The O.J. Simpson trial revisited. Here’s some little known facts regarding this case: when the prosecution’s star witness, Det. Mark Fuhrman, was asked by F. Lee Bailey whether or not he planted the infamous bloody glove at the crime scene, Fuhrman plead the fifth so as not to incriminate himself. Despite this, Judge Lance Ito forbade the jury from hearing this critical testimony. Two detectives admitted taking blood samples from the lab to the crime scene, with blood missing when those samples were returned. The “evidence” against Simpson had EDTA, a chemical preservative that keeps blood from clotting which is also found in the sample containers. When asked if they planted this DNA evidence, they plead the 5th too. Despite this, many in the media continue to malign the competency of the Simpson jury because they did not, clearly, bother to see the trial.


               The Fuhrman Confession

                                                       FADE IN

               EXT. BUS STOP—DAY

               The camera tracks a white feather as it slowly descends upon
               the barren, ebony scalp of O.J. Simpson prosecutor, Chris
               Darden. He is munching on some Oreos. He's clad Forrest Gump
               style. Sitting beside him is a woman attempting to read the
               paper. Darden picks up the feather curiously as he adjusts
               his granny glasses, and puts it in his briefcase. He then
               combs his imaginary hair before a pocket mirror, and
               continues to munch on his Oreos.

                             (leans over to offer a
                              cookie, with a lisp)
                         Ma'am, would you like an Oreo?

                         No thank you.

                         My momma says I'm just like an
                         Oreo. Black on the outside, white
                         on the inside. I never knew what
                         she meant.

                         I think she meant you're ashamed of
                         your African American heritage.

                         She's insane! My flaxen blonde hair
                         and blue eyes betray her denial!

                         What I would like though, is for
                         you to keep your skanky ass breath
                         away from me.
                             (She continues reading the
                              paper, trying to ignore

               LAP DISSOLVE



               Two parallel lanes of trees form a beautiful canopy of
               foliage leading to a large white house, a former plantation.
               A young Chris Darden is walking home from law school with
               Marcia Clark. Darden is wearing orthopedic braces on his
               legs, walking awkwardly. The town bully, a young Mark

               Fuhrman, drives up in his old blue truck with a load of
               friends. They start to chase Darden, and the passengers in
               the back chuck rocks and garbage at him.

                                   BULLY 1
                         Hey! It's that freshman retard from
                         law school. Don't let us catch ya

                         I just lost my job at the March of
                         Dimes for teasin' your cry-baby
                         ass, and I reckon a cripple
                         whuppin' will just about rectify
                         this here injustice!

                                                       CUT TO-

                         Run Chris! Run!

               A frightened Darden runs with all his might, but is pitifully
               hampered by his leg braces as the truck bears down on him.
               Suddenly, in a newfound burst of energy, the braces fall off,
               and he runs like a gazelle, miraculously outrunning the
               truck. He looks back, the truck is stalling.

               EXT. SKATING RINK

               Outside a skating rink, a drunk French hockey player is about
               to drive home as his friends vainly plead for him to
               designate a driver. Moments later, Darden is run down by the
               drunk hockey player's Zamboni as it hits speeds reaching up
               to 5 miles per hour.


               Marcia Clark, sitting butt naked on a stool playing folk
               guitar, entertains the rowdy guests as Darden walks in and is
               aghast. His granny glasses steam. Never had Bob Dylan ever
               been so bastardized. In the meantime Marcia is attempting to
               pass off as a study in dignity and grace. Her legs are
               crossed, she carefully shields her breasts with her guitar as
               she plays…. terribly.
               A SLOW PAN reveals a few celebrities in the audience: Barbara
               Walters is moved to tears, throws her panties. A tipsy Andy
               Rooney is on his knees before her, bowing in homage before
               passing out on the floor.

                             (to Bob Dylan's "Blowin'
                              in the Wind")
                         How many times

               must a man stab a heart before it ceases to beat? yes'm, how
               many times must O.J. beat Nicole?. before she runs down the
               street? The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind the
               answer is blowin' in the wind

               Darden picks her up against her will; one hand over his eyes
               to so as not to see her nakedness. He forces her into the
               truck and drives away…before stopping at a bridge...

