to you!
void.Resign by avarisclari	Windows - Linux	December 26th at 06:00H	Noel's Birthday
Christmas Time by avarisclari	Windows - Linux	December 26th at 06:00H	Noel's Birthday
Sineful by BlastocyteLabs	Windows	December 26th at 07:00H	Merry Christmas! Here's a free game!
A Frog Took My Sister by Surreptitious Games	Windows	December 31st at 07:00H	Tis The Season Sale!
agamewhereyouplayasamidwestamerican by Rudyon	Windows	December 31st at 22:00H	Christmas Sale
The Lonly Wall by Samuel Solomon	January 1st at 07:59H	Holiday Sale
[SIBERIA] by MissingTech	Windows - Linux - macOS	January 1st at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
[Claim it in the sale page] Shmupper by Volodumyr Chaikovskyi	Windows	January 1st at 23:00H	Itch.io Winter Sale
Era of Miracles by SmoLife	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
The path to domination by SmoLife	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Elemental Warlord by NeiDneX	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Frog Fable Remastered by 23turtles	Windows - Linux - macOS	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
PineapplePainter by SpaghettiLord1010	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Darkness Rising by IMPULSE SLY	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Golden Quest by Infocom	Linux	January 2nd at 19:00H	Infocom Holiday Sale 2019
Golden Quest 2 by Infocom	Linux	January 2nd at 19:00H	Infocom Holiday Sale 2019
Firefight! by Megalithic Mainframe	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Stink Train by Sushi Mouse Software	Windows - Linux - macOS - Android	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Crush Square by RG Corporation	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
tdasp - the DuncanArt shooter project by nyarlathotep198	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale
the town of Kheta by nyarlathotep198	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale
Dash 'em (early access) by D.T.6	Windows - Linux - macOS	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale
EleJump by Timo Koesters	Windows - Linux - Android	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale
Horror Hotel 3 by GameDevMkss	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Horror Hotel 2 & 3 Holiday Sale 2019
Blade Master of Mibu by Sushi Mouse Software	Windows - Linux - macOS - Android	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale
Mars Conqueror by phstsoftware	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Christmas Sale
don't fall out of the platform! by phstsoftware	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Christmas Sale
Journey To Planet Earth by BBLOCK Interactive	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Launch Gift
1v1 cube game by adirgamedev	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale
J-N2 Chaos by Evepto	Windows - Linux - macOS	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Change the World: Dream by Rhemery	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Deadmans Landing by MojoGameworx	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Free Holiday Sale
Shapes & Beats by Unity Ninja	Windows	January 17th at 00:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Spear Throwing Challange by Unity Ninja	Windows	February 23rd at 00:00H	Holiday Sale 2019

REPOST (claimable)

Name and Author	OS	Sale End UTC+1	Sale page
Tile Prison by dartkis	Windows	December 25th 08:59H	Black Friday 2019
[Language: Portuguese] Ações de Negócios by RafaVico Roscoe	Unknown OS	December 26th at 00:00H	Promoção de lançamento
Project Billy by HYBRID	Windows	December 27th at 01:00H	Unity Sandbox
Algorithm Sandbox by HYBRID	Windows	December 27th at 01:00H	Unity Sandbox
Ball Game - platform Game by ido170306	Windows	December 29th at 08:59H	Black Friday 2019 (Full Month + Free All)
Bird Strike for Android by Schuler	Android	December 30th at 09:01H	Holidays 2019
Orange Explorer - classic retro puzzle platformer by HauresB	Windows - Linux - macOS - Browser	December 30th at 22:00H	Sale
child Dream Demo by Domo.o	Windows	December 30th at 22:00H	to Help me buy better laptop​
7levels boy by Domo.o	Windows - Android	December 30th at 22:00H	to Help me buy better laptop​
[NSFW +18] https://chrome-cloak-games.itch.io/innocent-unjust by Chrome Cloak Games	Windows	December 31st at 06:00H	Happy Holidays!
Gyossait Deluxe Edition by Amon Twentysix	Windows	December 31st at 06:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
CandyZoo 2 Electric Boogaloo by Amon Twentysix	Windows	December 31st at 06:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Everybody Got Mad! by Amon Twentysix	Windows	December 31st at 06:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Mud Slinger by Amon Twentysix	Windows	December 31st at 06:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
WilliU: The Big GetBack by Amon Twentysix	Windows - macOS	December 31st at 06:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Slap the Baldy: Executive Edition by Sushi Mouse Software	Windows - Linux - macOS - Android	December 31st at 16:00H	Free Slap the Baldy Executive Edition for limited time
Chakravyuh by Terradarc	Windows	December 31st at 19:30H	100% OFF Promo Sale for Mobile Launch 2020!!!
Shadowcut by SteliosWinters	Windows	December 31st at 23:00H	Early Chrismas Present! :)
Death, Love & Carrots by Thraxx Media	Windows	December 31st at 23:59H	Christmas Bunny Gift Galore
HubWorld by jeremyulrich	Unknown OS	January 1st at 06:00H	Holiday Sale
Roguescape by MissingTech	Windows - Linux - macOS	January 1st at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Halloween Night by felipehunter	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Turret Defense by Tetra	Windows - Linux - macOS - Android	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Cosmic Zephyr by Dylan Franks	Windows - Android	January 2nd at 19:00H	Final sale of the decade!
Iridescent Crown by Dylan Franks	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Final sale of the decade!
WINGFIGHTERZ by pfaber11	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Sphere Hunt by pfaber11	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
XFIGHTERZ by pfaber11	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
The Awesome Maze Game by pfaber11	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Attack By Air 2 by pfaber11	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Attack By Air 2 Android Edition by pfaber11	Android	January 2nd at 19:00H
The Awesome Maze Game Android Edition by pfaber11	Android	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
The Awesome Maze Game 2 by pfaber11	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
The Awesome Maze Game 2 Android Edition by pfaber11	Android	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
SUPER Cute Alien · Prologue · by SETENTIA Studios	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Runoveryou by sangress	Windows - Linux	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
There Was A Dream by Keydare Project	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	There Was A Drem - Holiday Sale 2019 - 100% OFF 🎁
KnightNight by endline;	Unknown OS	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Yappi Door by endline;	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Cactu's Odyssey by felipehunter	WIndows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
help mr beast plant trees #teamtree by adirgamedev	Unknown OS	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Those Spacecrafts by DaGammla	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Parody Windows OS by SmSholom	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Poly Vill by SmSholom	Windows - Linux - macOS	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Rule The World in Peace English & German by SpaghettiLord1010	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Multiplayer MegaClicker by SpaghettiLord1010	Android	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Retro Launcher by SpaghettiLord1010	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Buckler 2 by aplovestudio	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
The Flight of Silent Bob by max levine stuff	macOS	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Hungry Hippo in the Water by max levine stuff	macOS	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Giant Stomp by max levine stuff	Windows - Linux - macOS	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Inertia by max levine stuff	Windows - Linux - macOS	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Side Shooter by max levine stuff	Windows - Linux - macOS	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Zombie Apocalypse by max levine stuff	macOS	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Chaotic Ascent by max levine stuff	macOS	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Swarm Saucers by max levine stuff	Windows - Linux - macOS	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
The Burning Locks by max levine stuff	Unknown OS - Browser game	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
BEAT THE MOLE 3D by Sujatro Games	Windows - Android	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Strikers & Defenders by Claudio Vertemara	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Badlands by pogy	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Error#54 by Akhilya	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Cosmic Card Chaos by CrashDumpSoftware	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Shapemania by CrashDumpSoftware	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Slender's cow by CheerfulShark	Windows - Linux - macOS	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
True Street Football by CheerfulShark	Windows - Linux - macOS	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
SuperLuminauts by LampFire	Windows - macOS	January 2nd at 19:00H	SuperHOLIDAYnauts... you get the point
Jump Square by RG Corporation	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
The Shadows of Candy by Sarngond	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale
Magma and Ashes by Sarngond	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale
Purpy by D.T.6	Linux - macOS	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale
Lifeless Galaxy by doubleden	Windows - Linux - macOS	January 2nd at 19:00H	Lifeless Galaxy 100% sale
Horror Hotel 2 by GameDevMkss	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Horror Hotel 2 & 3 Holiday Sale 2019
Rabbit's Quest by directshift	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Rabbitty Sale
Hyperdrive Hunter by Dylan Raley	Windows - macOS	January 4th at 09:00H	Christmas + New Year 2019
Shapes & Beats by Unity Ninja	Windows	February 23rd at 00:00H	Holiday Sale 2019

DOWNLOAD ONLY

Name and Author	OS	Sale End UTC+1	Sale page
Etesia III by Galoxyum	Windows	December 31st at 23:59H	Sale page
Earth Invasion! by Digital Meltdown	Windows	January 2nd at 08:00H	Earth Invasion is Free for the Holidays!

ASSETS & OTHERS (claimable)

Name and Author	Description	Sale End UTC+1	Sale page
This Title in no way Denotes the Quality of the Writing in the Short Stories Contained Herein: A Collective by avarisclari	A collection of stories.	December 26th at 06:00H	Noel's Birthday
Graceless Creature- by avarisclari	Some random songs I composed.	December 26th at 06:00H	Noel's Birthday
Chibi Heros - Warrior pack by didigameboy	6 animations with and without his sword.	December 31st at 04:00H	Chibi Heroes
Chibi Heroes - Archer by didigameboy	The second of a 6 heros party with 6 animations.	December 31st at 04:00H	Chibi Heroes
Chibi Heros - Thief by didigameboy	The third of a 6 heros party with 6 animations.	December 31st at 04:00H	Chibi Heroes
RETRO CHIPTUNE SOUNDPACK by SpaghettiLord1010	A pack of songs that can be used in commercial/personal projects crediting the author.	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Crazey Fonts by SpaghettiLord1010	A pack of fonts that can be used in your projects.	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Classical Remixes by SpaghettiLord1010	Remixes of classic music with some POWER.	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019
Fantasy Music Free for use by nyarlathotep198	This is a collection from over 15 (allmost all loopable) pieces of epic fantasy music, some synthi-sci-fi / action songs and two metal songs with lyrics.	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale
RFM FOR ANDROID by phstsoftware	Listen the number 1 radio in Portugal.	January 2nd at 19:00H	Christmas Sale

UNKNOWN

Name and Author	OS	Sale End UTC+1	Sale page
Cool Adventure. by dartkis	Browser game	December 25th 08:59H	Black Friday 2019
Twitch Plays: Snail Race (interactive overlay) by Room_001 - erohz	Windows	January 2nd at 19:00H	Holiday Sale 2019

• Cool Adventure: Browser game that cannot be claimed or downloaded.
• Snail Race: Is a chat interactive game where viewers get to race against each other... as snails! Each viewer will earn points by playing and winning races, allowing them to unlock skins for their snail.

Log

Dec 21: * Expired before ending date, sale modifier changed to -66%: Vr İsland Game - Android, Head Ball and Zombie Attack Demo by kadirmertyildiz
Dec 24: * Expired before ending date, sale modifier changed to -80%: Shmupper by Volodumyr Chaikovskyi * Expired before ending date, sale modifier changed to -50%: Purpy and Dash 'em (early access) by D.T.6
Dec 26: * Sale extended (From Dec 26 01:00H to Jan 2nd 19:00H): Mars Conqueror, don't fall out of the platform! and RFM FOR ANDROID by phstsoftware * Again on sale (previously author changed the sale to -50%) (author name change from D.T.6 to Dima): Purpy and Dash 'em (early access) by Dima.
Dec 29: * Now claimable (credits to **DwampreScorrigank for the finding): Change the World: Dream

Changes

• Happy holidays/Merry Christmas/Happy New Year!
• Thanks to u/peanutbutterapple12 for the heads-up.
• Thanks to u/kai_okami for the heads-up.
• Thanks to u/nemtudom_istenem for the heads-up, ^{Sorry. I'm too lazy to change them to NEW. Modification denied}
• Thanks to u/j_lusk for the heads-up.
• Update (Dec 21 00:31H): ^{[Paper Street](https://ghetto-conspiracy.itch.io/paper-street}, [SIBERIA], Stink Train, Crush Square, Slender's cow, True Street Football, SuperLuminauts, Jump Square.)
• Update (Dec 21 20:43H): ^{[tdasp - the DuncanArt shooter project](https://nyarlathotep198.itch.io/tdasp}, the town of Kheta, Dash 'em (early access), Jam and the Mystery of the Mysteriously Spooky Mansion, The Shadows of Candy, Magma and Ashes, Purpy, Fantasy Music Free for use.)
• Update (Dec 22 22:54H): ^{[Shmupper](https://ci8.itch.io/shmupper}, Lifeless Galaxy, Cool Adventure., Tile Prison.)
• Thanks to u/j_lusk for the finding.
• Update (Dec 23 23:45H): ^{[Project Billy](https://hybrid.itch.io/project-billy-pre-alpha}, Algorithm Sandbox, Hyperdrive Hunter, EleJump.)
• Update (Dec 25 00:37H): ^{[Escape The Challenge](https://voidkiller.itch.io/escape-the-challenge}.)
• Update (Dec 25 02:17H) (Credits to u/j_lusk for the finding): ^{[Shapes & Beats](https://unity-ninja.itch.io/shape-and-beats}, Gyossait Deluxe Edition, CandyZoo 2 Electric Boogaloo, Everybody Got Mad!, Mud Slinger, WilliU: The Big GetBack.)
• Update (Dec 26 00:20H) (Credits to Darival for the finding): ^{[Spear Throwing Challange](https://unity-ninja.itch.io/spear-throwing-challange}, Horror Hotel 3, Mars Conqueror, don't fall out of the platform!, Sineful, Blade Master of Mibu, void.Resign, Christmas Time, Shapes & Beats, Horror Hotel 2, RFM FOR ANDROID, This Title in no way Denotes the Quality of the Writing in the Short Stories Contained Herein: A Collective, Graceless Creature-.)
• Update (Dec 26 00:20H) (Credits to u/j_lusk for the finding): ^{[Blade Master of Mibu](https://sushimouse.itch.io/blade-master-of-mibu}, Rabbit's Quest.)
• Update (Dec 26 23:54H) (Credits to Darival for the finding): ^{[agamewhereyouplayasamidwestamerican](https://rudyon.itch.io/agamewhereyouplayasamidwestamerican}, The Lonly Wall.)
• Update (Dec 27 23:54H) (Credits to Darival for the finding): ^{[Journey To Planet Earth](https://bblock-interactive.itch.io/journey-to-planet-earth}, 1v1 cube game.)
• Thanks to u/DwampreScorrigank for the heads-up.
• Update (Dec 29 23:57H): ^{[J-N2 Chaos](https://evepto.itch.io/thanko}.)
• Update (Dec 30 00:06H): ^{[Deadmans Landing](https://mojogameworx.itch.io/deadmans-landing}.)
• Update (Dec 31 19:45H): Post closed. Thanks for visiting my post :D

**All weekend (Fri 11/15 - Sun 11/17)*\*
Orlando Balloon Glow 2019; Blue Jacket Park, 2501 General Reese Ave, Orlando, Florida 32789; Hot air balloons glowing at dusk with tethered rides available subject to suitable weather conditions! Food vendors, retail vendors and activities for the kids! (**Ticket info and FAQ here*\*)
**Fri 11/15*\*
6p - 11p: Ride-In Movie Night Mission: Impossible; Standard M/C, 2545 Industrial Blvd, Orlando, Florida 32804; STANDARD M/C and EuroCycles Orlando are teaming up to do the "impossible" on Friday November 15th. Ride In Movie night takes place at STANDARD M/C, and this time we're screening Mission: Impossible -- Fallout. Where the bad guys are on Triumphs and the good guys are on BMWs. Classic. Anyway, ride on in for good times including free food to the first 30 attendees thanks to Mission Taco! See ya there, screening starts when the sun goes down (between 7-8pm).
7p - 9p: Do Good Date Night at United Against Poverty; United Against Poverty Orlando, 150 W Michigan St, Orlando, Florida 32806; Join us for our last Do Good Date Night of 2019 with our new partner, United Against Poverty. We'll enjoy dinner together (provided by Tony Roma's!!) plus wine and beer. Then we will spend about 90 minutes working together on various projects inside UAP's grocery store. Can't wait to see you there!
ABOUT UNITED AGAINST POVERY
To serve those in poverty by providing crisis care, case management, transformative education, food and household subsidy, employment training and placement, personal empowerment training and active referrals to other collaborative social service providers. https://unitedagainstpoverty.org/about-us/
7p - 9p: Free Movie - The Angry Birds 2; Reiter Park, 311 Warren Ave, Longwood, Florida 32750; -FREE Movie in Reiter Park (311 W Warren Ave , Longwood FL 32750) -Friday November 15th -Movie starts at 7:00 pm -Bring a lawn chair or blanket -The feature movie will be ( The Angry Birds 2 )
7p - 10p: LUVU ♡ Friday Night Party at Boxi Park; Boxi Park Lake Nona, 6877 Tavistock Lakes Blvd, Orlando, FL 32827; Coming to Boxi Park, LUVU (pronounced “Love-You”) is a young and dynamic variety band specializing in Pop, EDM, RnB, Rock, Reggae and Jazz. Addicted to delivering top-notch and memorable performances, LUVU concocts exciting fast-paced dance mixes that are guaranteed to flood the Boxi Park dance floor.
7p - 11p: BATL Orlando Grand Opening & Free Axe Throwing; BATL - Backyard Axe Throwing League (BATL Orlando), 55 W Church St Suite 113, Orlando, Florida 32801; Join us for our official Grand Opening party at BATL Orlando! Experience an exclusive night of FREE axe throwing, a ribbon-cutting ceremony, food & drinks, and a chance to win great prizes!
**Sat 11/16*\*
9a - 7p: 9th Annual Altamonte Art, Craft, & Wine Festival; Cranes Roost Park, 274 Cranes Roost Blvd, Altamonte Springs, Florida 32701; holiday shopping, live entertainment, 150+ talented artists and crafters, fun for everyone. Chili Cook Off: Sat, 16th, 11a - 1p. VIP Dinner, Sat, 16th, 5:30p - 8p. Wine Stroll, 4p - 7p: Enjoy your choice of different wines from around the world (Tickets: $25 adv, $30 door) All profits go to charity
11a - 2p: Dog Day Afternoon Pawrty; Thornton Park District, 608 E Central Blvd, Orlando, Florida 32801; A fundraiser for the Constitutional Green Dog Run! Our Team is working with City Staff on purchasing some fun play equipment for the Dog Park.
2p - 5p: Orlando Beer Festival 2019; Orlando Festival Park, 2911 East Robinson Street, Orlando, Florida 32803; BIGGER. BADDER. BOOZIER.
The 5th Annual Orlando Beer Festival is the largest craft beer festival in Orlando, pouring 200+ craft beers from over 50 local, regional and national breweries. Orlando Beer Festival is more than just beer. #OBF5 features a Maxine's on Shine wine zone with hard seltzers too, Tasty Takeover food trucks, interactive games, football streaming, live wrestling, live music on stage from Wilted Chilis, Victims of Circumstance, JUNOsmile, DJ ET & emceed by Joseph Martens & Pinkman of Real Radio 104.1's Sunday Morning Coming Down Show, a HUGE VIP Zone with a Jameson Irish Whiskey Caskmates & Vida de Louie Tequila tasting, local vendors & much more! Bring your four-legged friends along too, there's a big Dog Zone full of fun for them to enjoy!
VIP (EARLY ENTRY AT 12:30 PM) includes: - Noon entrance (1.5 hour early entry) - Designated VIP zone with shaded seating & private restrooms - A craft cocktail experience - Complementary lite bites - Commemorative beer glass- Orlando Beer Festival t-shirt - VIP lanyard- Parking - PLUS, all the benefits of GA!
General Admission (ENTRY AT 2:00 PM) includes:- Entry into the Orlando Beer Festival - Orlando Beer Festival sample cup - Access to over 200 beers to sample- Access to the Wine Tasting Experience- Access to The Food Truck Court, with 10 delicious area Food Trucks- Access to the GameZone with interactive inflatables and College Football games shown on the big screen- Live Music
Designated Driver ticket includes: - Access to the festival - DD's can enter the VIP zone as long as they are accompanied by a VIP ticket holder.
Visit orlandobeerfestival.com for tickets & more info! A PORTION OF THE TICKET PROCEEDS SUPPORT THE Central Florida Brewers Guild!
3p - 9p: UCF Day of Cosplay; UCF Student Union, 12715 Pegasus Drive, Orlando, Florida 32816; Celebrate the art of cosplay with this free, half day event full of expert panels, workshops, photoshoots, and more! -Cosplay Contest - Prizes for: 1st - 3rd best overall, Best craftsmanship, Best posing, Best amateur, Best Group, 1st overall wins a Nintendo Switch! 2nd, 3rd, and best Amateur wins 3-day passes to Holiday Matsuri. To enter, http://tiny.cc/cosplaycontest
6p - 10p: Paws & Pints; Fun Spot America, 5700 Fun Spot Way, Orlando, Florida 32819; Admission to this event is free and as always, parking is free! Come enjoy local vendors, artists, food and more as you sip on some beer! Bring your pups! Hosted by Fun Spot and Pet Alliance of Greater Orlando
7p - 10:30p: Ugly Sweater Holiday Party; Orlando Museum of Art, 2416 N. Mills Ave., Orlando, FL 32803; Invite your friends and dress up in your Ugly Holiday Attire to enjoy Beverage Tastings, Food, DJ Music, Games, Karaoke and Photo Booth. Best of the Holiday Spirits from Drinking Around the Festival of Trees. Grand Prizes for the Ugliest Christmas Sweaters or Outfits; lots of categories. Tickets: $30 pp. Parking: $7 valet, $5 self parking. Third Annual Ugly Holiday Sweater Party - 350+ Guests - $1000+ in Grand prizes for the Ugliest, Most Adorable, Best Couple, Best Group and many more categories. In 2018, raised $8,000+ for the Orlando Museum of Art Education Programs.
8p - ???: The Purple Madness: Prince Tribute; Tin Roof Orlando, 8371 International Dr, Ste 100, Orlando, Florida 32819; The “Purple Madness” is the ultimate celebration of the most widely beloved entertainer and profoundly influential artist of all-time, Prince! Purple Madness is America's #1 Prince Experience. All ages. $15-$18 Tickets
9p - 1a: A Musical Tribute to Paul Simon; Will's Pub, 1042 N Mills Ave, Orlando, Florida 32803; On Saturday, November 16th, a collection of Central Florida's musicians will be performing selected works and arrangements by Paul Simon at Will's Pub. Join us for a hefty setlist celebrating the breadth of this music. Doors Open: 9pm. Advanced tix: $10. Day of Show: $15. Ages 21 and up.
Our featured performers: * Patrick Moreno - keyboards * Derek Engstrom - drums/voice * Christian Ryan - woodwinds * Jen Peacock Ryan - trumpet * Billy Meether - woodwinds * Matthew Tonner - Guitavoice * Matt Lapham - bass * Chuck Magid - guitar * David Ernesto - bass/percussion/voice
We're also fortunate to have an hour of music by Beemo start the night off right. Looking forward to seeing you all there.
10p - 12a: Ultimate Dance Party Tour with Latitude 28 Band - Church St, FL; Harry Buffalo Downtown Orlando, 129 Church St W, Orlando, FL 32801; Welcome to our show! If you’re looking for high-energy performance with great production and fun giveaways, you’ve come to the right place! Latitude28 Band engages audiences and make every person feel like they’re part of the event. You’ll be glad you came! Latitude28 Band show productions are in a league of their own, offering audiences a full-sensory experience with crowd-engaging performers, vivid LED backdrops, dynamic synced videos, bursting CO2 jets, mystical hazers, and a revolutionary light show app that allows viewers to both interact with the band and illuminate the venue en masse. Every show is an immersive adventure into light, sound, rhythm, and energy, leaving audiences energized, captivated, and wanting more! Our 40-City United States Tour runs through Summer 2020. We’re regularly adding new shows to the tour. We’ve performed throughout Florida and in California. We’ve got more shows scheduled in southern California, northern California, and Texas, with more in the works to be posted soon.
**Sun 11/17*\*
11a - 5p: 9th Annual Altamonte Art, Craft, & Wine Festival; Cranes Roost Park, 274 Cranes Roost Blvd, Altamonte Springs, Florida 32701; holiday shopping, live entertainment, 150+ talented artists and crafters, fun for everyone. Kidz Korner, Sat, 17th, 11a - 4p. Wine Stroll, 2p - 5p: Enjoy your choice of different wines from around the world (Tickets: $25 adv, $30 door) All profits go to charity
11a - 5p: Orlando Japan Festival in Kissimmee 2019; Kissimmee Lakefront Park, 201 Lakeview Drive, Kissimmee, Florida 34741; We are proud to announce our annual Orlando Japan Festival in Kissimmee! There will be various food vendors, arts & crafts, games, etc. to enjoy! On stage, we will have performances including Koto, Iai, Judo, and Taiko drumming. This year's guest performer is Mr. Marco Lienhard, shakuhachi player from New York! We will also have a special collaboration performance with ballet and Taiko drumming. We hope to see you there!
12p - 4p: Barktoberfest; Lake Eola Park, 100 N. Eola Drive, Orlando, FL 32801; Orange County Animal Services is pleased to announce the date for the 8th annual Barktoberfest. Join the festivities on Sunday, November 17 at Lake Eola from 12:00 p.m. to 4:00 p.m. The Orange County Animal Services mobile clinic will be onsite offering free rabies vaccines and pet microchipping. In addition, the Pet Alliance of Greater Orlando mobile clinic will be offering discounted vaccines and canine heartworm prevention medication, following heartworm disease test. This free public event features local pet rescue organizations, rescue pet adoptions, food trucks, local vendors, and a fun-filled day for everyone in the family. Attendees are invited to bring their own dog to join in the fun, just remember that all dogs need to be on a leash. Join in on the fun and let us know you will be going! See you there! http://ocnetpets.com/GetInvolved/Barktoberfest.aspx
12p - 6p: Orlando Punk Rock Flea Market 2019; Will's Pub, 1042 N Mills Ave, Orlando, Florida 32803; The 2019 Orlando Punk Rock Flea Market is only a few weeks away! This years vendor list is far more than just records and black shirts. We’ve opened it up to artists and makers of all kinds. 50+ vendors selling handmade goods, records, clothing, shoes, skateboards, art, food, punk junk, and so much more! This is a FREE event that is family and pet friendly, so let’s have a good time and do something fun for the neighborhood!
2p - 4p: Stouts For Snouts; Orlando Brewing, 1301 Atlanta Ave, Orlando, Florida 32806; Sniffing Snouts Pit Bull Rescue adoption event and fundraiser! Come out and meet some of our adoptables! $5 donation to the rescue gets you Yappy hour pricing all day! Food from Southern Fried Vegan!
5p - 9p: Downtown Avalon Park Food Truck Night; Avalon Park, 3680 Avalon Park East Blvd, Orlando, Florida 32828; FOOD, MUSIC, & FUN! Come on out to our ROCKIN' food truck night featuring local food trucks, music, games & neighborhood fun! Monsta Lobsta - Jour de Crepe - Gooda Fooda Truck - Pho Wheels Orlando - Hot Asian Buns - The Acarajé - The Melting Box - Box on the Road - Beachin BBQ CREW - Brazilian Passion - The Brave Burger - Peter John's Soft Ice Cream - Mi Casita Truck - Gypsy's Famous Foods - Kona Ice of East Orlando - The Burger Lab - Churros & Cream - A Lo Cubano Kitchen
9pm - 12a: Pancreatic Cancer Research Benefit w/ Golden Pelicans, Junior Bruce, & more; Will's Pub, 1042 N Mills Ave, Orlando, Florida 32803; Four bands play Will's to benefit pancreatic cancer research 11/17: $8 at the door, 21+

Sorry about the late post -- hope y'all still find time to do fun stuff
​
Fri 9/13 ~ S P O O K Y ~
There was a haunted pub crawl, but I saw it was sold out, so if you're going, recommend your friends to sign up early next time, and if you're not, sorry!
6p - 9p: Casselberry Food Truck Night; Lake Concord, 127 Quail Pond Circle, Casselberry, Florida 32707; Casselberry locals park at the Target Casselberry, are escorted across 17-92 by police officers, walk to the lovely lush Lake Concord Park covered with oaks behind City Hall, buy dinner from the food trucks, then listen to live music and shop local art. To see which trucks are coming Go to letsgetbazaar.com and click on Truck Schedule. Free admission. Free parking.
Friendly reminder that there are food truck events every week in various locations, so if this is something you're interested in, you can also follow them on fb The Daily City's Food Truck Bazaar.
6p - 10p: Movieola: Coco; Lake Eola Park, 512 E Washington St, Orlando, 32801; Bring your blankets, chairs and snacks for the movie screening of Coco in celebration of Hispanic Heritage Month! There will be activities before the movie and food vendors to buy from. (note: Lake Eola is a big place, so I'm not sure which corner of the park it will be held)
6p - 2a: Friday the 13th; The Cloak & Blaster, 875 Woodbury Rd, Ste 108, Orlando, Florida 32828; CHI - CHI - CHI - CHA - CHA - CHA. September 13th lands on a Friday, and that means it's time to celebrate FRIDAY THE 13TH! Dress up in your KILLER outfits, grab your unlucky charms, and join us for a theme night that's simply to die for... Featuring themed menu items and spooky attire. Sorry, no black cats permitted.
8p: Friday the 13th Movie Night; The Hammered Lamb, 1235 N Orange Ave, Orlando, Florida 32804; Spooky Empire presents Friday the 13th Movie Night at The Hammered Lamb! Come join us in The Hammered Lamb parking lot to watch Friday the 13th Part 1 & 2! Bring a chair, grab a friend and come party with Spooky Empire! Best Jason costume contest! Winner gets 2 weekend passes to Spooky Empire this October and a $50.00 gift card to The Hammered Lamb!!
Sat 9/14
10a - 5p: Wine & Cheese Festival; Lakeridge Winery & Vineyards, 19239 US 27 North, Clermont, Florida 34715; Nothing goes better with wine than cheese so we're celebrating this delicious pairing with our first annual Wine & Cheese Festival. This new event will feature all the Lakeridge festival standards including live music, Lakeridge wine by the glass, beer, soft drinks and a variety of food is available for purchase. You'll also enjoy a special complimentary wine tasting including samples of cheese paired with some of our best selling wines. Adult Admission - $10. Children 12 and under - FREE
10a - 6p: Orlando Anime Day; Wyndham Orlando Resort International Drive, 8001 International Dr, Orlando, Florida 32819; Our show is the one day anime marketplace that brings all your anime/manga needs to you without all the hassle or extra expense associated with other conventions. Admission is only $5.00 at the door so you won't have to spend all your money just to get inside. Orlando Anime Day features an over 2,000 sq ft dealers room, Video/Event room, prize giveaways, raffle drawing, cosplay, and FREE Parking. A full day of anime fun for less then a movie ticket! (note: the description for this event is very long and informative, so please click on the event link for the full description)
11a - 3p: Keiser Super Con; Keiser University, 5600 Lake Underhill Rd, Orlando, Florida 32807; Keiser Super Con is the first annual comic-con hosted at Keiser University Campus in Orlando. We have guests, cosplay, panels, and vendors. Attendees of Keiser Super Con will engage in and celebrate the culture associated with video games, comic books, science fiction, literature, board games, various fandoms, and all things pop-culture. Proceeds from the event will go to benefit Limbitless Solutions, Inc. (note: the description for this event is very long and informative, so please click on the event link for the full description)
1:30p - 3p: Tailgate Concert Series: Three Sheets to the Wind; UCF,4000 Central Florida Blvd, Orlando, Florida 32816; Come out to IOA Plaza before UCF Football hosts Stanford for a FREE concert from Three Sheets To The Wind America's #1 tribute to Yacht Rock! The show starts at 1:30pm and is open to fans of all ages.
5p - 2a: Yappy Hour! Dog Friendly Happy Hour! Games, Treats, Live Music!; Southern Craft, 2405 E. South Street, Orlando, Florida 32803; Yappy Hour is back! What's better than Happy Hour? A DOG FRIENDLY Happy Hour of course! All well-behaved dogs invited to join! Water provided along with games, treats and live entertainment by Sunshine & Helen! $8 Specialty Cocktails. $2 off Craft Beer & Wine. 5PM-9PM. 21+ FREE (note: I'm guessing this event is 5-9p, but since it's a bar, it will be open till 2a)
7p - 12a: Full Moon Party at Aquatica; 5800 Water Play Way, Orlando, FL 32821; Get ready for the hottest party under the full moon! Saturday, September 14, iHeartRadio Orlando invites you to experience Aquatica at night and cool off at The Full Moon Party. Come ride Ray Rush, Ihu Falls and the rest of Aquatica’s attractions! There will be live DJ’s, food and drinks for purchase and you can enjoy the entire park from 7 to midnight at Orlando’s number one water park, Aquatica. Get your tickets today at http://Aquatica.com/iHeartRadio. Previously purchased tickets or passes are not valid for admission to this event. This event requires a separate ticket for entry. All guests (including pass members) require the “iHeartRadio Full Moon Party” Event Ticket for admission. $27 Adults / $20 kids (ages 3 -9) - advance purchase. $29 adults / $24 kids (ages 3-9) - day of the event. $5 parking is available the day of the event. *Food, drinks and merchandise will be available for purchase ** You must be 21 years old or older to consume alcoholic beverages
Sun 9/15
10a - 5p: Wine & Cheese Festival; Lakeridge Winery & Vineyards, 19239 US 27 North, Clermont, Florida 34715; Nothing goes better with wine than cheese so we're celebrating this delicious pairing with our first annual Wine & Cheese Festival. This new event will feature all the Lakeridge festival standards including live music, Lakeridge wine by the glass, beer, soft drinks and a variety of food is available for purchase. You'll also enjoy a special complimentary wine tasting including samples of cheese paired with some of our best selling wines. Adult Admission - $10. Children 12 and under - FREE
11a - 9p: Boxi Park's Halfway to St. Patrick's Day; Boxi Park Lake Nona, 6877 Tavistock Lakes Blvd, Orlando, FL 32827; Raise a glass to halfway to St. Patrick's Day. We're celebrating all day on Sunday, September 15 with: Live Irish Bands, Drink Specials, Irish Dancing with Reel Irish Entertainment, Bagpiper Reg Lyle, And Lots of Family Fun
3p - 5p: Bohemiada Boricua- An Evening of Music and Friends; Luisa's Cellar, 206 Sanford Avenue, Sanford, Florida 32771; This is a Puerto Rican tradition. Go out on a Sunday afternoon and enjoy good music and good friends and drinks. Javier Carbadillo is going to be performing a great mix of Spanish songs from Spanish rock to those classics that we all love. Explore a new culture and join us! The Empress Table will feature a special menu for the occasion! Sangria & other beer and drink specials through out the event.
5p - 9p: Downtown Avalon Park Food Truck Night; Avalon Park, 3680 Avalon Park East Blvd, Orlando, Florida 32828; FOOD, MUSIC, & FUN! Come on out to our ROCKIN' food truck night featuring local food trucks, music, games & neighborhood fun!
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Brevard Zoo (8225 N Wickham Rd, Melbourne, Florida 32940) is having September Discount Days: Stop by the Zoo for September savings! Admission is just five dollars on Tuesdays. You can also take advantage of savings on Saturdays and Sundays when kids ages three to 11 receive FREE admission when accompanied by a paid adult (no more than four children per adult). Open to Florida residents only; must present state-issued photo ID or utility bill with address. May not be combined with other discounts or promotions. Presented by our Corporate Partners.

