Tuesday, March 29, 2005

"If It Does Not Stir, You Must Inter"

The New York Times reports that Johnnie Cochran is preparing for his last trial. I haven't trotted out my take on his most notorious case, the O.J. Simpson murder trial, for nigh onto ten years, so here it is:

The People of the State of California, in the person of D.A. Gil Garcetti, sank their case on the day they announced the decision not to seek the death penalty. That decision was susceptible of any one of three adverse interpretations: (1) the People were unsure that O.J. did it, and didn't want to do anything irreversible, like fry the guy; or (2) the People cynically sought conviction at any price, and believed they'd never get it, if death were at stake; or (3) the People didn't believe in enforcing the laws of California, which prescribed the death penalty for cases of this sort. Whichever was the truth, the illogic of the People's position was obvious.

Drawing a ringmaster like Hon. Lance Ito to preside over a circus, failing to object to venue in a hostile community, and all the other errors committed along the way may have been nails in the coffin, but that primary strategic decision is what put the corpse in the coffin in the first place.

And now, an oldie but goodie, to the tune of Mister Sandman:

Mister Simpson!
Give it a rest;
We wouldn't buy it,
Unless you confessed.
That explanation
For blood in the Bronco—
You couldn't sell it if you worked for Ronco!
Mister Simpson!
Give us a break;
How much baloney
D'you think we can take?
So please turn off your flack machine—
Mister Simpson, why not come clean?

Mister Simpson!
Give it a rest;
You've told your story,
But we're unimpressed.
That talk of chip shots
Was simply malarkey;
By rights, you should have had to date Old Sparky!
Mister Simpson!
Cut out the jive;
If you'd been elsewhere,
They'd still be alive.
So please turn off that damned machine—
Mister Simpson, don't be obscene!

Mister Simpson!
Bully for you!
You fooled a jury
With rannygazoo.
You put those gloves on
And brought home the bacon;
The Fifth Amendment—and the Truth—got taken!
Mister Simpson!
Here is a flash:
The civil action
Will settle your hash.
So find yourself a cash machine—
Mister Simpson, cough up the green!


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