                         I'm takin' you home, Marcia! We've
                         got school tomorrow!

                         Let me out!

               EXT. BRIDGE- NIGHT

               Clark exits the vehicle totally enraged. He chases the
               troubled naked freak and grabs her by the arms.

                         I'm taking you home Marcia! I can't
                         believe you forgot your clothes

                         Let me go! I was just about to land
                         a contract with those Hard Crappy
                         producers, you damned fool! How
                         dare you embarrass me like that in
                         front of them?

                         But we have a case tomorrow!

                         Let me go or I swear I'll kill you!

                         You're already killing me! With
                         With an unquenchable longing whose
                         constant pangs are enough to make a
                         grown man cry…and circumcise

                             (pukes on his shirt)
                         L-Leave me alone, or I'll make sure
                         that disgusting foreskin corsage
                         you gave me is sent to the proper
                         authorities, and the media!

                         See? You kept it! Don't deny your
                         passion for me Never again shall a
                         Negro woman sully my lips! Once I
                         thought I was a black man, so
                         steeped in denial and white guilt
                         was I! But you, my sweet Hebrew
                         angel, you brought me to the light!
                         Kiss me you fool!
                             (Darden closes his eyes
                              and puckers his lips.
                              Marcia slams her fist
                              into his mouth.)

                         I told you I have a boyfriend!
                         Tammy Bruce!

                         So maybe it is true. Maybe you are
                         a slut! Maybe our tryst under Judge
                         Ito's desk was not your first time!

                             (blushes crimson and slaps
                         How dare you impugn my integrity?

                         You're standing butt naked in the
                         middle of the street, Madonnastyle,
                         for all to see. Now my dog,
                         chickens, and my houseplants may
                         giggle when I call myself an
                         attorney, granted, but you'd bring
                         the house down when it comes to

               Marcia is simmering. A high school bus full of football
               players slams the brakes for a peek at Marcia's free vittles.
               She leaves Darden and finds her ride home. O.S. helicopter

               EXT. VIETNAM JUNGLE—DAY

               It's 1967. Darden hops off a Huey to join his platoon in the
               hot jungle brush, searching Charlie.

                                   LT. DAN
                         Hey Darden, where's your helmet?

                         I threw it out, sir!

                                   LT. DAN
                         You what?!

                         When I put it on again I realized
                         someone took a crap in it again,
                         sir! I think it was the Negroes,

                                   LT. DAN
                         You're the only black man in this
                         platoon ya moron! And you want to
                         be an attorney?

                         But that's what Fuhrman said when
                         he gave my helmet back to me

                                   LT. DAN
                         When was that?

                         Right after he asked me for a roll
                         of toilet paper.

                                   LT. DAN
                         Hey Fuhrman! Who crapped in the
                         "special" kid's helmet? You did
                         didn't you?

               Private Fuhrman is nearby, roasting marshmallows on a ten
               foot burning cross. He approaches them nervously and salutes.
               On his helmet he has scrawled white power and a swastika.

                         I must plead the fifth, sir! I
                         refuse to answer on the grounds I
                         may incriminate myself!

                                   LT. DAN
                         Since you could have denied it,
                         I'll take that as a yes. Just for
                         that, I'm confiscating your Nazi
                         polka record collection! Dismissed!
                         And eh, by the way…gimmie your

                         No, please, not that…

                                   LT. DAN
                         Gimmie. Now.

               Fuhrman reluctantly fetches his "Hungry Hitler" lunchbox. LT.
               DAN proceeds to chuck it on the ground and urinate on it.

                         That was an heirloom from my
                         grandpa in the SS! How could you?

                                   LT. DAN
                         How does it feel? Not to good, does
                         it? Now let that be a lesson to

               Fuhrman is devastated, and forces back the tears, lips

                         But it was the Negroes sir! Private
                         Fuhrman told me that a white man
                         would never crap in my helmet, and
                         I believe him!

