Inner Michael

“Pummeling.” It’s onomatopoeia. Can’t you just hear it; feel it? And pummeling is what it was. Now before you go looking for an insect with many legs, let me explain what onomatopoeic means: it is one of those words whose sound is associated with what is named: sizzle, and simmer, rumble, quench, shush, swoosh, ow, and pop, are a few more. A wordsmith would know them, a poet certainly, a lyricist, and of course Dr. Seuss.

The one that interests me is “pummeling.” It sounds like what it is. When I hear “pummeling,” I think of someone throwing sucker punches that just don’t stop. I see someone who is unsuspecting and unprepared taking punches in unexpected places that hide the wounds and ache for a long time afterward. A pummeling must necessarily, by its nature, take your breath away.

It implies viscous and malicious- also words that might qualify, and it conjures an unwarranted attack at an innocent and unsuspecting vulnerable human who is taken so by surprise as to be rendered motionless and knocked off balance, eventually staggering in disbelief.

Most pummeling is short lived because it’s a sneak attack and the perpetrator usually runs off to avoid either detection or detention. It is a stealth move with the impact and likeness of a belly flop from the high dive. Luckily a pummeling is rare; at least physical pummelings are rare. Thank goodness because the fierceness of that kind of attack would absolutely cause PTSD (post traumatic stress,) a distrust of people and perhaps even humanity because of being blindsided and so viscously attacked. It has the potential to make one withdraw and avoid public contact and in and extreme cases—a recluse. And if the attack was particularly devastating, prolonged, repetitive or somehow ritualized, the post trauma could cause deep and even permanent psychological wounding. Repeatedly getting beat up by the school bully can cause deep and lasting psychological wounding along with the physical ones.

Then there is the kind of pummeling that is even more stealthy and more psychologically wounding and ultimately more disabling. A psychological beating is just as devastating, wounding and can be more paralyzing than a physical one. When a psychological beating is ritualized, repetitive, or relentless, it damages at the soul level. The wounding of a soul is a serious matter. It is akin to murder. In fact, it may be worse because the corpse continues to walk around while the soul has already been shattered.

Wounded souls can consciously or unconsciously give up inside. They will continue the appearance of fighting and will go on under the worst of circumstances but they will have already succumbed internally. The light goes dim in the eyes of a person whose will to continue or cope has dried up, who suffers the accompanying adrenal exhaustion, who becomes dispirited from cyclic inhumane treatment. Drugs may be the only thing that provides any kind of relief for this kind of deep life pain. Drugs or a shaman. Those are about the only choices that provide relief for the deep psychological wounding that involves major soul loss. A shaman can usually retrieve the lost soul parts and restore the individual’s power; drugs just mask the gaping hole. Since most people do not know shamans nor believe in them, drugs that will mask pain may be the only available answer. They don’t cure, they mask; but they make life bearable. As a tolerance to drugs is built, the need for more increases. But the soul doesn’t heal that way unless some kind of soul-healing little miracle takes place.

This is a common scenario and that is why this kind of deliberate wounding is unforgiveable. Most deliberate and repetitive mind games involve soul loss—for those targeted of course, but also, less commonly recognized—for those doing the targeting. And also for anyone who observes the pummeling, the resulting damage and especially if one does nothing to stop it or to heal the practice by protesting or precluding it. Everyone in this scenario gets to walk around with PTSD; it is primary, secondary or tertiary. No matter. Everyone here goes numb to some degree from losing their humanity bit by bit. Or bite by bite; for one does not have to invite the sharks to find them in the water.

The reference to “pummeling” was associated with something our culture tolerates every day, sometimes even embraces, and causes the wounding and loss of the human soul both singularly and collectively: it was used in the context of newsprint and magazines and news outlets that are purveyors of tabloid attack. The phrase was “tabloid pummeling.”

Yes, I had the same electric shock shoot up my spine. That exact startle response. And I can match your despair bellicose blow by blow. Sinister sucker punch after sucker punch. You can even feel that word, can’t you? It’s exquisite onomatopoeia.

