Michael Stands Naked
On 10 December 1993, Michael Jackson returned to the United States after having been discharged from Charter clinic. Of course, he didn’t simply hop on a commercial airline to cross the ocean. Rather, he flew back to the States in a private 727 owned by the Sultan of Brunei, said to be the wealthiest man in the world and an admirer of Michael’s.
When Michael disembarked in Santa Barbara, he looked healthier than he had in recent months while wearing a red hat and matching silk shirt, black slacks and… surgical mask. He also had two youngsters with him, Eddie and Frank Cascio, from New Jersey, who had been travelling with him on his tour. Eddie was about ten; Frank fourteen.
Michael had befriended the Cascios about ten years earlier; their father, Dominic was the manager of New York’s Helmsley Palace Hotel. Michael asked to meet the boys after seeing a picture of them on the wall of Dominic’s office; they were just babies at the time.
Dominic accompanied his children on their 1993 travels with Michael; Michael was not alone with them. However, such chaperoning was not the impression given the media since Dominic was nowhere in sight when Michael made well-publicized appearances with the boys. They had even gone to Elizabeth Taylor’s Swiss chalet in Gstaad (in September) and been photographed all over the small village, looking for toy stores, all three wearing large sunglasses, Michael in a big hat with surgical mask.
Eddie and Frank are in their twenties today, and are still good friends of Michael’s. In court papers connected to one of the many suits filed against Michael in recent years, one by a business manager, Myung Ho Lee, states that Michael once loaned Dominic Cascio $600,000 to start a restaurant in New Jersey. However, the restaurant was never opened. Today, Frank Cascio goes by the name Frank Tyson, and is one of Michael’s most trusted assistants.
Some in his camp had serious reservations about Michael continuing to be seen in the company of children at such a critical time in his life. Was he still so out of touch he didn’t realize how inappropriate, not to mention dangerous, such behaviour was? Or, as one adviser put it, ‘I guess the therapy thing didn’t take, did it?’
Michael could not be swayed from continuing his friendships with children publicly. In fact, after being in therapy at Charter, Michael was more emboldened to live his life on his own terms, rather than consider any restrictions.
‘Look, I almost died,’ he told one associate. ‘Do you know how closeI was? Now that I am past it, no way am I not going to do what I want to do, when I want to do it and how. It’s plain and simple,’ Michael concluded, ‘and anyone who doesn’t like it can just go to hell.’
Michael Jackson has been hailed as a genius of a businessman. No matter how eccentric he seemed, it was said, he was actually a shrewd marketing genius – and the joke was on us. Maybe on some level that was true. However, one can’t help but wonder if such a ‘genius’ would not know when to just… stop. Many of Michael’s actions, especially in the last ten years, have caused observers to question if the perception of ingenuity in the 1980s was actually just good timing, and his willingness to take full advantage of it. Is it possible that Michael just made a couple of amazing albums, and then inherited the world because of his showmanship and ability to surround himself with
others
who were true marketing geniuses, like John Branca?
Others have argued that Michael’s insistence that he be seen in the company of young boys demonstrates a consciousness of innocence on his part. If he had been guilty of the crime for which he had been accused, would he continue to flaunt his relationships with youngsters?
The bottom line is that Michael has done whatever he has wanted to do for most of his life, living in a world of privilege and entitlement simply because he is who he is. He has never understood the notion of ‘appropriate behaviour’ because, in truth, he’s never had any reason to live appropriately. It’s a strange commentary on celebrity and fame that the public’s perception of Michael as being bizarre has had its advantages. After all, how can he be judged by normal, common-sense standards when he’s ‘Wacko-Jacko’?
However, in December of 1993 Michael was about to experience, if just for one day, what it might be like in the real world, where people often have to do things they may not necessarily want to do.
Upon Michael’s return to the United States, he was immediately served with a warrant for the long-threatened strip search by the police. According to the order, officers expected to examine, photograph and videotape Michael’s entire body, ‘including his penis, anus, hips, buttocks and any other part of his body. Michael Jackson should be notified,’ according to the order, ‘that he has no right to refuse the examination and photographs. Any refusal to cooperate with this order will be admissible in a court and an indication of his guilt.’ Also, it was explained to his attorneys that if he didn’t cooperate, the police would probably just arrest him on ‘probable cause’ and take him away in handcuffs, in front of photographers. This scenario was more than anyone in his camp could even fathom.
Apparently, Jordie had claimed that Michael had distinguishing marks on his genitals. He even drew a diagram of Michael’s penis on a napkin for police, and wrote on it: ‘Michael is circumcised. He has short pubic hair. His testicles are marked with pink and brown marks. Like a cow, not white but pink colour. He has brown patches on ass, on his left glut.’
The police were now determined to learn if Jordie’s description was accurate. If so, then he obviously had seen Michael Jackson unclothed.
The photo session, set for 20 December, promised to be as torturous an experience as Michael ever had in his life. Present from Santa Barbara would be its District Attorney, Thomas Sneddon, as well as a detective, photographer and a doctor. From Los Angeles, were Michael’s attorneys, Johnnie Cochran and Howard Weitzman, and Dr David Forecast, one of Michael’s physicians from the United Kingdom, as well as another detective and another photographer (employed by Michael), all of whom had arrived by helicopter.