                                   LT. DAN
                         Shut up, Darden, because I find
                         myself hungry for a moral and
                         justifiable excuse to slap the shit
                         out of a retarded man right
                         now….and I think this is it!

                         Yes sir.

                                   LT. DAN
                         Now put some camouflage on that
                         shiny ass scalp of yours! That
                         infernal glare will give us away to
                         the enemy, ya hear me?

               EXT. JUNGLE

               A Viet Cong spotter sees a bald scalp shining through the
               thick jungle brush like a beacon. Immediately, Darden's
               platoon is fired upon. A mortar round hits Lt. Dan and blows
               off his legs. The radio man beside him is blown to bits.
               Darden rushes to Lt. Dan.

                         I'll save you!

                                   LT. DAN
                         Get away from me you freak, because
                         if I live I'm gonna court-martial
                         your stupid ass! This is all your
                         fault! Do you know how many men
                         you've cost me? May you and your
                         brand new scalp buffer burn in
                         hell, my friend, burn in hell!!!

                         It's okay! You're gonna be alright!
                         I'll save you!

                                   LT. DAN
                             (fighting Darden as he
                              struggles to lift him)
                         My legs! Oh my legs! Son of a
                         bitch! My dreams…gone now! All
                         gone! Now I'll never get to kick
                         you in the face before this war is

               Darden picks up Lt. Dan and runs to safety.

                                                       FADE TO BLACK

                                                       FADE IN

               TITLE CARD: MANY YEARS LATER....

               L.A. CRIMINAL COURTS BLDG.--  DAY

               INT. ITO'S COURTROOM

               Marcia Clark walks up to the podium with the Sunday comics.
               She prepares a cartoon to argue her next motion.

                         I understand it's unusual for an
                         attorney to bring a newspaper to
                         court, but sometimes even a cartoon
                         can be edifying.

                         And this cartoon will support your
                         motion to allow for the viewing of
                         the autopsy photos again?

                         Indeed it will.  Don't let
                         appearances deceive you.  Lizard
                         Man is regarded by authorities as
                         highly cerebral material.

                         Please present a copy of the
                         cartoon in question to the defense.

               She gives the defense a copy, then puts the cartoon on a
               projector as she follows the cartoon frame by frame. (O.S.
               cue Samuel Barber's "Adagio for Strings")

                         In the first frame, a little boy is
                         watching the Simpson trial and
                         wondering what the forbidden "N"
                         word is.  Finally he asks Lizard
                         Man what it is and he says
                             (with an overt tug at the
                              heart strings, she bursts
                              into crocodile tears; her
                              inanities underscored by
                              her arms flailing and
                              sweeping into air)

                         That cartoon is wearing thin.
                         First it was with the Fuhrman
                         tapes.  Now what does this Lizard
                         Man cartoon have to do with the
                         autopsy photos?

                         It puts the trial in perspective on
                         a human level.

                                                       CUT TO

               In the front row of the courtroom, Marcia has placed a STRING
               SECTION from an orchestra. LS: ITO flings his GAVEL at
               CONDUCTOR'S head.

                             (to Marcia's string
                         Will you shut up??!!!
                             (takes a deep breath)
                         Listen, Marcia, I don't want to see
                         you come in here with the funny
                         pages to argue your motions
                         anymore; especially when you swipe
                         them from my paper. Buy your own

                         Yeah, Marcia—I can assure you that
                         your inane and transparent motions
                         are funny enough as they are.

                         That's totally unfair!  We hear all
                         this whining about the defendant's
                         right to a fair trial.  But don't
                         the victims have rights?  The
                         Goldmans have a right to swim in
                         Simpson's pool.  They have a right
                         to take his estate even before
                         Simpson's guilt is determined.

               Chris Darden reaches into his bag of tricks, get an onion,
               splits it, and rushes over to Marcia with a yellow rubber
               ducky.  The prosecution lawyers huddle.

                                   CLARK (CONT'D)
                         Your honor—could you give us a
                         minute? Chris is having trouble
                         assembling the tracks for his Hot

                         Is this going to take forever?  You
                         know we have a jury waiting.

                         It might.


