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Submission Synopsis

Why I Did What I Did Not Do by O. J. Simpson
A Parody


by Jeremy Kinnard

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Length: 52,000

Genre: Humor, Mainstream/Contemporary, Illustrated, Gift

Sentence: A desperate O.J. Simpson tries to reclaim his adoring public, and he will stop at nothing to show the world he is a True American—a non-ex-wife killer in this parody of “If I Did It.”

Blurb: When O.J. Simpson unwillingly retires to a reclusive life after the infamous homicide scandal, he sets out to win back his legacy and his fans. In a parody of “If I Did It,” he showcases his charisma and tries to resurrect his innocent role model persona while searching for the real killer. But can he redeem himself while continuing to arrogantly contradict himself…and will anyone still believe him?

Synopsis: “O.J. SIMPSON,” fictional caricature who narrates the book, was charged with two counts of murder and acquitted, and he misses the high life. Years have passed since he has been able to live like a star. His movie and endorsement deals are gone. Passersby shun and mock him rather than compliment him. He owes a large sum of money to the family of one of the murder victims. He wants people to believe his plea of innocence. So he writes this book hoping to win the public on his side.

The (real) O.J. Simpson murder case was one of the most closely followed trials in U.S. history. The verdict stunned the public, spawning outrage from everyday people and the media. Simpson’s ongoing battle to avoid paying damages to the victims’ families and the continuing reports of his supposed confession keep him in the public eye.

This book is not merely a parody of “If I Did It,” but a parody of Simpson’s life during and since the 1994-1995 trial, from his attitude toward his seeming confessions to his response after the public outcry following his controversial promotion of his own book.

“O.J. Simpson” jumps aggressively from topic to topic—he argues how he can’t be guilty; he blasts Nicole Brown Simpson and denounces her as a person; and he boasts about his NFL status in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. In a hypothetical narrative, he mocks how he would have killed Nicole Brown Simpson if he actually had done it. He includes transcripts of calls he made to Pizza Hut, to a phone sex hotline, to the parents of Ronald Goldman, and to Leslie Nielson where he attempts to persuade them that he is innocent. Pages are gathered from online message boards where he argues how he is innocent but is laughed at and ridiculed.

“O.J. Simpson” discusses his distinction as a father figure and role model for people like him: “people who didn’t kill their ex-wives.” He gathers testimonials from children through interviews. He shares a poem he wrote that unintentionally showcases his violent tendencies.

The murder trial and everyone involved is criticized, and “O.J. Simpson” declares the trial “the biggest waste of time in court history.” He dismisses all the evidence placed against him during his trial. For example, why did he flee from the police in a friend’s Ford Bronco? In the book, he responds, “I am afraid of white policemen.” A tribute to his lawyer Johnnie Cochran follows.

“O.J. Simpson” discusses racism as the reason people believe he is guilty. He explains “The Juice Campaign”—where he plans to travel the world and spread his message on the virtues of innocence.

Throughout the book, “O.J. Simpson” denies he is guilty and avidly discusses finding the real killer. He establishes his plans to find the real killer, who framed him. Throughout the book, he makes conflicting statements that scream he is guilty. Even the title implies he did it, which mocks the confessional “If I Did It.”

Finally, “O.J. Simpson” apologizes for doing “what I did not do.” He says he doesn’t care whether or not the reader believes his plea. The fictional “O.J. Simpson” who “wrote” this book only cares about selling books.



Forward by Michael Jackson


Though I never knew O.J. Simpson personally, I have always found it cruel and bird-brained that he was charged with such a terrible, terrible crime.  I think many celebrities are targeted as bad guys because they have so much to lose.  Everybody wants a piece of us, and they think they can reach up high and take our special lives away from us.  Just like a giraffe reaching up and taking a coconut from a palm tree.  It’s just bird-brained.

I may have never been a real fan of O.J. Simpson growing up.  I guess I wasn’t into football and all that.  Too much hitting and big grown men going after each other.  Hoo!  I’ve seen some little-league football games, and those aren’t so bad.  Little kids are innocent, and I think O.J. Simpson is innocent too.

People accused him of murder, and that just makes me mad.  Ooo-hoo!  They go after a successful, friendly person and they try to take it all away from him.  I’m happy for O.J. Simpson because they found him innocent.  But I think it scars him for a long time.  People aren’t born murderers.  Just like people aren’t born pedophiles.  People just want our money.  It’s greed.  It’s doo doo.