Flowers, photos, messages, stuffed animals, balloons, candles… began spontaneously to appear in places that symbolized or held memories of Michael Jackson. On June 25, 2009, impromptu symbols of his presence, now come to mean his passing, began forming around the globe. Memorials and shrines and tributes appeared at his star on the Hollywood walk of fame; at the Apollo Theater, at Neverland Ranch, at the O2 Arena, another at the Staples center and this scenario was repeated the world over. Everywhere from Denmark to South Africa and on every continent, there were tears and music and memories and singing and dancing and more tears…

It isn’t often we see this kind of open weeping in the streets. It happened with the Kennedys, Martin Luther King and John Lennon and we saw a global outpouring of love, spontaneous memorials and altars and the public weeping of this magnitude when the people’s ‘Queen of Hearts,’ Lady Diana died. When our collectively cherished beloveds are taken from us, we weep unashamedly and openly. This collective open weeping is an acknowledgement of a loss of something precious that we don’t know quite how to name.

It was one of those “where were you when you heard…” moments. Embedded now in the collective consciousness like: the Challenger accident, the first lunar landing, Kennedy Assassination, Apollo 13 splashdown, Lady Diana’s fatal accident, John Lennon’s murder and the World Trade Center in New York. There are moments that mark our lives and punctuate how much we take for granted and perhaps what we forget to be grateful for. The faces of Michael’s family will forever remain imprinted too, as will the words of Michael’s daughter Paris Jackson when she publicly declared that he was a great daddy.

The task of telling the world in a press conference fell to Jermaine and later Janet, who was very close to her brother, said in an attempt to clarify the family’s grief and request some respectful privacy: “To you, Michael was an icon; to us Michael was family.” Brother Tito was to say later in the TV series featuring the remaining brothers that he thought of Michael, his baby brother, “in that place alone.” Kathryn Jackson lost a son that day and there is no greater pain than losing a child. Her face said it.

As the one year anniversary of losing Michael approaches, I have come to learn that Michael Jackson was much more than a simple icon to his constituency. Fellow musicians may have lost a colleague, the cast of “This Is It” lost their musical muse, the world lost a stellar talent but something else fundamentally profound occurred when Michael died. We may have felt some complicity; we gained some compassion. At least it seemed most did. We lost the ability to ever be that way again. What way? Well, you already know. You decide what to call it.

To some admirers Michael was a megastar, a musical genius, and yes, an icon. He was also someone who marked the milestones of their lives along the length of it. But he was more… For some, Michael was their hero or guru; someone whom they looked to for inspiration and hope. He was, for them, a messenger. To multitudes, he represented that someone in the adult world actually “got it.” If you came of age in the sixties you will know what that means; if not, you will have to guess at it.

Michael Jackson created in his lyrics and with their message, the kind of world his fans and admirers wanted to believe was possible. He then told them they could make a change and they believed it. But they really needed his guidance, his leadership, his commitment to be steadfast. Some were unable to go on without Michael and they sadly followed him into eternity. Some who are left behind find themselves still deeply mourning periodically because the sting of this particular loss remains unbearable.

Some of the more despairing grief surrounding Michael’s passing is because those who did not know the real Michael, those whose only source of familiarity was the tabloid version, continue to demean and slander and perpetuate false urban myths about the man. Even now there are those who conscript his name for their devious agenda. Even now he is vilified despite his exoneration; condemned for his vulnerability; ridiculed for his innocence and for his simple faith in human nature. And it is a human nature that didn’t treat him so well. That is what makes it personal.

When Michael died, he took something with him. Whatever it was, its loss is felt exquisitely by those who know the real Michael. He had their loyalty, certainly. He had their admiration, it goes without saying. He had their belief in him, to a fault. But he had something else and he took it along when he left. The ambassador of hope, the planetary cheerleader who never gave up on the human race, left the planet and left behind a huge gaping vacuum. That is what makes it universal.

A ninety year old woman asked a younger female family member: “Why are they weeping in the streets for this man?” Indeed, what measure of a man commands that kind of reaction? What kind of person is wept for in the streets? Just a cultural icon? A musical icon? Any icon? What did they see in Michael? To weep in the streets? Perhaps it deserves more than a cursory glance. Maybe there is more to it. The question invites contemplation. And it suggests an even deeper question and reflection: “Would they weep in the streets for me if they really knew me?”

Many are still puzzled about why they felt his loss so deeply, why they still grieve with such depth nearly a year later, why it feels so personal, why he feels like family. Well, Michael was special. You just feel that. And there will never be another.

Something else has occurred with his passing—for thousands there has been a spiritual awakening. Personal and collective tragedy will do that as one free falls headlong into the emptiness of the in-between-spaces. The place of feeling the loss but not naming. His absence has changed some so fundamentally that they are hardly recognizable. There is something about Michael…

There is so much more. There are many. There are stories upon stories of this fulcrum moment in time and how it was a catalyst for new realities. There are Michael moments that do not qualify as induced mass hysteria, hallucination or the laughable “Michael sightings.” These Michael moments are raw and real and touching. He, his work and his message are being experienced in a new and reality-expanding way. It defies explanation and there are no words, at least not yet, nor a place to look for them. It is so unusual as to be a phenomenon.