                             (whispers into her ears,
                              takes the split onion and
                              rubs it under Marcia's
                         Here—try the duck!
                         Gloria Allred says the duck always
                         works for her!
                             (Marcia grabs the duck,
                              still in its original
                              carton, and suddenly
                              bursts into tears.)

                         I—I'm very sorry your honor!  I'm
                         watching a dream shatter before my
                         very eyes...and though that dream
                         does not belong to me, I bleed from
                         every pore for the surviving
                         victims in question.

               Marcia bursts into tears and clutching the duck, she wails
               like a banshee, then writhes on the floor in agony.  Then she
               tears out her hair and rips her clothing, climaxed when she
               walks over to a potted plant and symbolically throws soil
               into her face...

                                   CLARK (CONT'D)
                         Forgive me for this outburst, Your
                             (regains some of her
                         But just look at the duck, Your
                         Honor! Still in its original
                         package. By now it should be in
                         O.J.'s swimming pool; in the loving
                         hands of Kim Goldman!  But no.  We
                         had to be sidetracked with this non
                         issue like the fact that O.J. is

               F. Lee Bailey immediately rises; enraged.  In fact, the whole
               defense table except Cochran does.  They have a copy of the
               same paper, and instead of "Nicole" it reads the forbidden
               "N" word is "Neilsens".

                         Objection!  Move to strike that
                         comment! We have the same paper and
                         it reads differently.   It's
                         supposed to read that the forbidden
                         "N" word is "Neilsens"! As in
                         Neilsen Ratings, which is basically
                         what this trial has boiled down

                         Johnny, that's an insult to this
                         court and to our honorable, chaste,
                         and dignified friends at NBC,
                         "Dateline", and "Hard Copy".
                             (flashes toothy grin as he
                              looks into the camera)
                         Yes folks, check your local

                         I object!

                         Ahem. I digress. Council, call your
                         first witness.

               Marcia Clark prepares to question Mark Fuhrman on his
               Klanmobile's "Jew Killer" license plate.

               CU: We see exhibit 23- The KLANMOBILE is a white van with a
               burning cross on the roof.

               The witness takes the stand as prosecutor Marcia Clark
               prepares to question him.

                         Do you swear to tell the whole
                         truth, and nothing but the truth,
                         so help you God?

                         Silly Negro, I am God.  I am truth.

                             (shaking head)
                         You may take the stand.

                         Good afternoon ladies and gentle of
                         the jury.  Good afternoon Detective
                             (clears throat)
                         If you look on the monitor to your
                         immediate right, you will notice a
                         license plate on the rear of your
                         van that reads "Jew Killer."  Does
                         this license plate belong to you,
                         or was it placed there, perhaps, by
                         some malicious advocate for the

                                                       CUT TO—

               Defense attorney Johnny Cochran rises angrily.

                         I object, your honor!

                         Sustained. Ms. Clark, please
                         refrain from such prejudicial
                         speculation.  Please answer the
                         question, Mr. Fuhrman.

                         Of course not. I wouldn't stick
                         that racist garbage on my car. Mine
                         just says "Aryan Power"
                             (suddenly grows pale,
                              loses composure)
                         I mean it says "SHALOM!"  No, wait,
                         I don't even own a car, that's

                         Det. Furhman, are you okay?  Is
                         something bothering you?  Did
                         Johnny Cochran threaten to make you
                         his "deflowered Aryan bitch" again?


                         Okay, sorry…strike that last

                             (nervous and pale, he
                              fidgets in his chair, and
                              drops his gaze)
                         It's the pressure. That bothers me.
                         And the lies.  Look, I can't take
                         this anymore!  Maybe I will tell
                         the truth!

                         You know you don't have to do that.
                         Just answer the questions

                         I know. But I want to tell the
                         truth. Now is the chance for me to
                         take a stand for the white race.

                         You can't be a racist.  I'm a Jew,
                         Darden is black, and we're your
                         friends.  We've always been

                         Oh shut up you yammering heeb.
                         You're both a couple of crooked-ass
                         posers, and I'd hate you even if
                         you were both Aryan.

