Remember the Time: Protecting Michael Jackson in His Final Days (8 page)

For the debut single on his 1995
HIStory
album, “Scream,” Michael performed a duet with his younger sister Janet, by then a major superstar in her own right. In September 2001, he rejoined his brothers for a brief reunion during two concerts at New York’s Madison Square Garden. Beyond that, in the public eye at least, Michael had very little to do with his famous brothers and sisters. That changed in 2005. When the case against Michael went to trial, his family sat behind him in the courtroom, loudly and publicly supporting him throughout the entire ordeal. Randy Jackson, especially, stepped back into Michael’s life in a big way, serving as Michael’s manager and helping assemble the legal team, led by attorney Tom Mesereau, that would ultimately win Michael’s acquittal.

But after the trial, that re-forged familial bond seemed to break as quickly as it had taken hold. Michael learned that Jermaine had used the trial to try to sell a Jackson family book. Michael and Randy had a massive falling out over business deals Randy had entered into on his brother’s behalf during the trial. By the time Michael arrived in Las Vegas in December 2006, he had severed ties with everyone in his family, save his mother. Hearing that their famous brother was back in the country, however, the Jacksons undertook a series of attempts to see him. For the men charged with guarding the gate at 2785 South Monte Cristo Way, keeping the family out became the most difficult, and most confusing, part of the job.

Bill:
We had fans that did drive-bys all the time. They’d come, circle the block, stop, look around, drive off. On this one particular day, would have been in early February, we saw a burgundy PT Cruiser
going back and forth in front of the house. It had tinted windows, so we couldn’t see who it was. This car circled the block maybe four times and drove off. That raised a red flag. The next day, the same PT Cruiser came and pulled right up to the gate. Javon stayed in the trailer to watch the monitors. I went down to the gate to see what was what.

I got down there, and Mr. Jackson’s father, Joe Jackson, was getting out of the car. That was the first time I’d ever seen the guy in person; I’d only just seen him on TV before. He’s a mean-lookin’ dude. Got a unibrow. Looks like Blacula and shit. Whole time I was standing there thinking, Damn, this is
Joe Jackson
. This is the guy used to beat on all them Jackson 5 kids. That’s what was going through my mind, looking at him. I stuck my hand through the gate to shake his and said, “How you doing, Mr. Jackson?”

He wouldn’t shake my hand. He just eyed me with this nasty look and said, “You’re probably one of those putting needles in my son’s arm.” I didn’t respond. He said, “I’m here to see Michael.”

I said, “Okay,” left him there, and went back to the house to get Mr. Jackson. He was in his room, listening to music very loud. I knocked on the door and he came out, and I said, “Sir, your father’s outside.”

He said, “Does he have an appointment? Is he on the calendar?”

“I don’t believe so, sir.”

“No, no, no. I’m working. I cannot be disturbed when I’m being creative. Tell him he has to come back and make an appointment.”

When that appointment talk came out of his mouth? That messed me up. I walked back out to the gate, thinking, Damn, I’ve got to go tell this man that he needs an appointment? To see his son? Uh-uh. I wasn’t doing that. I was gonna have to ad lib this one.

I went down to the gate and told him that Mr. Jackson was busy, but if he came back tomorrow, I’d make sure to let his son know he wanted to visit. Then I held out my business card for him. He wouldn’t take it. He just went off on me. “I don’t need your
damn number! If it wasn’t for me, none of you bastards would have a job! I’m the one started this shit!”

Once he started rapping all that? Our conversation was over. I walked off. He just stood there on the sidewalk, yelling at nobody in particular. I didn’t want to be part of that episode, so I just turned around and went back to the trailer. Eventually he got in his little car and left.

At that point, I started to wonder what kind of situation we’d walked into. I hadn’t signed up for this part, getting involved with family.

Javon:
A few days after Joe came by, we’d made plans to take the boss and the kids to the movies. The backup team was watching the house, and me and Bill were on our way to the theater a few miles out, to do the pre-detail. Suddenly we got a call over the radio. “They’ve breached the gate! They’ve breached the gate!”