Amongst all the unpopular opinions in America, mine may be the most unpopular. Or at least, the most hated. O.J. Simpson didn't kill Ron Goldman or Nicole. There, I said it. That's not guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. That's not we can't prove he did it, but it's likely. That's fucking innocent. And no, I'm not the Caucasian-media-driven caricature of a black conspiracy theorist. Not at all. I'm a thirty-year-old middle-class white guy. I've got no dog in this fight. I didn't root for Juice during the 70s or admire his status as a crossover icon in all those movies and Hertz ads. Due to my youth, I've also got no claim in the emotional war zone that was his 1995 murder trial. I go off the facts. And regardless of what Oprah or Fox News wants you to believe, the "mountain of evidence" actually resides in O.J.'s innocence.
Remember when FX's The People Vs. O.J. Simpson claimed O.J. never asked detectives how Nicole died? That was bullshit, trial footage at 1:58. Or when ESPN's O.J.: Made In America insinuated O.J. wasn't taking his arthritis meds so the gloves wouldn't fit? Doctors signed off on O.J. taking the meds, trial footage at 7:49. Want another lie from this Oscar winning "documentary?" Try the fact O.J. didn't have a single cut or bruise on his body when he left his house on that fateful June night, trial footage at 1:30. Yeah, that's right. Goldman and Nicole's bodies (particularly Goldman's) were covered in defensive wounds yet there's no marks on O.J.
Juice wasn't in a hurry to get through the airport either. Less than thirty minutes after supposedly butchering two people in one of the biggest rage crimes in American history, O.J. was described as being friendly as he signed autographs at the airport. Witnesses didn't see a single cut, scratch, or bandage on his hands. Why is this important? The very next day, O.J. was examined by L.A.P.D. No cuts or bruises were on his body except a few cuts on his hand he got from smashing a glass in his Chicago hotel room. An overemotional reaction he had after hearing about Nicole's death. Chicago police found bloodied glass in the room. A hotel clerk even said O.J. came downstairs to get a bandage for the cut. The chauffeur who picked him up from the hotel took note of the fresh bandage. And everyone on that plane ride back to L.A. described Simpson as being completely distraught. He was in a rush to get back to L.A. as soon as possible... interesting for a guy deemed unquestionably guilty.
So without a single cut, where did the supposed incriminating blood evidence come from? Regardless of how Geraldo wants to spin it, the blood evidence is shit. At the prosecution's insistence, two samples were tested specifically to disprove the defense's theory that the blood was planted. The samples came back with EDTA, a preservative used in lab test tubes. Experts agree it was too much EDTA for the blood to come naturally from O.J.'s body. Or from eating Big Macs like Marcia Clark claims. Furthermore, the blood on Nicole's back gate wasn't seen in any of the initial crime scene photos. Rather, it was somehow inexplicably discovered in July... weeks after the entire crime scene had been washed down.
And that takes us to Detective Mark Fuhrman, the man who discovered the glove on O.J.'s property. Again, one of the gloves had a small amount of O.J.'s DNA, the other didn't. Aside from the fact the gloves didn't fit, O.J.'s DNA wasn't even found on the glove's fingers... nor did either glove share a cut similar to the one O.J. got in his hotel room (remember, he had no cuts on the flight to Chicago).
The glove Fuhrman found was also still wet even though it'd supposedly been rotting in the June heat for over seven hours. No dirt or debris were found on the glove either even though the back alley of O.J.'s home was heavily wooded with leaves, berries, etc.
So back to Detective Fuhrman, the guy did more than say the n-word. On his infamous taped conversations with Laura McKinny, he said "nigger" well over fifty times. Fuhrman also admitted to hating blacks and interracial couples, lying under oath, and planting evidence. On top of this, he'd gotten L.A.P.D. sued years earlier for shooting at an unarmed black man and planting a knife on him. If you believe O.J. is guilty, you have to do two things: you have to ignore all the facts and evidence, and you have to take the word of a racist white cop over all the witnesses supporting O.J.’s innocence. Mark Fuhrman is your guy.
On the other hand, is O.J, a great guy? Not really. He’s flawed. He hit Nicole back in 89. But regardless of the well-publicized hearsay, he didn’t hit her any other time (Nicole said this in court in 92, Nicole’s sister Denise said the same during the mid-90s). Juice never hit his first wife Marguerite Whitley. So yes, his abuse was inexcusable. But an idiotic motive considering as recently as spring of 94, Nicole was trying to get back with him.
This isn't even counting how O.J. never reacted with rage or jealousy toward Nicole's romantic relationships. Keith Douglas Zlomsowitch, one of Nicole's former lovers, admitted that O.J. had seen him and Nicole making love in Nicole’s living room. The very next day, a calm O.J. told them in private that they should be careful about doing things out in the open in case one of the kids walked in. One of O.J.’s best friends Marcus Allen even said that when he told Juice he had sex with Nicole, O.J. reacted calmly and was only upset because Allen was engaged at the time.
So yeah, none of this excuses O.J.’s lone case of domestic violence. But the context shows how exaggerated O.J. and Nicole’s volatile relationship was so the prosecutors could have a sensational motive.
I get that what I'm saying isn’t what Oprah, Geraldo, or the alarming number of celebrity black apologists have taught you. This isn’t what the racist Howard Stern taught you either when he advocated for lynching Mr. Simpson. No, what I'm telling you are facts. Not lies and bullshit.
People hate me for it. I suppose you will too. Go ahead and serenade me with your downvotes. I don't give a fuck. Throw out soundbites like Bruno Maglis (the Enquirer photos were supposedly taken during a rainstorm... not great for a pair of "pristine" Suede shoes), all that blood!1! (EDTA), the Bronco chase (O.J. believed he was framed and panicked), If I Did It (written by a ghostwriter, an easy 500k for O.J. after years of pleading his innocence onto deaf ears), a "failed" polygraph (nevermind the fact that Gary Ridgeway, the most prolific serial killer in American history passed a polygraph or that Ted Bundy did so twice), or the horrific civil trial that inexplicably allowed hearsay evidence.
And where has all my research left me? My family doesn't talk to me. I don't have close friends. Needless to say, no girlfriend. I'm alienated because of my beliefs.
But the biggest rift my "unpopular opinion" has created is between my dad and I. The emotions of this case run that deep. In many ways, I too was a victim of this trial of the century. Alongside the integrity of the American media, so went my All-American family.
My mother and father never got along during the trial. Even as a child, I remembered their bickering. Constant, ugly bickering. Mom's belief in O.J.'s innocence was actually what got me interested in the case. Particularly as a stark contrast to the O.J. Did It industry we've all been bombarded with.
My dad had the popular opinion. Their disagreement over the case opened a nasty wound between them. My parents divorced soon after Juice's acquittal. And as I grew up, I tried to stay close to my folks. My mother the introverted hippie, my father the more assertive and outgoing type. I was more like mom... no friends, artsy rather than social. On the other hand, my dad was friends with many of the people in the small town he lived in. The small town he thrived in as a local accountant.
For mom, O.J.'s plight was tragic. Yet another sad example of the horrors of being black in America. To my dad, Juice had played the race card.
While my dad and I used to be real close, my own interest in the O.J. Simpson case brought about the same tensions that had killed his marriage. Him and I argued more. He resented my opinion. Like most of you, he never could see anything past O.J. Did It, No Questions Asked.
My dad's brown eyes would berate me with the same sharp ferocity of his irate words. His temper was quick. And it only got worse as he got older. Particularly whenever O.J. came up.
Once mom passed a few years back, my dad and I grew even more apart. I think he blamed her for pushing me toward the case. But the reality was that their divorce was what fueled my interest. I came to the realization that mom was right all along. Yet she was crucified for that opinion. God knows how her own family and friends treated her for being the one white woman who believed Mr. Simpson was innocent.
But I think what really set dad off was my career. You see, my penultimate project began back in 2013: my O.J. Simpson webpage. I knew on-line there were people like me. People who did know more about the case and who had bothered researching it.
Over the years, my site garnered a cult-like following. And dad was pretty pissed about it. As he got older and his brown hair grew thinner, his eyes only became more narrow and cold. And so did his resentment toward me. The few conversations we had always ended in arguments. There were shouting matches about the case. Shouting matches about race. Shouting matches about mom.
I'd have loved to see him be proud of my work... but that was wishful thinking. His mind was made up. I couldn't worry about pop anymore. I had to worry about the new generation. Younger, more open-minded people like me.
As the site grew, my friend Pearse helped me land interviews with some of the biggest names from the trial for his podcast. I started uploading feature-length documentaries rather than YouTube videos. My analysis on the O.J. case made me an expert. Not to mention a hero to those who knew the truth. Hell, I even got advertising money.
My site was doing well. However, it wasn't mainstream media. I wasn't making much money. So imagine my surprise when the ultimate project came up. The most audacious thing my webpage had tackled yet: an interview with the Juice himself.
It turned out O.J. Simpson loved my work... I guess there's some consolation for never having my dad appreciate it.
I was surprised yet overjoyed when I got O.J.'s e-mail. I consulted with all of the people I'd been interviewing. And to my utter joy, everything checked out. I soon got Simpson's Vegas address.
The news would've excited my devoted fanbase however, I wanted to keep it a surprise for now. Outside of telling Pearse and a few friends, I kept the trip a secret. I doubted O.J. wanted me telling the world anyway.
But I did tell a few family members. Rather than congratulate me, they gave me the usual cliched jokes instead ("don't get hacked). I even got the nerve to tell my dad, but he just grumbled before hanging up. He always preferred my fiction. I guess it was for the best I hadn't told him about the O.J. book I was working on...
The following week, I packed my bags and left for Nevada. My buddy Pearse came along for moral support. And to be the cameraman.
O.J.'s handlers were there waiting for us at the airport. In their suits, they resembled Secret Service. But hey, I couldn't blame O.J. taking some precautions after all the death threats. His posse was very professional though. The exact opposite of the crazy Vegas crew who helped him "steal" his memorabilia.
From what I understood, O.J. had been staying at one of his friends's mansions. A Microsoft millionaire's house. He'd let O.J. crash there since Juice couldn't leave the state. Not that O.J. had it bad considering how lavish the mansion was. While modest compared to the rest of the neighborhood, the place was still glorious. There was privacy galore. Tall trees surrounded the yard, concealing the house and iron-pike fence from outside view.
Once our van pulled up into O.J.'s driveway, I took a deep breath. Pearse and I had made it. Here I was about give an exclusive interview with the man America considered a monster. But who in reality was a tragic victim.
The spacious and pristine yard had gaudy lawn ornaments. Pretty sculptures. Huge sprinklers and, of course, a nice pool.
Pearse was told to keep the camera off until we got inside the house. For security purposes. Me not being an asshole mainstream journalist, complied out of respect for the Juice.
Inside, the mansion was more in line with what I'd expect from O.J. Clean, impressive, stylish. And yes, flashy.
We were told to wait in the living room. It was in here, O.J. had his memorabilia well on display (apparently, he'd recovered most of the stolen items). There were old jerseys, posters, movie props, game balls, trophies. Hall Of Fame accolades. The Heisman. Not many people seem to realize O.J. Simpson was a Hell of a player. I could tell he had his guests wait here on purpose. A nice humblebrag. Then again, who could blame him? This shit was amazing.
Amongst the collectibles were more cultured items. Artwork, portraits, classic novels, some sick fucking vinyl. I could tell most of these belonged to O.J. The guy was a fucking connoisseur.
Framed family photos still had their place in this mancave of O.J.'s glory days. Pictures of him with Marguerite. Pictures of him with Nicole. But the most frequent images I saw were kids. Children, teenagers, college photos. O.J.'s smiling children seemed to swarm all around Pearse and I. And it wasn't creepy in the slightest either. In a room that could've (and probably was) a vanity tribute to the Juice, somehow, the children's photos took more precedence. They were what I remembered most about the house.
In a corner of the room was a framed photo of O.J.'s deceased infant daughter Aaren. A cross hung right above it. A collection of Angel figurines stood on both sides of the lavish picture frame. A sincere shrine for Aaren.
Using the camera, Pearse was all too happy to capture the scene. The mansion definitely a big step up from Pearse's garage studio.
Emerging from a long hallway, our man of the hour entered the room. Orenthal James Simpson. Even at seventy-one, he looked effortless and smooth. Quite debonair in a brown suit he'd consider modest but most likely cost a couple grand. The guy had style. And he also knew he was gonna be on camera. No wonder he had his Hall Of Fame ring on.
O.J. stuck a groomed hand out toward me. "Steve, how are you," he said in his eloquent baritone. A voice that hadn't lost any of its charm after all these years and traumas.
Overwhelmed by nerves, I forced myself to complete the handshake. "I'm doing okay," I responded, a slight tremble in my voice.
As if he sensed my nerves, O.J. flashed me a warm smile. "Alright. I'm glad."
His handshake was strong yet there was a soft touch. And his hand was fucking huge. It practically engulfed mine. No wonder he could hang on to that football.
"It's an honor to meet you," I added.
"Likewise." His voice even trembled like mine. Not from nerves but emotion... appreciation. "Likewise, Steve."
I introduced him to Pearse, and then the interview began. I was simultaneously surprised yet glad to see it was just us three for the interview. I'm sure O.J. appreciated the chill vibes.
We toured the rest of the house. The guest rooms were well-furnished. There was also another mancave, O.J.'s destination for Saturdays and Sundays during football season. He played us some of his old highlights via YouTube. The guy just couldn't help himself. I saw a bunch of golf gear in here as well. The sport definitely still O.J.'s go-to hobby.
Later on, we checked out the kitchen and dining room. A back balcony overlooked the pool. I even saw little yappy dogs running around the back yard. I was surprised they weren't even full-breeds. Just regular old mutts. We could hear their incessant barks all tour long.
To my surprise, O.J.'s bedroom itself was rather plain. Not flashy like the living room or mancave. Just a few pictures of his mother and Aaren placed next to religious figurines.
However his closet was another story. Hell, it looked it'd been converted from a bedroom. A Sex And The City wet dream. Rows and rows of clothes. All of them name brand, all of them collected over the years.
Overall, O.J. was very welcoming. Even humble. He talked to Pearse and I about how his stay in prison had changed his attitude. He'd gone through years of (understandable) anger due to his mistreatment by the media. He had a chip on his shoulder. But the experience of just being another inmate, another number, changed his outlook for the better. He missed Florida. He missed L.A. But he wasn't too upset as his kids came to visit him quite often. Las Vegas, and this house in particular, had become his "home away from home."
We planned on doing the bulk of our interview in O.J.'s cozy study. There we had a glowing fireplace, comfortable chairs, and perfect lighting. A small coffee table the only barrier between O.J. and I.
Even from where I was sitting, I saw how the bookshelves were stuffed with every literary classic imaginable. I figured O.J. probably hadn't read most of them, but shit, it was still an impressive collection.
One book in particular caught my eye. Unlike the books around it, this one resembled a scrapbook. No title on the spine. It looked old as Hell. Did O.J. own a first edition Book Of The Dead? Or the Necronomicon?
Gazing around the rest of the room, I saw O.J.'s framed memorabilia from the Roots shoot (costume, props, etc) right next to a pair of glass doors leading to the balcony. I could tell the memorabilia meant a lot to him. In an acting career based more off his charm and good looks than talent, appearing in Roots was a rare proud moment in his film career.
Like an annoying yet cute soundtrack, the dogs continued their barking well into the night. I suppose they were chasing squirrels or whatever other critters were lurking about. Maybe they were still after Pearse and I, for that matter.
A few of O.J.'s bodyguards stood by the study door. But they were quiet and kept their distance. They must've known how much an interview like this meant to O.J. One where he wasn't pleading his innocence to a buzzard or some other indifferent asshole. Instead, him and I were talking like old friends. Comrades.
We started off the interview in simple fashion: O.J.'s background. Orenthal James wasn't born a millionaire athlete. He came from nothing. From the slums of California all the way to the gridiron on the USC campus. Truly the American Dream. O.J. went into great detail about this. The anecdotes on the hardships he and his mother faced. His glory days as a USC superstar. And then when he cemented his football legacy on the Buffalo Bills.
When it came to his playing career, I could tell O.J. was most excited about his tenure with the Bills. They were a small market team he embraced. He also loved the Bills Mafia, the team's zany and enthusiastic fanbase. The Bills had some winning seasons with Juice leading their offense. After all, he was a natural born star and leader for that long-tormented franchise. And to this day, they still treated Simpson with respect unlike the alma mater that ultimately disowned him.
Throughout the interview, I could tell O.J. struggled at times to remember certain names and dates. Our conversation switched to CDTE and other brain/memory issues that had been attributed to playing American football. Awhile back, O.J. had been diagnosed with this (in addition to arthritis). While football is still a violent game, in O.J.'s heyday it was a fucking blood sport ("It was a different era, man," he told me). Not much padding or safety precautions. Illegal hits were the norm. Nothing was off limits. Not even your head.
The grave seriousness of the topic removed us from the nostalgic vanity that had accompanied O.J.'s reflections on his career. Our conversation soon shifted to the tragedy that would haunt O.J. Simpson. And forever tarnish his name.
I was surprised to see O.J. be so open while discussing that fateful June night. I knew he usually avoided the topic out of contempt for a press that had ignored his words in favor of misquoting him and making him look like a lunatic. But he was comfortable with us.
We discussed everything. From Mark Fuhrman to the planted evidence to the lack of a cut or bruise anywhere on O.J.'s body (Goldman was same height as O.J., a blackbelt, and twenty years younger). The fact there was no cut on O.J.'s hand when he was at the airport signing autographs (including signing one for the pilot). The racial implications of the case. How the media automatically assumed his guilt before knowing if O.J. was even in L.A. when the murders happened.
O.J.'s sadness veered toward an understandable bitterness as we discussed how the media's inaccuracies ultimately became the legend.
"No one believed me," O.J. said, his baritone voice full of jaded weariness. "I tried everything. I did interviews, I talked about the trial, and it's like no one listened to me! They didn't wanna listen to me. They didn't wanna believe me." Fire burnt in his eyes, but I didn't feel threatened or scared like you probably would. Such a fire was built off of frustration not violence. "With Fuhrman, you got a guy on tape saying all this shit. That he framed minorities and blacks... not only that but he was anti-Semitic. If I was a white Jewish man, everyone would be outraged at Fuhrman and what he did. They'd take my word, they'd show the evidence we had. But that wasn't the case, was it? Instead, I'm playing the Goddamn race card!"
And I couldn't agree more. Everything he said was correct. The media had ignored the overwhelming evidence favoring his innocence to spin a false narrative. To them, Othello James Simpson killed the two white Angels. No questions asked.
While we were on the subject of O.J.'s unfair public perception, I asked how he felt about the growing number of black celebrities speaking out against him. Kanye, Jay-Z, Steve Harvey, etc.
O.J. hesitated. Discomfort joined his anger. I could tell he felt these questions were putting him in rough territory... particularly since he was African-American himself. I didn't expect him to go into a rant on how they were all coons, but I didn't expect him to be this silent and awkward.
He let out a weary sigh. "I don't know what to tell them," he finally said. "Maybe they were too young to watch the dang trial. Or they've gotten just saturated with all the crap they throw against me. They read too much National Enquirer, I don't know." A faint grin crossed his face. "The media the way it is... I guess everyone thinks I did it now, huh."
There was a vulnerable sadness to him. Something I'd never seen in all the footage on Juice. His silence couldn't hide that look of anguish.
"Everyone thinks I killed her," O.J. went on. That I'd kill her right where my kids slept!" He paused. A breather from the anger. "I can't change their minds, I give up." His emotions were overwhelming him. I could tell he didn't like it. O.J. was confident and strong. And he always seemed that way on television and in public. The memories were killing his public persona. He wasn't the Juice in this moment. He was Orenthal James Simpson. The tormented ex-husband of Nicole. The tormented father of four.
The roaring tragedy of 94 had returned from the grave once more. O.J. would never escape it. And he knew it.
I didn't even hear the barking dogs during this tense silence. They must've been respecting O.J.'s emotional struggle as well.
"When people think you're a killer," he struggled to begin, his deep voice caving in with heartache. "They think I never loved her, but I did."
"I know you did," I said, my voice steady yet reassuring.
O.J. gazed down at his lap. An obvious method to hide his tears. "And everything I'd worked toward was gone." He glared at the camera. "I worked hard to get to here! I came from nowhere, man, I supported my Goddamn family! I made a name for himself!"
His anger was ferocious but not directed toward anyone in the room. I felt no fear. But if this was Fox or TMZ, I could picture the headline now: O.J.'s Rage Returns! Watch Out White People!
"And then it was all gone!" O.J. continued. "All because they wanted to believe the nigger killed everybody! That I was a stalker, a fucking psycho." Tear fell from his eyes. On camera, O.J.'s harsher profanity was about as rare as the tears. He was showcasing twenty years' worth of wounds right here for Pearse and I.
"So yeah, maybe Kanye and all these other rappers and what-have-you think I did it. If they wanna appease their white audience, that's fine. Fuck them. We don't need them. God knows the truth. My children know the truth! That's what matters more than these arrogant niggers running their mouths about me. Just so they can stay with their fake fucking white friends." He chuckled. A defeated chuckle that was chilling in its helplessness. "I guess I used to be the same. Believe me, I know. And they'll find out soon enough. Oh yeah, they'll see what happens when they get framed or blamed for some shit they didn't do. Then they won't be Grmamy-winning rapper or Oscar-winning "thespian," they'll be a guiltyass nigger. Like what they say about me."
I could feel Pearse give me an unwasy look. But I wasn't stopping this. Not now. This was O.J. at his most candid and honest. He trusted us. I wasn't stopping him no matter where the controversy led.
"I'd never hurt her," O.J. went on. "I wouldn't..." He brushed away his tears. "I wasn't a great husband, but I cared about Nicole. Yeah, I hit her... but it wasn't like me. I felt terrible the second it happened. When she looked at me crying. Hell, I cried too. I had no idea I could ever do that. That I could hurt someone, much less my wife." His wounded eyes stared out the glass doors, peering off into the darkness. "And they wanna say I slaughtered her."
Respectful, I leaned in a little closer. "Well, who do you think actually did it, O.J.?" I asked, sympathetic yet strong. "That's the main question me and Pearse get from these idiots. They'll ignore everything we said just for this shit."
"It really is," Pearse added with a weak smile.
Quiet, O.J. kept looking off at the balcony.
"Look, I know Fuhrman made sure we'll likely never know," I told O.J. "But is there anything you'd want to add to the discussion? Any suspicions you had? Anyone you suspect?"
O.J. put a hand to his face, shielding his ravaged face from the camera. Rather than strength, he showed defeat. Like the traumas were at war within him. I could hear his heavy, wounded breaths. I could only imagine the painful memories running through his head. "Juice," I said.
"I can't," he mumbled.
A cloud of silence conquered the room. I felt a sense of cryptic dread lingering through the atmosphere. O.J.'s handlers gave me piercing stares. I returned them an awkward gaze. I wasn't sure what to do. I wasn't a therapist, after all.
Trying to break the uneasy mood, Pearse grinned. "You sure it wasn't Kato?"
No one laughed or responded.
"We've always suspected drugs," I said.
Grimacing, O.J. looked at us.
"Several of Ron Goldman's friends were killed right after he and Nicole," I added. "One of them had his throat slit from ear to ear."
"And Faye Resnick left Nicole's house the day before the murders," Pearse assisted me. "She owed drug dealers over thirty-thousand dollars from what I understand."
O.J. ran a hand along his face. Our comments hit him like bullets into his emotions. He didn't say anything. He just kept within his self. Within his fragment, tormented psyche.
"She looked just like Nicole," I said. Pearse and I's voices were calm but persistent.
Rocking in his seat, O.J. looked down at the ground. He avoided eye contact. He avoided us. The tears were forming in his eyes. He bit his lip. The sorrow weighed him down.
"There could've been a mix-up," I went on.
"It had to be two people," Pearse added.
I noticed all of O.J.'s associates watching him with concern.
Tears in his eyes, O.J. confronted us. In the war within himself, his anxiety was winning.
I just stared at Juice. But Pearse kept going.
"The original coroner even said two knives were used," Pearse continued.
O.J. gave us a fiery look. "You wanna know what really happened?" he said, his baritone devoid of any warmth or charm.
Pearse went silent in an instant.
"We just want to know your thoughts, O.J.," I said.
"Well, I'll tell you what happened!" O.J. responded. "I'll tell you exactly what happened!"
One of his concerned handlers stepped toward him.
O.J. held up his hand, keeping the bodyguards at bay. "No, let me speak!"
The handler took his place back by the door.
"Let me tell them everything," O.J. said. His intense eyes turned toward Pearse and I. "It's not about just drugs. There's more to it than that."
My detached coolness evaporated. O.J.'s gaze and voice were frantic. I sensed the interview was going into unexpected territory and I wasn't prepared. "What do you mean?" I asked, unable to hide the subtle panic in my voice.
"It's everybody!" O.J. yelled. "The whole fucking thing!" A defensive fury boiled up inside him. "There's an entire group of people that killed Nicole! And it's because they wanted me! They wanted to frame me and tear me to shreds. It wasn't just Goddamn Fuhrman or Vanatter. Not even the L.A.P.D. It was the entire country!"
The final chilling line reverberated through the room like an eerie piano chord. O.J.'s voice, his unnerving sincerity sold it.
Pearse and I just looked on at Juice, confused. None of his associates were stopping him. None of them even looked confused by his proclamation. They just had knowing expressions on their faces. Like they too were aware of Juice's wild account.
"I don't understand," I finally mustered out. "What do you mean? The entire country-"
"You heard me, Steve," O.J. interrupted. He leaned back in his seat. Like the weary survivor he was. "You know how this country is. You've seen it in action, Steve. It's not so much the media as it is the establishment."
"So what are you saying-"
"I'm saying they'll do anything to suppress blacks and other minorities. The white elite is too powerful. They need to find ways to... to inhibit blacks." O.J. looked right at Pearse and I. His emotional brown eyes pierced deep into our souls.
Not sure what to do, I hesitated. "So you're saying this conspiracy killed Nicole and Goldman?"
More animated than ever, O.J. threw his hands out toward us. "You know about me! You know who I was! What I represented. I was one of the first black celebrities to cross over. I was in commercials, man! Ten years after segregation ended, I was pushing Hertz! I was in movies, I was a superstar."
I didn't think he was bragging. His voice was too full of anger and resentment for this to be gloating O.J.
"And what better way to kill what I represented, huh?" O.J. challenged us. He leaned in closer like a wild-eyed preacher. This wasn't the Smooth Mr. Simpson. What we saw now was all paranoia... either from Alzheimer's or genuine fear. "They did what could turn the Juice into that rich nigger that got away with murder!" He waved his hands around as if he were shoving an invisible force away. "And they fucking got away with it! They killed Nicole and did everything they could to incriminate me!"
I looked over at Pearse. All I saw was a face of stunned confusion. Like someone had transplanted Pearse from Vegas to a nuthouse.
I confronted O.J. "So a group of these special rich white people killed Nicole?"
"Rich, powerful white people," he answered, his voice unwavering and not backing down.
The Juice was loose, alright, I thought. Loose in the fucking head.
"Look, Juice," I began.
O.J. flashed me a cryptic smile. "You don't believe me?"
I looked around the room. The associates were all stone-faced. Had O.J. convinced them of this batshit insanity? Or was he just paying them enough to believe?
"Honestly," I stammered. I looked back at O.J.'s calm face. He was relaxed. Like telling us this secret had lifted the weight of anxiety off him. "I don't know what to believe."
"I know," O.J. responded. Letting out a weary sigh, he slouched back in his chair. "It sounds crazy... it's why I don't tell many people." His gaze drifted off to the glass doors. "It's why I'm scared to tell anyone really."
"Why?"
Like he was responding to an insult, O.J. just gave me a cold glare. "You don't have a clue what these people are. The power they have. You can't even imagine what they could do to me and you."
"If they were trying to bring you down, why not just get you convicted-"
"They tried, didn't they," O.J. interrupted, his baritone commanding and strong.
"Then why not have you killed."
Smirking, O.J. looked off at the bodyguards. They returned sly smiles back.
Annoyed, I leaned in toward Juice. "If they were trying to destroy you because of your influence then why not just kill you? Alright, they tried framing you, so why wouldn't they just finish you off?"
O.J. let out a maddening laugh. The laugh of a helpless man left to die from irony.
"What?" I demanded. "Why wouldn't they?"
"Why would they waste their time!" O.J. said through the chuckles. He pointed at himself. "Look at me, Steve. What the Hell would killing me do?"
The realization struck me. He was right. Why would they waste their time killing him... they'd already done enough. The damage was done.
"The trial killed everything I stood for," O.J. said. "No one looked at me the same. They couldn't look me in the eye." He leaned in closer, holding my gaze with those dark eyes. "There were no more advertisements, no more movies. No more Monday Night Football. No more respect of O.J.'s American Dream. I'm the Goddamn monster now, Steve."
Destroyed by inner anguish, he looked toward the floor.
Our staredown and his chilling reflections still left me shook.
"Hell, for all I know maybe they failed to frame me on purpose," O.J. muttered. He looked up at me. "Maybe just me fighting it out in the court then getting acquitted was part of the plan all along. Just to make people hate me even more."
"I'm sorry," I said. My attempt at a neutral voice couldn't hide my sympathy.
"If I'd gone to jail over a false charge, maybe people would've protested for me," Juice stated. "They would've looked into the case."
The atmosphere grew more and more tense with O.J.'s account. I noticed him running his hands together in a nervous tic. He couldn't fake the discomfort. He was never that good of an actor.
"Instead, all we get is everyone saying I did it," O.J. went on. "O.J. Simpson murderer. That's it. Listen to your Geraldos and your Nancy Graces, the entire American media. They all just pick me apart since I guess it's still illegal to string niggers up when you absolutely know we did something. I guess Emmett Till would've suffered the same."
Uneasy, I nodded my head. The room felt quieter than ever. No voices, no music, no football highlights, no dogs. Just crackling from the fire.
I didn't like seeing O.J. this way. Regardless of his hardships, he'd always been an upbeat fighter. Now he looked defeated.
"There's nothing I can do," O.J. said. "And they know it. They know they fucked me. My image is ruined forever. My name, everything I did. It's gone. My legacy is that I'm a black man who killed two white people. That's what I am." Tears of anger filled his eyes. "The media played it up. They control that too, you know. They control everything!"
"Jesus...” Pearse exclaimed.
I faced Pearse. Like me, he too was riveted by Juice's every word. Only Pearse 100% believed him.
"You do a lot of great things, Steve," O.J. told me.
I looked at Juice. Or the decrepit, depressed sight that was once O.J. Simpson.
"But there's nothing you can do," O.J. continued. "You're not Fox or NBC. You don't get many people on that show. It's why Baby Blue don't care."
"Baby Blue?" I asked, confused.
O.J.'s eyes never strayed from me. "That's their leader."
"What?"
His face stoic and deadly serious, O.J. pointed up toward his eyes. "Their leader's eyes. They're baby blue. That's all I know."
Part 1 of 2
Link To Part Two
14

Humberto Lopez, better known as Reptil, is a former member of the Initiative and a founding student of Avengers Academy. The son of two palaeontologists, one day on a dig he found a fossilised amulet that gave him the ability to transform into dinosaurs. Reptil can transform partially or fully into a huge variety of prehistoric creatures, and can even combine aspects of these forms to further increase his ability.
With these powers, he registered with the Initiative and was recruited by Tigra to help deal with the villain Stegron thanks to his dinosaur-related abilities, although he ultimately left the Initiative to help save Moon Boy and Devil Dinosaur. After spending some time searching for his missing parents and being experimented on by Norman Osborn, he wound up as a member of the first class of Avengers Academy, a school founded by Hank Pym to help train young superhumans to become the next generation of Avengers.
Reptil's amulet has embedded itself into his flesh, and was created by the Hag of the Pits, a shaman witch from the same dimension as Moon Boy and Devil Dinosaur. It is connected to that reality, rather than prehistoric Earth, and allows Reptil to take the form of any being in that dimension, although he generally prefers dinosaurs. While he needs it to use his powers, it doesn't work for anyone else, so stealing it won't automatically give someone else his powers. Note that an expert on magical artefacts was able to briefly hijack it, though.

• Heroic Age: Heroes profile

Feats

Reptil's abilities change depending on the form he's taken at any given moment. The form Reptil has taken in each feat is listed, and feats for one form may not be applicable to others.
Note that while Reptil could initially only perform partial transformations, working with Hank Pym helped him figure out full transformations by using Pym Particles to handle the mass discrepancy.
Hover over a feat to see the source.
Strength
Partial Transformations

• Ankylosaur tail - Smacks Prodigy through a storefront
• Raptor Claw - Punctures a coconut
• Raptor Arms - Beats up Arcade
• Raptor Arms - Punches through a boarded-up window
• Raptor Arms - Tears through some wooden crates
• Raptor Arms - Punches through his robotic duplicate's head
• Raptor Arms - pins Hazmat
• Raptor Legs - Pins Chase Stein and Nico Minoru
• Raptor Tail - Strong enough to support his weight
• Sauropod Tail - Creates a sonic boom
• Sauropod Tail - Smacks Stegron through a wall
• Pteranodon wings - flies with a man hanging off him

Full Transformations

• Triceratops - Clashes with Rhino
• Triceratops - Clashes with Mettle
• Triceratops - Takes out Coat of Arms
• Triceratops - Smashes in a vault door with Mettle
• Theropod & Ankylosaur - Breaks the Crimson Bands with White Tiger
• Raptor - tears the arm off a mech
• RaptoStegosaurus - sends Mettle flying into Psycho-Man with a tail strike
• Stegosaurus - Sends Rhino flying into Sandman with a tail strike
• Ankylosaur - drops Emma Frost with a tail strike
• T-Rex - takes out some Purifiers
• T-Rex - Rips through a large robot
• T-Rex - Kills a large shark and drives off a second
• Diplodocus - scatters a group by transforming into a large dinosaur
• Woolly Mammoth - tosses White Tiger
• Pteranodon - Carries Hazmat to safety while being attacked by a berserk X-23 despite suffering from severe burns
• Giant Snake - Restrains Sebastian Shaw

Durability
No Transformation

• Takes a hit from Chase Stein wearing the Darkhawk armour
• Takes a punch from Spider-Girl (Anya Corazon)
• Tossed by Absorbing Man/Greithoth's giant hammer

Partial Transformation

• Takes a beating from Stegron
• Takes a hit from Prodigy
• Takes a blast from Arcade's cane
• Ankylosaur backplate - Gets knocked back hard enough to rip up the floor
• Grows Ankylosaur plates around his throat to block Whirlwind's blades
• Pteranodon wings - Blasted by Psycho-Man

Full Transformations

• Ankylosaur - Blasted by Cyclops
• Raptor - Sent flying by a transformed Bloodstone
• Spinosaur - Smacked down by a transformed Bloodstone
• Deinosuchus - Grabs Hazmat in his mouth and takes her underwater, where she lets off a nuclear blast
  • Initially this was believed to have killed him, but a few years later he showed up alive so apparently he survived

Mental Resistance

• The altered brain chemistry of his dinosaur form gives him a resistance to mental attacks, although not an immunity
• Mentallo is unable to control his dinosaur form
• Breaks free of Psycho-Man's emotional control
• His magical nature briefly gave Hybrid trouble reading his mind

Regeneration

• Heals faster as a dinosaur
• Allows him to survive being torn through with an Asgardian hammer while a sauropod
• Allows him to survive being burned alive by a flamethrower, although it takes a couple weeks for him to fully recover

Agility

• Raptor Legs - Increases his running speed
• Partial Raptor - Dodges bricks while fighting robots
• Flies with Pteranodon wings
  • Operates a flamethrower while flying
• Avoids an attack by rapidly turning from a T-Rex to a dragonfly
• Reflexively turns into a trilobite to avoid being eaten by Devil Dinosaur
• Spies by turning into a prehistoric bug
• T-Rex - Catches a football between his teeth

Misc
Enhanced Senses

• T-Rex head enhances his eyesight
• He can see 'a little bit' of infrared
• Archaeopteryx eyes allow him to improve his aim
• Morphs his ears to enhance his hearing
• Locates Tigra by scent
• Raptor Head - Tracks Striker and Finesse by scent

Dinosaur Empathy

• The amulet gives him an empathic connection with dinosaurs
• Senses Stegron controlling dinosaurs
• Can sense that Stegron is telling the truth
• Parasaurolophus Head - Orders a herd of dinosaurs to leave

Misc

• Escapes a hold by growing Stegosaurus plates
• Uses Pteranodon wings to try and disperse gas
• T-Rex head - Intimidates a small yappy dog
• His costume is made of unstable molecules, allowing it to stay intact as he changes
  • Except when it doesn't
• Is in a cartoon in-universe
• Tactical opportunist
• Cloud 9's biggest fan

