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An invitation to the Jackson trial
by Kate Zimmerman for the North Shore News
WHAT a relief it is to know that you and I will not be left out of the Michael Jackson trial.
Years ago, I was shattered when the O.J. Simpson trial wrapped up without me giving my two cents’ worth. I was planning to tell the jury that I had not really enjoyed “Airplane” and would never have bought a Samsonite suitcase just because O.J. was once depicted running through an airport with one.
I think we can agree that the outcome of that trial might have been significantly different had I been able to testify. At the same time, I might have gotten the ball rolling on my free plastic surgery makeover, scandalous romance with a juror, gratuitous reference to me in that year’s Oscars monologue, and several mentions, at least, in Dominick Dunne’s column in Vanity Fair. I consider the O.J. trial to have been my premier missed opportunity. It haunts me still.
I was not given the chance to testify in the Washington sniper courtroom, either. I certainly tried. Apparently, the fact that I had never been to Washington or been shot at in any meaningful way were insurmountable details.
I was obstructed from the Scott Peterson judicial process, as well. Forced to read about it on the covers of tabloids as I slid my 18 items onto the 15-items only checkout belt, I not only felt uninformed but also strangely indifferent to Peterson’s fate. I could have told the jury that he had a mean face, bad hair and had therefore likely committed the crime, but my astute cross-border observations were once again rejected. Thus, I eventually lost interest. Like most Canadians, I will only get re-involved when the story is a Fox movie of the week.
But these travesties of justice will not happen with Michael Jackson. First of all, you and I, thankfully, are able to monitor the proceedings on a moment–by-moment basis via the Internet. (This was perhaps also possible with Peterson. I didn’t bother because he had no Top 10 hits and couldn’t moonwalk to save his soul, which may indeed be why his soul was not saved.)
Most important, though, is the fact that we know who’s really on trial here: Jackson’s accuser and his mother. And as of earlier this week, we were able to vote on whether they were credible. All we had to do was look on the MSNBC News website for its Question of the Day. If, by some strange circumstance, we felt we were not sufficiently informed to pass judgment on Jackson’s alleged victim, we could learn all about the case against him, also on MSNBC, and then cast our vote.
So while the “real” jurors file into the courtroom to sit through hours of testimony over the course of months, we can continue on with our daily lives. You and I can spend a couple of minutes each night reading what the completely objective American media has to say about what has just transpired. Or, if we’re really lazy, we can watch 30 seconds about it on Entertainment Tonight, or hear about it on a comedy radio station, kindness of former Diff’rent Strokes star-turned-reporter, Gary Coleman. Another alternative is to glue ourselves to the E! half-hour series called Michael Jackson Trial, in which impersonator Edward Moss will play Jackson, re-enacting what happened in court each day.
With all of this “info-tainment” available to us, we can easily arrive at a conclusion about whether the boy is guilty or not. Did he, or didn’t he, deliberately set an avaricious trap for the Prince of Pop? And is he failing math? Are his shirts pathetic seconds from Target? Did he once shoplift a Baby Ruth bar? How scummy is his mother?
His lawyer has promised that this 15-year-old, who claims to have been molested by Mr. Neverland at the age of 13, will appear before the world and tell his story. And if the teenager is said to stammer or look nervous, will we need any further proof of his guilt? Hardly. I personally am prepared to fly down to L.A. to pass judgment in front of the TV cameras. I can even write a diatribe against him for The Enquirer, if need be — right now, if deadlines demand it. I’m that prescient. Anything that gets me on The Swan, I’ll do. I’d also go for the reno show Kitchen Accomplished. My current kitchen totally bites.
Meanwhile, Jackson, in that shy and innocent way of his, will simply wait graciously for us to make our decision. Like Princess Diana before him, he can become the Queen of People’s Hearts. He, after all, did not grow up with a welfare-defrauding parent. He has not gone around claiming to have had cancer. He’s rich! He used to be talented! He has powerful friends, like that magnificent judge of character, Elizabeth Taylor, and that bastion of virtue, Kobe Bryant.
M.J. — I do feel as if I know him after the 500-word story I read on MSNBC — must not be persecuted by these money-grubbing poor folks with their acne and bus passes and so forth. What kind of a message would finding that boy innocent send to the Hollywood elite, and those of us who look to them for guidance?
But we don’t have to worry. We can choose. It’s like American Idol, all over again. Who gets to be painted as the injured party, and who the persecutor? Get that voting finger ready. And let’s thank goodness for the modern celebrity trial, which gives every last one of us our moment in the sun.
Writing > Humour
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