O. J. Simpson Finds Fame and Infamy Blur Together in Florida Haze
"With money, you can solve anything here," said Jorge Ballesteros, a
66-year-old retiree who lives a block away from Mr. Simpson."
………………………*************…………………………………..
"Last week, he was charged with the felony burglary of a vehicle after
what police described as a road rage incident led to a confrontation with
another driver. As he left the Miami-Dade County jail on a $9,000 bond,
a corrections officer shook his hand. At a post release news conference, a
fan asked for an autograph. "
By RICK BRAGG
From The NewYork Times
February 18, 2001
M IAMI, Feb. 15 — From a distance, he is just another
retiree limping on arthritic knees along the sun- splashed sidewalks,
another man with a small paunch and a solid pension, trying to
decide whether to play 18 holes or only 9.
But when people see the face, they point and shout, "Juice!" Men send
beers to his table, and young women slip him their telephone
numbers. People who were not even born when he was a star
running back for the Buffalo Bills in the 1970's, who know him mostly
from his marathon televised trial on murder charges, ask to have their
picture taken with him.
And when he rolls through his neighborhood in his luxury sport utility
vehicle, neighbors in Kendall, a comfortable suburb just south of Miami,
smile and wave. They say he is nice, a fine neighbor. But they do not like
to give reporters their names when they talk about O. J. Simpson.
Fame and infamy, it seems, blur together in the South Florida haze for O. J. Simpson.
Last week, he was charged with the felony burglary of a vehicle after
what police described as a road rage incident led to a confrontation with
another driver. As he left the Miami-Dade County jail on a $9,000 bond,
a corrections officer shook his hand. At a post release news conference, a
fan asked for an autograph.
"People like him," said Cristina Pertierra, one of the owners of
Bougainvillea's Old Florida Tavern, a fancy bar in South Miami where
Mr. Simpson occasionally goes to have a few drinks with friends.
His past is questionable, even chilling, to some people, but that is not
unusual in South Florida. Here, Latin American strongmen and drug lords have
found haven, and elected officials occasionally have ended up in court.
It was only natural, say the people who live here, that Mr. Simpson, this
region's most famous retiree and refugee, would land on their forgiving
shore.
"With money, you can solve anything here," said Jorge Ballesteros, a
66-year-old retiree who lives a block away from Mr. Simpson.
"Would I be afraid of him being my neighbor? No," said Ms. Pertierra,
who answered "maybe" when she was asked if she believed Mr.
Simpson was a killer. "Would I date him? No."
A California jury acquitted Mr. Simpson in the killing of his former wife
Nicole Brown Simpson and her friend Ronald L. Goldman in June 1994,
but Mr. Simpson was later found liable for the killings in the civil lawsuit
filed by the victims' families. He was ordered to pay them $33.5 million,
but has said he will never comply.
Instead, he left the West Coast last year and moved to South Florida,
where state law forbids the seizure of a person's house to pay a civil
penalty, and bought a comfortable house in a quiet neighborhood. He
brought his and Nicole Brown Simpson's two children, a girl who is now
15 and a boy who is 12, and enrolled them in a high-priced private
academy.
Under state law his football pension, which news reports have estimated
to be as much as $25,000 a month, cannot be garnished to pay off the
civil judgment. He has never been spotted at an early bird special.
Mr. Simpson, 53, often begins his day by driving his children to school,
then often heads for the golf course. At night, he likes to unwind with
friends — and if there are no old friends around, he easily makes new
ones.
Young women, in particular, seem drawn to him, say people who have
seen him in public.
"They don't have a problem with him," Ms. Pertierra said. She said that
may be because the killings he was found liable for in civil court were
crimes of passion.
"If he did kill her, it was because he was jealous of her," she said.
The quiet life Mr. Simpson had once said he wanted for himself and his
two youngest children has been imperfect at best. First, there were two
911 calls involving Mr. Simpson and a girlfriend last year, one in which
the police said he was slapped and kicked by the woman.
Then, in Miami on Feb. 9, his lawyers arranged for him to turn himself in
at the Miami-Dade County jail in the road rage incident.
He was charged with the burglary of an occupied vehicle, a felony; and
simple battery, a misdemeanor. The other driver, Jeffrey Pattinson of
Kendall, said Mr. Simpson ran a red light. Mr. Pattinson honked his
horn, and that, the police said, led to the confrontation. Mr. Pattinson
told the police that Mr. Simpson walked to his car, grabbed his glasses
and scratched his face.
On Feb. 9, he was photographed, fingerprinted and released, all in less
than two hours. Mr. Simpson, by all reports, seemed almost giddy. He
laughed and joked at a news conference, and said he wondered who
would play his lawyers in the movie version of O. J. and his road rage.
In his mug shot, he is smiling.
Yale Galanter, Mr. Simpson's Miami lawyer, said Mr. Simpson was
innocent, and said Miami-Dade prosecutors were not planning to ask for
jail time.
"This case will spotlight how he has been a victim" of people who want to
take advantage of his celebrity, said Mr. Galanter.
Prosecutors in Miami-Dade County said sentences in such cases usually
included anger counseling.
But it was not the crime, but Mr. Simpson's celebrity that drew dozens of
reporters to cover his surrender. It attracted network reporters in English
and Spanish — "El Jugo," The Juice, is news in any language.
Some people here say that is because Mr. Simpson is just too famous —
or perhaps too infamous — to ever move away from the killings. Others
say he cannot exist without such attention.
"He gets all this publicity, and it only makes him try harder for attention,"
said Mr. Ballesteros, who lives down the block. "He likes the attention,
and the media like to give him the attention."
Golf professionals at public courses around Miami call him a nice man.
Like a lot of retirees, he must play within the limitations of his health.
They say his arthritis seems to bother him.
"He has a little trouble getting around," said Charlie Pifer, the head pro at
International Links Miami-Melreese, a course near Miami International
Airport.
Almost everyone, when asked about Mr. Simpson, talked of feeling
sorry for his children, for the spotlight on their father.
Amy Halsey, a homemaker from Pinecrest whose daughter attends
school with Mr. Simpson's children, said there was something wrong with
the fascination with the man. "We just had our charity ball for homeless
children," Ms. Halsey said. "We didn't get a line in the press."
Only Brigitte Van Den Boom, who lives two houses away from Mr.
Simpson, seems indifferent.
"I didn't know who he was nor did I care," Ms. Van Den Boom said. But
then, she said, "I am French."
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