Nicole Brown Simpson - one of two victims
I had never seen so much blood in my life.
As the coroner’s wagon pulled away - there it was. Puddles of it. Some of it had oozed down the cracks in between the pathway pavers and toward the sidewalk. As I looked closer I could see paw prints from a large dog and patterned traces of wispy blood that its dragging leash had left behind. Up toward the gate of the fancy condo statuesque Agapanthus stood, its purple flower heads dotted with drops of this blood.
It was June 1994, about ten a.m. on a sunny Sunday in Brentwood, California. My cameraman and I, the reporter on duty that weekend, had been assigned to go to the home of Nicole Brown Simpson. Word was O.J.’s ex-wife had been murdered.
My first thoughts that beautiful morning were: Why didn’t someone take a hose and wash away this horror - and - where were the police?
With no one to stop us, and with camera rolling, we gingerly tiptoed to the gate and opened it. Across a shallow courtyard was the plate glass window behind which Nicole had lived. We could see inside the cozy living room with its overhead balcony leading off to the side bedrooms. Candles were still burning, framed photos of a smiling Nicole and her kids were everywhere. Outside, there were bloody footprints and what seemed to be a bloody handprint on the side of the house. Eerie, and to this day I remember it vividly.
Is OJ’s voice on the audio tape evidence enough?
Vote in my online poll after the jump…