After everyone arrived at Neverland, it took Johnnie Cochran and Howard Weitzman an hour to get Michael to leave his bedroom and go into the parlour, where the photos were to be taken. Finally, Michael came into the room, wearing a brown robe. It was agreed that his attorneys and Sneddon would leave the room and not be present for the photos. Bodyguard Bill Bray was allowed to remain, as would the two detectives and two photographers and two doctors.
As everyone was getting settled, Michael took a look at one of the detectives and, for no reason anyone could think of (except that he may have mistaken him for someone he knew), began shouting at him. ‘You! Get out! I don’t want you here for this. Get out!’ Michael then tried to storm from the room. However, one of the doctors grabbed him. ‘Hold on, Michael,’ he said, ‘hold on.’ Johnnie and Howard, upon hearing the ruckus, came back into the room. ‘Get these sons of bitches out of here,’ Michael screamed at them, now referring to everyone in the room. He was agitated beyond all measure and actually seemed high, though everyone present hoped that was not the case.
The District Attorney’s photographer, Gary Spiegel, began taking photographs of Michael while he was still seated on the couch. Michael blocked his face with his hands, as if thwarting a paparazzo.
Finally, an anguished Michael was told to stand on a platform in the middle of the room as if about to have his pants hemmed by a tailor. He was still wearing a bathrobe. ‘Please don’t make me do this,’ he said, his doe-like eyes watery. ‘This is terrible. Don’t make me.’
‘Sir, we have no choice,’ said one of the detectives.
Then, while standing on that platform and staring at a picture of Elizabeth Taylor on the wall, Michael took off the bathrobe. Under it, he wore a bathing suit.
‘You’ll have to take it off, sir,’ said the detective.
Still staring at the photograph of Elizabeth, Michael slipped the bathing suit off… under which he had on boxers.
‘Sir, please.’
Crying softly now, Michael slipped off the boxers and stood, naked, stripped not only of his clothing but of the one illusion he’d always had: that of his invincibility. All eyes went right to his penis, which did not appear to be circumcised.
‘Is the subject uncircumcised?’ asked the doctor. Everyone stepped in for a closer look.
‘Yes, he is…’
‘No, he’s not…’
‘Yes.’
‘No’
‘Oh my God,’ Michael whimpered. He looked dizzy, as if about to faint.
‘You don’t know?’ asked one of the detectives of Michael’s physician.
Michael’s medic became indignant. ‘Sir, I have never seen his penis before now.’
‘Well, the subject is clearly
not
circumcised,’ decided the other doctor, finally. He made a note of his finding.
As everyone circled him slowly, they began making other feverish notations about Michael’s body.
Yes, he did have patchy-coloured skin on his buttocks, as Jordie described.
Yes, he had short pubic hair.
Yes, his testicles were marked, pink and brown.
However, no matter how many different ways they looked at it, all seemed to agree that his penis was uncircumcised. But, did that matter? In fact, an uncircumcised penis can look circumcised when aroused. If Michael had been sexually excited when seen by Jordie, would anyone, let alone a thirteen-year-old know if he was circumcised or not? But there was now doubt about the identity of the person in question.
‘I then took several photographs of Jackson’s penis,’ said Gary Spiegel. ‘First the right side, then the left. When I was photographing the left side, the D.A.’s doctor told Michael Jackson to lift up his penis. He didn’t want to, so there was a lot of discussion about that. Finally he did it. Then, he angrily jumped off the platform. ‘That’s it,’ Jackson said. ‘That’s enough.’ He put on his robe and ran out of the room.’
The detectives looked at each other, one of them moved towards the room in which Michael’s attorneys had been waiting. Then, as the detective headed back into the living room, Michael’s lawyers stomped down the hall to get their client back before the waiting cameras. The cops were uncomfortable as they listened to what most would have guessed to be a rebellious teenager arguing loudly with strict, disappointed parents. Then, after fifteen minutes of cries, shrieks and pleas – silence. A moment later, the sound of one loud plaintive wail resonated through the house. Michael Jackson had been broken. He pounded his bare feet hard against the wood floor, moving towards the room he had worked so hard to make perfect for waiting guests.
‘When this whole thing is done, I want pictures of
you
,’ Michael said, pointing angrily at one of the photographers, ‘and you, too,’ he said, jabbing his finger at the other one.
Again, Michael stood naked. More pictures. Then, videotape.
‘Please,’ Michael said, his tone now pleading. ‘Can we stop now?’
One of the doctors pulled out a ruler.
‘That’s it,’ said Michael’s physician. ‘Mike, get dressed. This is a joke. I can’t believe it myself.’
Michael quickly put on his robe. ‘Don’t you ever, ever,
ever
let that happen again,’ he said, unleashing his anger on poor Bill Bray, who just sat in the corner the whole time looking mortified.
‘But I didn’t do nothin’, Mike,’ Bill said. ‘Why you hollerin’ at me?’
Ignoring Bill’s question, Michael stepped off the platform and ran from the living room. ‘How could this happen to me?’ he screamed on his way out. He was shaking. Observers said it looked as if he was about to have a melt-down. ‘
How could this happen to me?
‘ he kept repeating.