People ask me if I hurt little boys.  They’re bird-brained.  The whole thing is bird-brained.  I love kids.  I love their innocence.  And I want to keep them innocent.  Kids have a simple goodness that shines straight from their hearts and only asks to be lived.  We all want to live it.  That’s how we were born.  Innocent.  And innocence needs to be shared.

loving thing to do is to share your bed with someone.  It’s very charming.  It’s very sweet.  It’s what the whole world should do.  Slumber parties are the definition of innocence.  Kids want to sleep with other people.  To hold them and breathe on them.  To sing to them and touch them.  But not touch them like that.  Not with lubricant.  That’s bird-brained.  I love kids.  But I would never hurt one.  Their soft, smooth, innocence deserves a chance to experience childhood.

Kids are innocent.  I’m innocent.  O.J. Simpson is innocent.  We’re all kids on the inside.  Kids that want to burst out and be bad.  To not stop until we get enough.  Hee heee!  We’re smooth, but we’re not criminals.


I didn’t do it.  I didn’t do what I did.  People say I did it.  But that’s nothing new.  Everyone always says the black guy did it.  That’s right.  Blame the black guy.  Blame John Allen Muhammad for the D.C. sniper attacks.  Blame Suge Knight for the fall of Death Row Records.  They say it was me who did what I did.  But it wasn’t.  It wasn’t me.  I didn’t do it.  Who did it?  Some other black guy did it.  I don’t know who.  I have ideas.  I’m going to find out who did it.  But it wasn’t me.  I didn’t do what I did.

How could it be me who did what I did?  How could I ever do something so heinous?  So inhumane?  Me, of all people.  The Juice.  The Legend.  Six-time Pro Bowl player.  Three-time NFL Player of the Year.  1985 Professional Football Hall of Famer.  Winner of the 1995 Razzie Award for Supporting Actor.  Proud father of five.  (Believe me, I’m proud to be their father.)  Proud ex-husband of two.  (Believe me, I’m proud to be done with those two.)  Proud client of his greatness Johnnie Cochran.

For those of you who don’t know, in June of 1994 I was charged with first-degree murder by the state of California.  I had been falsely accused of hacking Nicole B. Simpson¹ to bits along with her lover, Ronald McAsshole Goldman².  I know.  You can’t believe it either.  The state of California tried me, O.J., the Juice, the Juicemeister, for murder in the first degree.  Absolute ludicrousness.

But don’t fret just yet.  For those of you who don’t know, I was found not guilty by the grand jury under Judge Lance Ito.  Sure, you can say the system works.  But does it?  Was the real killer tried?  Was I found not liable in a civil trial?  Did my life ever go back to the way it had been?  You see, people.  They blamed the wrong black guy.  I didn’t do it.  I didn’t kill these people.  I’m not saying we’re worse off without them.  But it wasn’t me.  If I had killed these people, I wouldn’t have done it.

And because of all this, my life has been forever tarnished.  Not just tarnished like a silver teakettle.  I’m talking tarnished like a rusty teakettle.  I mean a really rusted teakettle.  One an English bum wouldn’t use.  That’s how bad it’s gotten for me.  I can’t leave the house anymore without people looking at me like I’m a killer.  I can’t walk in public anymore without people calling me names.  Not good names like The Juice and Juicesterino.  But bad names like “murderer” and “wife-killer” and “woman hater” and “you give a bad name to Blacks everywhere.”  I can’t even make people give me back what’s mine without everyone thinking I robbed them.  This hurts me.  Both as a person and as a legend.  You see, the system indeed does not work.


1.  Middle name abbreviated to maintain anonymity.
2.  Middle name altered because he’s a prick.

But I’m not just going to stand around playing golf and navigating my yacht while the public buys all this baloney fabricated by the white media.  I’m going to do something about it.  I’m going to find the real killer.  And I’m going to spread awareness of innocence—how just because you did something you didn’t do, that doesn’t automatically mean you did it.  The public needs to be told the truth.  They need to know how innocent lives are changed forever from doing something you didn’t do.

I did something I didn’t do.  I killed my ex-wife.  And with this book, I’m going to prove to you that I didn’t kill her.

Bio: Jeremy Kinnard is the author of several dozen published and unpublished works including a novel, short stories, and original screenplays. He passionately enjoys writing and yearns to create original and marketable ideas. A native of Atlanta, Georgia, he received a Bachelor of Arts in Film Studies and Creative Writing at Emory University.

Endorsements: O. J. Simpson. Hey, he needs the dough!

Film: Great comedic film potential.

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