On June 25, 2009, the final chapter in one of the most controversial histories of present times ended: Michael Jackson died from an overdose of the anesthetic Propofol, as his autopsy would later reveal. 4 years after the shocking but, for many fans who’ve always believed in his innocence, perhaps not that unexpected, event, we have begun to clear the name of the King of Pop, as the untold truth comes out to light.
In 1993, when his personal life had already become tabloid fodder and not a day went by without at least one Jackson story, Michael Jackson was accused of molesting a child. 13-year-old Jordan Chandler and his father, Dr. Evan Chandler, went public with the story, prompting authorities to launch an investigation into the claims.
In December that same year, Neverland Ranch is raided by police: documents and other items are removed from the premises, and Michael is submitted to a 23-minute strip search that leaves him feeling so humiliated he will never recover from it.
In May 2002, Michael decides to do something he’d never done before: very shy and fiercely protective of his personal life (not that anyone can blame him, though), he agrees to allow BBC journalist Martin Bashir and his cameras into his life for the chance to tell the world his story, unbiased, unedited and brutally honest. For the remainder of his life, Michael Jackson was branded a child molester even though he’d been through hell and back to prove that he was the exact opposite of that. For the media and the public opinion, the mere fact that he’d been found not guilty was proof of just how good he was – at hiding his true nature, that of a monster.
That Michael Jackson had been found not guilty was, most ironically of all, proof that he was, because that was the most profitable story to sell. Even more, it was proof that he could get away with it.
With this, we ended Michael Jackson’s career, broke his spirit and tainted his image for eternity. And, yes, we killed him
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