Amongst all the unpopular opinions in America, mine may be the most unpopular. Or at least, the most hated. O.J. Simpson didn't kill Ron Goldman or Nicole. There, I said it. That's not guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. That's not we can't prove he did it, but it's likely. That's fucking innocent. And no, I'm not the Caucasian-media-driven caricature of a black conspiracy theorist. Not at all. I'm a thirty-year-old middle-class white guy. I've got no dog in this fight. I didn't root for Juice during the 70s or admire his status as a crossover icon in all those movies and Hertz ads. Due to my youth, I've also got no claim in the emotional war zone that was his 1995 murder trial. I go off the facts. And regardless of what Oprah or Fox News wants you to believe, the "mountain of evidence" actually resides in O.J.'s innocence.
Remember when FX's The People Vs. O.J. Simpson claimed O.J. never asked detectives how Nicole died? That was bullshit, trial footage at 1:58. Or when ESPN's O.J.: Made In America insinuated O.J. wasn't taking his arthritis meds so the gloves wouldn't fit? Doctors signed off on O.J. taking the meds, trial footage at 7:49. Want another lie from this Oscar winning "documentary?" Try the fact O.J. didn't have a single cut or bruise on his body when he left his house on that fateful June night, trial footage at 1:30. Yeah, that's right. Goldman and Nicole's bodies (particularly Goldman's) were covered in defensive wounds yet there's no marks on O.J.
Juice wasn't in a hurry to get through the airport either. Less than thirty minutes after supposedly butchering two people in one of the biggest rage crimes in American history, O.J. was described as being friendly as he signed autographs at the airport. Witnesses didn't see a single cut, scratch, or bandage on his hands. Why is this important? The very next day, O.J. was examined by L.A.P.D. No cuts or bruises were on his body except a few cuts on his hand he got from smashing a glass in his Chicago hotel room. An overemotional reaction he had after hearing about Nicole's death. Chicago police found bloodied glass in the room. A hotel clerk even said O.J. came downstairs to get a bandage for the cut. The chauffeur who picked him up from the hotel took note of the fresh bandage. And everyone on that plane ride back to L.A. described Simpson as being completely distraught. He was in a rush to get back to L.A. as soon as possible... interesting for a guy deemed unquestionably guilty.
So without a single cut, where did the supposed incriminating blood evidence come from? Regardless of how Geraldo wants to spin it, the blood evidence is shit. At the prosecution's insistence, two samples were tested specifically to disprove the defense's theory that the blood was planted. The samples came back with EDTA, a preservative used in lab test tubes. Experts agree it was too much EDTA for the blood to come naturally from O.J.'s body. Or from eating Big Macs like Marcia Clark claims. Furthermore, the blood on Nicole's back gate wasn't seen in any of the initial crime scene photos. Rather, it was somehow inexplicably discovered in July... weeks after the entire crime scene had been washed down.
And that takes us to Detective Mark Fuhrman, the man who discovered the glove on O.J.'s property. Again, one of the gloves had a small amount of O.J.'s DNA, the other didn't. Aside from the fact the gloves didn't fit, O.J.'s DNA wasn't even found on the glove's fingers... nor did either glove share a cut similar to the one O.J. got in his hotel room (remember, he had no cuts on the flight to Chicago).
The glove Fuhrman found was also still wet even though it'd supposedly been rotting in the June heat for over seven hours. No dirt or debris were found on the glove either even though the back alley of O.J.'s home was heavily wooded with leaves, berries, etc.
So back to Detective Fuhrman, the guy did more than say the n-word. On his infamous taped conversations with Laura McKinny, he said "nigger" well over fifty times. Fuhrman also admitted to hating blacks and interracial couples, lying under oath, and planting evidence. On top of this, he'd gotten L.A.P.D. sued years earlier for shooting at an unarmed black man and planting a knife on him. If you believe O.J. is guilty, you have to do two things: you have to ignore all the facts and evidence, and you have to take the word of a racist white cop over all the witnesses supporting O.J.’s innocence. Mark Fuhrman is your guy.
On the other hand, is O.J, a great guy? Not really. He’s flawed. He hit Nicole back in 89. But regardless of the well-publicized hearsay, he didn’t hit her any other time (Nicole said this in court in 92, Nicole’s sister Denise said the same during the mid-90s). Juice never hit his first wife Marguerite Whitley. So yes, his abuse was inexcusable. But an idiotic motive considering as recently as spring of 94, Nicole was trying to get back with him.
This isn't even counting how O.J. never reacted with rage or jealousy toward Nicole's romantic relationships. Keith Douglas Zlomsowitch, one of Nicole's former lovers, admitted that O.J. had seen him and Nicole making love in Nicole’s living room. The very next day, a calm O.J. told them in private that they should be careful about doing things out in the open in case one of the kids walked in. One of O.J.’s best friends Marcus Allen even said that when he told Juice he had sex with Nicole, O.J. reacted calmly and was only upset because Allen was engaged at the time.
So yeah, none of this excuses O.J.’s lone case of domestic violence. But the context shows how exaggerated O.J. and Nicole’s volatile relationship was so the prosecutors could have a sensational motive.
I get that what I'm saying isn’t what Oprah, Geraldo, or the alarming number of celebrity black apologists have taught you. This isn’t what the racist Howard Stern taught you either when he advocated for lynching Mr. Simpson. No, what I'm telling you are facts. Not lies and bullshit.
People hate me for it. I suppose you will too. Go ahead and serenade me with your downvotes. I don't give a fuck. Throw out soundbites like Bruno Maglis (the Enquirer photos were supposedly taken during a rainstorm... not great for a pair of "pristine" Suede shoes), all that blood!1! (EDTA), the Bronco chase (O.J. believed he was framed and panicked), If I Did It (written by a ghostwriter, an easy 500k for O.J. after years of pleading his innocence onto deaf ears), a "failed" polygraph (nevermind the fact that Gary Ridgeway, the most prolific serial killer in American history passed a polygraph or that Ted Bundy did so twice), or the horrific civil trial that inexplicably allowed hearsay evidence.
And where has all my research left me? My family doesn't talk to me. I don't have close friends. Needless to say, no girlfriend. I'm alienated because of my beliefs.
But the biggest rift my "unpopular opinion" has created is between my dad and I. The emotions of this case run that deep. In many ways, I too was a victim of this trial of the century. Alongside the integrity of the American media, so went my All-American family.
My mother and father never got along during the trial. Even as a child, I remembered their bickering. Constant, ugly bickering. Mom's belief in O.J.'s innocence was actually what got me interested in the case. Particularly as a stark contrast to the O.J. Did It industry we've all been bombarded with.
My dad had the popular opinion. Their disagreement over the case opened a nasty wound between them. My parents divorced soon after Juice's acquittal. And as I grew up, I tried to stay close to my folks. My mother the introverted hippie, my father the more assertive and outgoing type. I was more like mom... no friends, artsy rather than social. On the other hand, my dad was friends with many of the people in the small town he lived in. The small town he thrived in as a local accountant.
For mom, O.J.'s plight was tragic. Yet another sad example of the horrors of being black in America. To my dad, Juice had played the race card.
While my dad and I used to be real close, my own interest in the O.J. Simpson case brought about the same tensions that had killed his marriage. Him and I argued more. He resented my opinion. Like most of you, he never could see anything past O.J. Did It, No Questions Asked.
My dad's brown eyes would berate me with the same sharp ferocity of his irate words. His temper was quick. And it only got worse as he got older. Particularly whenever O.J. came up.
Once mom passed a few years back, my dad and I grew even more apart. I think he blamed her for pushing me toward the case. But the reality was that their divorce was what fueled my interest. I came to the realization that mom was right all along. Yet she was crucified for that opinion. God knows how her own family and friends treated her for being the one white woman who believed Mr. Simpson was innocent.
But I think what really set dad off was my career. You see, my penultimate project began back in 2013: my O.J. Simpson webpage. I knew on-line there were people like me. People who did know more about the case and who had bothered researching it.
Over the years, my site garnered a cult-like following. And dad was pretty pissed about it. As he got older and his brown hair grew thinner, his eyes only became more narrow and cold. And so did his resentment toward me. The few conversations we had always ended in arguments. There were shouting matches about the case. Shouting matches about race. Shouting matches about mom.
I'd have loved to see him be proud of my work... but that was wishful thinking. His mind was made up. I couldn't worry about pop anymore. I had to worry about the new generation. Younger, more open-minded people like me.
As the site grew, my friend Pearse helped me land interviews with some of the biggest names from the trial for his podcast. I started uploading feature-length documentaries rather than YouTube videos. My analysis on the O.J. case made me an expert. Not to mention a hero to those who knew the truth. Hell, I even got advertising money.
My site was doing well. However, it wasn't mainstream media. I wasn't making much money. So imagine my surprise when the ultimate project came up. The most audacious thing my webpage had tackled yet: an interview with the Juice himself.
It turned out O.J. Simpson loved my work... I guess there's some consolation for never having my dad appreciate it.
I was surprised yet overjoyed when I got O.J.'s e-mail. I consulted with all of the people I'd been interviewing. And to my utter joy, everything checked out. I soon got Simpson's Vegas address.
The news would've excited my devoted fanbase however, I wanted to keep it a surprise for now. Outside of telling Pearse and a few friends, I kept the trip a secret. I doubted O.J. wanted me telling the world anyway.
But I did tell a few family members. Rather than congratulate me, they gave me the usual cliched jokes instead ("don't get hacked). I even got the nerve to tell my dad, but he just grumbled before hanging up. He always preferred my fiction. I guess it was for the best I hadn't told him about the O.J. book I was working on...
The following week, I packed my bags and left for Nevada. My buddy Pearse came along for moral support. And to be the cameraman.
O.J.'s handlers were there waiting for us at the airport. In their suits, they resembled Secret Service. But hey, I couldn't blame O.J. taking some precautions after all the death threats. His posse was very professional though. The exact opposite of the crazy Vegas crew who helped him "steal" his memorabilia.
From what I understood, O.J. had been staying at one of his friends's mansions. A Microsoft millionaire's house. He'd let O.J. crash there since Juice couldn't leave the state. Not that O.J. had it bad considering how lavish the mansion was. While modest compared to the rest of the neighborhood, the place was still glorious. There was privacy galore. Tall trees surrounded the yard, concealing the house and iron-pike fence from outside view.
Once our van pulled up into O.J.'s driveway, I took a deep breath. Pearse and I had made it. Here I was about give an exclusive interview with the man America considered a monster. But who in reality was a tragic victim.
The spacious and pristine yard had gaudy lawn ornaments. Pretty sculptures. Huge sprinklers and, of course, a nice pool.
Pearse was told to keep the camera off until we got inside the house. For security purposes. Me not being an asshole mainstream journalist, complied out of respect for the Juice.
Inside, the mansion was more in line with what I'd expect from O.J. Clean, impressive, stylish. And yes, flashy.
We were told to wait in the living room. It was in here, O.J. had his memorabilia well on display (apparently, he'd recovered most of the stolen items). There were old jerseys, posters, movie props, game balls, trophies. Hall Of Fame accolades. The Heisman. Not many people seem to realize O.J. Simpson was a Hell of a player. I could tell he had his guests wait here on purpose. A nice humblebrag. Then again, who could blame him? This shit was amazing.
Amongst the collectibles were more cultured items. Artwork, portraits, classic novels, some sick fucking vinyl. I could tell most of these belonged to O.J. The guy was a fucking connoisseur.
Framed family photos still had their place in this mancave of O.J.'s glory days. Pictures of him with Marguerite. Pictures of him with Nicole. But the most frequent images I saw were kids. Children, teenagers, college photos. O.J.'s smiling children seemed to swarm all around Pearse and I. And it wasn't creepy in the slightest either. In a room that could've (and probably was) a vanity tribute to the Juice, somehow, the children's photos took more precedence. They were what I remembered most about the house.
In a corner of the room was a framed photo of O.J.'s deceased infant daughter Aaren. A cross hung right above it. A collection of Angel figurines stood on both sides of the lavish picture frame. A sincere shrine for Aaren.
Using the camera, Pearse was all too happy to capture the scene. The mansion definitely a big step up from Pearse's garage studio.
Emerging from a long hallway, our man of the hour entered the room. Orenthal James Simpson. Even at seventy-one, he looked effortless and smooth. Quite debonair in a brown suit he'd consider modest but most likely cost a couple grand. The guy had style. And he also knew he was gonna be on camera. No wonder he had his Hall Of Fame ring on.
O.J. stuck a groomed hand out toward me. "Steve, how are you," he said in his eloquent baritone. A voice that hadn't lost any of its charm after all these years and traumas.
Overwhelmed by nerves, I forced myself to complete the handshake. "I'm doing okay," I responded, a slight tremble in my voice.
As if he sensed my nerves, O.J. flashed me a warm smile. "Alright. I'm glad."
His handshake was strong yet there was a soft touch. And his hand was fucking huge. It practically engulfed mine. No wonder he could hang on to that football.
"It's an honor to meet you," I added.
"Likewise." His voice even trembled like mine. Not from nerves but emotion... appreciation. "Likewise, Steve."
I introduced him to Pearse, and then the interview began. I was simultaneously surprised yet glad to see it was just us three for the interview. I'm sure O.J. appreciated the chill vibes.
We toured the rest of the house. The guest rooms were well-furnished. There was also another mancave, O.J.'s destination for Saturdays and Sundays during football season. He played us some of his old highlights via YouTube. The guy just couldn't help himself. I saw a bunch of golf gear in here as well. The sport definitely still O.J.'s go-to hobby.
Later on, we checked out the kitchen and dining room. A back balcony overlooked the pool. I even saw little yappy dogs running around the back yard. I was surprised they weren't even full-breeds. Just regular old mutts. We could hear their incessant barks all tour long.
To my surprise, O.J.'s bedroom itself was rather plain. Not flashy like the living room or mancave. Just a few pictures of his mother and Aaren placed next to religious figurines.
However his closet was another story. Hell, it looked it'd been converted from a bedroom. A Sex And The City wet dream. Rows and rows of clothes. All of them name brand, all of them collected over the years.
Overall, O.J. was very welcoming. Even humble. He talked to Pearse and I about how his stay in prison had changed his attitude. He'd gone through years of (understandable) anger due to his mistreatment by the media. He had a chip on his shoulder. But the experience of just being another inmate, another number, changed his outlook for the better. He missed Florida. He missed L.A. But he wasn't too upset as his kids came to visit him quite often. Las Vegas, and this house in particular, had become his "home away from home."
We planned on doing the bulk of our interview in O.J.'s cozy study. There we had a glowing fireplace, comfortable chairs, and perfect lighting. A small coffee table the only barrier between O.J. and I.
Even from where I was sitting, I saw how the bookshelves were stuffed with every literary classic imaginable. I figured O.J. probably hadn't read most of them, but shit, it was still an impressive collection.
One book in particular caught my eye. Unlike the books around it, this one resembled a scrapbook. No title on the spine. It looked old as Hell. Did O.J. own a first edition Book Of The Dead? Or the Necronomicon?
Gazing around the rest of the room, I saw O.J.'s framed memorabilia from the Roots shoot (costume, props, etc) right next to a pair of glass doors leading to the balcony. I could tell the memorabilia meant a lot to him. In an acting career based more off his charm and good looks than talent, appearing in Roots was a rare proud moment in his film career.
Like an annoying yet cute soundtrack, the dogs continued their barking well into the night. I suppose they were chasing squirrels or whatever other critters were lurking about. Maybe they were still after Pearse and I, for that matter.
A few of O.J.'s bodyguards stood by the study door. But they were quiet and kept their distance. They must've known how much an interview like this meant to O.J. One where he wasn't pleading his innocence to a buzzard or some other indifferent asshole. Instead, him and I were talking like old friends. Comrades.
We started off the interview in simple fashion: O.J.'s background. Orenthal James wasn't born a millionaire athlete. He came from nothing. From the slums of California all the way to the gridiron on the USC campus. Truly the American Dream. O.J. went into great detail about this. The anecdotes on the hardships he and his mother faced. His glory days as a USC superstar. And then when he cemented his football legacy on the Buffalo Bills.
When it came to his playing career, I could tell O.J. was most excited about his tenure with the Bills. They were a small market team he embraced. He also loved the Bills Mafia, the team's zany and enthusiastic fanbase. The Bills had some winning seasons with Juice leading their offense. After all, he was a natural born star and leader for that long-tormented franchise. And to this day, they still treated Simpson with respect unlike the alma mater that ultimately disowned him.
Throughout the interview, I could tell O.J. struggled at times to remember certain names and dates. Our conversation switched to CDTE and other brain/memory issues that had been attributed to playing American football. Awhile back, O.J. had been diagnosed with this (in addition to arthritis). While football is still a violent game, in O.J.'s heyday it was a fucking blood sport ("It was a different era, man," he told me). Not much padding or safety precautions. Illegal hits were the norm. Nothing was off limits. Not even your head.
The grave seriousness of the topic removed us from the nostalgic vanity that had accompanied O.J.'s reflections on his career. Our conversation soon shifted to the tragedy that would haunt O.J. Simpson. And forever tarnish his name.
I was surprised to see O.J. be so open while discussing that fateful June night. I knew he usually avoided the topic out of contempt for a press that had ignored his words in favor of misquoting him and making him look like a lunatic. But he was comfortable with us.
We discussed everything. From Mark Fuhrman to the planted evidence to the lack of a cut or bruise anywhere on O.J.'s body (Goldman was same height as O.J., a blackbelt, and twenty years younger). The fact there was no cut on O.J.'s hand when he was at the airport signing autographs (including signing one for the pilot). The racial implications of the case. How the media automatically assumed his guilt before knowing if O.J. was even in L.A. when the murders happened.
O.J.'s sadness veered toward an understandable bitterness as we discussed how the media's inaccuracies ultimately became the legend.
"No one believed me," O.J. said, his baritone voice full of jaded weariness. "I tried everything. I did interviews, I talked about the trial, and it's like no one listened to me! They didn't wanna listen to me. They didn't wanna believe me." Fire burnt in his eyes, but I didn't feel threatened or scared like you probably would. Such a fire was built off of frustration not violence. "With Fuhrman, you got a guy on tape saying all this shit. That he framed minorities and blacks... not only that but he was anti-Semitic. If I was a white Jewish man, everyone would be outraged at Fuhrman and what he did. They'd take my word, they'd show the evidence we had. But that wasn't the case, was it? Instead, I'm playing the Goddamn race card!"
And I couldn't agree more. Everything he said was correct. The media had ignored the overwhelming evidence favoring his innocence to spin a false narrative. To them, Othello James Simpson killed the two white Angels. No questions asked.
While we were on the subject of O.J.'s unfair public perception, I asked how he felt about the growing number of black celebrities speaking out against him. Kanye, Jay-Z, Steve Harvey, etc.
O.J. hesitated. Discomfort joined his anger. I could tell he felt these questions were putting him in rough territory... particularly since he was African-American himself. I didn't expect him to go into a rant on how they were all coons, but I didn't expect him to be this silent and awkward.
He let out a weary sigh. "I don't know what to tell them," he finally said. "Maybe they were too young to watch the dang trial. Or they've gotten just saturated with all the crap they throw against me. They read too much National Enquirer, I don't know." A faint grin crossed his face. "The media the way it is... I guess everyone thinks I did it now, huh."
There was a vulnerable sadness to him. Something I'd never seen in all the footage on Juice. His silence couldn't hide that look of anguish.
"Everyone thinks I killed her," O.J. went on. That I'd kill her right where my kids slept!" He paused. A breather from the anger. "I can't change their minds, I give up." His emotions were overwhelming him. I could tell he didn't like it. O.J. was confident and strong. And he always seemed that way on television and in public. The memories were killing his public persona. He wasn't the Juice in this moment. He was Orenthal James Simpson. The tormented ex-husband of Nicole. The tormented father of four.
The roaring tragedy of 94 had returned from the grave once more. O.J. would never escape it. And he knew it.
I didn't even hear the barking dogs during this tense silence. They must've been respecting O.J.'s emotional struggle as well.
"When people think you're a killer," he struggled to begin, his deep voice caving in with heartache. "They think I never loved her, but I did."
"I know you did," I said, my voice steady yet reassuring.
O.J. gazed down at his lap. An obvious method to hide his tears. "And everything I'd worked toward was gone." He glared at the camera. "I worked hard to get to here! I came from nowhere, man, I supported my Goddamn family! I made a name for himself!"
His anger was ferocious but not directed toward anyone in the room. I felt no fear. But if this was Fox or TMZ, I could picture the headline now: O.J.'s Rage Returns! Watch Out White People!
"And then it was all gone!" O.J. continued. "All because they wanted to believe the nigger killed everybody! That I was a stalker, a fucking psycho." Tear fell from his eyes. On camera, O.J.'s harsher profanity was about as rare as the tears. He was showcasing twenty years' worth of wounds right here for Pearse and I.
"So yeah, maybe Kanye and all these other rappers and what-have-you think I did it. If they wanna appease their white audience, that's fine. Fuck them. We don't need them. God knows the truth. My children know the truth! That's what matters more than these arrogant niggers running their mouths about me. Just so they can stay with their fake fucking white friends." He chuckled. A defeated chuckle that was chilling in its helplessness. "I guess I used to be the same. Believe me, I know. And they'll find out soon enough. Oh yeah, they'll see what happens when they get framed or blamed for some shit they didn't do. Then they won't be Grmamy-winning rapper or Oscar-winning "thespian," they'll be a guiltyass nigger. Like what they say about me."
I could feel Pearse give me an unwasy look. But I wasn't stopping this. Not now. This was O.J. at his most candid and honest. He trusted us. I wasn't stopping him no matter where the controversy led.
"I'd never hurt her," O.J. went on. "I wouldn't..." He brushed away his tears. "I wasn't a great husband, but I cared about Nicole. Yeah, I hit her... but it wasn't like me. I felt terrible the second it happened. When she looked at me crying. Hell, I cried too. I had no idea I could ever do that. That I could hurt someone, much less my wife." His wounded eyes stared out the glass doors, peering off into the darkness. "And they wanna say I slaughtered her."
Respectful, I leaned in a little closer. "Well, who do you think actually did it, O.J.?" I asked, sympathetic yet strong. "That's the main question me and Pearse get from these idiots. They'll ignore everything we said just for this shit."
"It really is," Pearse added with a weak smile.
Quiet, O.J. kept looking off at the balcony.
"Look, I know Fuhrman made sure we'll likely never know," I told O.J. "But is there anything you'd want to add to the discussion? Any suspicions you had? Anyone you suspect?"
O.J. put a hand to his face, shielding his ravaged face from the camera. Rather than strength, he showed defeat. Like the traumas were at war within him. I could hear his heavy, wounded breaths. I could only imagine the painful memories running through his head. "Juice," I said.
"I can't," he mumbled.
A cloud of silence conquered the room. I felt a sense of cryptic dread lingering through the atmosphere. O.J.'s handlers gave me piercing stares. I returned them an awkward gaze. I wasn't sure what to do. I wasn't a therapist, after all.
Trying to break the uneasy mood, Pearse grinned. "You sure it wasn't Kato?"
No one laughed or responded.
"We've always suspected drugs," I said.
Grimacing, O.J. looked at us.
"Several of Ron Goldman's friends were killed right after he and Nicole," I added. "One of them had his throat slit from ear to ear."
"And Faye Resnick left Nicole's house the day before the murders," Pearse assisted me. "She owed drug dealers over thirty-thousand dollars from what I understand."
O.J. ran a hand along his face. Our comments hit him like bullets into his emotions. He didn't say anything. He just kept within his self. Within his fragment, tormented psyche.
"She looked just like Nicole," I said. Pearse and I's voices were calm but persistent.
Rocking in his seat, O.J. looked down at the ground. He avoided eye contact. He avoided us. The tears were forming in his eyes. He bit his lip. The sorrow weighed him down.
"There could've been a mix-up," I went on.
"It had to be two people," Pearse added.
I noticed all of O.J.'s associates watching him with concern.
Tears in his eyes, O.J. confronted us. In the war within himself, his anxiety was winning.
I just stared at Juice. But Pearse kept going.
"The original coroner even said two knives were used," Pearse continued.
O.J. gave us a fiery look. "You wanna know what really happened?" he said, his baritone devoid of any warmth or charm.
Pearse went silent in an instant.
"We just want to know your thoughts, O.J.," I said.
"Well, I'll tell you what happened!" O.J. responded. "I'll tell you exactly what happened!"
One of his concerned handlers stepped toward him.
O.J. held up his hand, keeping the bodyguards at bay. "No, let me speak!"
The handler took his place back by the door.
"Let me tell them everything," O.J. said. His intense eyes turned toward Pearse and I. "It's not about just drugs. There's more to it than that."
My detached coolness evaporated. O.J.'s gaze and voice were frantic. I sensed the interview was going into unexpected territory and I wasn't prepared. "What do you mean?" I asked, unable to hide the subtle panic in my voice.
"It's everybody!" O.J. yelled. "The whole fucking thing!" A defensive fury boiled up inside him. "There's an entire group of people that killed Nicole! And it's because they wanted me! They wanted to frame me and tear me to shreds. It wasn't just Goddamn Fuhrman or Vanatter. Not even the L.A.P.D. It was the entire country!"
The final chilling line reverberated through the room like an eerie piano chord. O.J.'s voice, his unnerving sincerity sold it.
Pearse and I just looked on at Juice, confused. None of his associates were stopping him. None of them even looked confused by his proclamation. They just had knowing expressions on their faces. Like they too were aware of Juice's wild account.
"I don't understand," I finally mustered out. "What do you mean? The entire country-"
"You heard me, Steve," O.J. interrupted. He leaned back in his seat. Like the weary survivor he was. "You know how this country is. You've seen it in action, Steve. It's not so much the media as it is the establishment."
"So what are you saying-"
"I'm saying they'll do anything to suppress blacks and other minorities. The white elite is too powerful. They need to find ways to... to inhibit blacks." O.J. looked right at Pearse and I. His emotional brown eyes pierced deep into our souls.
Not sure what to do, I hesitated. "So you're saying this conspiracy killed Nicole and Goldman?"
More animated than ever, O.J. threw his hands out toward us. "You know about me! You know who I was! What I represented. I was one of the first black celebrities to cross over. I was in commercials, man! Ten years after segregation ended, I was pushing Hertz! I was in movies, I was a superstar."
I didn't think he was bragging. His voice was too full of anger and resentment for this to be gloating O.J.
"And what better way to kill what I represented, huh?" O.J. challenged us. He leaned in closer like a wild-eyed preacher. This wasn't the Smooth Mr. Simpson. What we saw now was all paranoia... either from Alzheimer's or genuine fear. "They did what could turn the Juice into that rich nigger that got away with murder!" He waved his hands around as if he were shoving an invisible force away. "And they fucking got away with it! They killed Nicole and did everything they could to incriminate me!"
I looked over at Pearse. All I saw was a face of stunned confusion. Like someone had transplanted Pearse from Vegas to a nuthouse.
I confronted O.J. "So a group of these special rich white people killed Nicole?"
"Rich, powerful white people," he answered, his voice unwavering and not backing down.
The Juice was loose, alright, I thought. Loose in the fucking head.
"Look, Juice," I began.
O.J. flashed me a cryptic smile. "You don't believe me?"
I looked around the room. The associates were all stone-faced. Had O.J. convinced them of this batshit insanity? Or was he just paying them enough to believe?
"Honestly," I stammered. I looked back at O.J.'s calm face. He was relaxed. Like telling us this secret had lifted the weight of anxiety off him. "I don't know what to believe."
"I know," O.J. responded. Letting out a weary sigh, he slouched back in his chair. "It sounds crazy... it's why I don't tell many people." His gaze drifted off to the glass doors. "It's why I'm scared to tell anyone really."
"Why?"
Like he was responding to an insult, O.J. just gave me a cold glare. "You don't have a clue what these people are. The power they have. You can't even imagine what they could do to me and you."
"If they were trying to bring you down, why not just get you convicted-"
"They tried, didn't they," O.J. interrupted, his baritone commanding and strong.
"Then why not have you killed."
Smirking, O.J. looked off at the bodyguards. They returned sly smiles back.
Annoyed, I leaned in toward Juice. "If they were trying to destroy you because of your influence then why not just kill you? Alright, they tried framing you, so why wouldn't they just finish you off?"
O.J. let out a maddening laugh. The laugh of a helpless man left to die from irony.
"What?" I demanded. "Why wouldn't they?"
"Why would they waste their time!" O.J. said through the chuckles. He pointed at himself. "Look at me, Steve. What the Hell would killing me do?"
The realization struck me. He was right. Why would they waste their time killing him... they'd already done enough. The damage was done.
"The trial killed everything I stood for," O.J. said. "No one looked at me the same. They couldn't look me in the eye." He leaned in closer, holding my gaze with those dark eyes. "There were no more advertisements, no more movies. No more Monday Night Football. No more respect of O.J.'s American Dream. I'm the Goddamn monster now, Steve."
Destroyed by inner anguish, he looked toward the floor.
Our staredown and his chilling reflections still left me shook.
"Hell, for all I know maybe they failed to frame me on purpose," O.J. muttered. He looked up at me. "Maybe just me fighting it out in the court then getting acquitted was part of the plan all along. Just to make people hate me even more."
"I'm sorry," I said. My attempt at a neutral voice couldn't hide my sympathy.
"If I'd gone to jail over a false charge, maybe people would've protested for me," Juice stated. "They would've looked into the case."
The atmosphere grew more and more tense with O.J.'s account. I noticed him running his hands together in a nervous tic. He couldn't fake the discomfort. He was never that good of an actor.
"Instead, all we get is everyone saying I did it," O.J. went on. "O.J. Simpson murderer. That's it. Listen to your Geraldos and your Nancy Graces, the entire American media. They all just pick me apart since I guess it's still illegal to string niggers up when you absolutely know we did something. I guess Emmett Till would've suffered the same."
Uneasy, I nodded my head. The room felt quieter than ever. No voices, no music, no football highlights, no dogs. Just crackling from the fire.
I didn't like seeing O.J. this way. Regardless of his hardships, he'd always been an upbeat fighter. Now he looked defeated.
"There's nothing I can do," O.J. said. "And they know it. They know they fucked me. My image is ruined forever. My name, everything I did. It's gone. My legacy is that I'm a black man who killed two white people. That's what I am." Tears of anger filled his eyes. "The media played it up. They control that too, you know. They control everything!"
"Jesus...” Pearse exclaimed.
I faced Pearse. Like me, he too was riveted by Juice's every word. Only Pearse 100% believed him.
"You do a lot of great things, Steve," O.J. told me.
I looked at Juice. Or the decrepit, depressed sight that was once O.J. Simpson.
"But there's nothing you can do," O.J. continued. "You're not Fox or NBC. You don't get many people on that show. It's why Baby Blue don't care."
"Baby Blue?" I asked, confused.
O.J.'s eyes never strayed from me. "That's their leader."
"What?"
His face stoic and deadly serious, O.J. pointed up toward his eyes. "Their leader's eyes. They're baby blue. That's all I know."
Part 1 of 2
Link To Part Two
14

