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OJ's Life Behind Bars
OJ's Life Behind Bars
OJ's Life Behind Bars
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OJ's Life Behind Bars

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In 1994, Heisman Trophy winner and NFL superstar OJ Simpson was arrested for the brutal murder of his ex-wife Nicole Brown-Simpson and her friend Ron Goldman.   

     In 1995, after the "trial of the century," he was acquitted of both murders, though most of the world believes he did it.

     In 2007 OJ was again arrested, but this time in Las Vegas, for armed robbery and kidnapping. On October 3, 2008 he was found guilty sentenced to 33 years and was sent to Lovelock Correctional Facility, in Lovelock, Nevada. There he met inmate-author Vernon Nelson. Vernon was granted a true, insider's perspective into the mind and life of one of the country's most notorious men; one that has never provided…until now.

     This is the story of their friendship, conversations, confessions, loyalty, and betrayal…

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMar 8, 2020
ISBN9781393936992
OJ's Life Behind Bars
Author

Mike Enemigo

Mike Enemigo is America's #1 incarcerated author. He is the founder of The Cell Block, an independent media and publishing company with over 25 books published and many more on the way. Among others, Mike and/or his books have been featured on websites like HuffPo.com, Thizzler.com, Hoodillustrated.com, RapBay.com and SacramentoRap.com, and magazines like Straight Stuntin, State V. Us, Kite, and Prison Legal News.

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    Book preview

    OJ's Life Behind Bars - Mike Enemigo

    O.J.'s Life Behind Bars

    (The Real Story!)

    Published by: THE CELL BLOCK™

    THE CELL BLOCK

    P.O. Box 1025

    Rancho Cordova, CA 95741

    Facebook.com/thecellblock.net

    Copyright© 2019 by Vernon Nelson

    Cover design by Mike Enemigo

    Send comments, reviews, or other business inquiries:

    thecellblock.net@mail.com

    Visit our website: thecellblock.net

    Instagram:@mikeenemigo

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.

    PUBLISHER'S PREFACE AND DISCLAIMER

    Greetings, old and new friends, and readers –

    The Cell Block was started by a prisoner (me) and specializes in publishing books written by prisoners. Elsewhere in this book you'll find information about many of our publications; we have a great history so far, and we're still at it. The books range from exciting crime novels, like Conspiracy Theory and Underworld Zilla, to books that empower prisoners, like The Best Resource Directory for Prisoners and The Art and Power of Letter Writing for Prisoners, to books that can help prisoners, like Get Out, Get Rich: How To Get Paid LEGALLY When You Get Out Of Prison and A Guide to Relapse Prevention for Prisoners.

    This is another book by a prisoner. You will find in it some of the prison politics we live with every day, but also revelations about one of the most famous, most notorious, most interesting, and (now we see) one of the most conflicted prisoners in American history. It's all here, by an eyewitness to Mr. Simpson's way of life in prison, and to the things he did and said. We suspect that many will be interested in having these additional facets to the story.

    This story is all Mr. Vernon's. The Cell Block has participated only to the extent of providing editorial and publishing expertise. We are, of course, not able to verify any of the story beyond what is already published and known – but there is so much more here. We are happy to publish it, as we believe Mr. Nelson is being honest in his reporting. It is certainly consistent with what he has revealed in the past. We feel his reporting is a significant and valuable addition to the body of existing writings about Mr. Simpson.

    That said, we disclaim any negative intent any reader might infer from the text; we mean no disparagement of anyone, not Mr. Simpson, not any of his friends or keepers in prison, not any of his victims – the book is essentially journalistic reporting about some VERY public figures. We disclaim any intent to glorify whatever crimes Mr. Simpson may have committed. We disclaim any responsibility for anyone's reliance on the information in this book, for any purpose.

    This book is, as are all of The Cell Block's books, meant to inform, to entertain and to help our readers. In that spirit, we recommend this book to you, and indeed hope it meets its purpose to inform, entertain, and inspire.

    Questions and comments are always welcome at the address given.

    Meanwhile, ENJOY!

    Mike Enemigo

    thecellblock.net@mail.com

    INTRODUCTION

    It has been said that you can tell the character of a man by the way he treats his friends and the core energy that radiates from him when he is in their presence.

    I, Vernon Nelson, have had the fortune of meeting and befriending one of the most infamous men ever held in captivity, Mr. O.J. Simpson. My time with O.J. was at Lovelock Correctional Center in Nevada in 2015 and 2016; by way of my charms and initiative, I made it into the small circumference he placed around himself.

    Today, I will bring forth and share with the world what I've learned and the man I've come to know. I will not paint him in any particular light – favorable or unfavorable. I will simply paint the picture with words through my lens onto the canvas, and allow you, the reader, to draw your own conclusions. Walk with me and enjoy the panoramic view.

    And now the story begins...

    CHAPTER 1

    There were rumors of his arrival that spread throughout the prison like wildfire, blowing in the breeze and in between the trees, sweeping through its crevices on a warm, sunny day. Things were different this day; incredibly different, I remembered, as I stood on the prison yard, and my eyes swept over my surroundings.