And the deep and haunting grief is purposeful. If humans are to make sense of this world, their experience of life and elevate the human condition as well as consciousness, they must have open hearts. There is nothing that opens the human heart so much as deep grief and weeping. There is nothing that empties the vessel of one’s humanity as well as the cutting knife of authentic sharp-edged grief. It carves out a space inside leaving it empty and raw. This is the space where compassion fits.

Michael Jackson asked us to be compassionate beings. To “heal the world” to see “in the mirror” and “make that change.” He said “We are the world” and he requested we save it and ourselves from many forms of annihilation. He asked this of us all his life. He asked us in every way with every means he had available to him. And now he gives us the gift of grief to open hearts and carve out a well inside for authentic compassion. He presents to us now a gift of reflection. He loaned us his life. Now he loans to us an opportunity to expand human consciousness and compassion by reflecting on what he demonstrated for us. He stood steadfast, faithful and compassionate providing a mirror that reflected whatever we chose to hurl at him. He demonstrated for us exactly what a collective and global lack of compassion looks like. He demonstrated that for all of us on this planet, perhaps so that we might see the ugliness in that and decide to do it differently in the future. That may have been Michael’s greatest gift.

MY EYES SO SOFT

Don’t
Surrender
Your loneliness so quickly.
Let it cut more
Deep.

Let it ferment and season you
As few human
Or even divine ingredients can.

Something missing in my heart tonight
Has made my eyes so soft,
My voice so
Tender,

My need of God
Absolutely
Clear.

Hafiz
(Sufi Mystic 1320-1390 A.D.)
translation by Daniel Ladinsky

There are moments when I am really, really sad. This is one of them. And I know that there are many who join me in this unusual kind of mourning. I have heard the story a hundred times and it goes something like this…

MJA: “I am going through something strange and nobody understands it. I don’t even understand it. But for some reason I feel I can tell you and you will understand.”

RB: “I’ll try. Is it about Michael?”

MJA: “ Yes. And it’s really weird. Something has been happening to me. This is going to sound really strange and I can’t talk about it with my family or my friends; they already think I’m losing it.”

RB: “OK; they don’t understand your feelings.”

MJA: “Heck, I don’t even understand my feelings. I have never felt this way before.”

RB: “About?”

MJA: “About anybody. I didn’t personally know Michael Jackson. I was never a fan. I don’t get it. But I am grieving for him as if he was a personal friend. I didn’t even grieve this deeply for a family member who died. I am ashamed to say that when they died, I felt badly, but not like this. I don’t understand it.”

RB: “I hear this all the time. You are not the only one going through this. There are many around the world who are experiencing the same thing. Do you want to tell me about it?”

MJA: “Well, I didn’t really know Michael Jackson or his music and I didn’t follow his career. I knew of him, of course, and my children certainly knew him but I wasn’t aware of him if you know what I mean.”

RB: “I do know what you mean. Go on.”

MJA: “I learned of Michael’s passing on the news and I remember looking at that face and thinking “I wonder who this man was; I wonder what made him tick. I was curious. So later that evening I Googled him and found some videos on You Tube. I started watching the videos. I stayed up all night looking at interviews and concerts and some of his videos. The next thing I knew, it was morning.”

RB: “And what did you find?”

MJA: “Well I found a different man than who they were portraying on TV. I mean, I saw a completely different person.”

RB: “What kind of person?”

MJA: “Well, I felt in my heart that he was greatly misunderstood. I think the media view of Michael Jackson is slanted. I think they missed something important.”

RB: “What do you think they missed?”

MJA: “He was a gentle, kind, loving, generous humanitarian. He definitely was not the monster they made of him.”

RB: “What led you to that conclusion?”

MJA: “The way he was with children. There are videos of him visiting hospitals and orphanages and at performances. It’s the way he interacts with children. They really love him. You can see the love. And he really loves them. And it’s the way he acknowledges them and touches them on the head or hugs them. This is not a man who could harm a child. They got him all wrong.”

RB: “There are hundreds who wrote to say that they came to that same conclusion. There are tons of people who had exactly the same experience. They describe a kind of fascination that led them on a journey to discover for themselves who Michael Jackson was.”