Amongst all the unpopular opinions in America, mine may be the most unpopular. Or at least, the most hated. O.J. Simpson didn't kill Ron Goldman or Nicole. There, I said it. That's not guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. That's not we can't prove he did it, but it's likely. That's fucking innocent. And no, I'm not the Caucasian-media-driven caricature of a black conspiracy theorist. Not at all. I'm a thirty-year-old middle-class white guy. I've got no dog in this fight. I didn't root for Juice during the 70s or admire his status as a crossover icon in all those movies and Hertz ads. Due to my youth, I've also got no claim in the emotional war zone that was his 1995 murder trial. I go off the facts. And regardless of what Oprah or Fox News wants you to believe, the "mountain of evidence" actually resides in O.J.'s innocence.
Remember when FX's The People Vs. O.J. Simpson claimed O.J. never asked detectives how Nicole died? That was bullshit, trial footage at 1:58. Or when ESPN's O.J.: Made In America insinuated O.J. wasn't taking his arthritis meds so the gloves wouldn't fit? Doctors signed off on O.J. taking the meds, trial footage at 7:49. Want another lie from this Oscar winning "documentary?" Try the fact O.J. didn't have a single cut or bruise on his body when he left his house on that fateful June night, trial footage at 1:30. Yeah, that's right. Goldman and Nicole's bodies (particularly Goldman's) were covered in defensive wounds yet there's no marks on O.J.
Juice wasn't in a hurry to get through the airport either. Less than thirty minutes after supposedly butchering two people in one of the biggest rage crimes in American history, O.J. was described as being friendly as he signed autographs at the airport. Witnesses didn't see a single cut, scratch, or bandage on his hands. Why is this important? The very next day, O.J. was examined by L.A.P.D. No cuts or bruises were on his body except a few cuts on his hand he got from smashing a glass in his Chicago hotel room. An overemotional reaction he had after hearing about Nicole's death. Chicago police found bloodied glass in the room. A hotel clerk even said O.J. came downstairs to get a bandage for the cut. The chauffeur who picked him up from the hotel took note of the fresh bandage. And everyone on that plane ride back to L.A. described Simpson as being completely distraught. He was in a rush to get back to L.A. as soon as possible... interesting for a guy deemed unquestionably guilty.
So without a single cut, where did the supposed incriminating blood evidence come from? Regardless of how Geraldo wants to spin it, the blood evidence is shit. At the prosecution's insistence, two samples were tested specifically to disprove the defense's theory that the blood was planted. The samples came back with EDTA, a preservative used in lab test tubes. Experts agree it was too much EDTA for the blood to come naturally from O.J.'s body. Or from eating Big Macs like Marcia Clark claims. Furthermore, the blood on Nicole's back gate wasn't seen in any of the initial crime scene photos. Rather, it was somehow inexplicably discovered in July... weeks after the entire crime scene had been washed down.
And that takes us to Detective Mark Fuhrman, the man who discovered the glove on O.J.'s property. Again, one of the gloves had a small amount of O.J.'s DNA, the other didn't. Aside from the fact the gloves didn't fit, O.J.'s DNA wasn't even found on the glove's fingers... nor did either glove share a cut similar to the one O.J. got in his hotel room (remember, he had no cuts on the flight to Chicago).
The glove Fuhrman found was also still wet even though it'd supposedly been rotting in the June heat for over seven hours. No dirt or debris were found on the glove either even though the back alley of O.J.'s home was heavily wooded with leaves, berries, etc.
So back to Detective Fuhrman, the guy did more than say the n-word. On his infamous taped conversations with Laura McKinny, he said "nigger" well over fifty times. Fuhrman also admitted to hating blacks and interracial couples, lying under oath, and planting evidence. On top of this, he'd gotten L.A.P.D. sued years earlier for shooting at an unarmed black man and planting a knife on him. If you believe O.J. is guilty, you have to do two things: you have to ignore all the facts and evidence, and you have to take the word of a racist white cop over all the witnesses supporting O.J.’s innocence. Mark Fuhrman is your guy.
On the other hand, is O.J, a great guy? Not really. He’s flawed. He hit Nicole back in 89. But regardless of the well-publicized hearsay, he didn’t hit her any other time (Nicole said this in court in 92, Nicole’s sister Denise said the same during the mid-90s). Juice never hit his first wife Marguerite Whitley. So yes, his abuse was inexcusable. But an idiotic motive considering as recently as spring of 94, Nicole was trying to get back with him.
This isn't even counting how O.J. never reacted with rage or jealousy toward Nicole's romantic relationships. Keith Douglas Zlomsowitch, one of Nicole's former lovers, admitted that O.J. had seen him and Nicole making love in Nicole’s living room. The very next day, a calm O.J. told them in private that they should be careful about doing things out in the open in case one of the kids walked in. One of O.J.’s best friends Marcus Allen even said that when he told Juice he had sex with Nicole, O.J. reacted calmly and was only upset because Allen was engaged at the time.
So yeah, none of this excuses O.J.’s lone case of domestic violence. But the context shows how exaggerated O.J. and Nicole’s volatile relationship was so the prosecutors could have a sensational motive.
I get that what I'm saying isn’t what Oprah, Geraldo, or the alarming number of celebrity black apologists have taught you. This isn’t what the racist Howard Stern taught you either when he advocated for lynching Mr. Simpson. No, what I'm telling you are facts. Not lies and bullshit.
People hate me for it. I suppose you will too. Go ahead and serenade me with your downvotes. I don't give a fuck. Throw out soundbites like Bruno Maglis (the Enquirer photos were supposedly taken during a rainstorm... not great for a pair of "pristine" Suede shoes), all that blood!1! (EDTA), the Bronco chase (O.J. believed he was framed and panicked), If I Did It (written by a ghostwriter, an easy 500k for O.J. after years of pleading his innocence onto deaf ears), a "failed" polygraph (nevermind the fact that Gary Ridgeway, the most prolific serial killer in American history passed a polygraph or that Ted Bundy did so twice), or the horrific civil trial that inexplicably allowed hearsay evidence.
And where has all my research left me? My family doesn't talk to me. I don't have close friends. Needless to say, no girlfriend. I'm alienated because of my beliefs.
But the biggest rift my "unpopular opinion" has created is between my dad and I. The emotions of this case run that deep. In many ways, I too was a victim of this trial of the century. Alongside the integrity of the American media, so went my All-American family.
My mother and father never got along during the trial. Even as a child, I remembered their bickering. Constant, ugly bickering. Mom's belief in O.J.'s innocence was actually what got me interested in the case. Particularly as a stark contrast to the O.J. Did It industry we've all been bombarded with.
My dad had the popular opinion. Their disagreement over the case opened a nasty wound between them. My parents divorced soon after Juice's acquittal. And as I grew up, I tried to stay close to my folks. My mother the introverted hippie, my father the more assertive and outgoing type. I was more like mom... no friends, artsy rather than social. On the other hand, my dad was friends with many of the people in the small town he lived in. The small town he thrived in as a local accountant.
For mom, O.J.'s plight was tragic. Yet another sad example of the horrors of being black in America. To my dad, Juice had played the race card.
While my dad and I used to be real close, my own interest in the O.J. Simpson case brought about the same tensions that had killed his marriage. Him and I argued more. He resented my opinion. Like most of you, he never could see anything past O.J. Did It, No Questions Asked.
My dad's brown eyes would berate me with the same sharp ferocity of his irate words. His temper was quick. And it only got worse as he got older. Particularly whenever O.J. came up.
Once mom passed a few years back, my dad and I grew even more apart. I think he blamed her for pushing me toward the case. But the reality was that their divorce was what fueled my interest. I came to the realization that mom was right all along. Yet she was crucified for that opinion. God knows how her own family and friends treated her for being the one white woman who believed Mr. Simpson was innocent.
But I think what really set dad off was my career. You see, my penultimate project began back in 2013: my O.J. Simpson webpage. I knew on-line there were people like me. People who did know more about the case and who had bothered researching it.
Over the years, my site garnered a cult-like following. And dad was pretty pissed about it. As he got older and his brown hair grew thinner, his eyes only became more narrow and cold. And so did his resentment toward me. The few conversations we had always ended in arguments. There were shouting matches about the case. Shouting matches about race. Shouting matches about mom.
I'd have loved to see him be proud of my work... but that was wishful thinking. His mind was made up. I couldn't worry about pop anymore. I had to worry about the new generation. Younger, more open-minded people like me.
As the site grew, my friend Pearse helped me land interviews with some of the biggest names from the trial for his podcast. I started uploading feature-length documentaries rather than YouTube videos. My analysis on the O.J. case made me an expert. Not to mention a hero to those who knew the truth. Hell, I even got advertising money.
My site was doing well. However, it wasn't mainstream media. I wasn't making much money. So imagine my surprise when the ultimate project came up. The most audacious thing my webpage had tackled yet: an interview with the Juice himself.
It turned out O.J. Simpson loved my work... I guess there's some consolation for never having my dad appreciate it.
I was surprised yet overjoyed when I got O.J.'s e-mail. I consulted with all of the people I'd been interviewing. And to my utter joy, everything checked out. I soon got Simpson's Vegas address.
The news would've excited my devoted fanbase however, I wanted to keep it a surprise for now. Outside of telling Pearse and a few friends, I kept the trip a secret. I doubted O.J. wanted me telling the world anyway.
But I did tell a few family members. Rather than congratulate me, they gave me the usual cliched jokes instead ("don't get hacked). I even got the nerve to tell my dad, but he just grumbled before hanging up. He always preferred my fiction. I guess it was for the best I hadn't told him about the O.J. book I was working on...
The following week, I packed my bags and left for Nevada. My buddy Pearse came along for moral support. And to be the cameraman.
O.J.'s handlers were there waiting for us at the airport. In their suits, they resembled Secret Service. But hey, I couldn't blame O.J. taking some precautions after all the death threats. His posse was very professional though. The exact opposite of the crazy Vegas crew who helped him "steal" his memorabilia.
From what I understood, O.J. had been staying at one of his friends's mansions. A Microsoft millionaire's house. He'd let O.J. crash there since Juice couldn't leave the state. Not that O.J. had it bad considering how lavish the mansion was. While modest compared to the rest of the neighborhood, the place was still glorious. There was privacy galore. Tall trees surrounded the yard, concealing the house and iron-pike fence from outside view.
Once our van pulled up into O.J.'s driveway, I took a deep breath. Pearse and I had made it. Here I was about give an exclusive interview with the man America considered a monster. But who in reality was a tragic victim.
The spacious and pristine yard had gaudy lawn ornaments. Pretty sculptures. Huge sprinklers and, of course, a nice pool.
Pearse was told to keep the camera off until we got inside the house. For security purposes. Me not being an asshole mainstream journalist, complied out of respect for the Juice.
Inside, the mansion was more in line with what I'd expect from O.J. Clean, impressive, stylish. And yes, flashy.
We were told to wait in the living room. It was in here, O.J. had his memorabilia well on display (apparently, he'd recovered most of the stolen items). There were old jerseys, posters, movie props, game balls, trophies. Hall Of Fame accolades. The Heisman. Not many people seem to realize O.J. Simpson was a Hell of a player. I could tell he had his guests wait here on purpose. A nice humblebrag. Then again, who could blame him? This shit was amazing.
Amongst the collectibles were more cultured items. Artwork, portraits, classic novels, some sick fucking vinyl. I could tell most of these belonged to O.J. The guy was a fucking connoisseur.
Framed family photos still had their place in this mancave of O.J.'s glory days. Pictures of him with Marguerite. Pictures of him with Nicole. But the most frequent images I saw were kids. Children, teenagers, college photos. O.J.'s smiling children seemed to swarm all around Pearse and I. And it wasn't creepy in the slightest either. In a room that could've (and probably was) a vanity tribute to the Juice, somehow, the children's photos took more precedence. They were what I remembered most about the house.
In a corner of the room was a framed photo of O.J.'s deceased infant daughter Aaren. A cross hung right above it. A collection of Angel figurines stood on both sides of the lavish picture frame. A sincere shrine for Aaren.
Using the camera, Pearse was all too happy to capture the scene. The mansion definitely a big step up from Pearse's garage studio.
Emerging from a long hallway, our man of the hour entered the room. Orenthal James Simpson. Even at seventy-one, he looked effortless and smooth. Quite debonair in a brown suit he'd consider modest but most likely cost a couple grand. The guy had style. And he also knew he was gonna be on camera. No wonder he had his Hall Of Fame ring on.
O.J. stuck a groomed hand out toward me. "Steve, how are you," he said in his eloquent baritone. A voice that hadn't lost any of its charm after all these years and traumas.
Overwhelmed by nerves, I forced myself to complete the handshake. "I'm doing okay," I responded, a slight tremble in my voice.
As if he sensed my nerves, O.J. flashed me a warm smile. "Alright. I'm glad."
His handshake was strong yet there was a soft touch. And his hand was fucking huge. It practically engulfed mine. No wonder he could hang on to that football.
"It's an honor to meet you," I added.
"Likewise." His voice even trembled like mine. Not from nerves but emotion... appreciation. "Likewise, Steve."
I introduced him to Pearse, and then the interview began. I was simultaneously surprised yet glad to see it was just us three for the interview. I'm sure O.J. appreciated the chill vibes.
We toured the rest of the house. The guest rooms were well-furnished. There was also another mancave, O.J.'s destination for Saturdays and Sundays during football season. He played us some of his old highlights via YouTube. The guy just couldn't help himself. I saw a bunch of golf gear in here as well. The sport definitely still O.J.'s go-to hobby.
Later on, we checked out the kitchen and dining room. A back balcony overlooked the pool. I even saw little yappy dogs running around the back yard. I was surprised they weren't even full-breeds. Just regular old mutts. We could hear their incessant barks all tour long.
To my surprise, O.J.'s bedroom itself was rather plain. Not flashy like the living room or mancave. Just a few pictures of his mother and Aaren placed next to religious figurines.
However his closet was another story. Hell, it looked it'd been converted from a bedroom. A Sex And The City wet dream. Rows and rows of clothes. All of them name brand, all of them collected over the years.
Overall, O.J. was very welcoming. Even humble. He talked to Pearse and I about how his stay in prison had changed his attitude. He'd gone through years of (understandable) anger due to his mistreatment by the media. He had a chip on his shoulder. But the experience of just being another inmate, another number, changed his outlook for the better. He missed Florida. He missed L.A. But he wasn't too upset as his kids came to visit him quite often. Las Vegas, and this house in particular, had become his "home away from home."
We planned on doing the bulk of our interview in O.J.'s cozy study. There we had a glowing fireplace, comfortable chairs, and perfect lighting. A small coffee table the only barrier between O.J. and I.
Even from where I was sitting, I saw how the bookshelves were stuffed with every literary classic imaginable. I figured O.J. probably hadn't read most of them, but shit, it was still an impressive collection.
One book in particular caught my eye. Unlike the books around it, this one resembled a scrapbook. No title on the spine. It looked old as Hell. Did O.J. own a first edition Book Of The Dead? Or the Necronomicon?
Gazing around the rest of the room, I saw O.J.'s framed memorabilia from the Roots shoot (costume, props, etc) right next to a pair of glass doors leading to the balcony. I could tell the memorabilia meant a lot to him. In an acting career based more off his charm and good looks than talent, appearing in Roots was a rare proud moment in his film career.
Like an annoying yet cute soundtrack, the dogs continued their barking well into the night. I suppose they were chasing squirrels or whatever other critters were lurking about. Maybe they were still after Pearse and I, for that matter.
A few of O.J.'s bodyguards stood by the study door. But they were quiet and kept their distance. They must've known how much an interview like this meant to O.J. One where he wasn't pleading his innocence to a buzzard or some other indifferent asshole. Instead, him and I were talking like old friends. Comrades.
We started off the interview in simple fashion: O.J.'s background. Orenthal James wasn't born a millionaire athlete. He came from nothing. From the slums of California all the way to the gridiron on the USC campus. Truly the American Dream. O.J. went into great detail about this. The anecdotes on the hardships he and his mother faced. His glory days as a USC superstar. And then when he cemented his football legacy on the Buffalo Bills.
When it came to his playing career, I could tell O.J. was most excited about his tenure with the Bills. They were a small market team he embraced. He also loved the Bills Mafia, the team's zany and enthusiastic fanbase. The Bills had some winning seasons with Juice leading their offense. After all, he was a natural born star and leader for that long-tormented franchise. And to this day, they still treated Simpson with respect unlike the alma mater that ultimately disowned him.
Throughout the interview, I could tell O.J. struggled at times to remember certain names and dates. Our conversation switched to CDTE and other brain/memory issues that had been attributed to playing American football. Awhile back, O.J. had been diagnosed with this (in addition to arthritis). While football is still a violent game, in O.J.'s heyday it was a fucking blood sport ("It was a different era, man," he told me). Not much padding or safety precautions. Illegal hits were the norm. Nothing was off limits. Not even your head.
The grave seriousness of the topic removed us from the nostalgic vanity that had accompanied O.J.'s reflections on his career. Our conversation soon shifted to the tragedy that would haunt O.J. Simpson. And forever tarnish his name.
I was surprised to see O.J. be so open while discussing that fateful June night. I knew he usually avoided the topic out of contempt for a press that had ignored his words in favor of misquoting him and making him look like a lunatic. But he was comfortable with us.
We discussed everything. From Mark Fuhrman to the planted evidence to the lack of a cut or bruise anywhere on O.J.'s body (Goldman was same height as O.J., a blackbelt, and twenty years younger). The fact there was no cut on O.J.'s hand when he was at the airport signing autographs (including signing one for the pilot). The racial implications of the case. How the media automatically assumed his guilt before knowing if O.J. was even in L.A. when the murders happened.
O.J.'s sadness veered toward an understandable bitterness as we discussed how the media's inaccuracies ultimately became the legend.
"No one believed me," O.J. said, his baritone voice full of jaded weariness. "I tried everything. I did interviews, I talked about the trial, and it's like no one listened to me! They didn't wanna listen to me. They didn't wanna believe me." Fire burnt in his eyes, but I didn't feel threatened or scared like you probably would. Such a fire was built off of frustration not violence. "With Fuhrman, you got a guy on tape saying all this shit. That he framed minorities and blacks... not only that but he was anti-Semitic. If I was a white Jewish man, everyone would be outraged at Fuhrman and what he did. They'd take my word, they'd show the evidence we had. But that wasn't the case, was it? Instead, I'm playing the Goddamn race card!"
And I couldn't agree more. Everything he said was correct. The media had ignored the overwhelming evidence favoring his innocence to spin a false narrative. To them, Othello James Simpson killed the two white Angels. No questions asked.
While we were on the subject of O.J.'s unfair public perception, I asked how he felt about the growing number of black celebrities speaking out against him. Kanye, Jay-Z, Steve Harvey, etc.
O.J. hesitated. Discomfort joined his anger. I could tell he felt these questions were putting him in rough territory... particularly since he was African-American himself. I didn't expect him to go into a rant on how they were all coons, but I didn't expect him to be this silent and awkward.
He let out a weary sigh. "I don't know what to tell them," he finally said. "Maybe they were too young to watch the dang trial. Or they've gotten just saturated with all the crap they throw against me. They read too much National Enquirer, I don't know." A faint grin crossed his face. "The media the way it is... I guess everyone thinks I did it now, huh."
There was a vulnerable sadness to him. Something I'd never seen in all the footage on Juice. His silence couldn't hide that look of anguish.
"Everyone thinks I killed her," O.J. went on. That I'd kill her right where my kids slept!" He paused. A breather from the anger. "I can't change their minds, I give up." His emotions were overwhelming him. I could tell he didn't like it. O.J. was confident and strong. And he always seemed that way on television and in public. The memories were killing his public persona. He wasn't the Juice in this moment. He was Orenthal James Simpson. The tormented ex-husband of Nicole. The tormented father of four.
The roaring tragedy of 94 had returned from the grave once more. O.J. would never escape it. And he knew it.
I didn't even hear the barking dogs during this tense silence. They must've been respecting O.J.'s emotional struggle as well.
"When people think you're a killer," he struggled to begin, his deep voice caving in with heartache. "They think I never loved her, but I did."
"I know you did," I said, my voice steady yet reassuring.
O.J. gazed down at his lap. An obvious method to hide his tears. "And everything I'd worked toward was gone." He glared at the camera. "I worked hard to get to here! I came from nowhere, man, I supported my Goddamn family! I made a name for himself!"
His anger was ferocious but not directed toward anyone in the room. I felt no fear. But if this was Fox or TMZ, I could picture the headline now: O.J.'s Rage Returns! Watch Out White People!
"And then it was all gone!" O.J. continued. "All because they wanted to believe the nigger killed everybody! That I was a stalker, a fucking psycho." Tear fell from his eyes. On camera, O.J.'s harsher profanity was about as rare as the tears. He was showcasing twenty years' worth of wounds right here for Pearse and I.
"So yeah, maybe Kanye and all these other rappers and what-have-you think I did it. If they wanna appease their white audience, that's fine. Fuck them. We don't need them. God knows the truth. My children know the truth! That's what matters more than these arrogant niggers running their mouths about me. Just so they can stay with their fake fucking white friends." He chuckled. A defeated chuckle that was chilling in its helplessness. "I guess I used to be the same. Believe me, I know. And they'll find out soon enough. Oh yeah, they'll see what happens when they get framed or blamed for some shit they didn't do. Then they won't be Grmamy-winning rapper or Oscar-winning "thespian," they'll be a guiltyass nigger. Like what they say about me."
I could feel Pearse give me an unwasy look. But I wasn't stopping this. Not now. This was O.J. at his most candid and honest. He trusted us. I wasn't stopping him no matter where the controversy led.
"I'd never hurt her," O.J. went on. "I wouldn't..." He brushed away his tears. "I wasn't a great husband, but I cared about Nicole. Yeah, I hit her... but it wasn't like me. I felt terrible the second it happened. When she looked at me crying. Hell, I cried too. I had no idea I could ever do that. That I could hurt someone, much less my wife." His wounded eyes stared out the glass doors, peering off into the darkness. "And they wanna say I slaughtered her."
Respectful, I leaned in a little closer. "Well, who do you think actually did it, O.J.?" I asked, sympathetic yet strong. "That's the main question me and Pearse get from these idiots. They'll ignore everything we said just for this shit."
"It really is," Pearse added with a weak smile.
Quiet, O.J. kept looking off at the balcony.
"Look, I know Fuhrman made sure we'll likely never know," I told O.J. "But is there anything you'd want to add to the discussion? Any suspicions you had? Anyone you suspect?"
O.J. put a hand to his face, shielding his ravaged face from the camera. Rather than strength, he showed defeat. Like the traumas were at war within him. I could hear his heavy, wounded breaths. I could only imagine the painful memories running through his head. "Juice," I said.
"I can't," he mumbled.
A cloud of silence conquered the room. I felt a sense of cryptic dread lingering through the atmosphere. O.J.'s handlers gave me piercing stares. I returned them an awkward gaze. I wasn't sure what to do. I wasn't a therapist, after all.
Trying to break the uneasy mood, Pearse grinned. "You sure it wasn't Kato?"
No one laughed or responded.
"We've always suspected drugs," I said.
Grimacing, O.J. looked at us.
"Several of Ron Goldman's friends were killed right after he and Nicole," I added. "One of them had his throat slit from ear to ear."
"And Faye Resnick left Nicole's house the day before the murders," Pearse assisted me. "She owed drug dealers over thirty-thousand dollars from what I understand."
O.J. ran a hand along his face. Our comments hit him like bullets into his emotions. He didn't say anything. He just kept within his self. Within his fragment, tormented psyche.
"She looked just like Nicole," I said. Pearse and I's voices were calm but persistent.
Rocking in his seat, O.J. looked down at the ground. He avoided eye contact. He avoided us. The tears were forming in his eyes. He bit his lip. The sorrow weighed him down.
"There could've been a mix-up," I went on.
"It had to be two people," Pearse added.
I noticed all of O.J.'s associates watching him with concern.
Tears in his eyes, O.J. confronted us. In the war within himself, his anxiety was winning.
I just stared at Juice. But Pearse kept going.
"The original coroner even said two knives were used," Pearse continued.
O.J. gave us a fiery look. "You wanna know what really happened?" he said, his baritone devoid of any warmth or charm.
Pearse went silent in an instant.
"We just want to know your thoughts, O.J.," I said.
"Well, I'll tell you what happened!" O.J. responded. "I'll tell you exactly what happened!"
One of his concerned handlers stepped toward him.
O.J. held up his hand, keeping the bodyguards at bay. "No, let me speak!"
The handler took his place back by the door.
"Let me tell them everything," O.J. said. His intense eyes turned toward Pearse and I. "It's not about just drugs. There's more to it than that."
My detached coolness evaporated. O.J.'s gaze and voice were frantic. I sensed the interview was going into unexpected territory and I wasn't prepared. "What do you mean?" I asked, unable to hide the subtle panic in my voice.
"It's everybody!" O.J. yelled. "The whole fucking thing!" A defensive fury boiled up inside him. "There's an entire group of people that killed Nicole! And it's because they wanted me! They wanted to frame me and tear me to shreds. It wasn't just Goddamn Fuhrman or Vanatter. Not even the L.A.P.D. It was the entire country!"
The final chilling line reverberated through the room like an eerie piano chord. O.J.'s voice, his unnerving sincerity sold it.
Pearse and I just looked on at Juice, confused. None of his associates were stopping him. None of them even looked confused by his proclamation. They just had knowing expressions on their faces. Like they too were aware of Juice's wild account.
"I don't understand," I finally mustered out. "What do you mean? The entire country-"
"You heard me, Steve," O.J. interrupted. He leaned back in his seat. Like the weary survivor he was. "You know how this country is. You've seen it in action, Steve. It's not so much the media as it is the establishment."
"So what are you saying-"
"I'm saying they'll do anything to suppress blacks and other minorities. The white elite is too powerful. They need to find ways to... to inhibit blacks." O.J. looked right at Pearse and I. His emotional brown eyes pierced deep into our souls.
Not sure what to do, I hesitated. "So you're saying this conspiracy killed Nicole and Goldman?"
More animated than ever, O.J. threw his hands out toward us. "You know about me! You know who I was! What I represented. I was one of the first black celebrities to cross over. I was in commercials, man! Ten years after segregation ended, I was pushing Hertz! I was in movies, I was a superstar."
I didn't think he was bragging. His voice was too full of anger and resentment for this to be gloating O.J.
"And what better way to kill what I represented, huh?" O.J. challenged us. He leaned in closer like a wild-eyed preacher. This wasn't the Smooth Mr. Simpson. What we saw now was all paranoia... either from Alzheimer's or genuine fear. "They did what could turn the Juice into that rich nigger that got away with murder!" He waved his hands around as if he were shoving an invisible force away. "And they fucking got away with it! They killed Nicole and did everything they could to incriminate me!"
I looked over at Pearse. All I saw was a face of stunned confusion. Like someone had transplanted Pearse from Vegas to a nuthouse.
I confronted O.J. "So a group of these special rich white people killed Nicole?"
"Rich, powerful white people," he answered, his voice unwavering and not backing down.
The Juice was loose, alright, I thought. Loose in the fucking head.
"Look, Juice," I began.
O.J. flashed me a cryptic smile. "You don't believe me?"
I looked around the room. The associates were all stone-faced. Had O.J. convinced them of this batshit insanity? Or was he just paying them enough to believe?
"Honestly," I stammered. I looked back at O.J.'s calm face. He was relaxed. Like telling us this secret had lifted the weight of anxiety off him. "I don't know what to believe."
"I know," O.J. responded. Letting out a weary sigh, he slouched back in his chair. "It sounds crazy... it's why I don't tell many people." His gaze drifted off to the glass doors. "It's why I'm scared to tell anyone really."
"Why?"
Like he was responding to an insult, O.J. just gave me a cold glare. "You don't have a clue what these people are. The power they have. You can't even imagine what they could do to me and you."
"If they were trying to bring you down, why not just get you convicted-"
"They tried, didn't they," O.J. interrupted, his baritone commanding and strong.
"Then why not have you killed."
Smirking, O.J. looked off at the bodyguards. They returned sly smiles back.
Annoyed, I leaned in toward Juice. "If they were trying to destroy you because of your influence then why not just kill you? Alright, they tried framing you, so why wouldn't they just finish you off?"
O.J. let out a maddening laugh. The laugh of a helpless man left to die from irony.
"What?" I demanded. "Why wouldn't they?"
"Why would they waste their time!" O.J. said through the chuckles. He pointed at himself. "Look at me, Steve. What the Hell would killing me do?"
The realization struck me. He was right. Why would they waste their time killing him... they'd already done enough. The damage was done.
"The trial killed everything I stood for," O.J. said. "No one looked at me the same. They couldn't look me in the eye." He leaned in closer, holding my gaze with those dark eyes. "There were no more advertisements, no more movies. No more Monday Night Football. No more respect of O.J.'s American Dream. I'm the Goddamn monster now, Steve."
Destroyed by inner anguish, he looked toward the floor.
Our staredown and his chilling reflections still left me shook.
"Hell, for all I know maybe they failed to frame me on purpose," O.J. muttered. He looked up at me. "Maybe just me fighting it out in the court then getting acquitted was part of the plan all along. Just to make people hate me even more."
"I'm sorry," I said. My attempt at a neutral voice couldn't hide my sympathy.
"If I'd gone to jail over a false charge, maybe people would've protested for me," Juice stated. "They would've looked into the case."
The atmosphere grew more and more tense with O.J.'s account. I noticed him running his hands together in a nervous tic. He couldn't fake the discomfort. He was never that good of an actor.
"Instead, all we get is everyone saying I did it," O.J. went on. "O.J. Simpson murderer. That's it. Listen to your Geraldos and your Nancy Graces, the entire American media. They all just pick me apart since I guess it's still illegal to string niggers up when you absolutely know we did something. I guess Emmett Till would've suffered the same."
Uneasy, I nodded my head. The room felt quieter than ever. No voices, no music, no football highlights, no dogs. Just crackling from the fire.
I didn't like seeing O.J. this way. Regardless of his hardships, he'd always been an upbeat fighter. Now he looked defeated.
"There's nothing I can do," O.J. said. "And they know it. They know they fucked me. My image is ruined forever. My name, everything I did. It's gone. My legacy is that I'm a black man who killed two white people. That's what I am." Tears of anger filled his eyes. "The media played it up. They control that too, you know. They control everything!"
"Jesus...” Pearse exclaimed.
I faced Pearse. Like me, he too was riveted by Juice's every word. Only Pearse 100% believed him.
"You do a lot of great things, Steve," O.J. told me.
I looked at Juice. Or the decrepit, depressed sight that was once O.J. Simpson.
"But there's nothing you can do," O.J. continued. "You're not Fox or NBC. You don't get many people on that show. It's why Baby Blue don't care."
"Baby Blue?" I asked, confused.
O.J.'s eyes never strayed from me. "That's their leader."
"What?"
His face stoic and deadly serious, O.J. pointed up toward his eyes. "Their leader's eyes. They're baby blue. That's all I know."
Part 1 of 2
Link To Part Two
14

Amongst all the unpopular opinions in America, mine may be the most unpopular. Or at least, the most hated. O.J. Simpson didn't kill Ron Goldman or Nicole. There, I said it. That's not guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. That's not we can't prove he did it, but it's likely. That's fucking innocent. And no, I'm not the Caucasian-media-driven caricature of a black conspiracy theorist. Not at all. I'm a thirty-year-old middle-class white guy. I've got no dog in this fight. I didn't root for Juice during the 70s or admire his status as a crossover icon in all those movies and Hertz ads. Due to my youth, I've also got no claim in the emotional war zone that was his 1995 murder trial. I go off the facts. And regardless of what Oprah or Fox News wants you to believe, the "mountain of evidence" actually resides in O.J.'s innocence.
Remember when FX's The People Vs. O.J. Simpson claimed O.J. never asked detectives how Nicole died? That was bullshit, trial footage at 1:58. Or when ESPN's O.J.: Made In America insinuated O.J. wasn't taking his arthritis meds so the gloves wouldn't fit? Doctors signed off on O.J. taking the meds, trial footage at 7:49. Want another lie from this Oscar winning "documentary?" Try the fact O.J. didn't have a single cut or bruise on his body when he left his house on that fateful June night, trial footage at 1:30. Yeah, that's right. Goldman and Nicole's bodies (particularly Goldman's) were covered in defensive wounds yet there's no marks on O.J.
Juice wasn't in a hurry to get through the airport either. Less than thirty minutes after supposedly butchering two people in one of the biggest rage crimes in American history, O.J. was described as being friendly as he signed autographs at the airport. Witnesses didn't see a single cut, scratch, or bandage on his hands. Why is this important? The very next day, O.J. was examined by L.A.P.D. No cuts or bruises were on his body except a few cuts on his hand he got from smashing a glass in his Chicago hotel room. An overemotional reaction he had after hearing about Nicole's death. Chicago police found bloodied glass in the room. A hotel clerk even said O.J. came downstairs to get a bandage for the cut. The chauffeur who picked him up from the hotel took note of the fresh bandage. And everyone on that plane ride back to L.A. described Simpson as being completely distraught. He was in a rush to get back to L.A. as soon as possible... interesting for a guy deemed unquestionably guilty.
So without a single cut, where did the supposed incriminating blood evidence come from? Regardless of how Geraldo wants to spin it, the blood evidence is shit. At the prosecution's insistence, two samples were tested specifically to disprove the defense's theory that the blood was planted. The samples came back with EDTA, a preservative used in lab test tubes. Experts agree it was too much EDTA for the blood to come naturally from O.J.'s body. Or from eating Big Macs like Marcia Clark claims. Furthermore, the blood on Nicole's back gate wasn't seen in any of the initial crime scene photos. Rather, it was somehow inexplicably discovered in July... weeks after the entire crime scene had been washed down.
And that takes us to Detective Mark Fuhrman, the man who discovered the glove on O.J.'s property. Again, one of the gloves had a small amount of O.J.'s DNA, the other didn't. Aside from the fact the gloves didn't fit, O.J.'s DNA wasn't even found on the glove's fingers... nor did either glove share a cut similar to the one O.J. got in his hotel room (remember, he had no cuts on the flight to Chicago).
The glove Fuhrman found was also still wet even though it'd supposedly been rotting in the June heat for over seven hours. No dirt or debris were found on the glove either even though the back alley of O.J.'s home was heavily wooded with leaves, berries, etc.
So back to Detective Fuhrman, the guy did more than say the n-word. On his infamous taped conversations with Laura McKinny, he said "nigger" well over fifty times. Fuhrman also admitted to hating blacks and interracial couples, lying under oath, and planting evidence. On top of this, he'd gotten L.A.P.D. sued years earlier for shooting at an unarmed black man and planting a knife on him. If you believe O.J. is guilty, you have to do two things: you have to ignore all the facts and evidence, and you have to take the word of a racist white cop over all the witnesses supporting O.J.’s innocence. Mark Fuhrman is your guy.
On the other hand, is O.J, a great guy? Not really. He’s flawed. He hit Nicole back in 89. But regardless of the well-publicized hearsay, he didn’t hit her any other time (Nicole said this in court in 92, Nicole’s sister Denise said the same during the mid-90s). Juice never hit his first wife Marguerite Whitley. So yes, his abuse was inexcusable. But an idiotic motive considering as recently as spring of 94, Nicole was trying to get back with him.
This isn't even counting how O.J. never reacted with rage or jealousy toward Nicole's romantic relationships. Keith Douglas Zlomsowitch, one of Nicole's former lovers, admitted that O.J. had seen him and Nicole making love in Nicole’s living room. The very next day, a calm O.J. told them in private that they should be careful about doing things out in the open in case one of the kids walked in. One of O.J.’s best friends Marcus Allen even said that when he told Juice he had sex with Nicole, O.J. reacted calmly and was only upset because Allen was engaged at the time.
So yeah, none of this excuses O.J.’s lone case of domestic violence. But the context shows how exaggerated O.J. and Nicole’s volatile relationship was so the prosecutors could have a sensational motive.
I get that what I'm saying isn’t what Oprah, Geraldo, or the alarming number of celebrity black apologists have taught you. This isn’t what the racist Howard Stern taught you either when he advocated for lynching Mr. Simpson. No, what I'm telling you are facts. Not lies and bullshit.
People hate me for it. I suppose you will too. Go ahead and serenade me with your downvotes. I don't give a fuck. Throw out soundbites like Bruno Maglis (the Enquirer photos were supposedly taken during a rainstorm... not great for a pair of "pristine" Suede shoes), all that blood!1! (EDTA), the Bronco chase (O.J. believed he was framed and panicked), If I Did It (written by a ghostwriter, an easy 500k for O.J. after years of pleading his innocence onto deaf ears), a "failed" polygraph (nevermind the fact that Gary Ridgeway, the most prolific serial killer in American history passed a polygraph or that Ted Bundy did so twice), or the horrific civil trial that inexplicably allowed hearsay evidence.
And where has all my research left me? My family doesn't talk to me. I don't have close friends. Needless to say, no girlfriend. I'm alienated because of my beliefs.
But the biggest rift my "unpopular opinion" has created is between my dad and I. The emotions of this case run that deep. In many ways, I too was a victim of this trial of the century. Alongside the integrity of the American media, so went my All-American family.
My mother and father never got along during the trial. Even as a child, I remembered their bickering. Constant, ugly bickering. Mom's belief in O.J.'s innocence was actually what got me interested in the case. Particularly as a stark contrast to the O.J. Did It industry we've all been bombarded with.
My dad had the popular opinion. Their disagreement over the case opened a nasty wound between them. My parents divorced soon after Juice's acquittal. And as I grew up, I tried to stay close to my folks. My mother the introverted hippie, my father the more assertive and outgoing type. I was more like mom... no friends, artsy rather than social. On the other hand, my dad was friends with many of the people in the small town he lived in. The small town he thrived in as a local accountant.
For mom, O.J.'s plight was tragic. Yet another sad example of the horrors of being black in America. To my dad, Juice had played the race card.
While my dad and I used to be real close, my own interest in the O.J. Simpson case brought about the same tensions that had killed his marriage. Him and I argued more. He resented my opinion. Like most of you, he never could see anything past O.J. Did It, No Questions Asked.
My dad's brown eyes would berate me with the same sharp ferocity of his irate words. His temper was quick. And it only got worse as he got older. Particularly whenever O.J. came up.
Once mom passed a few years back, my dad and I grew even more apart. I think he blamed her for pushing me toward the case. But the reality was that their divorce was what fueled my interest. I came to the realization that mom was right all along. Yet she was crucified for that opinion. God knows how her own family and friends treated her for being the one white woman who believed Mr. Simpson was innocent.
But I think what really set dad off was my career. You see, my penultimate project began back in 2013: my O.J. Simpson webpage. I knew on-line there were people like me. People who did know more about the case and who had bothered researching it.
Over the years, my site garnered a cult-like following. And dad was pretty pissed about it. As he got older and his brown hair grew thinner, his eyes only became more narrow and cold. And so did his resentment toward me. The few conversations we had always ended in arguments. There were shouting matches about the case. Shouting matches about race. Shouting matches about mom.
I'd have loved to see him be proud of my work... but that was wishful thinking. His mind was made up. I couldn't worry about pop anymore. I had to worry about the new generation. Younger, more open-minded people like me.
As the site grew, my friend Pearse helped me land interviews with some of the biggest names from the trial for his podcast. I started uploading feature-length documentaries rather than YouTube videos. My analysis on the O.J. case made me an expert. Not to mention a hero to those who knew the truth. Hell, I even got advertising money.
My site was doing well. However, it wasn't mainstream media. I wasn't making much money. So imagine my surprise when the ultimate project came up. The most audacious thing my webpage had tackled yet: an interview with the Juice himself.
It turned out O.J. Simpson loved my work... I guess there's some consolation for never having my dad appreciate it.
I was surprised yet overjoyed when I got O.J.'s e-mail. I consulted with all of the people I'd been interviewing. And to my utter joy, everything checked out. I soon got Simpson's Vegas address.
The news would've excited my devoted fanbase however, I wanted to keep it a surprise for now. Outside of telling Pearse and a few friends, I kept the trip a secret. I doubted O.J. wanted me telling the world anyway.
But I did tell a few family members. Rather than congratulate me, they gave me the usual cliched jokes instead ("don't get hacked). I even got the nerve to tell my dad, but he just grumbled before hanging up. He always preferred my fiction. I guess it was for the best I hadn't told him about the O.J. book I was working on...
The following week, I packed my bags and left for Nevada. My buddy Pearse came along for moral support. And to be the cameraman.
O.J.'s handlers were there waiting for us at the airport. In their suits, they resembled Secret Service. But hey, I couldn't blame O.J. taking some precautions after all the death threats. His posse was very professional though. The exact opposite of the crazy Vegas crew who helped him "steal" his memorabilia.
From what I understood, O.J. had been staying at one of his friends's mansions. A Microsoft millionaire's house. He'd let O.J. crash there since Juice couldn't leave the state. Not that O.J. had it bad considering how lavish the mansion was. While modest compared to the rest of the neighborhood, the place was still glorious. There was privacy galore. Tall trees surrounded the yard, concealing the house and iron-pike fence from outside view.
Once our van pulled up into O.J.'s driveway, I took a deep breath. Pearse and I had made it. Here I was about give an exclusive interview with the man America considered a monster. But who in reality was a tragic victim.
The spacious and pristine yard had gaudy lawn ornaments. Pretty sculptures. Huge sprinklers and, of course, a nice pool.
Pearse was told to keep the camera off until we got inside the house. For security purposes. Me not being an asshole mainstream journalist, complied out of respect for the Juice.
Inside, the mansion was more in line with what I'd expect from O.J. Clean, impressive, stylish. And yes, flashy.
We were told to wait in the living room. It was in here, O.J. had his memorabilia well on display (apparently, he'd recovered most of the stolen items). There were old jerseys, posters, movie props, game balls, trophies. Hall Of Fame accolades. The Heisman. Not many people seem to realize O.J. Simpson was a Hell of a player. I could tell he had his guests wait here on purpose. A nice humblebrag. Then again, who could blame him? This shit was amazing.
Amongst the collectibles were more cultured items. Artwork, portraits, classic novels, some sick fucking vinyl. I could tell most of these belonged to O.J. The guy was a fucking connoisseur.
Framed family photos still had their place in this mancave of O.J.'s glory days. Pictures of him with Marguerite. Pictures of him with Nicole. But the most frequent images I saw were kids. Children, teenagers, college photos. O.J.'s smiling children seemed to swarm all around Pearse and I. And it wasn't creepy in the slightest either. In a room that could've (and probably was) a vanity tribute to the Juice, somehow, the children's photos took more precedence. They were what I remembered most about the house.
In a corner of the room was a framed photo of O.J.'s deceased infant daughter Aaren. A cross hung right above it. A collection of Angel figurines stood on both sides of the lavish picture frame. A sincere shrine for Aaren.
Using the camera, Pearse was all too happy to capture the scene. The mansion definitely a big step up from Pearse's garage studio.
Emerging from a long hallway, our man of the hour entered the room. Orenthal James Simpson. Even at seventy-one, he looked effortless and smooth. Quite debonair in a brown suit he'd consider modest but most likely cost a couple grand. The guy had style. And he also knew he was gonna be on camera. No wonder he had his Hall Of Fame ring on.
O.J. stuck a groomed hand out toward me. "Steve, how are you," he said in his eloquent baritone. A voice that hadn't lost any of its charm after all these years and traumas.
Overwhelmed by nerves, I forced myself to complete the handshake. "I'm doing okay," I responded, a slight tremble in my voice.
As if he sensed my nerves, O.J. flashed me a warm smile. "Alright. I'm glad."
His handshake was strong yet there was a soft touch. And his hand was fucking huge. It practically engulfed mine. No wonder he could hang on to that football.
"It's an honor to meet you," I added.
"Likewise." His voice even trembled like mine. Not from nerves but emotion... appreciation. "Likewise, Steve."
I introduced him to Pearse, and then the interview began. I was simultaneously surprised yet glad to see it was just us three for the interview. I'm sure O.J. appreciated the chill vibes.
We toured the rest of the house. The guest rooms were well-furnished. There was also another mancave, O.J.'s destination for Saturdays and Sundays during football season. He played us some of his old highlights via YouTube. The guy just couldn't help himself. I saw a bunch of golf gear in here as well. The sport definitely still O.J.'s go-to hobby.
Later on, we checked out the kitchen and dining room. A back balcony overlooked the pool. I even saw little yappy dogs running around the back yard. I was surprised they weren't even full-breeds. Just regular old mutts. We could hear their incessant barks all tour long.
To my surprise, O.J.'s bedroom itself was rather plain. Not flashy like the living room or mancave. Just a few pictures of his mother and Aaren placed next to religious figurines.
However his closet was another story. Hell, it looked it'd been converted from a bedroom. A Sex And The City wet dream. Rows and rows of clothes. All of them name brand, all of them collected over the years.
Overall, O.J. was very welcoming. Even humble. He talked to Pearse and I about how his stay in prison had changed his attitude. He'd gone through years of (understandable) anger due to his mistreatment by the media. He had a chip on his shoulder. But the experience of just being another inmate, another number, changed his outlook for the better. He missed Florida. He missed L.A. But he wasn't too upset as his kids came to visit him quite often. Las Vegas, and this house in particular, had become his "home away from home."
We planned on doing the bulk of our interview in O.J.'s cozy study. There we had a glowing fireplace, comfortable chairs, and perfect lighting. A small coffee table the only barrier between O.J. and I.
Even from where I was sitting, I saw how the bookshelves were stuffed with every literary classic imaginable. I figured O.J. probably hadn't read most of them, but shit, it was still an impressive collection.
One book in particular caught my eye. Unlike the books around it, this one resembled a scrapbook. No title on the spine. It looked old as Hell. Did O.J. own a first edition Book Of The Dead? Or the Necronomicon?
Gazing around the rest of the room, I saw O.J.'s framed memorabilia from the Roots shoot (costume, props, etc) right next to a pair of glass doors leading to the balcony. I could tell the memorabilia meant a lot to him. In an acting career based more off his charm and good looks than talent, appearing in Roots was a rare proud moment in his film career.
Like an annoying yet cute soundtrack, the dogs continued their barking well into the night. I suppose they were chasing squirrels or whatever other critters were lurking about. Maybe they were still after Pearse and I, for that matter.
A few of O.J.'s bodyguards stood by the study door. But they were quiet and kept their distance. They must've known how much an interview like this meant to O.J. One where he wasn't pleading his innocence to a buzzard or some other indifferent asshole. Instead, him and I were talking like old friends. Comrades.
We started off the interview in simple fashion: O.J.'s background. Orenthal James wasn't born a millionaire athlete. He came from nothing. From the slums of California all the way to the gridiron on the USC campus. Truly the American Dream. O.J. went into great detail about this. The anecdotes on the hardships he and his mother faced. His glory days as a USC superstar. And then when he cemented his football legacy on the Buffalo Bills.
When it came to his playing career, I could tell O.J. was most excited about his tenure with the Bills. They were a small market team he embraced. He also loved the Bills Mafia, the team's zany and enthusiastic fanbase. The Bills had some winning seasons with Juice leading their offense. After all, he was a natural born star and leader for that long-tormented franchise. And to this day, they still treated Simpson with respect unlike the alma mater that ultimately disowned him.
Throughout the interview, I could tell O.J. struggled at times to remember certain names and dates. Our conversation switched to CDTE and other brain/memory issues that had been attributed to playing American football. Awhile back, O.J. had been diagnosed with this (in addition to arthritis). While football is still a violent game, in O.J.'s heyday it was a fucking blood sport ("It was a different era, man," he told me). Not much padding or safety precautions. Illegal hits were the norm. Nothing was off limits. Not even your head.
The grave seriousness of the topic removed us from the nostalgic vanity that had accompanied O.J.'s reflections on his career. Our conversation soon shifted to the tragedy that would haunt O.J. Simpson. And forever tarnish his name.
I was surprised to see O.J. be so open while discussing that fateful June night. I knew he usually avoided the topic out of contempt for a press that had ignored his words in favor of misquoting him and making him look like a lunatic. But he was comfortable with us.
We discussed everything. From Mark Fuhrman to the planted evidence to the lack of a cut or bruise anywhere on O.J.'s body (Goldman was same height as O.J., a blackbelt, and twenty years younger). The fact there was no cut on O.J.'s hand when he was at the airport signing autographs (including signing one for the pilot). The racial implications of the case. How the media automatically assumed his guilt before knowing if O.J. was even in L.A. when the murders happened.
O.J.'s sadness veered toward an understandable bitterness as we discussed how the media's inaccuracies ultimately became the legend.
"No one believed me," O.J. said, his baritone voice full of jaded weariness. "I tried everything. I did interviews, I talked about the trial, and it's like no one listened to me! They didn't wanna listen to me. They didn't wanna believe me." Fire burnt in his eyes, but I didn't feel threatened or scared like you probably would. Such a fire was built off of frustration not violence. "With Fuhrman, you got a guy on tape saying all this shit. That he framed minorities and blacks... not only that but he was anti-Semitic. If I was a white Jewish man, everyone would be outraged at Fuhrman and what he did. They'd take my word, they'd show the evidence we had. But that wasn't the case, was it? Instead, I'm playing the Goddamn race card!"
And I couldn't agree more. Everything he said was correct. The media had ignored the overwhelming evidence favoring his innocence to spin a false narrative. To them, Othello James Simpson killed the two white Angels. No questions asked.
While we were on the subject of O.J.'s unfair public perception, I asked how he felt about the growing number of black celebrities speaking out against him. Kanye, Jay-Z, Steve Harvey, etc.
O.J. hesitated. Discomfort joined his anger. I could tell he felt these questions were putting him in rough territory... particularly since he was African-American himself. I didn't expect him to go into a rant on how they were all coons, but I didn't expect him to be this silent and awkward.
He let out a weary sigh. "I don't know what to tell them," he finally said. "Maybe they were too young to watch the dang trial. Or they've gotten just saturated with all the crap they throw against me. They read too much National Enquirer, I don't know." A faint grin crossed his face. "The media the way it is... I guess everyone thinks I did it now, huh."
There was a vulnerable sadness to him. Something I'd never seen in all the footage on Juice. His silence couldn't hide that look of anguish.
"Everyone thinks I killed her," O.J. went on. That I'd kill her right where my kids slept!" He paused. A breather from the anger. "I can't change their minds, I give up." His emotions were overwhelming him. I could tell he didn't like it. O.J. was confident and strong. And he always seemed that way on television and in public. The memories were killing his public persona. He wasn't the Juice in this moment. He was Orenthal James Simpson. The tormented ex-husband of Nicole. The tormented father of four.
The roaring tragedy of 94 had returned from the grave once more. O.J. would never escape it. And he knew it.
I didn't even hear the barking dogs during this tense silence. They must've been respecting O.J.'s emotional struggle as well.
"When people think you're a killer," he struggled to begin, his deep voice caving in with heartache. "They think I never loved her, but I did."
"I know you did," I said, my voice steady yet reassuring.
O.J. gazed down at his lap. An obvious method to hide his tears. "And everything I'd worked toward was gone." He glared at the camera. "I worked hard to get to here! I came from nowhere, man, I supported my Goddamn family! I made a name for himself!"
His anger was ferocious but not directed toward anyone in the room. I felt no fear. But if this was Fox or TMZ, I could picture the headline now: O.J.'s Rage Returns! Watch Out White People!
"And then it was all gone!" O.J. continued. "All because they wanted to believe the nigger killed everybody! That I was a stalker, a fucking psycho." Tear fell from his eyes. On camera, O.J.'s harsher profanity was about as rare as the tears. He was showcasing twenty years' worth of wounds right here for Pearse and I.
"So yeah, maybe Kanye and all these other rappers and what-have-you think I did it. If they wanna appease their white audience, that's fine. Fuck them. We don't need them. God knows the truth. My children know the truth! That's what matters more than these arrogant niggers running their mouths about me. Just so they can stay with their fake fucking white friends." He chuckled. A defeated chuckle that was chilling in its helplessness. "I guess I used to be the same. Believe me, I know. And they'll find out soon enough. Oh yeah, they'll see what happens when they get framed or blamed for some shit they didn't do. Then they won't be Grmamy-winning rapper or Oscar-winning "thespian," they'll be a guiltyass nigger. Like what they say about me."
I could feel Pearse give me an unwasy look. But I wasn't stopping this. Not now. This was O.J. at his most candid and honest. He trusted us. I wasn't stopping him no matter where the controversy led.
"I'd never hurt her," O.J. went on. "I wouldn't..." He brushed away his tears. "I wasn't a great husband, but I cared about Nicole. Yeah, I hit her... but it wasn't like me. I felt terrible the second it happened. When she looked at me crying. Hell, I cried too. I had no idea I could ever do that. That I could hurt someone, much less my wife." His wounded eyes stared out the glass doors, peering off into the darkness. "And they wanna say I slaughtered her."
Respectful, I leaned in a little closer. "Well, who do you think actually did it, O.J.?" I asked, sympathetic yet strong. "That's the main question me and Pearse get from these idiots. They'll ignore everything we said just for this shit."
"It really is," Pearse added with a weak smile.
Quiet, O.J. kept looking off at the balcony.
"Look, I know Fuhrman made sure we'll likely never know," I told O.J. "But is there anything you'd want to add to the discussion? Any suspicions you had? Anyone you suspect?"
O.J. put a hand to his face, shielding his ravaged face from the camera. Rather than strength, he showed defeat. Like the traumas were at war within him. I could hear his heavy, wounded breaths. I could only imagine the painful memories running through his head. "Juice," I said.
"I can't," he mumbled.
A cloud of silence conquered the room. I felt a sense of cryptic dread lingering through the atmosphere. O.J.'s handlers gave me piercing stares. I returned them an awkward gaze. I wasn't sure what to do. I wasn't a therapist, after all.
Trying to break the uneasy mood, Pearse grinned. "You sure it wasn't Kato?"
No one laughed or responded.
"We've always suspected drugs," I said.
Grimacing, O.J. looked at us.
"Several of Ron Goldman's friends were killed right after he and Nicole," I added. "One of them had his throat slit from ear to ear."
"And Faye Resnick left Nicole's house the day before the murders," Pearse assisted me. "She owed drug dealers over thirty-thousand dollars from what I understand."
O.J. ran a hand along his face. Our comments hit him like bullets into his emotions. He didn't say anything. He just kept within his self. Within his fragment, tormented psyche.
"She looked just like Nicole," I said. Pearse and I's voices were calm but persistent.
Rocking in his seat, O.J. looked down at the ground. He avoided eye contact. He avoided us. The tears were forming in his eyes. He bit his lip. The sorrow weighed him down.
"There could've been a mix-up," I went on.
"It had to be two people," Pearse added.
I noticed all of O.J.'s associates watching him with concern.
Tears in his eyes, O.J. confronted us. In the war within himself, his anxiety was winning.
I just stared at Juice. But Pearse kept going.
"The original coroner even said two knives were used," Pearse continued.
O.J. gave us a fiery look. "You wanna know what really happened?" he said, his baritone devoid of any warmth or charm.
Pearse went silent in an instant.
"We just want to know your thoughts, O.J.," I said.
"Well, I'll tell you what happened!" O.J. responded. "I'll tell you exactly what happened!"
One of his concerned handlers stepped toward him.
O.J. held up his hand, keeping the bodyguards at bay. "No, let me speak!"
The handler took his place back by the door.
"Let me tell them everything," O.J. said. His intense eyes turned toward Pearse and I. "It's not about just drugs. There's more to it than that."
My detached coolness evaporated. O.J.'s gaze and voice were frantic. I sensed the interview was going into unexpected territory and I wasn't prepared. "What do you mean?" I asked, unable to hide the subtle panic in my voice.
"It's everybody!" O.J. yelled. "The whole fucking thing!" A defensive fury boiled up inside him. "There's an entire group of people that killed Nicole! And it's because they wanted me! They wanted to frame me and tear me to shreds. It wasn't just Goddamn Fuhrman or Vanatter. Not even the L.A.P.D. It was the entire country!"
The final chilling line reverberated through the room like an eerie piano chord. O.J.'s voice, his unnerving sincerity sold it.
Pearse and I just looked on at Juice, confused. None of his associates were stopping him. None of them even looked confused by his proclamation. They just had knowing expressions on their faces. Like they too were aware of Juice's wild account.
"I don't understand," I finally mustered out. "What do you mean? The entire country-"
"You heard me, Steve," O.J. interrupted. He leaned back in his seat. Like the weary survivor he was. "You know how this country is. You've seen it in action, Steve. It's not so much the media as it is the establishment."
"So what are you saying-"
"I'm saying they'll do anything to suppress blacks and other minorities. The white elite is too powerful. They need to find ways to... to inhibit blacks." O.J. looked right at Pearse and I. His emotional brown eyes pierced deep into our souls.
Not sure what to do, I hesitated. "So you're saying this conspiracy killed Nicole and Goldman?"
More animated than ever, O.J. threw his hands out toward us. "You know about me! You know who I was! What I represented. I was one of the first black celebrities to cross over. I was in commercials, man! Ten years after segregation ended, I was pushing Hertz! I was in movies, I was a superstar."
I didn't think he was bragging. His voice was too full of anger and resentment for this to be gloating O.J.
"And what better way to kill what I represented, huh?" O.J. challenged us. He leaned in closer like a wild-eyed preacher. This wasn't the Smooth Mr. Simpson. What we saw now was all paranoia... either from Alzheimer's or genuine fear. "They did what could turn the Juice into that rich nigger that got away with murder!" He waved his hands around as if he were shoving an invisible force away. "And they fucking got away with it! They killed Nicole and did everything they could to incriminate me!"
I looked over at Pearse. All I saw was a face of stunned confusion. Like someone had transplanted Pearse from Vegas to a nuthouse.
I confronted O.J. "So a group of these special rich white people killed Nicole?"
"Rich, powerful white people," he answered, his voice unwavering and not backing down.
The Juice was loose, alright, I thought. Loose in the fucking head.
"Look, Juice," I began.
O.J. flashed me a cryptic smile. "You don't believe me?"
I looked around the room. The associates were all stone-faced. Had O.J. convinced them of this batshit insanity? Or was he just paying them enough to believe?
"Honestly," I stammered. I looked back at O.J.'s calm face. He was relaxed. Like telling us this secret had lifted the weight of anxiety off him. "I don't know what to believe."
"I know," O.J. responded. Letting out a weary sigh, he slouched back in his chair. "It sounds crazy... it's why I don't tell many people." His gaze drifted off to the glass doors. "It's why I'm scared to tell anyone really."
"Why?"
Like he was responding to an insult, O.J. just gave me a cold glare. "You don't have a clue what these people are. The power they have. You can't even imagine what they could do to me and you."
"If they were trying to bring you down, why not just get you convicted-"
"They tried, didn't they," O.J. interrupted, his baritone commanding and strong.
"Then why not have you killed."
Smirking, O.J. looked off at the bodyguards. They returned sly smiles back.
Annoyed, I leaned in toward Juice. "If they were trying to destroy you because of your influence then why not just kill you? Alright, they tried framing you, so why wouldn't they just finish you off?"
O.J. let out a maddening laugh. The laugh of a helpless man left to die from irony.
"What?" I demanded. "Why wouldn't they?"
"Why would they waste their time!" O.J. said through the chuckles. He pointed at himself. "Look at me, Steve. What the Hell would killing me do?"
The realization struck me. He was right. Why would they waste their time killing him... they'd already done enough. The damage was done.
"The trial killed everything I stood for," O.J. said. "No one looked at me the same. They couldn't look me in the eye." He leaned in closer, holding my gaze with those dark eyes. "There were no more advertisements, no more movies. No more Monday Night Football. No more respect of O.J.'s American Dream. I'm the Goddamn monster now, Steve."
Destroyed by inner anguish, he looked toward the floor.
Our staredown and his chilling reflections still left me shook.
"Hell, for all I know maybe they failed to frame me on purpose," O.J. muttered. He looked up at me. "Maybe just me fighting it out in the court then getting acquitted was part of the plan all along. Just to make people hate me even more."
"I'm sorry," I said. My attempt at a neutral voice couldn't hide my sympathy.
"If I'd gone to jail over a false charge, maybe people would've protested for me," Juice stated. "They would've looked into the case."
The atmosphere grew more and more tense with O.J.'s account. I noticed him running his hands together in a nervous tic. He couldn't fake the discomfort. He was never that good of an actor.
"Instead, all we get is everyone saying I did it," O.J. went on. "O.J. Simpson murderer. That's it. Listen to your Geraldos and your Nancy Graces, the entire American media. They all just pick me apart since I guess it's still illegal to string niggers up when you absolutely know we did something. I guess Emmett Till would've suffered the same."
Uneasy, I nodded my head. The room felt quieter than ever. No voices, no music, no football highlights, no dogs. Just crackling from the fire.
I didn't like seeing O.J. this way. Regardless of his hardships, he'd always been an upbeat fighter. Now he looked defeated.
"There's nothing I can do," O.J. said. "And they know it. They know they fucked me. My image is ruined forever. My name, everything I did. It's gone. My legacy is that I'm a black man who killed two white people. That's what I am." Tears of anger filled his eyes. "The media played it up. They control that too, you know. They control everything!"
"Jesus...” Pearse exclaimed.
I faced Pearse. Like me, he too was riveted by Juice's every word. Only Pearse 100% believed him.
"You do a lot of great things, Steve," O.J. told me.
I looked at Juice. Or the decrepit, depressed sight that was once O.J. Simpson.
"But there's nothing you can do," O.J. continued. "You're not Fox or NBC. You don't get many people on that show. It's why Baby Blue don't care."
"Baby Blue?" I asked, confused.
O.J.'s eyes never strayed from me. "That's their leader."
"What?"
His face stoic and deadly serious, O.J. pointed up toward his eyes. "Their leader's eyes. They're baby blue. That's all I know."
Part 1 of 2
Link To Part Two
14

