His Name Is Ron (13 page)

“No.”

“With respect to the defendant, could he have been the source of the blood drop that was found on the trail at 875 South Bundy?”

“Yes,” Matheson said. “He can be included in the group of possibles.”

Additional testimony told us that the odds against someone having an identical match were more than 200 to 1.

On the final day of the hearing, Patti and Kim were forced to endure the testimony of Deputy Medical Examiner Irwin Golden. And what he said was ghastly.

Nicole died from a cut to her throat so deep that it nicked her spinal column. Dr. Golden described it as a “gaping” wound and pointed to a chart that highlighted the gash in deep red. Nicole's knife wounds were largely confined to her head and neck.

Ron suffered dozens of knife wounds up and down his body, several of which could have killed him—two punctures that entered through the rib cage and into his right lung, a pair of deep slashes across his throat, one of which had severed the jugular, a five-inch-deep wound to the left side of his abdomen, and a puncture of his left aorta. There was also a deep wound to the left thigh.

Dr. Golden said that both victims were cut on the hands, arms, and face. These were defensive wounds that indicated they attempted to fight off their attacker.

This was the first time we had been confronted with the exact nature of the attack. Kim could not shake the image of a knife going into her brother's chest, and she clutched at her stomach, fighting nausea. At the same time she was petrified and full of rage at the man accused of doing it.

Patti's mind reeled. Ron was not just murdered, she realized, he was butchered! Tears welled in her eyes as she thought of how scared he must have been. “He didn't have a chance,” she whispered to Kim.

The image of the terror that Ron must have experienced was etched on our minds, forever.

The defense team raised questions about the medical examiner's work, noting that he had waited hours before performing tests that might have more closely pinpointed the time of death. Dr. Golden seemed to wither under the attack.

Golden's wife was seated behind us. During a sidebar, worried about the effects of his bumbling delivery, Kim leaned back and asked her, in a whisper, “Is he nervous?”

“No,” Mrs. Golden said, gushing with pride, “he's always like this.”

Judge Kennedy-Powell looked directly at the defendant and asked him to stand. She said simply, “The court feels that there is ample evidence to establish the strong suspicion of the guilt of the accused.” She ordered that Simpson would be arraigned in Superior Court on July 22. Until then, he would continue to be held at the Men's Central Jail. There would be a trial. There would be no bail.

We were thrilled. Patti and Kim hugged each other and later congratulated Marcia Clark. “One down, one to go,” Marcia said.

Kim returned to her job at Wells Fargo Bank in San Francisco, but her attention was focused on the upcoming trial.

Each morning she took a bus to work, and the trip became a daily half hour of terror. She was obsessed with an irrational fear that the bus would tip over, she would be killed, and I would have to bury her, too. She decided that she was no longer afraid of dying, but terrified about what would happen to those left behind. She checked and rechecked her wallet, making sure that everything was in order. Morbid questions flew though her head:
Do I have my ID with me? Will they be able to identify me? Who's going to tell my dad?

Sometimes the panic caused her to hyperventilate.

She tried to calm herself by beginning to compose the victim's statement that she would deliver when the defendant was convicted. She asked herself: What will I say to the court? A list of rabid obscenities came to mind.

NINE

Patti and I were back in the courtroom on July 22 for the formal arraignment. When Simpson was asked how he pled, he declared in a cocky, arrogant voice that he was “absolutely one hundred percent not guilty!” His demeanor, his complete failure to behave like a truly innocent man further persuaded us of his probable guilt. Why was he not pleading to take a lie-detector test? Why was he not screaming that there was a real murderer on the loose?

Patti shook her head. “There is no emotion there,” she said, “no sense of loss, no grief. He seems concerned only about himself.”

In San Francisco, Kim was at work, taking a coffee break, watching television in the employee lounge. When she saw the defendant respond to the formal charge, she felt physically ill. She ran downstairs to her co-workers, Amy, Rae, and Barbara, and shared with them what had happened. As always, they were in her corner, comforting and supporting her.

Meanwhile, two more players entered the arena. Judge Lance A. Ito was assigned to try the case and Johnnie L. Cochran, Jr., joined the team of defense lawyers. We had never heard of either man.

Contrary to what Sharon had told Kim over the phone, her Los Angeles-based attorney, Michael Brewer, filed a wrongful-death civil suit against Simpson. Sharon sought an unspecified amount of damages for the loss of
Ron's “companionship, society, comfort, attention … and support.” We thought that she had lost all that twenty years earlier. We were now, however, beginning to understand why she had appeared at Ron's funeral in the company of an attorney.

I was very angry. How could money be on her mind at this moment? I wondered. Ron had been dead for only five weeks and she had reduced his life to a search for dollars. Loss of comfort? Loss of companionship? She would not have known Ron if he had bumped into her.

Reached by a reporter, I commented, “I don't know anything about it other than what I've heard on the news. But it doesn't surprise me.”

As part of her strategy, Sharon petitioned the court for power of attorney over Ron's estate. I felt boxed into a corner. I could not allow this absurdity to continue, but I did not want to dredge up past miseries. Once again, my attorney friends came to the rescue. They told me they would file executor papers on my behalf, and not to worry about it.

Nevertheless, Kim went on the attack, writing a letter to the judge. When I read it, I felt the pain begin to surface. Kim wrote:

Your Honor …

I will get right to the point:

Sharon Rufo, our birth mother, made a conscientious choice every day for 20 years, to have no relationship with her two children.

