A few days later I saw Johnnie Cochran. “Hey man, why in the hell did you give O.J. my number?” I asked in only half-feigned outrage. I knew that Johnnie was the only way his most famous client got those digits. “Professor, he just wanted to speak to you,” Cochran said as he flashed that million-dollar smile of his. “He had me shook,” I told Johnnie, lapsing into black vernacular. “I know he kill white people, but do he kill black people too? I know you his lawyer, and you can’t say nothing, man, but you know he killed them people.” Cochran just laughed.