Amongst all the unpopular opinions in America, mine may be the most unpopular. Or at least, the most hated. O.J. Simpson didn't kill Ron Goldman or Nicole. There, I said it. That's not guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. That's not we can't prove he did it, but it's likely. That's fucking innocent. And no, I'm not the Caucasian-media-driven caricature of a black conspiracy theorist. Not at all. I'm a thirty-year-old middle-class white guy. I've got no dog in this fight. I didn't root for Juice during the 70s or admire his status as a crossover icon in all those movies and Hertz ads. Due to my youth, I've also got no claim in the emotional war zone that was his 1995 murder trial. I go off the facts. And regardless of what Oprah or Fox News wants you to believe, the "mountain of evidence" actually resides in O.J.'s innocence.
Remember when FX's The People Vs. O.J. Simpson claimed O.J. never asked detectives how Nicole died? That was bullshit, trial footage at 1:58. Or when ESPN's O.J.: Made In America insinuated O.J. wasn't taking his arthritis meds so the gloves wouldn't fit? Doctors signed off on O.J. taking the meds, trial footage at 7:49. Want another lie from this Oscar winning "documentary?" Try the fact O.J. didn't have a single cut or bruise on his body when he left his house on that fateful June night, trial footage at 1:30. Yeah, that's right. Goldman and Nicole's bodies (particularly Goldman's) were covered in defensive wounds yet there's no marks on O.J.
Juice wasn't in a hurry to get through the airport either. Less than thirty minutes after supposedly butchering two people in one of the biggest rage crimes in American history, O.J. was described as being friendly as he signed autographs at the airport. Witnesses didn't see a single cut, scratch, or bandage on his hands. Why is this important? The very next day, O.J. was examined by L.A.P.D. No cuts or bruises were on his body except a few cuts on his hand he got from smashing a glass in his Chicago hotel room. An overemotional reaction he had after hearing about Nicole's death. Chicago police found bloodied glass in the room. A hotel clerk even said O.J. came downstairs to get a bandage for the cut. The chauffeur who picked him up from the hotel took note of the fresh bandage. And everyone on that plane ride back to L.A. described Simpson as being completely distraught. He was in a rush to get back to L.A. as soon as possible... interesting for a guy deemed unquestionably guilty.
So without a single cut, where did the supposed incriminating blood evidence come from? Regardless of how Geraldo wants to spin it, the blood evidence is shit. At the prosecution's insistence, two samples were tested specifically to disprove the defense's theory that the blood was planted. The samples came back with EDTA, a preservative used in lab test tubes. Experts agree it was too much EDTA for the blood to come naturally from O.J.'s body. Or from eating Big Macs like Marcia Clark claims. Furthermore, the blood on Nicole's back gate wasn't seen in any of the initial crime scene photos. Rather, it was somehow inexplicably discovered in July... weeks after the entire crime scene had been washed down.
And that takes us to Detective Mark Fuhrman, the man who discovered the glove on O.J.'s property. Again, one of the gloves had a small amount of O.J.'s DNA, the other didn't. Aside from the fact the gloves didn't fit, O.J.'s DNA wasn't even found on the glove's fingers... nor did either glove share a cut similar to the one O.J. got in his hotel room (remember, he had no cuts on the flight to Chicago).
The glove Fuhrman found was also still wet even though it'd supposedly been rotting in the June heat for over seven hours. No dirt or debris were found on the glove either even though the back alley of O.J.'s home was heavily wooded with leaves, berries, etc.
So back to Detective Fuhrman, the guy did more than say the n-word. On his infamous taped conversations with Laura McKinny, he said "nigger" well over fifty times. Fuhrman also admitted to hating blacks and interracial couples, lying under oath, and planting evidence. On top of this, he'd gotten L.A.P.D. sued years earlier for shooting at an unarmed black man and planting a knife on him. If you believe O.J. is guilty, you have to do two things: you have to ignore all the facts and evidence, and you have to take the word of a racist white cop over all the witnesses supporting O.J.’s innocence. Mark Fuhrman is your guy.
On the other hand, is O.J, a great guy? Not really. He’s flawed. He hit Nicole back in 89. But regardless of the well-publicized hearsay, he didn’t hit her any other time (Nicole said this in court in 92, Nicole’s sister Denise said the same during the mid-90s). Juice never hit his first wife Marguerite Whitley. So yes, his abuse was inexcusable. But an idiotic motive considering as recently as spring of 94, Nicole was trying to get back with him.
This isn't even counting how O.J. never reacted with rage or jealousy toward Nicole's romantic relationships. Keith Douglas Zlomsowitch, one of Nicole's former lovers, admitted that O.J. had seen him and Nicole making love in Nicole’s living room. The very next day, a calm O.J. told them in private that they should be careful about doing things out in the open in case one of the kids walked in. One of O.J.’s best friends Marcus Allen even said that when he told Juice he had sex with Nicole, O.J. reacted calmly and was only upset because Allen was engaged at the time.
So yeah, none of this excuses O.J.’s lone case of domestic violence. But the context shows how exaggerated O.J. and Nicole’s volatile relationship was so the prosecutors could have a sensational motive.
I get that what I'm saying isn’t what Oprah, Geraldo, or the alarming number of celebrity black apologists have taught you. This isn’t what the racist Howard Stern taught you either when he advocated for lynching Mr. Simpson. No, what I'm telling you are facts. Not lies and bullshit.
People hate me for it. I suppose you will too. Go ahead and serenade me with your downvotes. I don't give a fuck. Throw out soundbites like Bruno Maglis (the Enquirer photos were supposedly taken during a rainstorm... not great for a pair of "pristine" Suede shoes), all that blood!1! (EDTA), the Bronco chase (O.J. believed he was framed and panicked), If I Did It (written by a ghostwriter, an easy 500k for O.J. after years of pleading his innocence onto deaf ears), a "failed" polygraph (nevermind the fact that Gary Ridgeway, the most prolific serial killer in American history passed a polygraph or that Ted Bundy did so twice), or the horrific civil trial that inexplicably allowed hearsay evidence.
And where has all my research left me? My family doesn't talk to me. I don't have close friends. Needless to say, no girlfriend. I'm alienated because of my beliefs.
But the biggest rift my "unpopular opinion" has created is between my dad and I. The emotions of this case run that deep. In many ways, I too was a victim of this trial of the century. Alongside the integrity of the American media, so went my All-American family.
My mother and father never got along during the trial. Even as a child, I remembered their bickering. Constant, ugly bickering. Mom's belief in O.J.'s innocence was actually what got me interested in the case. Particularly as a stark contrast to the O.J. Did It industry we've all been bombarded with.
My dad had the popular opinion. Their disagreement over the case opened a nasty wound between them. My parents divorced soon after Juice's acquittal. And as I grew up, I tried to stay close to my folks. My mother the introverted hippie, my father the more assertive and outgoing type. I was more like mom... no friends, artsy rather than social. On the other hand, my dad was friends with many of the people in the small town he lived in. The small town he thrived in as a local accountant.
For mom, O.J.'s plight was tragic. Yet another sad example of the horrors of being black in America. To my dad, Juice had played the race card.
While my dad and I used to be real close, my own interest in the O.J. Simpson case brought about the same tensions that had killed his marriage. Him and I argued more. He resented my opinion. Like most of you, he never could see anything past O.J. Did It, No Questions Asked.
My dad's brown eyes would berate me with the same sharp ferocity of his irate words. His temper was quick. And it only got worse as he got older. Particularly whenever O.J. came up.
Once mom passed a few years back, my dad and I grew even more apart. I think he blamed her for pushing me toward the case. But the reality was that their divorce was what fueled my interest. I came to the realization that mom was right all along. Yet she was crucified for that opinion. God knows how her own family and friends treated her for being the one white woman who believed Mr. Simpson was innocent.
But I think what really set dad off was my career. You see, my penultimate project began back in 2013: my O.J. Simpson webpage. I knew on-line there were people like me. People who did know more about the case and who had bothered researching it.
Over the years, my site garnered a cult-like following. And dad was pretty pissed about it. As he got older and his brown hair grew thinner, his eyes only became more narrow and cold. And so did his resentment toward me. The few conversations we had always ended in arguments. There were shouting matches about the case. Shouting matches about race. Shouting matches about mom.
I'd have loved to see him be proud of my work... but that was wishful thinking. His mind was made up. I couldn't worry about pop anymore. I had to worry about the new generation. Younger, more open-minded people like me.
As the site grew, my friend Pearse helped me land interviews with some of the biggest names from the trial for his podcast. I started uploading feature-length documentaries rather than YouTube videos. My analysis on the O.J. case made me an expert. Not to mention a hero to those who knew the truth. Hell, I even got advertising money.
My site was doing well. However, it wasn't mainstream media. I wasn't making much money. So imagine my surprise when the ultimate project came up. The most audacious thing my webpage had tackled yet: an interview with the Juice himself.
It turned out O.J. Simpson loved my work... I guess there's some consolation for never having my dad appreciate it.
I was surprised yet overjoyed when I got O.J.'s e-mail. I consulted with all of the people I'd been interviewing. And to my utter joy, everything checked out. I soon got Simpson's Vegas address.
The news would've excited my devoted fanbase however, I wanted to keep it a surprise for now. Outside of telling Pearse and a few friends, I kept the trip a secret. I doubted O.J. wanted me telling the world anyway.
But I did tell a few family members. Rather than congratulate me, they gave me the usual cliched jokes instead ("don't get hacked). I even got the nerve to tell my dad, but he just grumbled before hanging up. He always preferred my fiction. I guess it was for the best I hadn't told him about the O.J. book I was working on...
The following week, I packed my bags and left for Nevada. My buddy Pearse came along for moral support. And to be the cameraman.
O.J.'s handlers were there waiting for us at the airport. In their suits, they resembled Secret Service. But hey, I couldn't blame O.J. taking some precautions after all the death threats. His posse was very professional though. The exact opposite of the crazy Vegas crew who helped him "steal" his memorabilia.
From what I understood, O.J. had been staying at one of his friends's mansions. A Microsoft millionaire's house. He'd let O.J. crash there since Juice couldn't leave the state. Not that O.J. had it bad considering how lavish the mansion was. While modest compared to the rest of the neighborhood, the place was still glorious. There was privacy galore. Tall trees surrounded the yard, concealing the house and iron-pike fence from outside view.
Once our van pulled up into O.J.'s driveway, I took a deep breath. Pearse and I had made it. Here I was about give an exclusive interview with the man America considered a monster. But who in reality was a tragic victim.
The spacious and pristine yard had gaudy lawn ornaments. Pretty sculptures. Huge sprinklers and, of course, a nice pool.
Pearse was told to keep the camera off until we got inside the house. For security purposes. Me not being an asshole mainstream journalist, complied out of respect for the Juice.
Inside, the mansion was more in line with what I'd expect from O.J. Clean, impressive, stylish. And yes, flashy.
We were told to wait in the living room. It was in here, O.J. had his memorabilia well on display (apparently, he'd recovered most of the stolen items). There were old jerseys, posters, movie props, game balls, trophies. Hall Of Fame accolades. The Heisman. Not many people seem to realize O.J. Simpson was a Hell of a player. I could tell he had his guests wait here on purpose. A nice humblebrag. Then again, who could blame him? This shit was amazing.
Amongst the collectibles were more cultured items. Artwork, portraits, classic novels, some sick fucking vinyl. I could tell most of these belonged to O.J. The guy was a fucking connoisseur.
Framed family photos still had their place in this mancave of O.J.'s glory days. Pictures of him with Marguerite. Pictures of him with Nicole. But the most frequent images I saw were kids. Children, teenagers, college photos. O.J.'s smiling children seemed to swarm all around Pearse and I. And it wasn't creepy in the slightest either. In a room that could've (and probably was) a vanity tribute to the Juice, somehow, the children's photos took more precedence. They were what I remembered most about the house.
In a corner of the room was a framed photo of O.J.'s deceased infant daughter Aaren. A cross hung right above it. A collection of Angel figurines stood on both sides of the lavish picture frame. A sincere shrine for Aaren.
Using the camera, Pearse was all too happy to capture the scene. The mansion definitely a big step up from Pearse's garage studio.
Emerging from a long hallway, our man of the hour entered the room. Orenthal James Simpson. Even at seventy-one, he looked effortless and smooth. Quite debonair in a brown suit he'd consider modest but most likely cost a couple grand. The guy had style. And he also knew he was gonna be on camera. No wonder he had his Hall Of Fame ring on.
O.J. stuck a groomed hand out toward me. "Steve, how are you," he said in his eloquent baritone. A voice that hadn't lost any of its charm after all these years and traumas.
Overwhelmed by nerves, I forced myself to complete the handshake. "I'm doing okay," I responded, a slight tremble in my voice.
As if he sensed my nerves, O.J. flashed me a warm smile. "Alright. I'm glad."
His handshake was strong yet there was a soft touch. And his hand was fucking huge. It practically engulfed mine. No wonder he could hang on to that football.
"It's an honor to meet you," I added.
"Likewise." His voice even trembled like mine. Not from nerves but emotion... appreciation. "Likewise, Steve."
I introduced him to Pearse, and then the interview began. I was simultaneously surprised yet glad to see it was just us three for the interview. I'm sure O.J. appreciated the chill vibes.
We toured the rest of the house. The guest rooms were well-furnished. There was also another mancave, O.J.'s destination for Saturdays and Sundays during football season. He played us some of his old highlights via YouTube. The guy just couldn't help himself. I saw a bunch of golf gear in here as well. The sport definitely still O.J.'s go-to hobby.
Later on, we checked out the kitchen and dining room. A back balcony overlooked the pool. I even saw little yappy dogs running around the back yard. I was surprised they weren't even full-breeds. Just regular old mutts. We could hear their incessant barks all tour long.
To my surprise, O.J.'s bedroom itself was rather plain. Not flashy like the living room or mancave. Just a few pictures of his mother and Aaren placed next to religious figurines.
However his closet was another story. Hell, it looked it'd been converted from a bedroom. A Sex And The City wet dream. Rows and rows of clothes. All of them name brand, all of them collected over the years.
Overall, O.J. was very welcoming. Even humble. He talked to Pearse and I about how his stay in prison had changed his attitude. He'd gone through years of (understandable) anger due to his mistreatment by the media. He had a chip on his shoulder. But the experience of just being another inmate, another number, changed his outlook for the better. He missed Florida. He missed L.A. But he wasn't too upset as his kids came to visit him quite often. Las Vegas, and this house in particular, had become his "home away from home."
We planned on doing the bulk of our interview in O.J.'s cozy study. There we had a glowing fireplace, comfortable chairs, and perfect lighting. A small coffee table the only barrier between O.J. and I.
Even from where I was sitting, I saw how the bookshelves were stuffed with every literary classic imaginable. I figured O.J. probably hadn't read most of them, but shit, it was still an impressive collection.
One book in particular caught my eye. Unlike the books around it, this one resembled a scrapbook. No title on the spine. It looked old as Hell. Did O.J. own a first edition Book Of The Dead? Or the Necronomicon?
Gazing around the rest of the room, I saw O.J.'s framed memorabilia from the Roots shoot (costume, props, etc) right next to a pair of glass doors leading to the balcony. I could tell the memorabilia meant a lot to him. In an acting career based more off his charm and good looks than talent, appearing in Roots was a rare proud moment in his film career.
Like an annoying yet cute soundtrack, the dogs continued their barking well into the night. I suppose they were chasing squirrels or whatever other critters were lurking about. Maybe they were still after Pearse and I, for that matter.
A few of O.J.'s bodyguards stood by the study door. But they were quiet and kept their distance. They must've known how much an interview like this meant to O.J. One where he wasn't pleading his innocence to a buzzard or some other indifferent asshole. Instead, him and I were talking like old friends. Comrades.
We started off the interview in simple fashion: O.J.'s background. Orenthal James wasn't born a millionaire athlete. He came from nothing. From the slums of California all the way to the gridiron on the USC campus. Truly the American Dream. O.J. went into great detail about this. The anecdotes on the hardships he and his mother faced. His glory days as a USC superstar. And then when he cemented his football legacy on the Buffalo Bills.
When it came to his playing career, I could tell O.J. was most excited about his tenure with the Bills. They were a small market team he embraced. He also loved the Bills Mafia, the team's zany and enthusiastic fanbase. The Bills had some winning seasons with Juice leading their offense. After all, he was a natural born star and leader for that long-tormented franchise. And to this day, they still treated Simpson with respect unlike the alma mater that ultimately disowned him.
Throughout the interview, I could tell O.J. struggled at times to remember certain names and dates. Our conversation switched to CDTE and other brain/memory issues that had been attributed to playing American football. Awhile back, O.J. had been diagnosed with this (in addition to arthritis). While football is still a violent game, in O.J.'s heyday it was a fucking blood sport ("It was a different era, man," he told me). Not much padding or safety precautions. Illegal hits were the norm. Nothing was off limits. Not even your head.
The grave seriousness of the topic removed us from the nostalgic vanity that had accompanied O.J.'s reflections on his career. Our conversation soon shifted to the tragedy that would haunt O.J. Simpson. And forever tarnish his name.
I was surprised to see O.J. be so open while discussing that fateful June night. I knew he usually avoided the topic out of contempt for a press that had ignored his words in favor of misquoting him and making him look like a lunatic. But he was comfortable with us.
We discussed everything. From Mark Fuhrman to the planted evidence to the lack of a cut or bruise anywhere on O.J.'s body (Goldman was same height as O.J., a blackbelt, and twenty years younger). The fact there was no cut on O.J.'s hand when he was at the airport signing autographs (including signing one for the pilot). The racial implications of the case. How the media automatically assumed his guilt before knowing if O.J. was even in L.A. when the murders happened.
O.J.'s sadness veered toward an understandable bitterness as we discussed how the media's inaccuracies ultimately became the legend.
"No one believed me," O.J. said, his baritone voice full of jaded weariness. "I tried everything. I did interviews, I talked about the trial, and it's like no one listened to me! They didn't wanna listen to me. They didn't wanna believe me." Fire burnt in his eyes, but I didn't feel threatened or scared like you probably would. Such a fire was built off of frustration not violence. "With Fuhrman, you got a guy on tape saying all this shit. That he framed minorities and blacks... not only that but he was anti-Semitic. If I was a white Jewish man, everyone would be outraged at Fuhrman and what he did. They'd take my word, they'd show the evidence we had. But that wasn't the case, was it? Instead, I'm playing the Goddamn race card!"
And I couldn't agree more. Everything he said was correct. The media had ignored the overwhelming evidence favoring his innocence to spin a false narrative. To them, Othello James Simpson killed the two white Angels. No questions asked.
While we were on the subject of O.J.'s unfair public perception, I asked how he felt about the growing number of black celebrities speaking out against him. Kanye, Jay-Z, Steve Harvey, etc.
O.J. hesitated. Discomfort joined his anger. I could tell he felt these questions were putting him in rough territory... particularly since he was African-American himself. I didn't expect him to go into a rant on how they were all coons, but I didn't expect him to be this silent and awkward.
He let out a weary sigh. "I don't know what to tell them," he finally said. "Maybe they were too young to watch the dang trial. Or they've gotten just saturated with all the crap they throw against me. They read too much National Enquirer, I don't know." A faint grin crossed his face. "The media the way it is... I guess everyone thinks I did it now, huh."
There was a vulnerable sadness to him. Something I'd never seen in all the footage on Juice. His silence couldn't hide that look of anguish.
"Everyone thinks I killed her," O.J. went on. That I'd kill her right where my kids slept!" He paused. A breather from the anger. "I can't change their minds, I give up." His emotions were overwhelming him. I could tell he didn't like it. O.J. was confident and strong. And he always seemed that way on television and in public. The memories were killing his public persona. He wasn't the Juice in this moment. He was Orenthal James Simpson. The tormented ex-husband of Nicole. The tormented father of four.
The roaring tragedy of 94 had returned from the grave once more. O.J. would never escape it. And he knew it.
I didn't even hear the barking dogs during this tense silence. They must've been respecting O.J.'s emotional struggle as well.
"When people think you're a killer," he struggled to begin, his deep voice caving in with heartache. "They think I never loved her, but I did."
"I know you did," I said, my voice steady yet reassuring.
O.J. gazed down at his lap. An obvious method to hide his tears. "And everything I'd worked toward was gone." He glared at the camera. "I worked hard to get to here! I came from nowhere, man, I supported my Goddamn family! I made a name for himself!"
His anger was ferocious but not directed toward anyone in the room. I felt no fear. But if this was Fox or TMZ, I could picture the headline now: O.J.'s Rage Returns! Watch Out White People!
"And then it was all gone!" O.J. continued. "All because they wanted to believe the nigger killed everybody! That I was a stalker, a fucking psycho." Tear fell from his eyes. On camera, O.J.'s harsher profanity was about as rare as the tears. He was showcasing twenty years' worth of wounds right here for Pearse and I.
"So yeah, maybe Kanye and all these other rappers and what-have-you think I did it. If they wanna appease their white audience, that's fine. Fuck them. We don't need them. God knows the truth. My children know the truth! That's what matters more than these arrogant niggers running their mouths about me. Just so they can stay with their fake fucking white friends." He chuckled. A defeated chuckle that was chilling in its helplessness. "I guess I used to be the same. Believe me, I know. And they'll find out soon enough. Oh yeah, they'll see what happens when they get framed or blamed for some shit they didn't do. Then they won't be Grammy-winning rapper or Oscar-winning "thespian," they'll be a guiltyass nigger. Like what they say about me."
I could feel Pearse give me an unwasy look. But I wasn't stopping this. Not now. This was O.J. at his most candid and honest. He trusted us. I wasn't stopping him no matter where the controversy led.
"I'd never hurt her," O.J. went on. "I wouldn't..." He brushed away his tears. "I wasn't a great husband, but I cared about Nicole. Yeah, I hit her... but it wasn't like me. I felt terrible the second it happened. When she looked at me crying. Hell, I cried too. I had no idea I could ever do that. That I could hurt someone, much less my wife." His wounded eyes stared out the glass doors, peering off into the darkness. "And they wanna say I slaughtered her."
Respectful, I leaned in a little closer. "Well, who do you think actually did it, O.J.?" I asked, sympathetic yet strong. "That's the main question me and Pearse get from these idiots. They'll ignore everything we said just for this shit."
"It really is," Pearse added with a weak smile.
Quiet, O.J. kept looking off at the balcony.
"Look, I know Fuhrman made sure we'll likely never know," I told O.J. "But is there anything you'd want to add to the discussion? Any suspicions you had? Anyone you suspect?"
O.J. put a hand to his face, shielding his ravaged face from the camera. Rather than strength, he showed defeat. Like the traumas were at war within him. I could hear his heavy, wounded breaths. I could only imagine the painful memories running through his head. "Juice," I said.
"I can't," he mumbled.
A cloud of silence conquered the room. I felt a sense of cryptic dread lingering through the atmosphere. O.J.'s handlers gave me piercing stares. I returned them an awkward gaze. I wasn't sure what to do. I wasn't a therapist, after all.
Trying to break the uneasy mood, Pearse grinned. "You sure it wasn't Kato?"
No one laughed or responded.
"We've always suspected drugs," I said.
Grimacing, O.J. looked at us.
"Several of Ron Goldman's friends were killed right after he and Nicole," I added. "One of them had his throat slit from ear to ear."
"And Faye Resnick left Nicole's house the day before the murders," Pearse assisted me. "She owed drug dealers over thirty-thousand dollars from what I understand."
O.J. ran a hand along his face. Our comments hit him like bullets into his emotions. He didn't say anything. He just kept within his self. Within his fragment, tormented psyche.
"She looked just like Nicole," I said. Pearse and I's voices were calm but persistent.
Rocking in his seat, O.J. looked down at the ground. He avoided eye contact. He avoided us. The tears were forming in his eyes. He bit his lip. The sorrow weighed him down.
"There could've been a mix-up," I went on.
"It had to be two people," Pearse added.
I noticed all of O.J.'s associates watching him with concern.
Tears in his eyes, O.J. confronted us. In the war within himself, his anxiety was winning.
I just stared at Juice. But Pearse kept going.
"The original coroner even said two knives were used," Pearse continued.
O.J. gave us a fiery look. "You wanna know what really happened?" he said, his baritone devoid of any warmth or charm.
Pearse went silent in an instant.
"We just want to know your thoughts, O.J.," I said.
"Well, I'll tell you what happened!" O.J. responded. "I'll tell you exactly what happened!"
One of his concerned handlers stepped toward him.
O.J. held up his hand, keeping the bodyguards at bay. "No, let me speak!"
The handler took his place back by the door.
"Let me tell them everything," O.J. said. His intense eyes turned toward Pearse and I. "It's not about just drugs. There's more to it than that."
My detached coolness evaporated. O.J.'s gaze and voice were frantic. I sensed the interview was going into unexpected territory and I wasn't prepared. "What do you mean?" I asked, unable to hide the subtle panic in my voice.
"It's everybody!" O.J. yelled. "The whole fucking thing!" A defensive fury boiled up inside him. "There's an entire group of people that killed Nicole! And it's because they wanted me! They wanted to frame me and tear me to shreds. It wasn't just Goddamn Fuhrman or Vanatter. Not even the L.A.P.D. It was the entire country!"
The final chilling line reverberated through the room like an eerie piano chord. O.J.'s voice, his unnerving sincerity sold it.
Pearse and I just looked on at Juice, confused. None of his associates were stopping him. None of them even looked confused by his proclamation. They just had knowing expressions on their faces. Like they too were aware of Juice's wild account.
"I don't understand," I finally mustered out. "What do you mean? The entire country-"
"You heard me, Steve," O.J. interrupted. He leaned back in his seat. Like the weary survivor he was. "You know how this country is. You've seen it in action, Steve. It's not so much the media as it is the establishment."
"So what are you saying-"
"I'm saying they'll do anything to suppress blacks and other minorities. The white elite is too powerful. They need to find ways to... to inhibit blacks." O.J. looked right at Pearse and I. His emotional brown eyes pierced deep into our souls.
Not sure what to do, I hesitated. "So you're saying this conspiracy killed Nicole and Goldman?"
More animated than ever, O.J. threw his hands out toward us. "You know about me! You know who I was! What I represented. I was one of the first black celebrities to cross over. I was in commercials, man! Ten years after segregation ended, I was pushing Hertz! I was in movies, I was a superstar."
I didn't think he was bragging. His voice was too full of anger and resentment for this to be gloating O.J.
"And what better way to kill what I represented, huh?" O.J. challenged us. He leaned in closer like a wild-eyed preacher. This wasn't the Smooth Mr. Simpson. What we saw now was all paranoia... either from Alzheimer's or genuine fear. "They did what could turn the Juice into that rich nigger that got away with murder!" He waved his hands around as if he were shoving an invisible force away. "And they fucking got away with it! They killed Nicole and did everything they could to incriminate me!"
I looked over at Pearse. All I saw was a face of stunned confusion. Like someone had transplanted Pearse from Vegas to a nuthouse.
I confronted O.J. "So a group of these special rich white people killed Nicole?"
"Rich, powerful white people," he answered, his voice unwavering and not backing down.
The Juice was loose, alright, I thought. Loose in the fucking head.
"Look, Juice," I began.
O.J. flashed me a cryptic smile. "You don't believe me?"
I looked around the room. The associates were all stone-faced. Had O.J. convinced them of this batshit insanity? Or was he just paying them enough to believe?
"Honestly," I stammered. I looked back at O.J.'s calm face. He was relaxed. Like telling us this secret had lifted the weight of anxiety off him. "I don't know what to believe."
"I know," O.J. responded. Letting out a weary sigh, he slouched back in his chair. "It sounds crazy... it's why I don't tell many people." His gaze drifted off to the glass doors. "It's why I'm scared to tell anyone really."
"Why?"
Like he was responding to an insult, O.J. just gave me a cold glare. "You don't have a clue what these people are. The power they have. You can't even imagine what they could do to me and you."
"If they were trying to bring you down, why not just get you convicted-"
"They tried, didn't they," O.J. interrupted, his baritone commanding and strong.
"Then why not have you killed."
Smirking, O.J. looked off at the bodyguards. They returned sly smiles back.
Annoyed, I leaned in toward Juice. "If they were trying to destroy you because of your influence then why not just kill you? Alright, they tried framing you, so why wouldn't they just finish you off?"
O.J. let out a maddening laugh. The laugh of a helpless man left to die from irony.
"What?" I demanded. "Why wouldn't they?"
"Why would they waste their time!" O.J. said through the chuckles. He pointed at himself. "Look at me, Steve. What the Hell would killing me do?"
The realization struck me. He was right. Why would they waste their time killing him... they'd already done enough. The damage was done.
"The trial killed everything I stood for," O.J. said. "No one looked at me the same. They couldn't look me in the eye." He leaned in closer, holding my gaze with those dark eyes. "There were no more advertisements, no more movies. No more Monday Night Football. No more respect of O.J.'s American Dream. I'm the Goddamn monster now, Steve."
Destroyed by inner anguish, he looked toward the floor.
Our staredown and his chilling reflections still left me shook.
"Hell, for all I know maybe they failed to frame me on purpose," O.J. muttered. He looked up at me. "Maybe just me fighting it out in the court then getting acquitted was part of the plan all along. Just to make people hate me even more."
"I'm sorry," I said. My attempt at a neutral voice couldn't hide my sympathy.
"If I'd gone to jail over a false charge, maybe people would've protested for me," Juice stated. "They would've looked into the case."
The atmosphere grew more and more tense with O.J.'s account. I noticed him running his hands together in a nervous tic. He couldn't fake the discomfort. He was never that good of an actor.
"Instead, all we get is everyone saying I did it," O.J. went on. "O.J. Simpson murderer. That's it. Listen to your Geraldos and your Nancy Graces, the entire American media. They all just pick me apart since I guess it's still illegal to string niggers up when you absolutely know we did something. I guess Emmett Till would've suffered the same."
Uneasy, I nodded my head. The room felt quieter than ever. No voices, no music, no football highlights, no dogs. Just crackling from the fire.
I didn't like seeing O.J. this way. Regardless of his hardships, he'd always been an upbeat fighter. Now he looked defeated.
"There's nothing I can do," O.J. said. "And they know it. They know they fucked me. My image is ruined forever. My name, everything I did. It's gone. My legacy is that I'm a black man who killed two white people. That's what I am." Tears of anger filled his eyes. "The media played it up. They control that too, you know. They control everything!"
"Jesus...” Pearse exclaimed.
I faced Pearse. Like me, he too was riveted by Juice's every word. Only Pearse 100% believed him.
"You do a lot of great things, Steve," O.J. told me.
I looked at Juice. Or the decrepit, depressed sight that was once O.J. Simpson.
"But there's nothing you can do," O.J. continued. "You're not Fox or NBC. You don't get many people on that show. It's why Baby Blue don't care."
"Baby Blue?" I asked, confused.
O.J.'s eyes never strayed from me. "That's their leader."
"What?"
His face stoic and deadly serious, O.J. pointed up toward his eyes. "Their leader's eyes. They're baby blue. That's all I know."
Part 1 of 2
Link To Part Two
14

Shared

• Wrecks Psycho-Man's suit
• Finesse and Striker take off Alkhema's arm
• vs. Arsenal
• The squad takes down a Nazi mech
• The squad minus Veil vs. Luke Cage, Captain America, Hawkeye and Giant Man

Humberto Lopez, better known as Reptil, is a former member of the Initiative and a founding student of Avengers Academy. The son of two palaeontologists, one day on a dig he found a fossilised amulet that gave him the ability to transform into dinosaurs. Reptil can transform partially or fully into a huge variety of prehistoric creatures, and can even combine aspects of these forms to further increase his ability.
With these powers, he registered with the Initiative and was recruited by Tigra to help deal with the villain Stegron thanks to his dinosaur-related abilities, although he ultimately left the Initiative to help save Moon Boy and Devil Dinosaur. After spending some time searching for his missing parents and being experimented on by Norman Osborn, he wound up as a member of the first class of Avengers Academy, a school founded by Hank Pym to help train young superhumans to become the next generation of Avengers.
Reptil's amulet has embedded itself into his flesh, and was created by the Hag of the Pits, a shaman witch from the same dimension as Moon Boy and Devil Dinosaur. It is connected to that reality, rather than prehistoric Earth, and allows Reptil to take the form of any being in that dimension, although he generally prefers dinosaurs. While he needs it to use his powers, it doesn't work for anyone else, so stealing it won't automatically give someone else his powers. Note that an expert on magical artefacts was able to briefly hijack it, though.

