I had been involved in a lengthy court trial in which I had been the attorney for myself and several members of my family. As we reached the courtroom to begin another day's proceedings, I learned that the jury had unexpectedly returned with a verdict and that we had lost. I was more relieved the case was over than disappointed by the loss. The opposing party and attorneys came over to shake the hands of my family and myself, and we were all quite cordial with each other, without any sign of bitterness. In fact, one of the opposing attorneys was a woman whom I had grown to admire, and whom I would like to see more.

As we were all socializing, word came in that the O.J. Simpson trial had also finished: Simpson had been found guilty, although it was unclear whether he had finally pled guilty or whether a jury had found him guilty. I thought to myself that now that both my case and the Simpson case were finished, a big vacuum would be left in my days which I would have to fill.

Simpson was then led into the courtroom where we were. It appeared he was going to be transported somewhere in a van in which my family and I would also be riding. However, confusion ensued, and it began to appear no one was actually looking after Simpson. I noticed an angry crowd gathering right outside a glass door leading to the courtroom. It appeared the people were angry at Simpson and wanted to try to get their hands on him. One fellow finally stepped through the door inside the courtroom and looked at Simpson maliciously. Since no one else seemed in charge, I stepped up and forced the man back outside.

Only then did I realize that Simpson was looking around him as if searching for a way to escape. When I saw him start to make a dash, I tackled him and threw him to the ground. But I quickly realized this was a very strong, muscular man – definitely much stronger than I. I called out for help, but no one came. It was clear to me that if I didn't have help, he would quickly get the best of me. I could only think of one alternative. As he was lying on the ground on his back, with a quick thrust I moved my right hand between his legs (outside his pants) and grabbed both his testicles. I held the two pulpy masses firmly, exerting just enough pressure to show him that I had control, but still not squeezing hard enough to hurt him. However it was evident that I could cause severe pain if necessary. Simpson cringed and froze. He realized he couldn't break my hold, and lay there without further struggle.

Some other people finally showed up and took control of the situation. I stood up and brushed my hand off on my pants. I had never actually grabbed another man by the testicles like that and found it distasteful to have touched someone that way. I hoped no one would have the wrong idea about my actions. However, although I would have rather not had to do it, I realized it had indeed been an effective tactic, and had been proper given the circumstances.