My father, Fred Goldman, took on the challenge as any loving parent would, to raise two babies from ages 6 and 3, singlehandedly….

The last time Ron spoke to Sharon, was 3 years ago and before that he had not seen or spoken to her in at least 15 or more years. I, on the other hand, have had slightly more contact, none of which was positive or resulting in any type of ongoing communication.

Without rehashing every incident to explain the lack of mothering on her behalf, my father NEVER once said an ill word of her to Ron and I, even until this day. The decision to write this was mine as I am also sure Ron would have done the same.

Sharon Rufo gave up her right to be in control of anything when she walked out on us 20 years ago and it is beyond my comprehension that she would take the death of my brother and use it to her advantage to be in control now.

I am pleading with the court to not allow Sharon Rufo to be
executor. She has a history of lying, cheating and manipulating situations to her best interest, which never included Ron and I, even until this day. She is continuing to be selfish as well as self serving, having no regard for others or the pain she may be causing, especially at a time as tragic as this one. Please do not grant her the opportunity to subject myself and my family to any more pain and grievance than we are already suffering.

My father is a caring, supportive, sincere and fair man. The three of us were/are very close, and are very honored, proud and fortunate to have been raised by such a wonderful and dedicated father. He sacrificed his life for the benefit of his children. Please, don't take away all he has done, especially at a time when he is so vulnerable. My brother has already been taken from him, please don't take away the last chances he has to be close to Ron and continue the wonderful job he has been doing for Ron and I our whole lives. My brother would want it this way….

Immediately after our divorce, Sharon had custody of the children and I had full visitation rights. Then I learned from Ron's grammar school teacher that he was acting up in class and not doing as well as he had been. Knowing that divorce can be hard on kids, I pushed for all of us to get some counseling. Sharon balked at the idea, but eventually agreed to attend some of the sessions. In our early conversations with the counselor, Ron and Kim complained about Sharon's lack of attention. She bailed out, and refused to continue the process.

I offered to take over the day-to-day responsibility for the children. Realizing that she would have more time for herself, Sharon readily agreed. So that the children would not have to change schools, I moved into Sharon's apartment and she found another place.

We signed an informal agreement. Now our situations were reversed. I had custody, and she had full visitation rights. But she seldom utilized those rights. She often failed to show up for prearranged visits, and when the children tried to call her, she was seldom home. When they did speak to her, she offered lame excuses for not coming: She needed to do her laundry; she did not have money for gasoline. Sometimes, after she made these excuses, the kids would see her driving around the neighborhood.

After this scenario played out for one chaotic year, I decided that it was time to formalize the agreement and contacted my attorney to file the necessary papers.

On Friday evening, I arrived home from work, opened the door and
called out, as I always did, “Hi, I'm home!” I was greeted with silence. The housekeeper was gone. The children were gone. Ron and Kim's closets were empty. Their toys had vanished, along with them.

Immediately, I picked up the phone and called Sharon. Her response was a terse “I don't know anything about it,” and she hung up the phone. I called one of Sharon's sisters-in-law, Mary, and received a similar response. Then I called Sharon's other sister-in-law, Donna. She was as shocked and panicked as I and concluded that Sharon and Mary must be in this plot together.

I called my attorney. He told me to determine the children's location, but not to attempt to do anything over the weekend.

I drove to Mary's house. Sure enough, Ron and Kim were playing outside, but I hung back and followed my lawyer's advice. My children never knew I was there, but I kept a sharp eye on them the entire weekend.

On Monday morning, we were in court. I told the judge what had happened and showed him the written agreement Sharon and I had signed regarding the children's custody. In an angry, no-nonsense tone he slammed down the gavel and decreed that the kids were in my hands until the matter was fully resolved. Then I petitioned the court for full and complete custody.

From court, my fiancée, Joan, and I went immediately to Sharon's apartment to retrieve the kids, but her housekeeper resisted. She tried to restrain Ron and Kim as they yelled, “Daddy! Daddy!” Ron broke loose and ran to me, but the housekeeper pulled Kim back inside the apartment and locked the door.

Joan took Ron out to the car and I went back upstairs to get Kim.

The housekeeper screamed at me and threatened to call the police. I invited her to do so.

Soon, Sharon's boyfriend arrived. He was a police officer who promptly informed me that he would “throw my butt in jail” for causing all these problems. I thrust the court order at him and reminded him that as an officer of the court, he was obligated to obey it.

Kim cowered in a corner, scared and crying. Then Sharon arrived and demanded that her boyfriend arrest me. But I told him that if he did not restrain Sharon, I would have
her
arrested for attempting to defy the court. By that time, he had read the court order and told her to back off.

I swept Kim into my arms and kept her there while I gathered the clothes and toys that were strewn about. Then we went home.

Only later did I learn that Sharon had told Ron and Kim, “Your daddy doesn't want you anymore, so you're coming with me.”

Ron and Kim had been with me ever since.

*   *   *

Kim received a small package in the mail. When she opened it, she found a note and a lovely necklace. They were from Ron's last girlfriend, Andrea Scott. “I found this necklace in my car,” Andrea wrote, “and I know that Ron would want you to have it.”

Kim examined the necklace. It had one simple pendant, in the shape of an Egyptian ankh—a symbol Ron had spoken of so often. What a lovely thing to do, Kim thought.

She fastened the necklace around her neck, and has not removed it since.

The strategy of Simpson's defense team became ever more obvious—delay, obstruct, object, confuse, entangle, confound, perplex. Judge Ito seemed to cater to them, conducting one interminable pretrial hearing after another.