    I studied the prison guards' body language as they came and went in more determined steps. Even the birds seemed to sing differently as they chirped and maneuvered through the pristine-blue sky.

    I would compare my keenness to that of a lion camouflaged beneath the obscurity of the weeds, watching its prey. You see, when you've been in prison for many, many moons, as I have, animals and humans become alike in the sense that much can be learned through listening and observation. Watching and waiting, the very intuitively sensitive people, like myself, begin to listen with all their senses.

    He's here, I muttered softly, breaking the silence as I ran my fingers through my beard.

    Who? ...who's here? asked an acquaintance standing next to me.

    O.J., I answered.

    And how do you calculate that you know that, Vernon?

    It's off – everything is off, I responded, as I looked over the entire scene and saw some of the prison guards blatantly abandon their posts, going toward the infirmary.

    By coincidence, I was being escorted in that very same direction, to the infirmary, toward where the prison guards were flocking. I was in preparation for my transfer to a different facility a few days later. I can remember it as if it were yesterday; I was escorted there in handcuffs, with shackles on my ankles. I can still remember the sounds of the chains clanking against the pavement, with each step I took.

    When we reached the infirmary door, it was pushed open slowly, by the guard inside the infirmary, who let us in. When I entered, stepping inside, my eyes scanned the room, searching for threats from any inmates nearby. It was then that the dimension for time changed, when I saw O.J. Simpson for the first time in prison. He was sitting behind a three-inch thick bulletproof glass window getting his hair cut.

    O.J. didn't see me then, but I saw him with his head bent down while the inmate barber, another black inmate, maneuvered the clippers through the planes of O.J.'s very large head. Damn! That dude has a big-ass head, was my first thought when I saw him. My second thought was my realizing how dead-on my intuition had been about him being kept in the infirmary.

    When my eyes studied him a little more, I saw the embarrassment on his face – which he tried to conceal through a restrained smile, and I knew that expression. It was the same expression that I'd had eight years earlier when I was incarcerated for the first time. It was the expression of a man who is accustomed to the finer things in life who has been reduced to nothingness; I, too, had traveled all around the world, cavorting with some of the most beautiful women and had had my way in the land of milk and honey. But prison life is tortuous on the psyche of any man who is used to glittering in the sunlight and eating the finest juices and berries (in a symbolic sense). And so in that moment I sympathized with O.J.'s plight. My mind flashed quickly back in time, replaying the accounts of his 1994 murder trial, and remembering the racial divide it had aroused in the country.

    I watched O.J. for as long as I could, until the guard pulled on me, directing me down a different hallway where I was placed in a holding cell awaiting my medical appointment. I later learned that O.J. was being held in the infirmary as part of a slow-and-smooth way of introducing him into the general population. But I didn't see him again then; I was transferred to Ely State Prison, in Ely, Nevada.

    CHAPTER 2

    Six years later, in 2015, I was told that I would be transferred back to Lovelock Correctional Center, and my eyes lit up with excitement. The day for me to transfer came swiftly, and before I knew it I had endured the eight-hour-long bus ride, navigating through the mountains and passing scenic river views that I had not seen for many moons.

    Anticipation, or relief, maybe, amplified the sounds of braking, of steering, of each creak and clank, as the big white bus made the last few turns to our destination at Lovelock Correctional center. Perhaps to wake us, the driver revved the engine as we stopped, and the air vibrated with the noisy exhaust, like an announcement that a new chapter in my life was about to begin. The engine shut off, and all went dead silent on the bus. I remember thinking as I sat there waiting my turn, it’s funny how even in silence people's thoughts and fears could be heard. My name was called; I answered back, Vernon Nelson, Number 80689, as I stood up and moved to leave the bus. I passed through the narrow doorway, and when my feet touched down on the pavement it was as if someone had pressed play as I'd stepped onstage in front of a crowd of thousands! After all, I was a bit of a celebrity in my own right. My name was well known in the prison system for being a rapper, a poet, and an author – I'd written several books, and that came with its admiration and prestige!

    Hello, Mr. Nelson, how are you doing today? one of the prison guards greeted as I walked into the intake building, and they began to take off my handcuffs.

    Good, I replied.

    That's real good. It's good to see you, Mr. Nelson, I knew you were coming way before you got here.

    I smiled gently and nodded in agreement, to be polite. Next thing I knew, that same prison guard reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a copy of my book Beyond Beauty. Would you sign this for me, Mr. Nelson?

    Sure, I said, nodding as I grabbed the book and pen and wrote a meaningful message inside for him.

    Thank you, he said.

    No – thank you! I gave back. It's always a treat to be acknowledged, especially in such circumstances as prison, I added.

    A few sunsets later, as I was sitting on my bunk in my cell and flipping through the channels on my television, I saw something out of the corner of my eye; it was someone peeking in through my cell door, gazing back at me. I thought, It’s just someone curious about me, but then without warning my cell door opened slowly. It was my new cellmate moving into the cell.

    It is moments like these that make your heart kick up a notch in your chest, when you realize a complete stranger is moving into your cell. Your senses instantly become more awakened. It could be a murderer

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