Hurricane Fico -1978

My birthday is September 13 (9-1-3)-the same day that O.J. Simpson committed his “armed robbery” in Las Vegas (9-13-07). 


On the morning of June 12, 1994, I arrived at Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport on a flight from San Diego, Ca. This concluded my twelve-day vacation spent in Southern California and Las Vegas, Nevada.

While in Las Vegas, I watched the filming of a scene from a movie called Bodily Harm. This was at The Riviera. For some reason, one of the scenes being shot reminded me of an OJ Simpson Hertz commercial. This scene had one of the characters running through a corridor to the elevators.

Prior to taking my much-deserved vacation, I had taken a telecourse from a local community college. The subject was in Philosophy – Ethics in America.”

My course work included writing and submitting six papers on various topics concerning the ethical equations imposed on society. Little did I know at the time, that one paper in particular, in which I titled “To Defend Society” would turn out to be of such great significance.

In that paper, I wrote of a hypothetical “high-profile murder case” and entered my philosophical assessment of such a case and its implications on society. I took a critical look at our current legal system and entered my passionate plea for reform, and with it, a safer environment in which we could live and prosper as a society.

On May 29, 1994 I submitted my final three papers and took my final exam. I would have to wait until after my return to Chicago to learn of my final grade.

On the night of my return on Sunday, June 12, 1994 something happened in Southern California that shook the nation, but this time it wasn’t of a seismic nature. What happened that night confounded the masses and sparked an inferno of controversy and speculation throughout the land.

The murders of Nicole Brown Simpson and Ronald Goldman has brought an unprecedented flurry of media attention and provided the citizenry with a panoramic view of perhaps, one of the most important murder cases in a century.

O.J. Simpson, the charismatic “sports legend” charged with the murders of his beautiful ex-wife? “How could that be?” reverberated the astonished voices from every corner of the world. “How could such a man of his stature, of his position in the limelight, a man with seemingly so much, a man who smiled at every camera, at every adoring fan be capable of such a gruesome act?” Oh, not only was an act of murder committed but also an ultimate act of defiance, I must say. Should we be fooled by this defiance?

Look behind the wall, I must say, and the picture exposed is not the same picture so carefully portrayed to the public eye for so many years. Look behind the mask, I must say, and open your eyes to the truth. What is the truth?

“The truth always finds a way to reveal itself,” I must say. “One truth is more powerful than a thousand lies,” I must say with conviction. Look through the fog of a thousand lies and let the one truth be known, I must say.

“Look behind the facade of defiance,” I must say and see the face of arrogance. Look around and see how acts of obsession destroy lives,” I must say. “Do not be fooled by the gleaming mask of deception.”

What we must understand is what we see on the outside does not always reflect what is going on in the inside and that sometimes we are misled by the disguise so carefully portrayed to us.

“A smile could easily conceal a frown,” I must say, “and a frown could harbor so much anger. Misdirected anger could lead to murder.

O.J. Simpson, the sports hero, the spokesman, the actor behind bars, charged with the murders of his ex-wife and her friend! “But how could that be?” many of us ask in total disbelief. “How could a man so cool, so calm, so seemingly warm and cordial be indicted for murdering the mother of his own children?” we may ask.

“What do we see?” I must ask. “Do we see just a man who was made a national hero by his accomplishments on the football field. Isn’t he still hiding behind a mask, running? Are we blinded by his mask and cannot see his true identity? A man of arrogance suffering from low self-esteem? Does the wall of egotism projected on almost every screen across the nation blind us?

An innocent man does not contemplate suicide, I must say. An innocent family man who has two young children who had just lost their mother does not run away, I must say.

An innocent man who believes he’s being framed does not contemplate suicide, I must say. If an innocent man commits suicide then he would not be remembered for his great accomplishments but by his final act of guilt.

            “Let the truth be told,” I must say.

            “You cannot buy truth,” I must also say.