• Heroic Age: Heroes profile

Feats

Reptil's abilities change depending on the form he's taken at any given moment. The form Reptil has taken in each feat is listed, and feats for one form may not be applicable to others.
Note that while Reptil could initially only perform partial transformations, working with Hank Pym helped him figure out full transformations by using Pym Particles to handle the mass discrepancy.
Hover over a feat to see the source.
Strength
Partial Transformations

• Ankylosaur tail - Smacks Prodigy through a storefront
• Raptor Claw - Punctures a coconut
• Raptor Arms - Beats up Arcade
• Raptor Arms - Punches through a boarded-up window
• Raptor Arms - Tears through some wooden crates
• Raptor Arms - Punches through his robotic duplicate's head
• Raptor Arms - pins Hazmat
• Raptor Legs - Pins Chase Stein and Nico Minoru
• Raptor Tail - Strong enough to support his weight
• Sauropod Tail - Creates a sonic boom
• Sauropod Tail - Smacks Stegron through a wall
• Pteranodon wings - flies with a man hanging off him

Full Transformations

• Triceratops - Clashes with Rhino
• Triceratops - Clashes with Mettle
• Triceratops - Takes out Coat of Arms
• Triceratops - Smashes in a vault door with Mettle
• Theropod & Ankylosaur - Breaks the Crimson Bands with White Tiger
• Raptor - tears the arm off a mech
• RaptoStegosaurus - sends Mettle flying into Psycho-Man with a tail strike
• Stegosaurus - Sends Rhino flying into Sandman with a tail strike
• Ankylosaur - drops Emma Frost with a tail strike
• T-Rex - takes out some Purifiers
• T-Rex - Rips through a large robot
• T-Rex - Kills a large shark and drives off a second
• Diplodocus - scatters a group by transforming into a large dinosaur
• Woolly Mammoth - tosses White Tiger
• Pteranodon - Carries Hazmat to safety while being attacked by a berserk X-23 despite suffering from severe burns
• Giant Snake - Restrains Sebastian Shaw

Durability
No Transformation

• Takes a hit from Chase Stein wearing the Darkhawk armour
• Takes a punch from Spider-Girl (Anya Corazon)
• Tossed by Absorbing Man/Greithoth's giant hammer

Partial Transformation

• Takes a beating from Stegron
• Takes a hit from Prodigy
• Takes a blast from Arcade's cane
• Ankylosaur backplate - Gets knocked back hard enough to rip up the floor
• Grows Ankylosaur plates around his throat to block Whirlwind's blades
• Pteranodon wings - Blasted by Psycho-Man

Full Transformations

• Ankylosaur - Blasted by Cyclops
• Raptor - Sent flying by a transformed Bloodstone
• Spinosaur - Smacked down by a transformed Bloodstone
• Deinosuchus - Grabs Hazmat in his mouth and takes her underwater, where she lets of a nuclear blast
  • Initially this was believed to have killed him, but a few years later he showed up alive so apparently he survived

Mental Resistance

• The altered brain chemistry of his dinosaur form gives him a resistance to mental attacks, although not an immunity
• Mentallo is unable to control his dinosaur form
• Breaks free of Psycho-Man's emotional control
• His magical nature briefly gave Hybrid trouble reading his mind

Regeneration

• Heals faster as a dinosaur
• Allows him to survive being torn through with an Asgardian hammer while a sauropod
• Allows him to survive being burned alive by a flamethrower, although it takes a couple weeks for him to fully recover

Agility

• Raptor Legs - Increases his running speed
• Partial Raptor - Dodges bricks while fighting robots
• Flies with Pteranodon wings
  • Operates a flamethrower while flying
• Avoids an attack by rapidly turning from a T-Rex to a dragonfly
• Reflexively turns into a trilobite to avoid being eaten by Devil Dinosaur
• Spies by turning into a prehistoric bug
• T-Rex - Catches a football between his teeth

Misc
Enhanced Senses

• T-Rex head enhances his eyesight
• He can see 'a little bit' of infrared
• Archaeopteryx eyes allow him to improve his aim
• Morphs his ears to enhance his hearing
• Locates Tigra by scent
• Raptor Head - Tracks Striker and Finesse by scent

Dinosaur Empathy

• The amulet gives him an empathic connection with dinosaurs
• Senses Stegron controlling dinosaurs
• Can sense that Stegron is telling the truth
• Parasaurolophus Head - Orders a herd of dinosaurs to leave

Misc

• Escapes a hold by growing Stegosaurus plates
• Uses Pteranodon wings to try and disperse gas
• T-Rex head - Intimidates a small yappy dog
• His costume is made of unstable molecules, allowing it to stay intact as he changes
  • Except when it doesn't
• Is in a cartoon in-universe
• Tactical opportunist
• Cloud 9's biggest fan

As we continue our slog through the cold, dark, awful offseason, we have added new moderators to our ranks to help bring us forth into the 2019 college football season! So please join us in welcoming, in order of which they were fastest at accepting, the newest additions to the /CFB mod team...
At Forward, 6'3" from Indiana...
Indiana Ball fireinvestigator113

I’m fireinvestigator113. You may recognize me as one of the only people on the planet who is a bigger IU football fan than IU basketball fan. I’m a 25 year old fire investigator with two kids and a wife. I like Pokémon, football, Star Wars, fishing, hiking, making ridiculous shitposts, and burning things. I’ve got two Star Wars tattoos and planning on a Pokémon tattoo. I also have a weird obsession with any and all things creepy. I’m excited to help out here and make the sub even better.

5'9" from UCF, at Point Guard...
UCF Ball DampFrijoles

Hey everyone! Before I get started, let me put this out there: contrary to my username, I am not a group of wet beans. However, I am a recent law school graduate and a disability advocate. I am an alumnus of UCF for undergrad and FIU for law school. I was never a big CFB fan before I went to UCF, but I was forever hooked after going to my first UCF game and the rest is history. I really became active on /CFB a little over three years ago, and it has been such a wonderful experience. I am lucky that I have had the ability to give back to this incredible community through Trivia Tuesday and Fulmer Cup, and I am excited that I get to do it as a mod.

From Ooooooooooooooklahoma, 5'9, playing Guard...
Oklahoma Ball Darth_Turtle

I'm a family man in my 30s. I grew up on Denver Broncos football but college football wasn't really on my radar until college. I now love the Sooners and college football way more than NFL. Also, I'm much more of a Browns fan than Broncos fan at this point for obvious reasons. I've been using this sub for 8 years (7 on this account and 1 on my previous one). Other than football I enjoy fitness, DIY home repair, photography, video games and movies.

6'0 From TCU, at Forward...
TCU Ball RiffRamBahZoo

Hello! I'm RiffRamBahZoo, aka Riff or RRBZ. I firmly believe that there are only three good offenses: one that can score in under 90 seconds, one that can score in over eight minutes or one that ensures that fat men get into the end zone. My days are mostly spent creating literal garbage content for the waste disposal company that I'm employed at for the 9-to-5. Although it is no longer my day job, I'm also an experienced member of college football media who gets the privilege of traveling the country while reporting on college football. My loves outside of college football include Mrs. RRBZ, my pug, RuPaul's Drag Race, and finding new food, craft beers and places with my friends. One day, I will learn that emotional happiness will never be found in 18- to 22-year-olds playing a sportsball game, but today is not that day!

In the middle, Playing Center, 5'3" from Houston...
Houston Ball pandabugs

Hi everyone, I'm pandabugs. I'm in my early 30s and outside of college football and college football related accessories, I am a devoted dog mom to two little yappy dogs. In my spare time, I like to work out and practice yoga.
Just because I get excited about eating In and Out and going to Wawa doesn't mean I'm not a Texas girl at heart. Go Coogs!

A Guard, 5'10" from Temple...
Temple Ball mycarisorange

Hey guys! I’m Mike and, yes, my car is literally orange. I’m a 2x temple grad (BS & MS) and I’m now an HR professional specializing in employment law and management. Born and raised in Philadelphia, I live and breathe Flyers/Eagles/Phils and, though I’m not a basketball guy, I’m really happy that the 76ers are finally good!
I’ve been around CFB for years and I really started loving and enjoying this community when I saw some of the progress Temple has made in the minds of the average CFB fan. From beating Penn State to winning a Nagurski award and from 2-10 to conference champions, I’ve had an absolute blast watching our brand get the respect we’ve worked so hard to earn!
I love history, architecture, law, reading and traveling. I take every chance I get to visit the shore and I’m also passionate about our environment - please do your part by recycling and never littering! I look forward to contributing to Reddit’s best sub and I’m always a PM away if you ever need anything!

5'10" from South Carolina. At Forward...
South Carolina Ball SearonTrejorek

Hey, I'm Searon. I've been a South Carolina fan my entire life and I'm proud to be an alum. Former band geek turned computer nerd writing software for a living. When I'm not watching or talking football I'm normally found playing video games or watching movies on Netflix. I'm excited for this opportunity to help keep /CFB as the best community on Reddit.

The Moditos are coached by StrawberryTea . Assisted by SometimesY and bakonydraco

Amongst all the unpopular opinions in America, mine may be the most unpopular. Or at least, the most hated. O.J. Simpson didn't kill Ron Goldman or Nicole. There, I said it. That's not guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. That's not we can't prove he did it, but it's likely. That's fucking innocent. And no, I'm not the Caucasian-media-driven caricature of a black conspiracy theorist. Not at all. I'm a thirty-year-old middle-class white guy. I've got no dog in this fight. I didn't root for Juice during the 70s or admire his status as a crossover icon in all those movies and Hertz ads. Due to my youth, I've also got no claim in the emotional war zone that was his 1995 murder trial. I go off the facts. And regardless of what Oprah or Fox News wants you to believe, the "mountain of evidence" actually resides in O.J.'s innocence.
Remember when FX's The People Vs. O.J. Simpson claimed O.J. never asked detectives how Nicole died? That was bullshit, trial footage at 1:58. Or when ESPN's O.J.: Made In America insinuated O.J. wasn't taking his arthritis meds so the gloves wouldn't fit? Doctors signed off on O.J. taking the meds, trial footage at 7:49. Want another lie from this Oscar winning "documentary?" Try the fact O.J. didn't have a single cut or bruise on his body when he left his house on that fateful June night, trial footage at 1:30. Yeah, that's right. Goldman and Nicole's bodies (particularly Goldman's) were covered in defensive wounds yet there's no marks on O.J.
Juice wasn't in a hurry to get through the airport either. Less than thirty minutes after supposedly butchering two people in one of the biggest rage crimes in American history, O.J. was described as being friendly as he signed autographs at the airport. Witnesses didn't see a single cut, scratch, or bandage on his hands. Why is this important? The very next day, O.J. was examined by L.A.P.D. No cuts or bruises were on his body except a few cuts on his hand he got from smashing a glass in his Chicago hotel room. An overemotional reaction he had after hearing about Nicole's death. Chicago police found bloodied glass in the room. A hotel clerk even said O.J. came downstairs to get a bandage for the cut. The chauffeur who picked him up from the hotel took note of the fresh bandage. And everyone on that plane ride back to L.A. described Simpson as being completely distraught. He was in a rush to get back to L.A. as soon as possible... interesting for a guy deemed unquestionably guilty.
So without a single cut, where did the supposed incriminating blood evidence come from? Regardless of how Geraldo wants to spin it, the blood evidence is shit. At the prosecution's insistence, two samples were tested specifically to disprove the defense's theory that the blood was planted. The samples came back with EDTA, a preservative used in lab test tubes. Experts agree it was too much EDTA for the blood to come naturally from O.J.'s body. Or from eating Big Macs like Marcia Clark claims. Furthermore, the blood on Nicole's back gate wasn't seen in any of the initial crime scene photos. Rather, it was somehow inexplicably discovered in July... weeks after the entire crime scene had been washed down.
And that takes us to Detective Mark Fuhrman, the man who discovered the glove on O.J.'s property. Again, one of the gloves had a small amount of O.J.'s DNA, the other didn't. Aside from the fact the gloves didn't fit, O.J.'s DNA wasn't even found on the glove's fingers... nor did either glove share a cut similar to the one O.J. got in his hotel room (remember, he had no cuts on the flight to Chicago).
The glove Fuhrman found was also still wet even though it'd supposedly been rotting in the June heat for over seven hours. No dirt or debris were found on the glove either even though the back alley of O.J.'s home was heavily wooded with leaves, berries, etc.
So back to Detective Fuhrman, the guy did more than say the n-word. On his infamous taped conversations with Laura McKinny, he said "nigger" well over fifty times. Fuhrman also admitted to hating blacks and interracial couples, lying under oath, and planting evidence. On top of this, he'd gotten L.A.P.D. sued years earlier for shooting at an unarmed black man and planting a knife on him. If you believe O.J. is guilty, you have to do two things: you have to ignore all the facts and evidence, and you have to take the word of a racist white cop over all the witnesses supporting O.J.’s innocence. Mark Fuhrman is your guy.
On the other hand, is O.J, a great guy? Not really. He’s flawed. He hit Nicole back in 89. But regardless of the well-publicized hearsay, he didn’t hit her any other time (Nicole said this in court in 92, Nicole’s sister Denise said the same during the mid-90s). Juice never hit his first wife Marguerite Whitley. So yes, his abuse was inexcusable. But an idiotic motive considering as recently as spring of 94, Nicole was trying to get back with him.
This isn't even counting how O.J. never reacted with rage or jealousy toward Nicole's romantic relationships. Keith Douglas Zlomsowitch, one of Nicole's former lovers, admitted that O.J. had seen him and Nicole making love in Nicole’s living room. The very next day, a calm O.J. told them in private that they should be careful about doing things out in the open in case one of the kids walked in. One of O.J.’s best friends Marcus Allen even said that when he told Juice he had sex with Nicole, O.J. reacted calmly and was only upset because Allen was engaged at the time.
So yeah, none of this excuses O.J.’s lone case of domestic violence. But the context shows how exaggerated O.J. and Nicole’s volatile relationship was so the prosecutors could have a sensational motive.
I get that what I'm saying isn’t what Oprah, Geraldo, or the alarming number of celebrity black apologists have taught you. This isn’t what the racist Howard Stern taught you either when he advocated for lynching Mr. Simpson. No, what I'm telling you are facts. Not lies and bullshit.
People hate me for it. I suppose you will too. Go ahead and serenade me with your downvotes. I don't give a fuck. Throw out soundbites like Bruno Maglis (the Enquirer photos were supposedly taken during a rainstorm... not great for a pair of "pristine" Suede shoes), all that blood!1! (EDTA), the Bronco chase (O.J. believed he was framed and panicked), If I Did It (written by a ghostwriter, an easy 500k for O.J. after years of pleading his innocence onto deaf ears), a "failed" polygraph (nevermind the fact that Gary Ridgeway, the most prolific serial killer in American history passed a polygraph or that Ted Bundy did so twice), or the horrific civil trial that inexplicably allowed hearsay evidence.
And where has all my research left me? My family doesn't talk to me. I don't have close friends. Needless to say, no girlfriend. I'm alienated because of my beliefs.
But the biggest rift my "unpopular opinion" has created is between my dad and I. The emotions of this case run that deep. In many ways, I too was a victim of this trial of the century. Alongside the integrity of the American media, so went my All-American family.
My mother and father never got along during the trial. Even as a child, I remembered their bickering. Constant, ugly bickering. Mom's belief in O.J.'s innocence was actually what got me interested in the case. Particularly as a stark contrast to the O.J. Did It industry we've all been bombarded with.
My dad had the popular opinion. Their disagreement over the case opened a nasty wound between them. My parents divorced soon after Juice's acquittal. And as I grew up, I tried to stay close to my folks. My mother the introverted hippie, my father the more assertive and outgoing type. I was more like mom... no friends, artsy rather than social. On the other hand, my dad was friends with many of the people in the small town he lived in. The small town he thrived in as a local accountant.
For mom, O.J.'s plight was tragic. Yet another sad example of the horrors of being black in America. To my dad, Juice had played the race card.
While my dad and I used to be real close, my own interest in the O.J. Simpson case brought about the same tensions that had killed his marriage. Me and him argued more. He resented my opinion. Like most of you, he never could see anything past O.J. Did It, No Questions Asked.
My dad's brown eyes would berate me with the same sharp ferocity of his irate words. His temper was quick. And it only got worse as he got older. Particularly whenever O.J. came up.
Once mom passed a few years back, my dad and I grew even more apart. I think he blamed her for pushing me toward the case. But the reality was that their divorce was what fueled my interest. I came to the realization that mom was right all along. Yet she was crucified for that opinion. God knows how her own family and friends treated her for being the one white woman who believed Mr. Simpson was innocent.
But I think what really set dad off was my career. You see, my penultimate project began back in 2013: my O.J. Simpson webpage. I knew on-line there were people like me. People who did know more about the case and who had bothered researching it.
Over the years, my site garnered a cult-like following. And dad was pretty pissed about it. As he got older and his brown hair grew thinner, his eyes only became more narrow and cold. And so did his resentment toward me. The few conversations we had always ended in arguments. There were shouting matches about the case. Shouting matches about race. Shouting matches about mom.
I'd have loved to see him be proud of my work... but that was wishful thinking. His mind was made up. I couldn't worry about pop anymore. I had to worry about the new generation. Younger, more open-minded people like me.
As the site grew, my friend Pearse helped me land interviews with some of the biggest names from the trial for his podcast. I started uploading feature-length documentaries rather than YouTube videos. My analysis on the O.J. case made me an expert. Not to mention a hero to those who knew the truth. Hell, I even got advertising money.
My site was doing well. However, it wasn't mainstream media. I wasn't making much money. So imagine my surprise when the ultimate project came up. The most audacious thing my webpage had tackled yet: an interview with the Juice himself.
It turned out O.J. Simpson loved my work... I guess there's some consolation for never having my dad appreciate it.
I was surprised yet overjoyed when I got O.J.'s e-mail. I consulted with all of the people I'd been interviewing. And to my utter joy, everything checked out. I soon got Simpson's Vegas address.
The news would've excited my devoted fanbase however, I wanted to keep it a surprise for now. Outside of telling Pearse and a few friends, I kept the trip a secret. I doubted O.J. wanted me telling the world anyway.
But I did tell a few family members. Rather than congratulate me, they gave me the usual cliched jokes instead ("don't get hacked). I even got the nerve to tell my dad, but he just grumbled before hanging up. He always preferred my fiction. I guess it was for the best I hadn't told him about the O.J. book I was working on...
The following week, I packed my bags and left for Nevada. My buddy Pearse came along for moral support. And to be the cameraman.
O.J.'s handlers were there waiting for us at the airport. In their suits, they resembled Secret Service. But hey, I couldn't blame O.J. taking some precautions after all the death threats. His posse was very professional though. The exact opposite of the crazy Vegas crew who helped him "steal" his memorabilia.
From what I understood, O.J. had been staying at one of his friends's mansions. A Microsoft millionaire's house. He'd let O.J. crash there since Juice couldn't leave the state. Not that O.J. had it bad considering how lavish the mansion was. While modest compared to the rest of the neighborhood, the place was still glorious. There was privacy galore. Tall trees surrounded the yard, concealing the house and iron-pike fence from outside view.
Once our van pulled up into O.J.'s driveway, I took a deep breath. Pearse and I had made it. Here I was about give an exclusive interview with the man America considered a monster. But who in reality was a tragic victim.
The spacious and pristine yard had gaudy lawn ornaments. Pretty sculptures. Huge sprinklers and, of course, a nice pool.
Pearse was told to keep the camera off until we got inside the house. For security purposes. Me not being an asshole mainstream journalist, complied out of respect for the Juice.
Inside, the mansion was more in line with what I'd expect from O.J. Clean, impressive, stylish. And yes, flashy.
We were told to wait in the living room. It was in here, O.J. had his memorabilia well on display (apparently, he'd recovered most of the stolen items). There were old jerseys, posters, movie props, game balls, trophies. Hall Of Fame accolades. The Heisman. Not many people seem to realize O.J. Simpson was a Hell of a player. I could tell he had his guests wait here on purpose. A nice humblebrag. Then again, who could blame him? This shit was amazing.
Amongst the collectibles were more cultured items. Artwork, portraits, classic novels, some sick fucking vinyl. I could tell most of these belonged to O.J. The guy was a fucking connoisseur.
Framed family photos still had their place in this mancave of O.J.'s glory days. Pictures of him with Marguerite. Pictures of him with Nicole. But the most frequent images I saw were kids. Children, teenagers, college photos. O.J.'s smiling children seemed to swarm all around Pearse and I. And it wasn't creepy in the slightest either. In a room that could've (and probably was) a vanity tribute to the Juice, somehow, the children's photos took more precedence. They were what I remembered most about the house.
In a corner of the room was a framed photo of O.J.'s deceased infant daughter Aaren. A cross hung right above it. A collection of Angel figurines stood on both sides of the lavish picture frame. A sincere shrine for Aaren.
Using the camera, Pearse was all too happy to capture the scene. The mansion definitely a big step up from Pearse's garage studio.
Emerging from a long hallway, our man of the hour entered the room. Orenthal James Simpson. Even at seventy-one, he looked effortless and smooth. Quite debonair in a brown suit he'd consider modest but most likely cost a couple grand. The guy had style. And he also knew he was gonna be on camera. No wonder he had his Hall Of Fame ring on.
O.J. stuck a groomed hand out toward me. "Steve, how are you," he said in his eloquent baritone. A voice that hadn't lost any of its charm after all these years and traumas.
Overwhelmed by nerves, I forced myself to complete the handshake. "I'm doing okay," I responded, a slight tremble in my voice.
As if he sensed my nerves, O.J. flashed me a warm smile. "Alright. I'm glad."
His handshake was strong yet there was a soft touch. And his hand was fucking huge. It practically engulfed mine. No wonder he could hang on to that football.
"It's an honor to meet you," I added.
"Likewise." His voice even trembled like mine. Not from nerves but emotion... appreciation. "Likewise, Steve."
I introduced him to Pearse, and then the interview began. I was simultaneously surprised yet glad to see it was just us three for the interview. I'm sure O.J. appreciated the chill vibes.
We toured the rest of the house. The guest rooms were well-furnished. There was also another mancave, O.J.'s destination for Saturdays and Sundays during football season. He played us some of his old highlights via YouTube. The guy just couldn't help himself. I saw a bunch of golf gear in here as well. The sport definitely still O.J.'s go-to hobby.
Later on, we checked out the kitchen and dining room. A back balcony overlooked the pool. I even saw little yappy dogs running around the back yard. I was surprised they weren't even full-breeds. Just regular old mutts. We could hear their incessant barks all tour long.
To my surprise, O.J.'s bedroom itself was rather plain. Not flashy like the living room or mancave. Just a few pictures of his mother and Aaren placed next to religious figurines.
However his closet was another story. Hell, it looked it'd been converted from a bedroom. A Sex And The City wet dream. Rows and rows of clothes. All of them name brand, all of them collected over the years.
Overall, O.J. was very welcoming. Even humble. He talked to me and Pearse about how his stay in prison had changed his attitude. He'd gone through years of (understandable) anger due to his mistreatment by the media. He had a chip on his shoulder. But the experience of just being another inmate, another number, changed his outlook for the better. He missed Florida. He missed L.A. But he wasn't too upset as his kids came to visit him quite often. Las Vegas, and this house in particular, had become his "home away from home."
We planned on doing the bulk of our interview in O.J.'s cozy study. There we had a glowing fireplace, comfortable chairs, and perfect lighting. A small coffee table the only barrier between O.J. and I.
Even from where I was sitting, I saw how the bookshelves were stuffed with every literary classic imaginable. I figured O.J. probably hadn't read most of them, but shit, it was still an impressive collection.
One book in particular caught my eye. Unlike the books around it, this one resembled a scrapbook. No title on the spine. It looked old as Hell. Did O.J. own a first edition Book Of The Dead? Or the Necronomicon?
Gazing around the rest of the room, I saw O.J.'s framed memorabilia from the Roots shoot (costume, props, etc) right next to a pair of glass doors leading to the balcony. I could tell the memorabilia meant a lot to him. In an acting career based more off his charm and good looks than talent, appearing in Roots was a rare proud moment in his film career.
Like an annoying yet cute soundtrack, the dogs continued their barking well into the night. I suppose they were chasing squirrels or whatever other critters were lurking about. Maybe they were still after Pearse and I, for that matter.
A few of O.J.'s bodyguards stood by the study door. But they were quiet and kept their distance. They must've known how much an interview like this meant to O.J. One where he wasn't pleading his innocence to a buzzard or some other indifferent asshole. Instead, him and I were talking like old friends. Comrades.
We started off the interview in simple fashion: O.J.'s background. Orenthal James wasn't born a millionaire athlete. He came from nothing. From the slums of California all the way to the gridiron on the USC campus. Truly the American Dream. O.J. went into great detail about this. The anecdotes on the hardships he and his mother faced. His glory days as a USC superstar. And then when he cemented his football legacy on the Buffalo Bills.
When it came to his playing career, I could tell O.J. was most excited about his tenure with the Bills. They were a small market team he embraced. He also loved the Bills Mafia, the team's zany and enthusiastic fanbase. The Bills had some winning seasons with Juice leading their offense. After all, he was a natural born star and leader for that long-tormented franchise. And to this day, they still treated Simpson with respect unlike the alma mater that ultimately disowned him.
Throughout the interview, I could tell O.J. struggled at times to remember certain names and dates. Our conversation switched to CDTE and other brain/memory issues that had been attributed to playing American football. Awhile back, O.J. had been diagnosed with this (in addition to arthritis). While football is still a violent game, in O.J.'s heyday it was a fucking blood sport ("It was a different era, man," he told me). Not much padding or safety precautions. Illegal hits were the norm. Nothing was off limits. Not even your head.
The grave seriousness of the topic removed us from the nostalgic vanity that had accompanied O.J.'s reflections on his career. Our conversation soon shifted to the tragedy that would haunt O.J. Simpson. And forever tarnish his name.
I was surprised to see O.J. be so open while discussing that fateful June night. I knew he usually avoided the topic out of contempt for a press that had ignored his words in favor of misquoting him and making him look like a lunatic. But he was comfortable with us.
We discussed everything. From Mark Fuhrman to the planted evidence to the lack of a cut or bruise anywhere on O.J.'s body (Goldman was same height as O.J., a blackbelt, and twenty years younger). The fact there was no cut on O.J.'s hand when he was at the airport signing autographs (including signing one for the pilot). The racial implications of the case. How the media automatically assumed his guilt before knowing if O.J. was even in L.A. when the murders happened.
O.J.'s sadness veered toward an understandable bitterness as we discussed how the media's inaccuracies ultimately became the legend.
"No one believed me," O.J. said, his baritone voice full of jaded weariness. "I tried everything. I did interviews, I talked about the trial, and it's like no one listened to me! They didn't wanna listen to me. They didn't wanna believe me." Fire burnt in his eyes, but I didn't feel threatened or scared like you probably would. Such a fire was built off of frustration not violence. "With Fuhrman, you got a guy on tape saying all this shit. That he framed minorities and blacks... not only that but he was anti-Semitic. If I was a white Jewish man, everyone would be outraged at Fuhrman and what he did. They'd take my word, they'd show the evidence we had. But that wasn't the case, was it? Instead, I'm playing the Goddamn race card!"
And I couldn't agree more. Everything he said was correct. The media had ignored the overwhelming evidence favoring his innocence to spin a false narrative. To them, Othello James Simpson killed the two white Angels. No questions asked.
While we were on the subject of O.J.'s unfair public perception, I asked how he felt about the growing number of black celebrities speaking out against him. Kanye, Jay-Z, Steve Harvey, etc.
O.J. hesitated. Discomfort joined his anger. I could tell he felt these questions were putting him in rough territory... particularly since he was African-American himself. I didn't expect him to go into a rant on how they were all coons, but I didn't expect him to be this silent and awkward.
He let out a weary sigh. "I don't know what to tell them," he finally said. "Maybe they were too young to watch the dang trial. Or they've gotten just saturated with all the crap they throw against me. They read too much National Enquirer, I don't know." A faint grin crossed his face. "The media the way it is... I guess everyone thinks I did it now, huh."
There was a vulnerable sadness to him. Something I'd never seen in all the footage on Juice. His silence couldn't hide that look of anguish.
"Everyone thinks I killed her," O.J. went on. That I'd kill her right where my kids slept!" He paused. A breather from the anger. "I can't change their minds, I give up." His emotions were overwhelming him. I could tell he didn't like it. O.J. was confident and strong. And he always seemed that way on television and in public. The memories were killing his public persona. He wasn't the Juice in this moment. He was Orenthal James Simpson. The tormented ex-husband of Nicole. The tormented father of four.
The roaring tragedy of 94 had returned from the grave once more. O.J. would never escape it. And he knew it.
I didn't even hear the barking dogs during this tense silence. They must've been respecting O.J.'s emotional struggle as well.
"When people think you're a killer," he struggled to begin, his deep voice caving in with heartache. "They think I never loved her, but I did."
"I know you did," I said, my voice steady yet reassuring.
O.J. gazed down at his lap. An obvious method to hide his tears. "And everything I'd worked toward was gone." He glared at the camera. "I worked hard to get to here! I came from nowhere, man, I supported my Goddamn family! I made a name for himself!"
His anger was ferocious but not directed toward anyone in the room. I felt no fear. But if this was Fox or TMZ, I could picture the headline now: O.J.'s Rage Returns! Watch Out White People!
"And then it was all gone!" O.J. continued. "All because they wanted to believe the nigger killed everybody! That I was a stalker, a fucking psycho." Tear fell from his eyes. On camera, O.J.'s harsher profanity was about as rare as the tears. He was showcasing twenty years' worth of wounds right here for Pearse and I.
"So yeah, maybe Kanye and all these other rappers and what-have-you think I did it. If they wanna appease their white audience, that's fine. Fuck them. We don't need them. God knows the truth. My children know the truth! That's what matters more than these arrogant niggers running their mouths about me. Just so they can stay with their fake fucking white friends." He chuckled. A defeated chuckle that was chilling in its helplessness. "I guess I used to be the same. Believe me, I know. And they'll find out soon enough. Oh yeah, they'll see what happens when they get framed or blamed for some shit they didn't do. Then they won't be Grmamy-winning rapper or Oscar-winning "thespian," they'll be a guiltyass nigger. Like what they say about me."
I could feel Pearse give me an unwasy look. But I wasn't stopping this. Not now. This was O.J. at his most candid and honest. He trusted us. I wasn't stopping him no matter where the controversy led.
"I'd never hurt her," O.J. went on. "I wouldn't..." He brushed away his tears. "I wasn't a great husband, but I cared about Nicole. Yeah, I hit her... but it wasn't like me. I felt terrible the second it happened. When she looked at me crying. Hell, I cried too. I had no idea I could ever do that. That I could hurt someone, much less my wife." His wounded eyes stared out the glass doors, peering off into the darkness. "And they wanna say I slaughtered her."
Respectful, I leaned in a little closer. "Well, who do you think actually did it, O.J.?" I asked, sympathetic yet strong. "That's the main question me and Pearse get from these idiots. They'll ignore everything we said just for this shit."
"It really is," Pearse added with a weak smile.
Quiet, O.J. kept looking off at the balcony.
"Look, I know Fuhrman made sure we'll likely never know," I told O.J. "But is there anything you'd want to add to the discussion? Any suspicions you had? Anyone you suspect?"
O.J. put a hand to his face, shielding his ravaged face from the camera. Rather than strength, he showed defeat. Like the traumas were at war within him. I could hear his heavy, wounded breaths. I could only imagine the painful memories running through his head. "Juice," I said.
"I can't," he mumbled.
A cloud of silence conquered the room. I felt a sense of cryptic dread lingering through the atmosphere. O.J.'s handlers gave me piercing stares. I returned them an awkward gaze. I wasn't sure what to do. I wasn't a therapist, after all.
Trying to break the uneasy mood, Pearse grinned. "You sure it wasn't Kato?"
No one laughed or responded.
"We've always suspected drugs," I said.
Grimacing, O.J. looked at us.
"Several of Ron Goldman's friends were killed right after he and Nicole," I added. "One of them had his throat slit from ear to ear."
"And Faye Resnick left Nicole's house the day before the murders," Pearse assisted me. "She owed drug dealers over thirty-thousand dollars from what I understand."
O.J. ran a hand along his face. Our comments hit him like bullets into his emotions. He didn't say anything. He just kept within his self. Within his fragment, tormented psyche.
"She looked just like Nicole," I said. Me and Pearse's voices were calm but persistent.
Rocking in his seat, O.J. looked down at the ground. He avoided eye contact. He avoided us. The tears were forming in his eyes. He bit his lip. The sorrow weighed him down.
"There could've been a mix-up," I went on.
"It had to be two people," Pearse added.
I noticed all of O.J.'s associates watching him with concern.
Tears in his eyes, O.J. confronted us. In the war within himself, his anxiety was winning.
I just stared at Juice. But Pearse kept going.
"The original coroner even said two knives were used," Pearse continued.
O.J. gave us a fiery look. "You wanna know what really happened?" he said, his baritone devoid of any warmth or charm.
Pearse went silent in an instant.
"We just want to know your thoughts, O.J.," I said.
"Well, I'll tell you what happened!" O.J. responded. "I'll tell you exactly what happened!"
One of his concerned handlers stepped toward him.
O.J. held up his hand, keeping the bodyguards at bay. "No, let me speak!"
The handler took his place back by the door.
"Let me tell them everything," O.J. said. His intense eyes turned toward me and Pearse. "It's not about just drugs. There's more to it than that."
My detached coolness evaporated. O.J.'s gaze and voice were frantic. I sensed the interview was going into unexpected territory and I wasn't prepared. "What do you mean?" I asked, unable to hide the subtle panic in my voice.
"It's everybody!" O.J. yelled. "The whole fucking thing!" A defensive fury boiled up inside him. "There's an entire group of people that killed Nicole! And it's because they wanted me! They wanted to frame me and tear me to shreds. It wasn't just Goddamn Fuhrman or Vanatter. Not even the L.A.P.D. It was the entire country!"
The final chilling line reverberated through the room like an eerie piano chord. O.J.'s voice, his unnerving sincerity sold it.
Pearse and I just looked on at Juice, confused. None of his associates were stopping him. None of them even looked confused by his proclamation. They just had knowing expressions on their faces. Like they too were aware of Juice's wild account.
"I don't understand," I finally mustered out. "What do you mean? The entire country-"
"You heard me, Steve," O.J. interrupted. He leaned back in his seat. Like the weary survivor he was. "You know how this country is. You've seen it in action, Steve. It's not so much the media as it is the establishment."
"So what are you saying-"
"I'm saying they'll do anything to suppress blacks and other minorities. The white elite is too powerful. They need to find ways to... to inhibit blacks." O.J. looked right at Pearse and I. His emotional brown eyes pierced deep into our souls.
Not sure what to do, I hesitated. "So you're saying this conspiracy killed Nicole and Goldman?"
More animated than ever, O.J. threw his hands out toward us. "You know about me! You know who I was! What I represented. I was one of the first black celebrities to cross over. I was in commercials, man! Ten years after segregation ended, I was pushing Hertz! I was in movies, I was a superstar."
I didn't think he was bragging. His voice was too full of anger and resentment for this to be gloating O.J.
"And what better way to kill what I represented, huh?" O.J. challenged us. He leaned in closer like a wild-eyed preacher. This wasn't the Smooth Mr. Simpson. What we saw now was all paranoia... either from Alzheimer's or genuine fear. "They did what could turn the Juice into that rich nigger that got away with murder!" He waved his hands around as if he were shoving an invisible force away. "And they fucking got away with it! They killed Nicole and did everything they could to incriminate me!"
I looked over at Pearse. All I saw was a face of stunned confusion. Like someone had transplanted Pearse from Vegas to a nuthouse.
I confronted O.J. "So a group of these special rich white people killed Nicole?"
"Rich, powerful white people," he answered, his voice unwavering and not backing down.
The Juice was loose, alright, I thought. Loose in the fucking head.
"Look, Juice," I began.
O.J. flashed me a cryptic smile. "You don't believe me?"
I looked around the room. The associates were all stone-faced. Had O.J. convinced them of this batshit insanity? Or was he just paying them enough to believe?
"Honestly," I stammered. I looked back at O.J.'s calm face. He was relaxed. Like telling us this secret had lifted the weight of anxiety off him. "I don't know what to believe."
"I know," O.J. responded. Letting out a weary sigh, he slouched back in his chair. "It sounds crazy... it's why I don't tell many people." His gaze drifted off to the glass doors. "It's why I'm scared to tell anyone really."
"Why?"
Like he was responding to an insult, O.J. just gave me a cold glare. "You don't have a clue what these people are. The power they have. You can't even imagine what they could do to me and you."
"If they were trying to bring you down, why not just get you convicted-"
"They tried, didn't they," O.J. interrupted, his baritone commanding and strong.
"Then why not have you killed."
Smirking, O.J. looked off at the bodyguards. They returned sly smiles back.
Annoyed, I leaned in toward Juice. "If they were trying to destroy you because of your influence then why not just kill you? Alright, they tried framing you, so why wouldn't they just finish you off?"
O.J. let out a maddening laugh. The laugh of a helpless man left to die from irony.
"What?" I demanded. "Why wouldn't they?"
"Why would they waste their time!" O.J. said through the chuckles. He pointed at himself. "Look at me, Steve. What the Hell would killing me do?"
The realization struck me. He was right. Why would they waste their time killing him... they'd already done enough. The damage was done.
"The trial killed everything I stood for," O.J. said. "No one looked at me the same. They couldn't look me in the eye." He leaned in closer, holding my gaze with those dark eyes. "There were no more advertisements, no more movies. No more Monday Night Football. No more respect of O.J.'s American Dream. I'm the Goddamn monster now, Steve."
Destroyed by inner anguish, he looked toward the floor.
Our staredown and his chilling reflections still left me shook.
"Hell, for all I know maybe they failed to frame me on purpose," O.J. muttered. He looked up at me. "Maybe just me fighting it out in the court then getting acquitted was part of the plan all along. Just to make people hate me even more."
"I'm sorry," I said. My attempt at a neutral voice couldn't hide my sympathy.
"If I'd gone to jail over a false charge, maybe people would've protested for me," Juice stated. "They would've looked into the case."
The atmosphere grew more and more tense with O.J.'s account. I noticed him running his hands together in a nervous tic. He couldn't fake the discomfort. He was never that good of an actor.
"Instead, all we get is everyone saying I did it," O.J. went on. "O.J. Simpson murderer. That's it. Listen to your Geraldos and your Nancy Graces, the entire American media. They all just pick me apart since I guess it's still illegal to string niggers up when you absolutely know we did something. I guess Emmett Till would've suffered the same."
Uneasy, I nodded my head. The room felt quieter than ever. No voices, no music, no football highlights, no dogs. Just crackling from the fire.
I didn't like seeing O.J. this way. Regardless of his hardships, he'd always been an upbeat fighter. Now he looked defeated.
"There's nothing I can do," O.J. said. "And they know it. They know they fucked me. My image is ruined forever. My name, everything I did. It's gone. My legacy is that I'm a black man who killed two white people. That's what I am." Tears of anger filled his eyes. "The media played it up. They control that too, you know. They control everything!"
"Jesus...” Pearse exclaimed.
I faced Pearse. Like me, he too was riveted by Juice's every word. Only Pearse 100% believed him.
"You do a lot of great things, Steve," O.J. told me.
I looked at Juice. Or the decrepit, depressed sight that was once O.J. Simpson.
"But there's nothing you can do," O.J. continued. "You're not Fox or NBC. You don't get many people on that show. It's why Baby Blue don't care."
"Baby Blue?" I asked, confused.
O.J.'s eyes never strayed from me. "That's their leader."
"What?"
His face stoic and deadly serious, O.J. pointed up toward his eyes. "Their leader's eyes. They're baby blue. That's all I know."
Part 1 of 2
14

Content Courtesy of Columbia CVB

ON STAGE

Marian, or The True Tale of Robin Hood – October 26 – 28 7:30 PM at Macklanburg Playhouse. An innovative perspective on a classic. A gender-bending, hilarious new take on the classic tale. Robin Hood is (and has always been) Maid Marian in disguise and leads a motley group of Merry Men (few of whom are actually men) against the greedy Prince John. As the poor get poorer and the rich get richer, who, if not Robin, will stand for the vulnerable? What is the cost of revealing your true self in a time of trouble? Modern concerns and romantic entanglements clash on the battlefield and on the ramparts of Nottingham Castle.
Sweeney Todd - October 25 – 27 7:30 PM and October 28 2 PM at Talking Horse Productions. This brilliant gem in Sondheim’s collection of musicals is the perfect choice for the October slot. The dark tale of a barber who takes revenge on those who wrong him has been wildly popular since its Broadway debut in 1979. Multiple Tony winner. Based on an original Penny Dreadful tale from the 1840s. Come see how Talking Horse creatively stages this show in our black box space! Directed by Kathleen Johnson.
Dark Dinner Series: Who Killed Sally? October 26 & 28 7 PM at Greenhouse Theatre Project. Join us for our take on a murder mystery dinner. Immerse yourself into the mystery of who killed Sally while enjoying a three course meal prepared by Como’s finest chefs and wine selected by Top Ten Wines! Seating will be very limited.