Bill grabbed the radio. “Who? Who breached the gate?”

“His family. They’re here.”

The second we heard that we broke every traffic law on the books getting back. We were driving down the wrong side of the street, going over center lanes and barriers. We
flew
back to the house.

Bill:
We pulled up, and I saw a black Hummer inside the gate. I was heated. I was pissed. I was yelling in the car, “How did they get past the gate?!”

The gate to the driveway closed real slow. You always had to watch it closely, because if you opened it for one car, there was usually time for another to come in behind it. We found out later that’s what had happened. The chef had come in to make a delivery, and Mr. Jackson’s family had been sitting in the street, idling in their car, and waiting for the chance to slip in.

I got out of the truck and saw it was three of his siblings: Randy, Rebbie, and Jackie. They were standing in the circular drive
in front of the house. They walked down the driveway to me. I was expecting a confrontation, like with Joe, but they were very cordial, very calm. They introduced themselves. Jackie shook my hand and said, “Hey, how you doin’? Are you Bill?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, yeah. We heard about you.”

Then Randy jumped in. “Are you Fruit?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

“You from the Fruit of Islam?”

I said, “No, I’m not.”

Randy said, “Oh, okay. Well, we need to talk to our brother.”

I said, “I’m sorry, but you need to make an appointment.”

Jackie and Rebbie kept their cool, but Randy started copping a little attitude, saying, “No, we need to talk to him
now
.”

I quietly stood my ground and laid it out for them. “Mr. Jackson will only see you if you come back and make an appointment.”

And that was all we said. After that, I escorted them off the property.

The whole situation was very uneasy. As I walked back in the house, I looked up and could see Mr. Jackson watching all this from behind the curtains of his bedroom window. I went inside and found him. He seemed very agitated. I said, “Sir, is everything okay?”

He said, “How did they just walk right up to my front door?”

I said, “I’m sorry, sir. I’m going to check with the team and find out what happened.”

He said, “Bill, that can never happen again.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Never. Do you understand that?”

“I understand.”

Javon:
We could tell the family was upset with us. They thought we were the ones cutting them off. A lot of people accused Mr. Jackson’s security of trying to limit access to him as a way of controlling him.
But we weren’t any part of that. We didn’t care one way or another if the family talked to him. It was Mr. Jackson’s orders 100 percent.

I don’t know what the deal with his family was before we showed up, but on our watch it was obvious that their relationship was null and void. We didn’t understand it. You’d think they were the enemy. I was like, What’s going on? Why does he not want to see his own family?

Bill:
Mr. Jackson and Elizabeth Taylor were old friends, and she was having a seventy-fifth birthday party at a resort out at Lake Las Vegas, this big, red-carpet affair. Her people had heard that Mr. Jackson was living here now, and they reached out to his manager to ask if he would attend. They wanted it to be a surprise for Ms. Taylor; she wouldn’t know anything about it until he showed up. Of course Mr. Jackson wanted to go. So about two weeks out from the event, word came down to us, and things started to gear up.

Javon:
First thing Mr. Jackson did was call Roberto Cavalli, the designer, to create a custom outfit for him for the party. Cavalli took an emergency flight out here. We picked him up from the MGM Grand, brought him to the house, and he and Mr. Jackson started designing this whole new thing for him just for the party.

Mr. Jackson was obsessing over every detail. He flew his hairstylist and his makeup artist in too. Once we saw that? We knew he was really taking this seriously. We’d been working for him for over a month, and this was the first detail where he said, “Make sure you have on new suits.” Not just suits,
new
suits. “Clean the cars. Wax the cars. Make sure your shoes are shined like mirrors.” He never did that kind of thing before. Typically, he’d just tell us where he wanted to go, and we’d handle it. This was the first time we’d be stepping out in public, where we knew that the paparazzi and the press were going to be there. So every day, Mr. Jackson was like, “You guys have to look great. I want everybody to look great.”

