Justice by Dominick Dunne

Author:Dominick Dunne [Dunne, Dominick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-55722-3
Publisher: Crown/Archetype
Published: 2002-02-16T16:00:00+00:00

CICI SHAHIAN HAS two great friends, who were also great friends of Nicole's, Robin Greer and the famous Faye Resnick, who wrote Nicole Brown Simpson: The Private Diary of a Life Interrupted, the memoir that became a best-seller, although the Brown family has steadfastly withheld its endorsement of it. One night Shahian invited me to have dinner with the three of them at her new apartment in a building in Beverly Hills where I lived in the '70s. It was a strange feeling to look across the courtyard into my old apartment. Michael Viner, the president of Dove Audio/Books, was also there, but he left early, saying he was meeting Jack Nicholson at the producer Robert Evans's house, where they were going to run Muriel's Wedding. Viner published Resnick's book, and Shahian works for him at Dove.

It was Shahian's first dinner party in the new apartment, and she had hostess jitters, because she didn't think her new stove was working properly. It worked fine. The lasagna was great. There was a fire in the fireplace, candles on the table, and candles on the mantel. We had a wonderful time.

I told them that I had heard from Art Harris of CNN that there was going to be a show on the next night which would deal with O.J.'s cocaine use, in which several people, including a cousin of Nicole's named Rolf Baur and a chauffeur named Mark Burris, who once drove for O.J., would tell of taking cocaine with Simpson. Drugs, which many people feel played a part in what happened on the fatal Sunday night of June 12, 1994, have been a subject avoided thus far in the trial. For reasons unknown, the prosecution appears reluctant to introduce it into the case. When we got down to some serious talking, Faye Resnick, who was in rehab on the night of the murders, opened up on O.J. and drugs. “I used to do coke with him.…I believe he was high on crystal meth that night. The man used to do everything,” she said. “But he was a periodic. He could stop for a few months, have three days of bingeing, and then go off and drink.”

All three ladies really loved Nicole. She was their friend, and they miss her. They laughed talking about her. They cried talking about her. They said that she always felt that she was unimportant, that she lived in O.J.'s shadow. He was always the star, the center of the universe. “If he walked into a restaurant and was not noticed, he would raise the volume of his voice so people would look at him,” said Resnick. “He didn't like Europe, because he wasn't recognized there. He took Nicole on the Orient Express. He loved the Express, but he hated Europe.”

Sometimes they forgot I was there and just talked among themselves, all speaking at the same time in louder and louder voices, understanding one another in the way that friends do. Nicole, who had seemed elusive to me—a beautiful face with wary eyes in a vast array of photographs—began to emerge as a person.

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