I met Jackson once. In Toys 'R Us, in about 2003. My girlfriend and I were browsing the aisles,
looking at Star Wars action figures, when I encountered a tall thin man with long black hair weakly pushing a shopping
cart full of toys. He was wearing a fedora and a black mask that covered his mouth. I elbowed Amanda and whispered, "Check
out this
guy!" She shushed me and we walked by. I was unable to take my eyes off of him. He looked
so familiar,
but I coudn't place him. Suddenly, two small masked figures carrying blunt objects came running in my direction.
So, this
is how it ends? I thought.
Murdered by midget assassins in Toys 'R Us. I shook myself sober and realized
that these were not assassins, but children bearing toys. They were squealing, "DADDY!"
Holy shit, I thought,
that
guy is Michael Jackson! And those are his children! The poor little children were wearing grotesque clear
masks painted with clown make-up.The hideous red lips curled in a demonic smile could not mask their excitement.
I quietly
passed this along to Amanda who stood staring in horror.
We walked quickly to the next aisle, giggling with surprise, where Toys 'R Us employees
were hurriedly pushing a shopping cart and loading it with items that "Michael" had requested. They spoke his name as though
he were royalty and not the scum that he is. Pathetic really.
I seem a bit angry don't I? That's because I work with kids as a tutor. I encounter them on
a daily basis. They have enough shit to deal with without having to deal with crazies like our King Jacko. They are relatively innocent
and mostly full of life and they provide me the confidence to continue in the field of education. People like Jackson and
the accuser's mother are guilty of denying children the right to their innocence and childhood. Michael should be more sympathetic.
His father, through emotional, mental, and physical abuse denied him his innocence and youth. He carried on that shameful
lagacy.
Amanda and I proceeded to the exit, but I first took one last look at Jackson. I shouted,
"Hmm, sweet, check out that eight year old ass. Hmmm hmm hmm!" I'm horrible and have very little shame, you see. Amanda punched
me pretty hard for that. She was a good person and was ashamed of my actions and words. I saw him again, much later,
when he was formally indicted, on April 30, 2004. That was when he moonwalked on top of his SUV. I laughed long
and hard. I was part of the mob that chased his vehicle until it pulled away and rushed off to his Neverland ranch where he
was having a party of some sort for his fans. I had little choice, though. It was either run with the lemmings, or fall under
the feet of the stampeding admirers. He held himself like royalty on that day. A king of kigs, if you will. He did not grasp
the gravity of the situation and did not feel that the law would catch up with him.
It is sad to think that only weeks into his trial he began his slow mental decline. He wore
his pajamas to court and was consistently late. His behavior was so bizarre and erratic that he became fodder for late night
t.v. Even his buddy Jay Leno couldn't help but poke fun at his behavior during his opening monologues. As the trial neared
the end, though, he seemed to get a firmer grip on the reality of the situation. He also realized that the prosecution had
a very weak case and had virtually no hope of winning the trial. He started to act like his old self again.
On the day of the verdict, Monday June 13, 2005, I was at the mall sitting in the Red Robin
across the street from the courthouse where the verdict was about to be read. Me and a couple of teachers had taken the
AVID class there to eat lunch as a reward for good behavior. As we watched the proceedings on television, I looked outside
of the restraunt and saw Tom Mesereau talking anxiously on a cell phone. I pointed him out to my students who did not quite
understand who he was. A few moments later, Mesereau left the mall and headed for the courtroom. We could see him on the television,
making his way. I pointed him out again on the t.v., only this time they were very excited. This was a unique moment for them.
It was then that I leaned over to one of the other teachers and I said," What the hell am I doing here? I could be over there
now instead of watching it on a t.v. across the street from where it is actually happening!" With that, I stood up
and ran out of the mall and across the street to the courthouse.
I saw thousands of people, all trying to get closer to the action. Every person that I ever met in my life
in Santa Maria was there. Long lost elementary school friends, ex-girlfriends, casual acquaintances, and a whole host of papparazzi.
The police were all standing by with fistfulls of plastic cuffs and batons in case the crowd went bat shit and needed a good
beat down. I was actually afraid to think of the riot that would ensue if he were found guilty. Cars would have been turned
over and burned, the strawberry fields would have been set ablaze, and the library would have been ransacked.The sound of
the crowd was deafening, and their forward motion reminded me of zombies trying to break into a boarded up house with brains
trying to hide inside. I crammed my way through the crowds, often brushing uncomfortably close to a stranger or having to
beat my way through a jungle of signs. Eventually, I was close enough that I could see the doors of the courtroom where Jackson
would exit and make his way for the SUVs. Suddenly, there was an eerie silence that fell over the previously obnoxious
crowd. It was almost a religious experience, albeit a cheap one. I could hear some one shout out, "Not guilty!" There
was a short roar of approval from the mob, which was cut off by calls for silence. This continued nine more times. Jackson
had been acquitted of all ten charges that together very well could've landed him in jail for 20 years. I expected Jackson
to burst out the door doing the moonwalk. But no. He burst out the door and made his way for his SUV, his family and entouage
not far behind him. And again, as the SUV sped away, I was forced to follow Jackson, compelled by an aversion to being trampled
upon. He was on his way to Neverland for a huge party, where there would be half naked boys dancing on poles, no doubt, or
Chimpanzees juggling chainsaws, or whatever crazy shit happens at his retreat.
The mobs went away eventually. My life returned to normal. I have even made friends with people
who came to Santa Maria from great distances for the trial, and ended up getting stuck here. One lonely night at Dennys I
met a photographer who covered the trial. We had a long discussion about the trial. It is now clear to me that the people
of Santa Maria are not only loyal citizens of the Kingdom of Jackson, but so too is the greater population of the world.