SPECIAL EVENTS

Spooktacular – October 24 at MU Student Center Join us for the biggest Halloween party at Mizzou! There will be a haunted house, pumpkin carving, lots of Halloween treats, and enter the annual costume contest. You can’t miss it! Free for MU Students with your student ID. Cost is $5 for the general public. Visit stufftodo.missouri.edufor more information. Sponsored by the Campus Activities Programming Board. Novak Leadership Speaker Series - October 24 1:30 PM – 2:30 PM at Jesse Auditorium. The inaugural event will feature renowned leadership expert David Novak, retired CEO and co-founder of Yum! Brands (KFC, Taco Bell, Pizza Hut) and CEO of oGo Lead. Event is free and open to the public.
CelebrARTy 2018 – October 25 5:30 – 8:30 PM – N H Scheppers Distributing - Local celebrities and local artists team up in this annual fundraiser to raise money for Access Arts! Tonight we’ll auction off all their artwork and view their team videos. Join us for a cocktail hour featuring cocktails from Dog Master Distillers, craft beers from NH Scheppers, and tasty food pairings from local chefs. Which celeb is your favorite? Show your support by purchasing a ticket and bidding on their art! All proceeds benefit Access Arts, with a special portion of the funds to be devoted to scholarships for those in need.
Book Talk: Joanna Luloff – October 25 7 PM Skylark Bookshop: Following her acclaimed collection of short stories, The Beach at Galle Road, Jo Luloff will return to Columbia to discuss her debut novel, Remind Me Again What Happened, with the Chair of University of Missouri English Department, Professor Alexandra Socarides.
Hocus Pocus Halloween Brew ‘n View – October 25 7:30 PM at The Blue Note. Come little children, we’ll take thee away, into a land of the Blue Note (er, we mean enchantment)…We put a spell on you, and now you’re ours! Let’s think back, circa 1993…“Ah say into pie uppa-maybe-uppen die!” 300 years have passed since the Sanderson sisters were executed for practicing dark witchcraft. Returning to life thanks to a combination of a spell spoken before their demise and the accidental actions of Max, the new-virgin-in-town, the sisters have but one night to secure their continuing existence…“In Kamma Koray Ama…”It’s gonna be just a bunch of Hocus Pocusat the Blue Note on Thursday, October 25th! Let us help you celebrate this spoooooOOoooOooOoky Halloween week in style. Not So Frightening Friday – October 26 4 PM – 6 PM at Missouri United Methodist Church – We join with the downtown District for a fun-filledHalloween event. Join us at the church for games, prizes and Trunk-or-Treat.
Zombie Pub Crawl – October 26 6 PM The District - Start your Halloween celebration early at the 5th Annual Zombie Pub Crawl, presented by Mpix! $10 wristband gets you free cover to all participating locations, drink specials once you’re inside and a chance to win some prizes and other giveaways all night long. Costumes not required, but always encouraged. Wristbands go on sale September 1 and participating locations and drink specials will be announced in October. All proceeds benefit Woodhaven, a non-profit organization that serves people with disabilities right here in our community.
Tiger Bounce Glow Night Fall Festival - October 26 6 PM – 9 PM at Tiger Bounce. Only $4.99 per child 2 years and up! There will be so many activities; dance competition, costume contest, pumpkin painting, face painting, halloween games, and concession specials! ALL THIS PLUS A GLOW PARTY ALL IN ONE NIGHT! COME CELEBRATE HALLOWEEN WITH US!
Great Pumpkin Celebration - October 26 5 PM – 7 PM at Bass Pro Shops. Free Halloween Event! Get a free 4x6 photo with the Peanuts Gang, play the Pumpkin Toss for a chance to win a prize, and do free crafts. Saturday, October 27 will offer trick-or-treating from 3-5PM and a costume parade starting at 4PM. The day of Halloween offers trick-or-treating from 5-8PM, a costume parade starting at 6PM, and cookie decorating from 5-7PM.
Boone County Farmers Market – October 8 AM – 12 PM Sears Parking Lot. The Boone County Farmers Market is a group of farmers and artisans dedicated to supplying their community with fresh, locally grown, nutritious fruits, vegetables, meats, baked goods, and other items produced in a sustainable manner. The farmers and artisans that make up the Boone County Farmer’s Market are from Boone and surrounding counties and produce all of the food at the market so you can be confident in the source of your food. For your convenience the Boone County Farmer’s Market accepts cash, checks, credit, debit, and EBT cards. Columbia Farmers Market – October 27 8 AM – 12 PM Parkade Center. Experience the taste of mid-Missouri at the Columbia Farmers Market! Find us every Saturday from 8am to noon (mid-March-mid-November) in our new temporary location, the northeast Parkade Center’s parking lot (601 Business Loop 70W). Fresh vegetables & fruit, meat, farm fresh eggs, cheeses, honey, cut flowers, plants, artisan items & more. As a producer-only market, everything sold here is offered by the farmers and artisans who help sustain our region. SNAP (food stamps) accepted at all markets. Live music every Saturday! Rain or Shine! Groundbreaking should take place this spring at the Clary-Shy Agriculture Park. While construction takes place, we will be setting up in the northeast lot at Parkade Center. Make sure to follow our social media pages to stay up-to-date on the progress.

GALLERIES

Teaching from the Collections October 6 – December 16 at Stephens College. This back-to-school exhibition by the Stephens College Costume Museum and Research Library features 13 ensembles from the 1940s to the 1970s, showcasing some of the 20th century’s most influential designers. Visitors share in the fashion major’s experience learning about designers’ signature techniques and materials with a chance to test their new knowledge in a quiz. But don’t worry; everyone who visits this free exhibition makes the grade!
Seeing Anew: A Reinterpretation of Modern and Contemporary Artworks from the Permanent Collection at Museum of Art and Archaeology. After two years of special exhibitions, two galleries will be rededicated to highlighting extraordinary works of modern and contemporary art. Selections of artworks from about 1950 to the present will be reinterpreted with an emphasis on diversity represented in the permanent collection. Both familiar favorites and recent acquisitions will be displayed, along with a new section devoted to works on paper.
The Aesthetic of a Monumental Figure Fall 2018 – Spring 2019 at Columbia Research Center - Throughout the history of Western art, painters have signaled the importance of human figures by representing them on a large scale. Such figures may be contemporary, historical, allegorical, or religious. Traditionally a “monumental figure” is half-life-size or larger. This exhibition includes seven pictures with such figures. The selection includes commissioned portraits, anonymous nudes, imaginary figures, and images of everyday people. Audiences may see personal, political, psychological, and social meanings in these images, and these messages are amplified by each pictures monumentality.
The Clay Cup IV: Vessel, Icon, Canvas Exhibition October 8 through November 1 at Bingham Gallery Based in Portland, Maine, Ayumi Horie believes that the best handmade pottery encourages connections between people and makes daily life better. Her activism and advocacy promote thoughtful craft practice and support for makers around the world. In 2015, she was awarded a Distinguished Fellow grant by United States Artists. She’s continuing to work on The Democratic Cup, a project that encourages active civic engagement through pottery and Pots In Action, an ongoing curatorial project of Ayumi’s on Instagram where various themes within ceramics are covered.
CoalieSpear Show September 7 – November 4 at the Boone County History & Culture Center. The Montminy Gallery is proud to announce the COALIESPEAR show. This exhibition showcases the work of two award-winning local artists, Kelly Coalier and David Spear. Among their awards, each has won the City of Columbia Commemorative Art Poster. The COALIESPEAR show is the first dual show for this pair of long-time Columbia friends and residents. With each artist exhibiting more than 25 works of art, it is also the largest show for either artist in many years. Coalier has been making artwork daily for 30 plus years. His current drawings and photographs reflect a decade of raising kids and living in Boone County. Fairs, festivals, family and friends are inspirational sources in Coalier’s work. His style and composition are influenced by traditional drawing, comics, animation, photography, and pre-World War II modernism. Spear’s work is influenced by history and the evolution of art. He weaves together genres of realism and abstraction to express a range of artistic concepts and points of view. His artistic career and work are motivated by a continuous commitment to the development of a broad understanding of diverse processes and perspectives. Salvador Dali exhibit at The Tiger Hotel. In the lobby of the hotel, you will find two lithographs from Dali’s 1977 ‘Twelve Apostles or Knights of the Round Table’ Suite: James the Lesser or The Vicar of Britain and Phillip or Knighting of Sir Galahad. Between them is Dali’s1974 original work, The Last Corner of the Last Planet, from a suite of twelve paintings known as ‘Conquest of Cosmos.’

SPORTS

Stephens Volleyball vs. Hannibal-LaGrange University TUES 7 PM at Stephens College
Columbia College Soccer vs. William Woods University FRI 4:30 PM at Columbia College
Mizzou Volleyball vs. LSU FRI 8 PM at Mizzou
Mizzou Football vs. Kentucky SAT 3 PM at Farout Field
Mizzou Volleyball vs. Texas A&M SUN 1:30 PM at Mizzou

MUSIC

TUESDAY
Roomful of Teeth 7 PM Missouri Theatre
Ramblers’ Club: Singer Songwriter Night 7:30 PM atRose Music Hall
WEDNESDAY
Lanco 7 PM at The Blue Note
Pints & Punchlines: Rose Comedy Club 8 PM atRose Music Hall
THURSDAY
Tiny Moving Parts 8 PM Rose Music Hall
Elizabeth Moen, Sterlin/Pale, JJ Coletrain 8 PMCafé Berlin
FRIDAY
Derryl Perry 9 PM at Nash Vegas
Megan Boyer Band 5 PM at Rose Music Hall
The Cat’s Pajama’s: Halloween Pajama Jam! Catdaddy’s Funky Fuzz-Bunker Band 9 PM at Rose Music Hall
Mississippi Jake 6 PM Cooper’s Landing
The Flood Brothers 2 PM The Station House
SATURDAY
Derryl Perry 9 PM at Nash Vegas
Atmosphere 7:30 PM at The Blue Note
Yappy Hour in the Park John Galbraith Trio 4 PM Rose Park
Great Midwestern Boograss Bash 6 PM Rose Park
Bradford Loomis 6 PM The Station House
SUNDAY
ONA 7 PM Rose Music Hall
Claysville Road 2 PM The Station House

MOVIE GUIDE

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BAD TIMES AT THE EL ROYALE - The El Royale is run-down hotel that sits on the border between California and Nevada. It soon becomes a seedy battleground when seven strangers -- a cleric, a soul singer, a traveling salesman, two sisters, the manager and the mysterious Billy Lee -- converge on a fateful night for one last shot at redemption before everything goes wrong.
COLETTE - After marrying a successful Parisian writer known commonly as “Willy” (Dominic West), Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette (Keira Knightley) is transplanted from her childhood home in rural France to the intellectual and artistic splendor of Paris. Soon after, Willy convinces Colette to ghostwrite for him. She pens a semi-autobiographical novel about a witty and brazen country girl named Claudine, sparking a bestseller and a cultural sensation. After its success, Colette and Willy become the talk of Paris and their adventures inspire additional Claudine novels. Colette's fight over creative ownership and gender roles drives her to overcome societal constraints, revolutionizing literature, fashion and sexual expression.
FIRST MAN – On the heels of their six-time Academy Award®-winning smash, La La Land, Oscar®-winning director Damien Chazelle and star Ryan Gosling reteam for Universal Pictures’ First Man, the riveting story of NASA’s mission to land a man on the moon, focusing on Neil Armstrong and the years 1961-1969. A visceral, first-person account, based on the book by James R. Hansen, the movie will explore the sacrifices and the cost—on Armstrong and on the nation—of one of the most dangerous missions in history.
FREE SOLO - Follow Alex Honnold as he becomes the first person to ever free solo climb Yosemite's 3,000ft high El Capitan Wall. With no ropes or safety gear, he completed arguably the greatest feat in rock climbing history.
GOOSEBUMPS 2: HAUNTED HALLOWEEN - While collecting junk one day, best friends Sonny and Sam meet Slappy, a mischievous talking dummy from an unpublished "Goosebumps" book by R.L. Stine. Hoping to start his own family, Slappy kidnaps Sonny's mother and brings all of his ghoulish friends back to life -- just in time for Halloween. As the sleepy town becomes overrun with monsters, witches and other mysterious creatures, Sonny joins forces with his sister, Sam and a kindly neighbor to save Sonny's mom and foil Slappy's plan.
HALLOWEEN (2018) - Laurie Strode comes to her final confrontation with Michael Myers, the masked figure who has haunted her since she narrowly escaped his killing spree on Halloween night four decades ago.
THE HATE YOU GIVE - Starr Carter is constantly switching between two worlds -- the poor, mostly black neighborhood where she lives and the wealthy, mostly white prep school that she attends. The uneasy balance between these worlds is soon shattered when she witnesses the fatal shooting of her childhood best friend at the hands of a police officer. Facing pressure from all sides of the community, Starr must find her voice and decide to stand up for what's right.
A HOUSE WITH A CLOCK IN ITS WALLS - Ten-year-old Lewis goes to live with his uncle in a creaky old house that contains a mysterious ticktock noise. When Lewis accidentally awakens the dead, the town's sleepy facade magically springs to life with a secret world of witches and warlocks.
INDIVISIBLE - Based on the extraordinary true story of Army Chaplain Darren Turner and his wife Heather. With a strong, faith-filled marriage, the Turners are ready to follow their calling: serving God, family, and country. Fresh from seminary and basic training, Chaplain Turner and his family arrive at Fort Stewart. Yet before the Turners can even unpack their new house, Darren is deployed to Iraq. Heather is left taking care of their three young children alone … as well as serving the families of the other deployed soldiers. Despite a desire to stay connected with their loved ones, the harsh realities of war take a daily toll over the course of the Battalion’s extended deployment. Meanwhile back home, babies are born, kids keep growing, and nerves are frayed with every late-night knock on the door. With deeply etched battle scars, the soldiers’ long-awaited homecoming is much different than any of their families anticipated.
MID90S – Follows Stevie, a thirteen-year-old in 90s-era LA who spends his summer navigating between his troubled home life and a group of new friends that he meets at a Motor Avenue skate shop.
NIGHT SCHOOL - Teddy Walker is a successful salesman whose life takes an unexpected turn when he accidentally blows up his place of employment. Forced to attend night school to get his GED, Teddy soon finds himself dealing with a group of misfit students, his former high school nemesis and a feisty teacher who doesn't think he's too bright.
THE SISTERS BROTHERS - It is 1851, and Charlie and Eli Sisters (Joaquin Phoenix and John C. Reilly) are both brothers and assassins, boys grown to men in a savage and hostile world. They have blood on their hands: that of criminals, that of innocents...and they know no state of existence other than being gunmen. The older of the two, introspective Eli (Reilly) rides hard with his younger sibling yet dares to dream of a normal life. The younger of the two, hard-drinking Charlie (Phoenix) has taken charge with gusto as lead man on the duo’s assignments. Each increasingly questions, and quibbles with, the other’s methods. The Sisters brothers find themselves on a journey through the Northwest, bringing them to the mountains of Oregon, a dangerous brothel in the small town of Mayfield, and eventually, the Gold Rush land of California — a journey that will test the deadly family ties that bind. But, can it also be the path to rediscovering what remains of their humanity?
SMALL FOOT - A Yeti named Migo stirs up his community when he discovers something that he didn't know existed -- a human.
A STAR IS BORN - In this new take on the tragic love story, Bradley Cooper plays seasoned musician Jackson Maine, who discovers—and falls in love with—struggling artist Ally (Gaga). She has just about given up on her dream to make it big as a singer… until Jack coaxes her into the spotlight. But even as Ally’s career takes off, the personal side of their relationship is breaking down, as Jack fights an ongoing battle with his own internal demons.
THE OLD MAN & THE GUN - The Old Man & The Gun is based on the true story of Forrest Tucker (Robert Redford), from his audacious escape from San Quentin at the age of 70 to an unprecedented string of heists that confounded authorities and enchanted the public. Wrapped up in the pursuit are detective John Hunt (Casey Affleck), who becomes captivated with Forrest's commitment to his craft, and a woman (Sissy Spacek), who loves him in spite of his chosen profession. The Old Man & The Gun is Redford's final role before retirement.
TOO LATE TO DIE YOUNG (TARDE PARA MORIR JOVEN) - aking place on an idyllic commune for artists and musicians in the aftermath of the fall of Pinochet's regime, Too Late to Die Young glows with luminous light. A longtime resident, 16-year-old Sofía (Demian Hernández) dreams of escaping the retreat and the last vestiges of girlhood, rooting this study of thwarted desire in a coming-of-age story and thoughtful examinations of national and societal transformation.
VENOM (2018) - Reporter Eddie Brock develops superpowers after becoming a host to an alien parasite.
CHECK EACH THEATER FOR SHOWTIMES
REGAL STADIUM 14 THEATER – 2800 Goodwin Pointe Drive 844-462-7342
GOODRICH FORUM 8 – 1209 Forum Katy Parkway 573-445-7469
RAGTAG CINEMA – 10 Hitt Street 573-443-4359

Content Courtesy of Columbia CVB

ON STAGE

Sweeney Todd Thursday through Saturday at 7:30 PM and Sunday at 2 PM at Talking Horse Productions. This brilliant gem in Sondheim’s collection of musicals is the perfect choice for the October slot. The dark tale of a barber who takes revenge on those who wrong him has been wildly popular since its Broadway debut in 1979. Multiple Tony winner. Based on an original Penny Dreadful tale from the 1840s. Come see how Talking Horse creatively stages this show in our black box space! Directed by Trent Rash.
Songs for a New World Thursday through Saturday 7:30 PM at Studio 4 in McKee Gymnasium. MU Theater presents Songs for a New World by Jason Robert Brown, directed by Dr. Joy Powell. It’s about one moment. It’s about hitting the wall and having to make a choice or take a stand or turn around and go back. This moving collection of powerful songs examines life, love and the choices that we make. These are the stories and characters of today, the Songs for a New World.

SPECIAL EVENTS

Dinner and Wine Series Tuesday 7 PM – 10 PM at Glenn’s Café. Two gourmet chefs and a sommelier personally guide you through a four-course dinner, each dish accompanied by the perfect wine. Call 573-447-7100 for Reservations. $55 per person. Hawthorn College Luncheon: Guage Your Leadership Quotient Wednesday 11 AM – 1 PM Hawthorn Bank is proud to welcome Peter Herschend of Herschend Family Entertainment. Peter has devoted his professional life to Silver Dollar City, and other family businesses such as the Harlem Globetrotters. His innovative spirit and persistence have contributed greatly to the success of their numerous businesses and set a clear standard for today’s leaders. Doors open at 11:00 A.M. for networking. A buffet lunch will be served starting at 11:30 A.M. and the presentation will begin promptly at 12:00 P.M. Please join us at the Country Club of Missouri on Wednesday, October 17th. Proceeds from this event will be donated to The Caring People, an organization that provides support for single moms. Seating is limited – register today! Missouri Autumn Carnival & Balloon Festival Thursday – Friday 4:30 PM, Saturday – Sunday 2 PM 101.5 KPLA, 102.3 BXR, Q 106.1, and 1400 KFRU is a proud sponsor of the Missouri Autumn Carnival and Balloon Festival in Ashland on October 18-21. There will be hot air balloon flights, glows, and tether rides back to the skies in mid Missouri. Balloons fly just after sunrise and a couple hours before sunset. During the event you can expect to see balloons around 7:30 in the mornings and 5:30-8:30 in the evenings. There will be a full carnival with rides for all ages, children’s areas, food, and retail vendors for lots of fun throughout the weekend. The event site is the Cartwright Business and Technology Park, right off Highway 63 at the Columbia Regional Airport exit.
Mizzou Homecoming Campus Decs & Spirit Rally Friday 6 PM - 9:30 PM with a pep rally in Traditions Plaza at 8:30 PM.
Mizzou Homecoming Parade - Saturday 9 AM. Join us along the parade route for flashy floats, fancy cars, and a little band music.
Sideline Jokes Thursday 8 PM at Sideline Sports Bar. Sidelines Sports Bar presents ‘Sideline Jokes’ on Thursday, October 18th, with Caleb Wright and Kovoski George as hosts. This is a stand-up comedy show featuring 7 comics, including the hosts, from Columbia, Kansas City, and St. Louis, MO. Featured comics are Larry Greene, The Character, Bret Ditty, Purdy Bee, and Tommy Dangerfield. The door fee is $3.00, and must be 21 years of age or older to attend this show. Food and alcoholic beverages are served at this venue. Come out and have an awesome night.
Centralia Pumpkin Fest Saturday 10 AM Centralia Town Square. We are planning to have FREE games, face painting, pumpkin painting, a corn hole tournament, corn trailer, hay ride, music, battle of the drummers, yummy food, vendors and so much more! We are requesting no animals please unless service animals.
Meet the Author: Angela Mitchell Saturday10:30 AM Award-winning short story writer, Angela Mitchell of St. Louis, has published her first book of short stories, Unnatural Habitats and Other Stories. It will be released in October, and the Meet the Author audience will be among the first to hear from it. The Boone County Farmers Market Saturday 8 AM – 12 PM in Sears parking lot. The Boone County Farmers Market is a group of farmers and artisans dedicated to supplying their community with fresh, locally grown, nutritious fruits, vegetables, meats, baked goods, and other items produced in a sustainable manner. The farmers and artisans that make up the Boone County Farmer’s Market are from Boone and surrounding counties and produce all of the food at the market so you can be confident in the source of your food.
Columbia Farmers Market Saturday 8 AM – 12 PM at Parkade Plaza. Experience the taste of mid-Missouri at the Columbia Farmers Market! Find us every Saturday from 8am to noon (mid-March-mid-November) in our new temporary location, the northeast Parkade Center’s parking lot (601 Business Loop 70W). Fresh vegetables & fruit, meat, farm fresh eggs, cheeses, honey, cut flowers, plants, artisan items & more. As a producer-only market, everything sold here is offered by the farmers and artisans who help sustain our region. SNAP (food stamps) accepted at all markets. Live music every Saturday! Rain or Shine!

GALLERIES

Teaching from the Collections October 6 – December 16 at Stephens College. This back-to-school exhibition by the Stephens College Costume Museum and Research Library features 13 ensembles from the 1940s to the 1970s, showcasing some of the 20th century’s most influential designers. Visitors share in the fashion major’s experience learning about designers’ signature techniques and materials with a chance to test their new knowledge in a quiz. But don’t worry; everyone who visits this free exhibition makes the grade!
Seeing Anew: A Reinterpretation of Modern and Contemporary Artworks from the Permanent Collection at Museum of Art and Archaeology. After two years of special exhibitions, two galleries will be rededicated to highlighting extraordinary works of modern and contemporary art. Selections of artworks from about 1950 to the present will be reinterpreted with an emphasis on diversity represented in the permanent collection. Both familiar favorites and recent acquisitions will be displayed, along with a new section devoted to works on paper.
The Clay Cup IV: Vessel, Icon, Canvas Exhibition October 8 through November 1 at Bingham Gallery Based in Portland, Maine, Ayumi Horie believes that the best handmade pottery encourages connections between people and makes daily life better. Her activism and advocacy promote thoughtful craft practice and support for makers around the world. In 2015, she was awarded a Distinguished Fellow grant by United States Artists . She’s continuing to work on The Democratic Cup , a project that encourages active civic engagement through pottery and Pots In Action, an ongoing curatorial project of Ayumi’s on Instagram where various themes within ceramics are covered.
Notley Hawkins October 1 – 26 at The Sidney Larson Gallery Alumni Exhibition - Photography
CoalieSpear Show September 7 – November 4 at the Boone County History & Culture Center. The Montminy Gallery is proud to announce the COALIESPEAR show. This exhibition showcases the work of two award-winning local artists, Kelly Coalier and David Spear. Among their awards, each has won the City of Columbia Commemorative Art Poster. The COALIESPEAR show is the first dual show for this pair of long-time Columbia friends and residents. With each artist exhibiting more than 25 works of art, it is also the largest show for either artist in many years. Coalier has been making artwork daily for 30 plus years. His current drawings and photographs reflect a decade of raising kids and living in Boone County. Fairs, festivals, family and friends are inspirational sources in Coalier’s work. His style and composition are influenced by traditional drawing, comics, animation, photography, and pre-World War II modernism. Spear’s work is influenced by history and the evolution of art. He weaves together genres of realism and abstraction to express a range of artistic concepts and points of view. His artistic career and work are motivated by a continuous commitment to the development of a broad understanding of diverse processes and perspectives.
Salvador Dali exhibit at The Tiger Hotel. In the lobby of the hotel, you will find two lithographs from Dali’s 1977 ‘Twelve Apostles or Knights of the Round Table’ Suite: James the Lesser or The Vicar of Britain and Phillip or Knighting of Sir Galahad. Between them is Dali’s1974 original work, The Last Corner of the Last Planet, from a suite of twelve paintings known as ‘Conquest of Cosmos.’

SPORTS

Stephens Volleyball vs. Lindenwood University-Belleville TUES 7 PM Field #4 Cosmo Park
Mizzou Volleyball vs. Auburn FRI 6:30 PM Hearnes Center
Columbia College Volleyball vs. Ottawa University FRI 7 PM at Southwell Complex
Mizzou Football (Homecoming) vs. Memphis SAT 3 PM Faurot Field Stephens Soccer vs. Freed-Hardeman SAT 11 AM Field #4 Cosmo Park
Columbia College vs. Harris-Stowe State University SAT 12 PM Columbia College
Stephens Volleyball vs. Park University SAT 3 PM Stephens College
Mizzou Soccer vs. Florida SUN 12 PM Walton Stadium

MUSIC

WEDNESDAY
Columbia Jazz Jam 8 AM Café Berlin
THURSDAY
Columbia Hip Hop Live ft. The Abnorm 9 PM Rose Music Hall
MU Jazz Combos 8 PM Café Berlin
FRIDAY
Opiuo w/ SoDOwn + LuSiD 9 PM at The Blue Note
Desert Noises + Morning Teleportation 9:30 PM Rose Music Hall
Open Mic Night 6 PM at Fretboard Coffee
Friday Happy Hour ft. The Daves 5 PM Rose Music Hall
Elliott Pearson & The Passing Lane
The Sonny Show 8 PM Rocheport General Store
SATURDAY
Tom Petty Birthday Bash 7:30 PM Rose Park
Nico & Vinz following The Tiger Walk at the Hearnes Center
Yappy Hour in the Park ft. The Blue Stooges 4 PM at Rose Music Hall
Styles Haury 8 PM at Nash Vegas
Ironweed Bluegrass 6 PM Katfish Katy’s
Planet Jazz 8 PM Rocheport General Store
SUNDAY
Yonder Mountain String Band 8 PM The Blue Note
AJJ + Kimya Dawson w/ Shellshag 8 PM at Rose Music Hall

MOVIE GUIDE

​
BAD TIMES AT THE EL ROYALE - The El Royale is run-down hotel that sits on the border between California and Nevada. It soon becomes a seedy battleground when seven strangers -- a cleric, a soul singer, a traveling salesman, two sisters, the manager and the mysterious Billy Lee -- converge on a fateful night for one last shot at redemption before everything goes wrong.
BISBEE ’17 - An old mining town on the Arizona-Mexico border finally reckons with its darkest day: the deportation of 1200 immigrant miners exactly 100 years ago. Locals collaborate to stage recreations of their controversial past.
CHRISTOPHER ROBIN - Christopher Robin -- now a family man living in London -- receives a surprise visit from his old childhood pal, Winnie-the-Pooh. With Christopher's help, Pooh embarks on a journey to find his friends -- Tigger, Eeyore, Owl, Piglet, Rabbit, Kanga and Roo. Once reunited, the lovable bear and the gang travel to the big city to help Christopher rediscover the joy of life.
COLETTE - After marrying a successful Parisian writer known commonly as “Willy” (Dominic West), Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette (Keira Knightley) is transplanted from her childhood home in rural France to the intellectual and artistic splendor of Paris. Soon after, Willy convinces Colette to ghostwrite for him. She pens a semi-autobiographical novel about a witty and brazen country girl named Claudine, sparking a bestseller and a cultural sensation. After its success, Colette and Willy become the talk of Paris and their adventures inspire additional Claudine novels. Colette's fight over creative ownership and gender roles drives her to overcome societal constraints, revolutionizing literature, fashion and sexual expression.
FARENHEIT 11/9 - Michael Moore's "Fahrenheit 11/9" is a provocative and comedic look at the times in which we live.
FIRST MAN – On the heels of their six-time Academy Award®-winning smash, La La Land, Oscar®-winning director Damien Chazelle and star Ryan Gosling reteam for Universal Pictures’ First Man, the riveting story of NASA’s mission to land a man on the moon, focusing on Neil Armstrong and the years 1961-1969. A visceral, first-person account, based on the book by James R. Hansen, the movie will explore the sacrifices and the cost—on Armstrong and on the nation—of one of the most dangerous missions in history.
GOOSEBUMPS 2: HAUNTED HALLOWEEN - While collecting junk one day, best friends Sonny and Sam meet Slappy, a mischievous talking dummy from an unpublished "Goosebumps" book by R.L. Stine. Hoping to start his own family, Slappy kidnaps Sonny's mother and brings all of his ghoulish friends back to life -- just in time for Halloween. As the sleepy town becomes overrun with monsters, witches and other mysterious creatures, Sonny joins forces with his sister, Sam and a kindly neighbor to save Sonny's mom and foil Slappy's plan.
HELL FEST - On Halloween night, three young women and their respective boyfriends head to Hell Fest -- a ghoulish traveling carnival that features a labyrinth of rides, games and mazes. They soon face a bloody night of terror when a masked serial killer turns the horror theme park into his own personal playground.
A HOUSE WITH A CLOCK IN ITS WALLS - Ten-year-old Lewis goes to live with his uncle in a creaky old house that contains a mysterious ticktock noise. When Lewis accidentally awakens the dead, the town's sleepy facade magically springs to life with a secret world of witches and warlocks.
NIGHT SCHOOL - Teddy Walker is a successful salesman whose life takes an unexpected turn when he accidentally blows up his place of employment. Forced to attend night school to get his GED, Teddy soon finds himself dealing with a group of misfit students, his former high school nemesis and a feisty teacher who doesn't think he's too bright.
THE NUN (2018) - When a young nun at a cloistered abbey in Romania takes her own life, a priest with a haunted past and a novitiate on the threshold of her final vows are sent by the Vatican to investigate. Together they uncover the order’s unholy secret. Risking not only their lives but their faith and their very souls, they confront a malevolent force in the form of the same demonic nun that first terrorized audiences in “The Conjuring 2,” as the abbey becomes a horrific battleground between the living and the damned.
SEARCHING - After David Kim (John Cho)'s 16-year-old daughter goes missing, a local investigation is opened and a detective is assigned to the case. But 37 hours later and without a single lead, David decides to search the one place no one has looked yet, where all secrets are kept today: his daughter's laptop. In a hyper-modern thriller told via the technology devices we use every day to communicate, David must trace his daughter's digital footprints before she disappears forever. "Searching is a clever update on a housebound Hitchcock thriller like Rear Window, one that can make a series of Google searches play out like a high-wire action scene." (David Sims, The Atlantic)
A SIMPLE FAVOR - A SIMPLE FAVOR, directed by Paul Feig, centers around Stephanie (Anna Kendrick), a mommy vlogger who seeks to uncover the truth behind her best friend Emily's (Blake Lively) sudden disappearance from their small town.
SMALL FOOT - A Yeti named Migo stirs up his community when he discovers something that he didn't know existed -- a human.
A STAR IS BORN - In this new take on the tragic love story, Bradley Cooper plays seasoned musician Jackson Maine, who discovers—and falls in love with—struggling artist Ally (Gaga). She has just about given up on her dream to make it big as a singer… until Jack coaxes her into the spotlight. But even as Ally’s career takes off, the personal side of their relationship is breaking down, as Jack fights an ongoing battle with his own internal demons.
VENOM (2018) - Reporter Eddie Brock develops superpowers after becoming a host to an alien parasite.
VIDEODROME - When Max Renn goes looking for edgy new shows for his sleazy cable TV station, he stumbles across the pirate broadcast of a hyperviolent torture show called "Videodrome." As he unearths the origins of the program, he embarks on a hallucinatory journey into a shadow world of right-wing conspiracies, sadomasochistic sex games, and bodily transformation.
WE THE ANIMALS - Three boys tear through their childhood, in the midst of their young parents’ volatile love that makes and unmakes the family many times over. While Manny (Isaiah Kristian) and Joel (Josiah Gabriel) grow into versions of their loving and unpredictable father, Ma (Sheila Vand) seeks to shelter her youngest, Jonah (Evan Rosado), in the cocoon of home. More sensitive and conscious than his older siblings, Jonah increasingly embraces an imagined world all his own. Based on the celebrated Justin Torres novel, We the Animals is a visceral coming-of-age story propelled by layered performances from its astounding cast—including three talented, young first-time actors.
CHECK EACH THEATER FOR SHOWTIMES
REGAL STADIUM 14 THEATER – 2800 Goodwin Pointe Drive 844-462-7342
GOODRICH FORUM 8 – 1209 Forum Katy Parkway 573-445-7469
RAGTAG CINEMA – 10 Hitt Street 573-443-4359

CONTENT COURTESY OF COLUMBIA CVB
 
ON STAGE

• Life and Literature Performance Series Wednesday-Friday 7:30 PM at MU’s Corner Playhouse. The 15th annual Life and Literature Performance Series features cutting-edge original and adapted works by MU student authors, giving voice to emerging talent by staging a diverse body of new scripts. Come see an evening full of stunning solo performances, poetic and ethnographic works, original and even some classics with a twist. FREE, first come, first seated, doors at 7PM.