                         As you can see, ladies and
                         gentleman of the jury, Detective
                         Fuhrman has a delightful sense of

                         First of all, I accept full
                         responsibility because it was my
                         idea. The others, like Lange and
                         Vanatter, they were dragged into
                         it. Well, invited rather.
                             (Fuhrman stands, points at
                              O.J. Simpson)
                         Judge Ito, you must free this man.
                         Whether or not he was responsible
                         in any way for the murders is no
                         longer the question here, we may
                         never know now…and that was the
                         objective. I planted the glove. I
                         framed him. The case was ruined
                         from the start.
                             (Fuhrman slumps back into
                              the witness chair)

                         Your honor, I move to strike…

                         On what grounds?

                         He's embarrassing me.

                         No shit. Proceed.

                         I planted the glove. I called
                         Tracie Savage from KNBC and told
                         her about the blood on the socks
                         beings Simpson's….a week before the
                         socks were even tested. I framed
                         that jigaboo out of sheer malice,
                         but I swear I'm not a racist!

               A NETWORK EXECUTIVE shows her a chart with the lastest
               Nielsen ratings. Seeing her Nielsen ratings are now in
               jeopardy, MARCIA becomes desperate and quickly interrupts.

                         Your honor, I move to strike, the
                         witness clearly is delusional.

                         Oh, and I kicked his dog Kato too!!

                         I object! The witness has just
                         perjured himself, exonerated
                         Simpson, and furthermore, admitted
                         to cruelty to animals!  Your honor,
                         may I approach the bench?

                         Sustained. Yes, you may.

               COCHRAN approaches FUHRMAN with some photographs handed to
               him by F. LEE BAILEY.  Cochran checks Fuhrman's shoes and
               shoe size.

                         He's not delusional!  In fact, on
                         June 1995, a vet just happened to
                         photograph a jackboot imprint on
                         the dog's flank; imprints that
                         match those on Fuhrman's shoes this
                         very day!  We submit that this
                         fully explains why Kato the dog now
                         walks with a permanent limp.

                             (reviewing pictures)
                         It's true.  That steel toe imprint
                         is mine  The M.F. initial's—mine. I
                         stamped them on that mutt with a
                         swift and well aimed kick.  But not
                         all is lost, I think I know the
                         true killers.

                         And how do you know your
                         information is true?  Where did you
                         find them?

                         I was sent the bloody knives, some
                         of Nicole's hair, and a business
                         card. Would you like to see them?

                         No, we wouldn't. We know who the
                         true killer is. It's Mr. Simpson,
                         wife-beating demonic beast in the

                         See, you're the one that's racist.
                         Simpson couldn't have done it. The
                         victims weren't speared or

                         I object!  We deeply resent that
                         racist comment and the one before
                         it, but grudgingly appreciate its
                         impeachment value.  Please ask
                         counsel to continue that line of


                         Besides, there aren't any prints on
                         the knives. The real killers
                         videotaped the killing to document
                         the hit for their boss, and OJ
                         wasn't in it—he was on a plane by
                         then.  There was at least three-
                         one was in charge of the
                         videotaping. And they could afford
                         to be sloppy because the hit was
                         approved by the LAPD…and later,

                         Do you respect the respectable and
                         intelligent people of the jury to
                         believe that nonsense?  Do you
                         think you can fool these noble and
                         selfless people of the jury?

               The JURY FOREMAN is bored.  He secretly grabs a pocket mirror
               and aims it at Darden's shiny bald scalp to deflect the
               bright camera lights.  The foreman adjust the pocket mirror's

                                                       CUT TO-

               And  Marcia is immediately blinded.  She squints and
               stumbles; knocks over the court reporter.

               She gets up, dusts herself, and points a bony, accusing
               finger at a wall.