            “Money sometimes distorts the truth,” I will also say.

Ands so, with the promise of money, many twisted tales surfaced, ultimately creating a three-ring circus where clowns, tight rope walkers, and a few well-dressed ring masters entertained a lot of folk but many of us, including me, were not amused at all. I guess, in essence, the paper I wrote for my philosophy course was just a thesis but later proven through the actual events that followed. I, again, was given a real lesson. But then again, all of us were.

Before, during and after the case, I was provided many signs, some would say that they were mere coincidences but after a while, a reasonable man would see that the probability of so many coincidences would be almost mathematically impossible.

A year before the murders - July 9, 1993:

Almost a year now of sobriety, life is good. Temporarily, I am living with Mom and Roger (her long-time boyfriend, although never married –he is like a stepfather to me and Wendy and grandfather to Wendy’s two sons, Jason and Dustin).

I have a small room upstairs, Wendy has one of her own while my nephews, Jason and Dustin share yet another. Downstairs, Roger had erected his makeshift sleeping quarters out of a portion of the dining room — a futon and a television, he is happy. Mother, as custom, prefers the living room couch, never complains of a sleepless night and her loud snores attest to her uninterrupted slumber.

Since sobriety had entered my realm on the night of September 11, 1992 I had picked up on a long-time passion – travel. Now, with my new job I could afford renting a nice car and taking weekend road trips to places near enough my heart. Last weekend I went to Door County, Wisconsin -beautiful, just beautiful. It has been dubbed the “Cape Cod of the Midwest” and it didn’t take me long to testify to this simple truth-picturesque at every turn, breath-taking with every glance.

Later, after dinner I am going to pick up my rent-a-car and leave tomorrow morning for a four-day drift into Michigan – Mackinac Island, the Michigan Dunes, possibly Sault Ste. Marie — to see the locks and the big ships.

Roger, who loves to cook prepares a nice pot roast with carrots, potatoes and a side of asparagus-a hearty meal, indeed. Roger’s a good man and although him and me had a few run-ins in the early going, both of our lives now minus the alcohol had helped to mend our ways. How could we both see eye-to-eye before when both of our views were hampered by the alcohol?

Sitting around the table, us six, a good enough reason to salute the occasion. I raise my glass of soda pop: “Here’s to our health, wealth and well-being. Oh, and to my trip tomorrow to Michigan.”

All of a sudden, Wendy pushes back her chair as if suddenly taken angry for some unknown reason. “What trip to Michigan?” she says, rather harshly.

“Me and Catherine are taking a road trip up to Mackinac Island. Enterprise is going to pick me up later to go get my rent-a-car. I’m thinking this time a Nissan Maxima. I look at Wendy; her face is red.

“Must be nice,” she says, in a sarcastic tone.

“What are you saying, Wendy?” now detecting that it’s jealousy. How many camping trips had she gone on before, I am thinking. She shouldn’t be jealous; she should be happy for her big brother. But she has other ideas. Her mood worsens. She’s bringing up all types of issues now – unrelated. All pointed at me. I could tell Dustin and Jason are becoming upset by their mother’s outburst.  They are silent, heads down.

Roger is shaking his head; Mother has taken up with Wendy’s position and is glaring at me. What have I done wrong?

Wendy keeps throwing barbs at me, I try to convince her to stop it: “There’s no need for this,” I say.

She won’t listen; she’s intent on pushing my buttons. My patience is wearing thin. Suddenly, I erupt out of my chair, and in doing so; you’d think a hurricane had suddenly ripped through the house.

Wendy jumps up, throws back the screen door and runs out to the backyard. Both Dustin and Jason jump up – crying and seemingly afraid-afraid of what, though? I’m not going to hurt anybody. Now Mother starts screaming at me.

“See what you’d done,” she says. “Can’t you see, your sister’s afraid of you?”

“Why, mom?”

She won’t answer, she just stands there, shaking her head at me and looking at me as if I were a murderer or something.