• “Memoirs”: 7:30 p.m. Friday-Saturday and 2 p.m. Sunday at Talking Horse Productions, 210 Saint James St. Two American legends, Mark Twain and Ulysses Grant, sit on the front porch and try to make sense out of their lives as Twain urges Grant to write his memoirs to make up for Grant’s lost fortune through bad investments before he succumbs to cancer. Friendship, the tragedy of war, and the travails of writing are part of this imagining of a true event. Funny, moving, and totally absorbing, the unusual friendship between Twain and Grant comes to life in this powerful one act play.

• Family Weekend Comedian: Buzz Sutherland Friday 7 PM at Jesse Auditorium. Bring your family for a great night full of laughs! Tickets are available at the MSA/GPC Box Office in the MU Student Center. $5 with an MU student ID, $10 for the public.

• “Intimate Apparel” Friday-Saturday 7:30 PM and Sunday 2 PM at Macklanburg Playhouse. A personal story of confronting adversity through artistry. Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Lynn Nottage’s classic story is set in 1904 New York City and told through a contemporary lens. We follow the biographical story of her grandmother, Esther, an African- American seamstress with career and personal aspirations. When her life takes unfortunate, unexpected and trying turns, she defies the odds through her artistry and emerges personally victorious. The show continues September 22-24.

• Richard Dowling plays the works of Scott Joplin Sunday 3-5 PM at Missouri Theatre. Richard Dowling is the first pianist in history to perform the complete cycle of Joplin’s 53 piano works in public in two consecutive fulllength recitals. Richard Dowling is a classical concert pianist who has had a lifelong love of ragtime. America’s home-grown classical music is RAGTIME, the irresistible, infectious, and immortal syncopated folk music from the early 20th century. The Academy-Award winning movie The Sting brought Missouri Native Scott Joplin’s music worldwide recognition and acclaim. 2017 is the 100th Anniversary of the King of Ragtime’s Death.

 
SPECIAL EVENTS

• Movies in the Park: Clueless Wednesday 8:30 PM at Rose Park. Free. You can bring picnic blankets and lawn chairs and an appetite for any of the following items: beer, great films, tacos, summer, laughing, picnics, Missouri….and also beer. A rich high school student tries to boost a new pupil's popularity, but reckons without affairs of the heart getting in the way.

• Family Weekend Film: Despicable Me 3 Friday 7 PM and 9:30 PM at Wrench Auditorium, MU. Gru reunites with his twin brother to take on bad guy, Balthazar Bratt from taking over the world. $1 with MU student ID, $2 for others. Show times at 7pm & 9:30pm.

• Boone County Farmers Market Saturday 8-12 PM at the Columbia Mall. When in Season, the following products expected at the market include: Flowering Plants, Vegetable Plants, hanging baskets, tomatoes, peppers, potatoes, onions, beets, radishes, spinach, lettuce, apples, peaches, berries, cucumbers, zucchini, meats, jams, jellies, soaps, baked goods, kettle corn, watermelon, cantaloupe, pumpkins, gourds, winter squash, etc.

• Columbia Farmers Market Saturday 8-12 PM in the ARC Parking Lot. Fresh vegetables & fruit, meat, farm fresh eggs, cheeses, honey, cut flowers, plants, artisan items & more. As a producer-only market, everything sold here is offered by the farmers and artisans who help sustain our region. SNAP (food stamps) accepted at all markets. Live music every Saturday! Rain or Shine.

• Annual Heritage Festival & Craft Show Saturday & Sunday 10AM-5PM at Nifong Park. Visitors will be taken back to the traditions of the past. Listen, learn, and see history as it comes alive. See artisans and tradesmen dressed in 19th century attire demonstrating their trades and selling their wares. A large contemporary handmade craft area will also be featured. Enjoy entertainment on two stages including music, dancing and storytelling. Saturday Ghost Stories (8-9:30 pm) are sponsored by the Mid-Missouri Organization Storytellers. Tour the Historic Maplewood Home and the Walter’s Boone County Historical Museum. Great food and a beautiful park setting will make the Heritage Festival a family tradition!.

• Hinkson Creek and Grindstone Creek Trail Ride Saturady 2-4 PM. Meet at MLK Memorial, MKT trailhead at Stadium. Join us for a 16-mile roundtrip journey, exploring these two trails. Cyclists will be introduced to the Old Hwy 63 underpass leading over to Moon Valley Road and a second underpass beneath E. Broadway to Stephens Lake Park. Helmet required. Please ride with a spare inner tube. Registration ensures you receive notice of any schedule changes or cancellations.

• Yappy Hour in the Park Saturday 5-7 PM at Rose Park. Join us for a FREE SATURDAY YAPPY HOUR at Rose Music Hall from 5-7pm. Live music, $3 Logboat cans, yard games, and tasty grub from PEPE’S! Bring your furry friends!.

• Orr Street Farmers and Artisans Market Sunday 9-1 PM at Wabash Station Parking Lot. Produce, art, jewelry, crafts, music by Austin Jones and the Bootheel Boys, and Ozark Mountain Biscuit Food Truck.

• Mid-Missouri Pagan Pride Day Sunday 12 PM at Peace Park. Mid-Missouri Pagan Pride Day is a one-day public event celebrating fellowship, promoting tolerance, and educating the local community about Paganism. It has been held annually since 2000 and features workshops, entertainers, and vendors in a street-fair-style atmosphere.

 
GALLERY
 

• The Eclipse of the Art: Through Sept. 17 at Montminy Gallery, inside Boone Museum and Galleries, 3801 Ponderosa St. Presented by Access Arts, this collaborative exhibit focuses in on the upcoming eclipse and includes an impressive mural. boonehistory.org.
  
• Painted Personas: The Portraits of George Caleb Bingham: Through September 23 at the State Historical Society of Missouri. Painted Personas examines the varied functions of Bingham's portraiture and considers how dress, gesture, and background communicated carefully choreographed messages related to the paintings' original settings as well as the subjects' roles within families, society, and nineteenth-century culture.
  

• Late Summer Exhibit: Through Sept. 30 at Sager Braudis Gallery, 1025 E. Walnut St. Exhibiting artists are Sofia Bonati, Marni Gable, Joel Sager, Jo Stealey and Brent Watkinson. sagerbraudisgallery.com.

• Courtiers, Courtesans and Crones: Women in Japanese Prints: Through Oct. 29 at the MU Museum of Art and Archaeology. Using woodblock prints, this exhibit examines the narrow ways in which women were conceived by male Japanese artists. maa.missouri.edu.

• Interpretations V: Through Nov. 3 at Columbia Art League, 207 S. Ninth St. In this wildly popular exhibit, visual artists and writers trade inspiration, using one another’s works as muses for their own. columbiaartleague.org.

• Kansas City Cartoonists S. J. Ray and Lee Judge: Cartoonists from Two Millennia Critique Culture: Through November at the State Historical Society of Missouri. Through a wide array of over 60 cartoons by Ray and Judge from the SHSMO collection, this exhibition displays humorous and creative approaches to contemporary issues. Viewers can compare the styles, perspectives, and attitudes of two artists. Shsmo.org.

• Impression of Modernity: Prints from 1870 to 1945: through Dec. 10 at the University of Missouri Museum of Art and Archaeology, 115 Business Loop 70W. This exhibit explores how artists such as Cassatt, Kandinsky, Picasso and Rivera used prints to express certain sides of their work. maa.missouri.edu.

• The Lasting World: Simon Dinnerstein and the Fulbright Triptych: Through Dec. 22 at the MU Museum of Art and Archaeology. Numerous major works by the esteemed artist are on display. maa.missouri.edu.

 
SPORTS
 

• Mizzou Soccer vs. Georgia FRI 6:30 PM at Walton Stadium.

• Stephens College Soccer vs. Lyon College SAT 11 AM at Cosmo Park, Field #4.

• Mizzou Football vs. Purdue SAT 3 PM at Faurot Field.

• Mizzou Soccer vs. Albany SUN 6:30 PM at Walton Stadium.

 
LIVE MUSIC
 
Wednesday

• Tom Andes 7 to 10 p.m. at Murry’s.

• Mothers, Thick Paint, Leadrs 8 PM at Café Berlin.

Thursday

• OHMME, The Royal Furs, Rusted Satellites 8 PM at Café Berlin.

• Catdaddy’s Funky Fuzz-Bunker Band vs. Dumpster Kitty 8:30 PM at Rose Music Hall.

Friday

• The Kay Brothers 6:30 PM at Cooper’s Landing.

• 9 th St Summerfest: Eli Young Band 7 PM at The Blue Note.

• Richard Dowling, Ragtime Pianist 5:30 PM at Whitmore Recital Hall.

• The ShotGunBillys 8 PM at Nash Vegas.

• Mocklove, Conman Economy 9:30 PM at Rose Music Hall.

Saturday

• Samone Wilson Zydeco 4 PM at Les Bourgeois A-Frame.

• Bart Bean 4:30 PM at Cooper’s Landing.

• Phil Luke Band 6:30 PM at Cooper’s Landing.

• 9 th St Summerfest: Turnpike Troubadours Saturday 7 PM at The Blue Note.

• Cara Louise Band, The Burney Sisters, Sunshine Mamas 8 PM at Café Berlin.

Sunday

• Bliss Hippy 5 PM at Cooper’s Landing.

• Metal Meltdown feat. Mercurial 8 PM at Rose Music Hall.

 
MOVIE GUIDE
AMERICAN ASSASSIN - A young CIA recruit named Mitch Rapp (Dylan O'Brien) trains to become a blackops counterterrorism agent under the tutelage of Stan Hurley (Michael Keaton), a fearsome warrior and legend within the agency. While Hurley advises never to make the mission personal, Rapp remains haunted by the death of his fiancée in a terrorist attack. Eventually, the two men must work together to stop a rogue operative from sowing chaos in the Middle East.
DUNKIRK - Miraculous evacuation of Allied soldiers from Belgium, Britain and France, who were cut off and surrounded by the German army from the beaches and harbor of Dunkirk, France, between May 27- June 04, 1940, during Battle of France in World War II.
THE EMOJI MOVIE - This animated comedy takes place in Textopolis, a world inside a smartphone that's inhabited by various emojis. There, an emoji named Gene (voiced by T.J. Miller) is ashamed that he has multiple facial expressions while his colleagues only have one each, and he embarks on a quest across various apps to be like everyone else.
GIRLS TRIP - When four lifelong friends—Regina Hall, Queen Latifah, Jada Pinkett Smith and Tiffany Haddish— travel to New Orleans for the annual Essence Festival, sisterhoods are rekindled and wild sides are rediscovered.
THE HITMAN’S BODYGUARD - A bodyguard (Ryan Reynolds) must protect a hitman (Samuel L. Jackson) who's about to testify against a dictator (Gary Oldman).
HOME AGAIN - A recently separated woman (Reese Witherspoon) moves to Los Angeles with her two daughters, where she rents out her guesthouse to three much younger men (Pico Alexander, Nat Wolff, and Jon Rudnitsky) -- one of whom she soon begins dating. Her new life gets even more complicated when her estranged husband (Michael Sheen) reenters the picture.
INGRID GOES WEST - Aubrey Plaza (The Little Hours) and Elizabeth Olsen (Wind River) co-star in this wonderfully deranged dark comedy. Ingrid Thorburn (Plaza) is a social media stalker with a dangerous tendency to misread “likes” and overstep boundaries. Taylor Sloane (Olsen) is an Instagram star who’s attracted millions of followers by posting a steady stream of images documenting her boho-chic lifestyle. Ingrid becomes obsessed with Taylor and decides to move to Los Angeles to befriend her. O’Shea Jackson, Jr. co-stars as Ingrid’s Batman obsessed landlord.
IT - In a small town in 1989 Maine, seven bullied kids known as the "Losers' Club" discover that a malevolent force is preying on the local children. When they realize that the town's adults can't protect them, they band together to destroy the monster, a killer clown called Pennywise (Bill Skarsgård).
LEAP! - In 19th century France, a young orphan named Félicie (voice of Elle Fanning) dreams of becoming a ballerina. She and her best friend Victor (voice of Dane DeHaan) soon run away to Paris, where she enrolls in a prestigious dance school and competes for a chance to be a prima ballerina.
LOGAN LUCKY - Two down-on-their-luck brothers (Channing Tatum and Adam Driver), fed up by their dismal economic prospects, plot an elaborate heist at the Charlotte Motor Speedway in North Carolina. When their plan calls for an explosives expert, they attempt to recruit an eccentric convict named Joe Bang (Daniel Craig) -- but securing his help will require breaking him out of prison.
MOTHER! - Terror strikes when a mysterious man and his family stay as guests in a couple's Victorian mansion.
THE NUT JOB 2: NUTTY BY NATURE -The evil mayor of Oakton has decided to bulldoze Liberty Park and build a dangerous amusement park in its place. Surly and his ragtag group of animal friends band together to save their home, defeat the mayor, and take back the park.
STEP -Blessin, Tayla, and Cori were only 12 when they first met, all newly enrolled at a Baltimore charter school. That first year, they formed a dance team, channeling their enthusiasm, frustrations, hopes, and fears into the precise rhythmic dance form known as “step.” That same year, Amanda Lipitz showed up with her camera, hoping to tell their stories. Six years later, they are seniors, each still working to attend college but also wrestling with real life along the way. And, though their step team has matured into a powerhouse, they’ve never won the prestigious Bowie State competition. Step (a True/False 2017 selection) is a joyous film, full of moments that will make you grin, make you cry, and 100 percent make you want to dance.
WIND RIVER - A U.S. Fish & Wildlife agent (Jeremy Renner) encounters a dead body on the Wind River Indian Reservation. The FBI sends in an agent (Elizabeth Olsen) to investigate. Startled by the harshness of the environment, she decides to hire the agent as a tracker, and together, they attempt to sort out what happened. Following Sicario and Hell Or High Water, Wind River is the third and final chapter in writer-director Taylor Sheridan's trilogy about life on the contemporary Western frontier. Wind River features an original score from Nick Cave and Warren Ellis.
 
CHECK EACH THEATRE FOR SHOWTIMES
RAGTAG CINEMA – 10 Hitt Street 573-443-4359
REGAL STADIUM 14 THEATER – 2800 Goodwin Pointe Drive 573-817-0770
GOODRICH FORUM 8 – 1209 Forum Katy Parkway 573-445-7469

CONTENT COURTESY OF COLUMBIA CVB
 
ON STAGE

• Columbia Entertainment Company, 1800 Nelwood Dr., presents “The Dixie Swim Club” at 7:30 p.m. Thursday through Saturday and 2 p.m. Sunday. A group of Southern women and former college swim teammates reunite each summer to catch up. The show continues April 21-24. Tickets are $10 to $12. cectheatre.org.
  
• Talking Horse Productions, 210 St. James Street, presents ‘A Man of No Importance’ at 7:30 PM Friday through Saturday, and 2 PM Sunday. The story of Alfie Byrne, a Dublin bus conductor in the 1960s, who has a passion for theatre, and in particular, for Oscar Wilde. But Alfie also has his demons, and he must learn to face them. Talkinghorseproductions.org
  
• Déjà Vu Comedy Club, 405 Cherry St., presents Rob Durham, Fred Minx and Ethan Linsky at 9 p.m. Thursday; $9. Durham and Rex Havens perform at 9 p.m. Friday and 8 and 10 p.m. Saturday; $9, Friday, $10 Saturday. dejavucomedy.com.
  

 
SPECIAL EVENTS

• Center Aisle Cinema presents ‘Havana Curveball’ Wednesday 6:30 PM at Columbia Public Library, free. In this 2014 film, Mica, a teen with a big dream, wants to send baseballs to Cuba. He knows Cubans love baseball but lack the resources to play, and his grandfather sought refuge from the Holocaust in Cuba, so he wants to give back. Follow Mica on this coming-of-age journey.

• Party with the Stars Friday 7:30-9:30 PM at Columbia Public Library. Spring is the perfect time for stargazing. Learn about the constellations visible in April and then head out under the stars for a view through a telescope at Jupiter and the first quarter moon. End the evening with a laser tour of the constellations. Ages 6 to adult

• Columbia Farmers Market Saturday 8 AM – noon at the ARC. Experience the taste of mid-Missouri at the Columbia Farmers Market! Columbia Farmers Market moves back to the parking lot behind the ARC and runs every Saturday (March 19-October 29) from 8-noon. Fresh vegetables & fruit, meat, farm fresh eggs, cheeses, honey, cut flowers, plants, artisan items & more. As a producer-only market, everything sold here is offered by the farmers and artisans who help sustain our region. Food Stamps accepted at all markets. Live music at the ARC market every Saturday! Rain or Shine! 573-823-6889 columbiafarmersmarket.org.
  
• Mid-Missouri Kidney Walk Saturday 8:30 AM at Stephens Lake Park. The Kidney Walk is the nation’s largest walk to fight kidney disease. It is a fun, family friendly, non-competitive event focusing on the prevention of chronic kidney disease and awareness of the need for organ donation. The day includes a one to two mile walk and a meeting site filled with family-friendly activities. Kidneywalk.org.
  
• MU College of Veterinary Medicine’s Annual Open House Saturday 9-3 PM. Each year this event allows us to display the college’s equine, food animal and small animal hospitals and veterinary facilities to fellow employees and students at the University of Missouri, as well as residents who live in Columbia and many surrounding communities. The college is eagerly anticipating Open House 2016, scheduled for April 16. The Open House offers a fun and education-filled day with entertainment, such as the Purina Incredible Dogs, a petting zoo and veterinary medicine displays, all at no charge.
  

• Spring Shop Hop Saturday 10 AM – 8 PM in The District. Explore, Dine and Shop All Day with sales, special offers and refreshments. Come join the fun!

• Third Goal Film Festival Saturday 12 PM – 9:30 PM at Missouri Theatre. Featuring documentary and narrative films set around the world, this event aims to advance the Peace Corps Third Goal: "Helping promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans." Films will also be followed by panels featuring returned Peace Corps volunteers from the highlighted region, host country nationals and local experts.

• Yappy Hour Saturday 3-6 PM at Twin Lakes Recreation Area. Enjoy entertainment for dogs and their owners, food trucks, drinks, and dog-related businesses on site to show off the cool things they do for Man’s (and Woman’s) Best Friend. Find information at como.gov

• Aspen Runs Wild 5K Sunday 8-12 PM. Come out to Aspen Heights to run wild on Sunday, April 17, 2016! This 5K is perfect for runners of all abilities and fun for all ages. Proceeds help support D&D Farm Animal Rescue of Columbia, Missouri. After the race, stick around and enjoy live music, food trucks, and several other fun activities!

• Craig and Caitlin’s Tie-Dye Carnival Sunday 1:30 PM at Rose Music Hall. Come one, come all for a carnival that will amaze and enthrall! Join us for an afternoon of family fun at the Tie Dye Carnival at Rose Music Hall! See live acrobatic performances courtesy of Muse Pole Fitness and CoMo Aerial Arts; bring articles to dye at our tie dye station; get your face painted; play games; and see all we have to offer at this fun Sunday carnival!

 
SPORTS

• Columbia College Softball vs. William Woods University TUE 2 PM Antimi Sports Complex
  
• Stephens College Softball vs. Park University TUE 2 PM at Battle High School
  
• Mizzou Softball vs. Wichita State WED 4 PM and 6 PM at University Field
  
• Mizzou Tennis vs. Mississippi State TH 5 PM at Mizzou Tennis Complex
  
• Mizzou Baseball vs. LSU FRI 6 PM, SAT 2 PM, SUN 1 PM at Taylor Stadium
  
• Columbia College Softball vs. Lyon College FRI 2 PM and 4 PM at Antimi Sports Complex
  
• Stephens College Softball vs. Central Baptist College FRI 2 PM at Battle High School
  
• Stephens College Tennis vs. Webster University SAT 10 AM at Stephens College
  
• Mizzou Tennis vs. Mississippi State SAT 12 PM at Mizzou Tennis Complex
  
• Stephens College Softball vs. Lyon College SAT 12 PM at Battle High School
  
• Columbia College Softball vs. Central Baptist College SAT 2 PM and 4 PM at Antimi Sports Complex
  
• Stephens College Tennis vs. Missouri Valley College SAT 3 PM at Stephens College
  
• Mizzou Football Black and Gold Game SAT 5 PM Faurot Field
  

 
GALLERY

• Columbia Art League, 207 S. Ninth St., presents Passages and Pathways Tuesday through April 15. The exhibit takes its cues from “Off the Trail,” the theme for this year’s True/False Film Fest. columbiaartleague.org.
  
• Imago Gallery and Cultural Center, 1020 E. Broadway, presents Inkscape, with works by Lampo Leong, through April 22. imagocomo.org.
  
• Orr Street Studios, 106 Orr St., hosts Tension and Repose, an exhibit of works by Elise Rugolo, through April 30. A reception will be held from 6 to 9 p.m. Friday. orrstreetstudios.com.
  
• Sager Braudis Gallery, 1025 E. Walnut St., presents its Spring Exhibit Tuesday through May 30. Exhibiting artists are Ramin Abrahim, Kevin Box, Scott Conary, Daniel Marks and Joel Sager. sagerbraudisgallery.com.
  
• The State Historical Society of Missouri, located at Lowry Mall on the University of Missouri campus, will show Vernacular America in the 1930s and 1940s: The Art of Ben Messick and Fred Shane through May 2016. The exhibit will show the ways in which these Missouri artists depicted “ordinary Americans” in an extraordinary time. The Society also presents Picturing Politics: Political Images by George Caleb Bingham and Thomas Hart Benton through June. shs.umsystem.edu.
  
• The University of Missouri Museum of Art and Archaeology, located at Mizzou North, 115 Business Loop 70 W., presents Afro-Cuban Artists: A Renaissance Tuesday through May 1. The exhibit prominently features the works of Manuel Mendive and Eduardo “Choco” Roca Salazar. The museum also presents Black American Artists: Envisioning Social Change through May 15. Museum hours are 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. Tuesday through Friday, noon to 4 p.m. Saturday and Sunday. maa.missouri.edu.
  

 
LIVE MUSIC
 
Tuesday

• Julie Rosenfeld and Peter Miyamoto 7:30 p.m. at Whitmore Recital Hall; $5.
  
• Made of Oak, John Trust, Details 9 p.m. at Rose Music Hall; $13
  
• Roots of a Rebellion, Austin Kolb Band 9 p.m. at The Social Room; $5 to $7.
  
• Those Far Out Arrows, Shades of I 8 p.m. at Café Berlin; $5.
  
• Open mic 8 p.m. at The Bridge; free.
  
• Leighton Roden 7 to 10 p.m. at Murry’s.
  

Wednesday

• Bruiser Queen, The Bushes/Wyld Turbo, The Wilderness 9 p.m. at Rose Music Hall; $5.
  
• Know Be, The Motel Brothers, John Galbraith, Travis Feutz 9 p.m. at The Social Room; $3 to $5.
  
• Columbia Jazz Jam 8 p.m. at Café Berlin; free.
  
• Trill Ferrell, HODJ, Dalicat, Boss Mode, Freelance 9 p.m. at The Blue Note; free.
  
• Tom Andes 7 to 10 p.m. at Murry’s.
  

Thursday

• Randy Rogers Band, Bart Crow 9 p.m. at The Blue Note; $15.
  
• Rae Fitzgerald, Cree Rider Family Band, Tim Carey 9 p.m. at Rose Music Hall; $5.
  
• We Are the Asteroid, Free Kittens and Bread, Bad Investments 8 p.m. at Café Berlin; $5.
  
• Woody Pines, River Ghost Revue 9 p.m. at The Social Room; $5 to $7.
  
• Artie’s Univibe 6:30 p.m. at Jazz, A Louisiana Kitchen.
  
• Leighton Roden 7 to 10 p.m. at Murry’s.
  

Friday

• Houndmouth, Lucy Dacus 9 p.m. at The Blue Note; $15 to $18.
  
• The Fried Crawdaddies 5 p.m. at Rose Music Hall; free.
  
• Accidental Seabirds, Zach Sullentrup 8 p.m. at Café Berlin; $5.
  
• Luna Jamboree, Blake Gardner and the Farmers, Ravs 9 p.m. at The Social Room; $5 to $7.
  
• The Hooten Hallers, The Tillers, Jack Grelle 9 p.m. at Rose Music Hall; $8.
  
• MU Jazz Big Bands 7:30 p.m. at Missouri Theatre; $5.
  
• Dirt Road Junkies, Kyle Nachtigal 8 p.m. at The Bridge; $5 to $8.
  
• Megan Boyer Band 8 p.m. at Rocheport General Store.
  
• Artie’s Univibe 6:30 p.m. at Jazz, A Louisiana Kitchen.
  

Saturday

• Columbia Chorale 7:30 p.m. at First Presbyterian Church; $5 to $15.
  
• Freddie Gibbs, Steddy P 9 p.m. at The Blue Note; $17.50 to $20.
  
• Matthew Logan Vasquez, Reverend Baron, Doc Otis 9 p.m. at Rose Music Hall; $10 to $12.
  
• The Boone Howlers 5 p.m. at Rose Music Hall; free.
  
• Andrew Sieff Trio with Hennessy Brothers 6:30 p.m. at Jazz, A Louisiana Kitchen.
  
• Expo ‘70 8 p.m. at Café Berlin; $5.
  
• DeepWater 7:30 p.m. at VFW Post 280; $8
  

Sunday

• The Bad Plus Joshua Redman 3:30 and 7 p.m. at Murry’s; $30 to $65.

• MU World Percussion Ensemble 3 p.m. at Missouri Theatre; $5.

• MU Trombone Ensemble 7 p.m. at Whitmore Recital Hall; free.

 
MOVIE GUIDE
10 CLOVERFIELD LANE - A young woman (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) is forced to cope with her new life after waking up from a nearly fatal accident in this thriller from director Dan Trachtenberg. After narrowly avoiding serious injuries in a car wreck, Michelle (Winstead) awakens in the care of a man who claims to have found her at the scene, and who brought her to his home after a catastrophic chemical attack devastated the surrounding area.
BARBERSHOP: THE NEXT CUT - In this sequel, Calvin (Ice Cube), Eddie (Cedric the Entertainer), and the rest of the crew at the barbershop are now working alongside a number of female hairdressers. Soon, they are all forced to band together to help save their failing neighborhood.
BATMAN VS SUPERMAN: DAWN OF JUSTICE - Batman (Ben Affleck) and Superman (Henry Cavill) clash over differing philosophies about what kind of heroism is needed to protect the world, while the public they're defending is becoming increasingly mindful of the damage that superheroes and masked vigilantes cause. However, the duo are soon forced to confront an even greater threat created by nefarious billionaire Lex Luthor (Jesse Eisenberg).
THE BOSS - Hugely successful businesswoman Michelle Darnell (Melissa McCarthy) is convicted of insider trading and sentenced to prison. After being released, she is forced to move in with a long-suffering employee of hers (Kristen Bell), and tries to earn redemption and revamp her public image by helping a group of young girls in their quest to sell brownies.
THE DIVERGENT SERIES: ALLEGIENT - After discovering the truth about their walled city and breaking down the oppressive faction system, Tris (Shailene Woodley) and Four (Theo James) lead the journey outside of Chicago to find the answers that their civilization has been searching for. However, once the group comes face-toface with the society that enclosed Chicago as an experiment, secrets are uncovered that threaten the fate of all humankind.
EYE IN THE SKY - In the US and UK, military officers survey a group of terrorists living in Kenya. When London-based Colonel Katherine Powell (Helen Mirren) discovers that they’re plotting a suicide bombing, she escalates the mission from “capture” to “kill.” But overseas, the American drone pilot (Aaron Paul) notices a nineyear-old girl entering the kill zone. An international dispute arises in this gripping political thriller, which co-stars Alan Rickman and Barkhad Abdi.
HAIL, CAESAR! - Eddie Mannix (Josh Brolin), a slick Hollywood fixer, is pressed into action when superstar actor Baird Whitlock (George Clooney) is kidnapped and held for ransom by a mysterious group. Mannix races to quietly collect the ransom money without gossip columnist Hedda Hopper (Tilda Swinton) catching wind of the scandal.
HARDCORE HENRY - A recently resurrected soldier named Henry must rescue his wife (Haley Bennett) from a maniacal villain in this action movie that takes place entirely from a first-person perspective. Henry has been scientifically engineered as a super-soldier, and the technology he embodies is sought after by a ruthless criminal gang. With the help of gruff soldier Jimmy (Sharlto Copley), Henry fights back.
HELLO, MY NAME IS DORIS - In this delightful comedy, Sally Field stars as Doris, a kind and diligent clerical worker who regularly commutes to Manhattan from her cluttered Staten Island home, which she long shared with her recently deceased mother. When her employer hires a handsome, hip young art director named John (Max Greenfield), Doris finds herself with an unexpected workplace crush. With her family and friends looking askance, Doris starts spending time in Williamsburg with John and his friends.
THE JUNGLE BOOK - Jon Favreau directs this stunning reimagining of the classic Rudyard Kipling tale The Jungle Book, Neel Sethi plays the orphaned Mowgli, who's raised in the jungle with the help of talking animals.
THE LADY IN THE VAN - In the 1970s, esteemed playwright Alan Bennett (The History Boys) befriended an enigmatic, eccentric homeless woman named Mary Shepherd. He let her park her makeshift home, an ugly yellow van, in his London driveway. Fifteen years later, Miss Shepherd (a superb Maggie Smith) still lives in the driveway of Bennett (Alex Jennings). What’s her story?
THE MERMAID - Writer-director Stephen Chow (Kung-Fu Hustle, Shaolin Soccer) is back with another wildly entertaining and inventive comedy. A mermaid named Shan (Lin Yun) sets out to stop Xuan (Deng Chao), a wildlife-destroying businessman, from ruining her family’s habitat. But Shan is surprised to find herself deeply charmed by Xuan. A militant half-man, half-octopus leader (Show Luo) tells her to seduce and assassinate him, while the matriarch of the merfolk encourages her to follow her heart. The Mermaid is the highest grossing film in China’s history.
MIRACLES FROM HEAVEN -In this religious drama based on a true story, a mother (Jennifer Garner) is devastated to learn that her ten-year-old daughter Anna (Kylie Rogers) has an incurable digestive disorder that causes her chronic pain. But when Anna is mysteriously cured of the ailment following a serious accident in which she falls three stories, her mom begins to believe that her recovery is a miracle.
MY BIG FAT GREEK WEDDING 2 - In this sequel to the 2002 sleeper hit My Big Fat Greek Wedding, Toula (Nia Vardalos) finds her extended family rocked by the revelation that her mother and father were never really married -- which, of course, requires an even bigger Greek wedding so they can officially tie the knot. Meanwhile, Toula struggles to spice up her marriage to Ian (John Corbett), and is heartbroken when her daughter Paris (Elena Kampouris) says she wants to go to a distant college in order to get away from her overbearing clan.
THE WITCH - A devoutly Puritan family in 1630s New England is exiled from their village and struggle to survive in their new home situated on the edge of a mysterious wilderness. The sinister, witching forces in the wilderness emerge silently to terrorize the family, first by stealing the youngest of their five children. As their life-sustaining crops fail, the family falls victim to paranoia and fear as they begin to turn on one another, suspecting young teen Thomasin (Anya Taylor-Joy) of witchcraft. With the vast majority of the dialogue culled from primary sources of the time period, Robert Eggers' shocking debut horror feature is a terrifying glimpse into a family descending into madness.
ZOOTOPIA - In a city inhabited by anthropomorphic animals who have abandoned traditional predatoprey roles in favor of civilized coexistence, uptight rabbit police officer Judy Hopps (voiced by Ginnifer Goodwin) is forced to work with charismatic fox con artist Nick Wilde (Jason Bateman) to crack a major case involving the mysterious disappearance of some carnivorous citizens. But when a few of the missing critters reappear, having reverted to pre-enlightenment savagery, it exposes existing anti-carnivore prejudice among the city's herbivores that threatens to damage the fabric of their diverse metropolis.
 
CHECK EACH THEATRE FOR SHOWTIMES
RAGTAG CINEMA – 10 Hitt Street 573-443-4359
REGAL STADIUM 14 THEATER – 2800 Goodwin Pointe Drive 573-817-0770
GOODRICH FORUM 8 – 1209 Forum Katy Parkway 573-445-7469

I was adopted on the day I was born. My birth mom had picked out my adoptive parents from their profile at an agency during her pregnancy. My parents met her only once, while in the process of filling out the necessary paperwork at the hospital shortly after my birth. It was supposed to be a closed adoption, which means an adoption where the birth mom has no contact with the adoptive family after said adoption, so my parents only knew her by her first name, Valerie. I was born in Charlotte, North Carolina, and my Mom told me that Valerie was wearing a University of North Carolina at Charlotte shirt, so they assumed she went to college there.
My parents are great people, albeit somewhat annoying due to their conservative Jewish beliefs. They never missed a single school play or soccer game and drowned me in toys, gadgets, and love throughout my entire childhood. I couldn’t ask for better parents. When I was in middle school and decided I wanted to play football with my big brother, David, my Mom raised hell until they were forced to let me, a scrawny girl, onto the team – much to the dismay of my brother. I spent most of my time warming the bench, but I enjoyed the experience.
Despite my awesome upbringing, I occasionally wondered about my birth mom. A few years ago, when I was nineteen, I asked my parents if I could meet her. They poured money into private investigators, and, although it took several months, presented me with a phone number for Christmas that year.
It took me two months to work up the courage to call, but before I knew it I was on a plane from North Carolina to Washington D.C. to meet the woman who gave birth to me. Once there, I checked into a hotel before renting a cab.
I was surprised when we turned into a gated neighborhood with enormous houses lining the roads. I had always pictured my birth mom as was seen on TV – maybe an addict, probably poor, and certainly not living in an upper class, picturesque neighborhood. I was immediately worried there had been a mistake. A huge weight, like a rock, settled into my lower stomach as we pulled into a stone driveway which lead to a four-car garage with a sprawling garden for a front yard. The house itself towered three stories high and was made entirely of stone.
I paid the driver and nervously stepped out of the car, the rock in my stomach turning into a churning ocean of nausea. Knocking on the door was one of the bravest things I’ve ever done.
A woman opened the door within seconds, a yappy Yorkie at her feet. Her dark brown hair was the same shade as mine, and her button nose was identical to my own. However, deep worry lines snaked across her face, and her cheeks sagged with age. She looked much older than her forty-something years.
“Dinah?” she asked, her expression unreadable.
“Yes, ma’am.” I replied nervously.
“Come in.”
I followed her through a decorated front hall and into a living room. The décor was somewhat Victorian, with tapestry-like drapes pulled back from the arched windows and a brown color scheme. A huge fireplace with a crackling fire took up most of one wall with mismatched furniture creating a seating area just in front of it. A huge portrait of a young boy of about seven hung on the wall opposite to the fireplace. A decorative table underneath the painting held small trays of finger food.
“You may sit where you like.” Valerie said, motioning to the seating area. I sat uncertainly on a brown leather seat, while she picked up a tray of fruit and held it toward me.
“I bought these this morning, so they’re fresh.” she said.
“Thank you.” I responded a bit awkwardly, taking a small strawberry.
Valerie returned the tray to its original spot and sat on a tan suede couch across from me. Behind her, I could see several certificates hanging next to the door which I had just come through.
University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, Psychology, Valerie K. Teague read one. North Carolina State University, Master of Psychology, Valerie K. Teague, read the next. Finally, a third declared: Yale University, Department of Psychology, Valerie K. Teague, Ph.D.
We sat in an uncomfortable silence for several seconds before she spoke.
“So, Dinah, what are you studying in school?”
“I’m an undergraduate Biology major.” I replied. She nodded her approval.
“So, what kind of work do you do with your Ph.D.?” I asked.
“I work for the United States government.” She replied curtly, quickly changing the topic of conversation. “When do you plan on graduating?”
“I’m a sophomore.” I nodded to the portrait hanging on the wall. “Is that your son?”
“Thomas.” she answered.
“And your husband?” I asked, feeling nosy but noting the sizeable rock on her finger.
“He perished with Thomas in an accident.”
“I – I’m so – I’m so sorry.” I stammered.
She said nothing, and we lapsed into another awkward silence. This time, I was rescued by a small voice coming from the doorway.
“Ms. Teague! Rhonique took my crown.”
A tiny girl of color, her carefully straightened hair drawn back into a pink ribbon, stood just beyond the door.
“Moniqua, I told you not to come downstairs while I have my visitor.” Valerie replied, clearly irritated.
“But – but – she won’t give it back!”
Valerie stood with a sigh. “I apologize, Dinah, but my foster children need my attention. Let’s finish this another time.”
She ushered me to the door, and I never heard from her again.
A few months ago, I was informed that she had died and left me everything in her will. I was surprised, seeing as how we met for only a few awkward minutes, and I was tempted to simply sell everything without stepping foot in D.C. However, with the urging of my boyfriend, I took a week off work to sort through her things. I insisted on being alone, since I am an introvert and would rather process my emotions by myself.
The house was not much different than how I remembered, and the first two days went by uneventfully. I threw out old food and sorted through her giant stash of clothing. I stayed in the enormous downstairs master bedroom and picked things out from the children’s rooms upstairs to take home as gifts for my own two children. I assumed the children had been taken back by the state, although I may never know for sure.
On the third day I decided to go through her jewelry, which was organized into a jewelry “box” the size of a dresser. I started by opening each drawer, nosily peeking at the expensive items inside. I thought it a bit odd when I opened one drawer to find a shoebox, but I never could have guessed what the papers inside would hold. Here is a copy of the first paper I found. Some areas are blacked out, and I’ll indicate those with “________”
~
November 6, 2004
Proof of Afterlife Project (PAP), proposal
Overview
In order to prove the existence of an afterlife, PAP is requesting $_______ for the continuation of our project, which began with private funding from ______, ____, and ______. The early findings of our project show promise, as can be seen through our first case report:
April 18, 2002
Case Study One, R________ and D________
The control for this procedure was R___, an 11-year-old African-American who was acquired for $_ for the project from her 32-year-old mother, Ms. Tyra K______, a known cocaine addict. The experimental subject for this procedure was D_, an 11-year-old African-American who was acquired for $____ from an anonymous donor. After four months of preparation, both R_______ and D______ weighed seventy-eight (78) lbs. and stood at four (4) foot eight (8) inches, with R_______ standing two centimeters taller than D____. Both subjects received 200mg of ______ and 1500mg of ________ by IV in order to initiate death. D________ received an additional 350mg of our product, Listinea, by IV. Following the confirmation of death, the lights were dimmed and a previously installed light, unknown to the subjects, who had never before entered the room, flashed the colors blue and red for twenty (20) seconds. Both subjects were then successfully revived. R_______ reported no “dreams”, while D______ reported a feeling of weightlessness followed by flashes of purple. Immediately following the completion of the experiments, both subjects were administered lie detector tests, with each passing as truthful. After an additional dose of 500mg of __________ by mouth to initiate death, subjects were autopsied and no malformations or oddities were found in either brain.
~
My birth mom was involved in something terrible, and I don’t know what do.