                                   MARCIA (CONT'D)
                         Look at the jury, Mr. Fuhrman.
                         Don't you know that angels walk
                         with them in counsel?  Don't you
                         know that they, the honorable
                         ladies and gentlemen of the jury,
                         have nothing but contempt for

               The FOREMAN nods grimly, and gives her the finger.  Then he
               furtively takes a rubber band, rolls up a tiny piece of
               paper, flattens it and forms it into a projectile.  When
               MARCIA is close enough and facing DARDEN near the podium,
               Darden stands up to hand her some documents, and the foreman
               shoots her in the butt.  Assuming Darden goosed her because
               of his proximity, she slaps him.

                                   MARCIA (CONT'D)
                         Fresh! How dare you!
                             (under her breath)
                         Not now!

                         What the hell are you talking

                         But Marcia, did you guys see the
                         tape of the killers?  I gave it you
                         this morning along with the bloody
                         knives and fingerprint samples from
                         the hit men, and I included their
                         Interpol files, confessions,
                         resumes, and home and work numbers.

                             (rises from the Defense
                         Your honor, we were not presented
                         with any of that exculpatory
                         evidence!  This is a gross
                         miscarriage of justice!  In the
                         interests of common decency, please
                         drop the case right now and stop
                         this mockery of justice while we
                         still can! Fuhrman already

               XCU:  Prosecutor CHERI LEWIS reaches into her briefcase and
               pulls out some files marked "INTERPOL."  Meanwhile, DARDEN
               quietly sets up a paper shredder under their table and gets
               to work on the confessions, files. He hums loudly to drown
               out the shredder, unsuccessfully of course.

                         Well? What did you do with
                         evidence, Counsel?

                         Uhhh….I'm glad you asked.  Yes,
                         Fuhrman did give us the
                         aforementioned tape, but there was
                         an unforeseen accident  We sat down
                         to watch it…

                             (heaves a deep sigh)
                         This better be good. This just
                         better be good…

                         Actually, it was an accident very
                         similar to what happened to you.
                         We sat down to watch the tape and I
                         accidentally pressed the record
                         button., but I can assure you, your
                         honor, there was absolutely no
                         malice intended or wrought.

               Marcia goes to retrieve the video.

               PAN to Darden and Cheri at the prosecution table.  He leans
               over to Cheri and asks her a question as she cleans the blood
               off the two knives.

                         Hey Cheri, Marcia told me you can't
                         get over my new cologne. It's
                         called "Cruel Ambitions" for Men.

                             (puts the knives and
                              cleaner down, and
                              bitterly points to the
                              hives and scratches on
                              her arms)
                         She's right. I can't get over the
                         allergic reaction its giving me.  I
                         can't get rid of these damned

                         Is that's what's bothering you? I'm
                         here for you, pretty baby!

               Marcia finds the video and approaches the bench.  She returns
               to the podium.

                         Counsel, this is a how-to home
                         video copy of  "Mark Fuhrman's
                         Framing and Perjury for Idiots."

                         No it's not!

                         And it's overdue at Blockbuster


               Oh, wrong one.  It's right here… (quickly retrieves another)

               Marcia approaches the bench, hands Ito the other video. He
               takes a brief recess in his chamber.  Then walks out. Peeved.

                         Ms. Clark, please tell the court
                         how you managed to erase the tape
                         from beginning to end?

                         This happened to you with another
                         tape in question, your honor.  It's
                         not like these things don't happen.

                         I object! She erased the whole tape
                         without knowing it?  With all due
                         respect your honor, this is
                         It was deliberate and malicious
                         destruction of exculpatory
                         evidence! You only erased a few
                         seconds of the audio tape wherein
                         Fuhrman bragged about setting up
                         suspects and planting weapons and
                         drugs on them! And you erased the
                         copy, not the master!

                             (mulls it over)
                         Sorry, Johnny.  She's got me there.
                         A VCR can be pretty tricky
                         nowadays., with all them buttons on
                         them and stuff.  My apologies,
                         Counsel. Proceed.
                             (O.S. A grinding, loud
                         The sound stuns the court.  The
                         proceedings are halted.

               Darden's portable paper shredder malfunctions because he
               tried to shred the two bloody knives.  Cheri slaps him upside
               the head so hard she leaves a pale imprint of her hand.

                         You idiot! I said "I can't get rid
                         of these hives," not "knives"!!!
                         What did you think I meant?