I look out at Wendy and she’s trembling and sobbing uncontrollably. I got to go out and calm her down. I am worried about her; she’s still my baby sister for goodness sake.

I approach the screen door. Mother’s screaming at me still, “Don’t you dare go out there.”

But I must. I am so worried about Wendy. What the hell has happened to her? I go out, Wendy sees me, pushes back, and won’t let me get near her. I get as close as I can and say to her, “Wendy, I need to talk to you.”

“Leave me alone. You’re going to hurt me. Everybody hurts me. My kids’ father had hurt me. Leave me alone, get away from me.” She’s all red, shaking so bad as if standing atop an arctic glacier. Mother’s now at the screen door, screaming at me, now more vociferously.

“Ricky, leave her alone. She is afraid of you.”

I retreat, go back in the house. Both Dustin and Jason are crying. I want so much to console them too but Mother looks at me with that cruel, uncaring look – the same kind of look she used to give me while she was drunk and when I maybe reminded her too much of my father.

I say, “Mom, I am not violent. I wasn’t going to hurt Wendy. I just wanted to talk to her, that’s all.”

Mother stares me down hard. “In your small mind, that is what you want to believe.”

Hurt by her denouncement of me I gather myself and go upstairs. I know I am not the evil one. Maybe someday she’ll believe it. I have a tender heart, always did. Deep down I am the same now as the day she gave birth to me. There’s something different about me now, though. Unlike the past when I’d run and get drunk, this time I am going to simply walk away.

Suddenly, as I’m packing my clothes, a warm sensation overcomes me and radiates electricity through every molecule of my being. I feel so tranquil, at peace now and besides the gentle beat of my heart I hear: “Ricky, you are very much loved. Don’t ever forget it.” You are the Good One, not the Evil One.” Perhaps, the voices of my subconscious, perhaps the voices of angels. Whatever the case, I feel such a calmness about me, don’t remember ever feeling this type of calm before.  I finish packing my suitcase and quietly go down the stairs, then out the door. I will be okay this time.

Please Note:

 1)The date of this episode is July 9, 1993 – nearly one year before O.J. Simpson murders his ex-wife Nicole and her friend, Ronald Goldman. Why does this date have significance? Well, I had found out that July 9 is O.J. Simpson’s birthday. Another fact about this date – July 9 is when Hurricane Fico was born. My surname is Fico, of course. Please see Hurricane Fico.

2) July 9 is the birthdate of the prodigy, Akiane Kramarik 

3) What triggers my sister’s sudden outburst and hostility toward me? My mention of getting a rent-a-car. What was O.J. Simpson also famous for? His Hertz Rent-a-Car commercials. On the night of June 12, 1994 after the murders where did he go? To Chicago to have a meeting with Hertz. Oh, by the way – the hotel he was staying at was right down the street (2 miles) from where I was living–in River Grove.

4) O.J. Simpson has two sons – Justin and Jason. My younger sister’s two sons are named Dustin and Jason.

5) Each weekday, after the murders , while on my way to work I passed a strip mall(located on Grand Ave. at York Rd. Bensenville, IL).  I was drawn to the name of the strip mall –  Brentwood Commons.  Where did OJ Simpson kill Nicole Brown and Ron Goldman? In Brentwood, California where both he and Nicole lived.

5) About a week before the murders, while I was in Las Vegas at the Riviera Hotel and Casino I watched the filming of a scene for the movie “Bodily Harm” It was there where I was reminded of an O.J. Simpson Hertz commercial. Where did O.J. Simpson play golf the afternoon he killed Nicole Brown and Ronald Goldman? At the Riviera Country Club!

 At the time of this incident my younger sister had no idea who O.J. Simpson was as she did not follow sports and she is 5 years younger than I am….

The synchronicities tying me with O.J. Simpson in the early going were some of the signs provided to me by Powers Greater than We as to what role I have in this world.

Ricky J. Fico

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