Bill:
We hit the mall a few times, slipping in and out in disguises. Went to Tiffany’s, to Hallmark. He picked out some gifts, a birthday card. We’d hear him talking in the car, talking to Feldman about how amped he was. We were getting excited just being around him. It was the first time we’d really seen him like this.

Day of the party, he was in good spirits all day long. It was infectious. It spread to everybody in the house. “Hey, Mr. Jackson’s in a good mood!” Everybody was pumped. The whole atmosphere of the place changed. The security team, we were checking each other out, making sure we were all set. Suits pressed. Shoes shined. Even our weapons were polished. Shit, we looked
good
.

Javon:
We were getting ready to walk out on the red carpet with Michael Jackson. It was surreal to us. We’re security, but we’re fans too. How could you not be? We were escorting the King of Pop to Elizabeth Taylor’s birthday party. This was top of the line. A-list.

Bill:
We were ready to roll out, the cars were in the driveway, all set to go, and Mr. Jackson was taking forever to get ready. While we waited, I left to go and gas up one of the vehicles. I came back and they opened the gate for me and I pulled in on the right-hand side of the circular driveway. The gate was closing behind me. I was getting out of the car and the gate was just a couple feet from closing when all of a sudden—
BAM!
—there was this loud crash. I turned around to see this gray Mercedes SUV come smashing full speed into the gate. It started to wobble back open, like a garage door does when it can’t close. The Mercedes punched forward, scraping through the opening, and then it raced up the left side of the driveway. I was thinking this was some deranged person about to crash his car into the house. I pulled out my weapon and ran toward the car.

Javon:
I was in the garage, waiting to lock up behind Mr. Jackson, who was on his way down. I heard the crash and looked up and saw Bill pull
out his joint. The boss was coming through the garage door at that same moment. I screamed, “Mr. Jackson! No!” And I grabbed him and pushed him back into the house and locked him inside. He was all freaked out, going, “What’s happening? Is everything okay?”

Bill:
Everything felt like it was moving at super speed and in slow motion at the same time. The Mercedes came screeching to a halt right in front of the main door. I came between it and the house, drew my pistol and took aim at the driver. I had the laser sight right on his chest and the only thing running through my mind was, Whoever this is, they’re about to get shot. The driver ducked down and out the corner of my eye I saw this woman in the passenger seat. That threw me. I wasn’t expecting to see a woman. Then the driver lifted his head up and I saw who it was and I froze.
Holy shit
, I thought.
That’s his brother. That’s Randy Jackson
.

I eased back a bit. Now I was confused. What was the deal with this family? Here I was, about to shoot his own brother and I was only a split second away from pulling the trigger. All I could think about was the madness that would have broken loose if I’d taken that shot. I could see the headlines: Michael Jackson’s Brother Shot by King of Pop’s Bodyguards.

Javon:
I still couldn’t see who it was, just that Bill had the guy pinned down. I ran out the garage to back him up. I was coming down the driveway when Bill put his hand up for me to stop. I was ready to open up a can of whoop-ass, no question, but he waved me off like, “I got this, I got this.”

Bill:
Randy cracked his window open and yelled, “Get that gun out my face before I call the press.”

The press? That was the last thing the boss needed. I went up to the window and said, “Mr. Jackson, you can’t be doin’ this.”

“I’m here to see my brother,” he said.

“Not like this, you’re not. I’d appreciate it if you’d go back outside the gate. Go back outside, and I’ll inform Mr. Jackson that you’re here.”

“I ain’t moving until I see my brother!”

Javon:
He started screaming, cussing his brains out, rapping all this stuff about money he’s owed and how he’s not leaving without it. “
Michael owe me money! I want my fuckin’ money! I ain’t fuckin’ moving till I get my fuckin’ money!
”

Bill:
I didn’t care what he wanted. I just wanted him outside the gate. I put my pistol away, trying to cool things down. I asked him to exit his vehicle so we could talk in a civilized manner. He refused. He just sat there in the car, threatening to call the press if he didn’t get to see his brother. I didn’t want him to call the press, and I couldn’t call the cops because that would just bring the press too. I was stuck. I had this angry little asshole cussing in my face, and I couldn’t do anything about it.