                         What? You think I'm stupid?

                         Mr. Darden, what did I tell you
                         about beepers and paper shredders
                         in the courtroom?

                         Your honor, Darden has a learning
                         disability… you'll have to…

                         Darden can speak for himself.
                         Theoretically.  Now Chris, you've
                         been warned. Proceed.

                         Thank your honor.  Mr. Fuhrman, do
                         you speak of your own free will and
                         confess to framing Simpson;
                         or were you blackmailed by Cochran,
                         Douglas, and Shapiro as they chased
                         you down an alleyway with chains
                         and bats when you refused to buy
                         their crack?

                         Of my own free will. I framed him.
                         I took some vials from the lab and
                         planted the glove, and the drop on
                         the back of the white bundy fence.
                         Yes, and even the socks. That why
                         there was no blood spatter.

                         And the footprints?

                         The photos you used of Simpson were
                         doctored with a matte insert. I'm
                         sure you know that.

               If they weren't, you'd have given access to the original
               negatives to the defense. You never did and will.

                         But that would make Simpson
                         innocent of this murder. And that
                         cannot be. The whole world knows
                         that. Everyone knows he's guilty. I
                         know that, you know that.

                         Don't you understand you simp? I
                         set him up!  There was no evidence
                         linking Simpson directly to the
                         crime!  If there was, my services
                         would never have asked for!

                         Move to strike as non-responsive,
                         your honor.


                         Mr. Fuhrman, are you on any
                         medication or street drugs right
                         now that are affecting your
                         cognitive abilities?

                         None, unless you count estrogen,
                         which is none of your damned
                         business anyways!

                         So what you're telling us is that
                         you didn't frame Simpson.

                         No, you ignorant sow! I'm telling
                         you I did!  Can't you get through
                         your thick, self-infatuated heeb

                         I see.  So let's say you're not
                         stark raving mad, and did frame
                         Simpson. Does that mean he's

                         Legally, yes.

               The lights in the courtroom suddenly flicker and dim.  To the
               amazement and terror of all, two ghosts appear in front of
               the jury.  It's RON and NICOLE.  It's a gory scene, both are
               hovering about a foot above the floor. Nicole is almost
               decapitated, her head hangs to the side held only by a piece
               of flesh.  Ron is drenched in blood, his throat slit also.
               Suddenly Nicole's eyes flicker and she begins to speak.

                         Don't you think I would remember
                         the men who did this to me?  Please
                         don't let these repulsive
                         hypocrites imprison a man I once
                         loved so deeply simply to advance
                         their careers! Please!

                         She's right. How do they propose to
                         honor us by imprisoning an innocent

                         Objection! Your honor, the
                         testimony of spirit entities is not
                         allowed in California courtrooms.

                         Do you know how far we've come to
                         speak the truth?  How dare you
                         commit this obscenity in our names?

                         I'm afraid she's right, Ms. Brown.
                         We can't accept your testimony
                         under California law.  Bailiff,
                         please call an exorcist to escort
                         these sprits out.

                         Thank you, your honor.  Besides,
                         how do we know you're the real Ron
                         and Nicole, and not some other
                         ghosts looking for attention? It
                         could happen?

                         Ask us for details known only to
                         the police. Like who destroyed my
                         killer's fingerprints, and who
                         shredded his file?

                         Okay wise guy.  When Fuhrman went
                         to plant the glove, what color
                         panties was he wearing?


                         Pink with Garfield in a Klan robe
                         on it. But what's the point in
                         telling you? Even our testimony is
                         worthless here.

                         Your honor, the prosecution itself
                         just admitted Fuhrman planted the
                         glove! What more do you need?

                         A spine. Regardless, the question
                         was, eh, posed as a hypothetical.

                         Marcia Clark, you'll pay for this.
                         I will not rest until I insure you
                         pay dearly for convicting any
                         innocents in my name, this while
                         protecting killers you knew from
                         the beginning.

                         Would you like to know the latest
                         victims?  The Spooks and cops who
                         shot the people in the in LAPD
                         crime lab?  Or is it a trifle self

                         Marcia, Chris, Garcetti… you at the
                         prosecution table, I promise you
                         this… where your bloodstained
                         cohorts go, you will follow.

               Disgusted, Ron and Nicole disappear.

                             (smirks defiantly)
                         As you can see, ladies and
                         gentlemen of the jury, unlike me;
                         they're just here to confuse and
                         mislead the jury.  Now the defense
                         has got the ghosts of Ron and
                         Nicole to believe their ridiculous
                         conspiracy theory!  What's next?
                         UFOs at the murder scene?  Or how
                         about their planting stories in the
                         media about racist cops in law
                         enforcement agencies like the ATF—

                             (rises from the defense
                         Objection! That story was covered
                         before this trial began! Over 300
                         ATF agents were videotaped at a
                         Tennessee gathering; some
                         distributing "Nigger Hunting
                         Licenses" and t-shirts of Simpson
                         hanging from a noose!

                         You're making a big deal out of
                         nothing. The shirts shrink and
                         bleed when you wash 'em.

                         Just answer the questions, Mr.
                         Fuhrman. Now on your way home from
                         church last Sunday, when the Dream
                         Team chased you with guns and
                         bats...with ghetto blasters in hand
                         blaring misogynist Snoop Doggy Dogg
                         rap songs in tow….


                         Did they blackmail you into

                         That's it! Ms. Clark, what did I
                         tell you about personal attacks?
                         Don't leave this courtroom without
                         writing a check for $250!  Make it
                         out to the Society for the
                         Appreciation of Gangsta Rap!

                             (seething at the sanction,
                              she is barely able to
                         So, Mr. Fuhrman, you were telling
                         us you didn't frame Simpson.

                         Judge Ito, can you translate "I
                         framed Simpson" into words this
                         self-deluded, vainglorious butt
                         fungus can understand?

                         I could, but how many times should
                         I stomp my foot on the ground?

                         Your honor, I think the jury has
                         seen enough today to know we seek
                         the truth, and come with noble
                         heart and intentions. No further

                         Good. Bailiff, arrest this
                         repulsive disgrace to law

               The bailiff unclips his holster, grabs his handcuffs and
               heads to Fuhrman…

                                   ITO (CONT'D)
                         No, not Fuhrman. I mean Ms. Clark.
                         Fuhrman I need to talk to.  Mr.
                         Simpson, you're a free man on this
                         annoying technicality we call
                             (slams the gavel down)
                         Case dismissed!

               Meanwhile, Judge Ito grimly walks up before a mounted camera
               and addresses the audience.

                                   ITO (CONT. (CONT'D)
                         Ladies and gentlemen, I realize
                         this may be the last televised
                         murder trial in California. The
                         medium has been terribly abused by
                         those we relied upon for
                         objectivity.  Mere words cannot
                         express my disappointment with the
                         dehumanizing inclinations of the
                         media…thus I must appeal to the
                         last form of expression available
                         to me…to any of us….Interpretive

               Ito whips out a tape recorder and top hat from under his
               robe, slips in a cassette and starts dancing the Robot.  He
               steals the show away from the victorious defense.

                             (as the bailiff drags her
                         Fools! He's guilty, I tell you!
                         Guilty! I I saw him do it, yeah!
                         That's it! I saw him do it!  He
                         told me he did it!

               DOLLY OUT: Suddenly the song segues into Sir Mix-a-Lot's
               "Baby Got Back."  A spotlight falls on the judge.  Ito tears
               off his robe to expose his gangsta rapper gold chains and
               jogging suit, and, suddenly accompanied by dancers, he breaks
               into a karaoke version of the rap classic….

                         "I like big butts and I cannot lie…
                         you other brothers can't deny… that
                         when a girl walks in with an itty
                         bitty waist and a round thing in
                         your face you get sprung…

               and wanna pull up stuff cause you notice that butt was
               stuffed… deep in the jeans she's wearing I'm hooked and I
               can't stop staring Oh baby, I wanna get with ya, and take
               your picture my homeboys tried to warn me

               but that butt you got makin' me so