MJA: “Well that is how I felt. It’s like I had this compulsion to find the truth, to find the real man. Then I went to see his movie: “This Is It.” And something happened in that theater. I don’t know what it was and I can’t put my finger on it. But it’s like he spoke to me through that screen.”

RB: “Yes, I’ve heard that before. Many times. It happened to me.”

MJA: “So you know what I am talking about. Suddenly I am intrigued by this man I never met. I never bought any of his albums before; now I have all of them. I never knew the man’s work and now I have his DVDs of his videos.”

RB: “So what do you think this is all about?”

MJA: “I don’t know. I just know I am not the same person after learning who Michael Jackson was. I got his message to heal the world. I understand “The Man in the Mirror.” I have become a better person: I am kinder to others; I deliberately smile more at strangers; I am more conscious of others and of people’s needs. I never volunteered for anything before and now twice a week, I go to serve meals at the homeless shelter; I donate to charities; I try harder to be nice to the people at work and some of them I don’t really like. Michael Jackson changed me. I don’t know; I am on some kind of spiritual journey. I can’t explain it.”

RB: “So do you feel that his death may have awakened something in you?”

MJA: “Well yes, that‘s it. It was like a wake-up call. That’s exactly how it feels. It’s like I woke up to something important after his death. I don’t know. My family doesn’t understand it. They think I have gone overboard. But I’m telling you; I am different. I love everybody more. I understand what Michael meant when he said ‘It’s all for love.’ I know what he meant when he said we have to ‘put a little love back into the world.’”

RB: “I have heard this story over and over. It’s OK. You are getting the Michael love vibe. People who knew Michael and were close to him say he was an angel walking the Earth. What do you think? Was he a catalyst for your spiritual growth? Was Michael a messenger?”

MJA: “I don’t know; that’s your department, but it definitely feels like it. I have been spending time in the religion, the philosophy and metaphysical section of my bookstore. I have been searching for some spiritual teachers. I’ve been reading more, studying spirituality.”

RB: “And you credit Michael for this change?”

MJA: “Absolutely. It’s been quite the journey. I even feel him sometimes. I know you’ll think this is crazy but I saw him once, standing in my kitchen. And that was after I had a dream of being on stage with him.”

RB: “OK so what if I told you that people all over this planet are experiencing the same thing?”

MJA: “Really? You mean Michael awakened more like he awakened me?”

RB: “Yes. I have stacks of emails and stories from people who have had Michael encounters.”

MJA: “Really? You mean like they have been visited by him? And do they talk about his songs, his music?”

RB: “What about his music?”

MJA: “Well sometimes I think Michael is speaking to me with his music, with his songs.”

RB: “How so?”

MJA: “Well, I will need to make a big decision. Or I will be thinking about something. Or I am thinking about Michael and how unfairly he was treated. Or I get angry about what people say about him and the very next song on the radio will be a Michael song and it will seem to answer my question or point me to something, or reassure me.”

RB: “Can you give me an example?”

MJA: “Sure. I was feeling really sad and discouraged about human nature and how he was treated by those awful people who accused him and how the magazines picked it up and ran awful stories and he was innocent all the while. And he was proven not-guilty in court. It was shameful how he was treated. And then I start to cry. And the next song that comes on will be Michel singing ‘Heal the World.’ Or I am feeling disconnected and distant from loved ones who don’t understand this spiritual journey I am on and I will say out loud something like ‘Michael why did you have to leave? Why aren’t you here to guide us? How do we do this without you?’ And I will be mad and raging against the unfairness of it and the next song will be Michael Jackson’s ‘You Are Not Alone.’

RB: “And this happens a lot?”

MJA: “Oh my God, all the time. And it even happens with my Ipod. Sometimes when it’s set on shuffle it will play the same song over and it will be about what is happening to me at that moment. I’ve even had the Ipod start all by itself without touching it.”

RB: “So what do you take away from this experience. If it is Michael what do you think he is saying to you? What do you think he wants?”

MJA: “Oh, it’s simple. It’s obvious. He is asking me to ‘look in the mirror’; to do my part. He is telling me to ‘make that change;’ he makes it feel urgent. He wants us to ‘Heal the World.’ I’m just not always sure how to do that. But I find something I can do that’s right in front of me, and I do it. He is telling us and showing us that ‘It’s all for love. L.O.V.E. He is saying we heal the world with love.”

RB: “What if I told you that this same story has been repeated a hundred times to me. I am a kind of hub for the wheel of spirituality MJ style. I get messages from everywhere around the world that tell Michael stories of visitation, of music interludes like the ones you describe. He is communicating his message globally. I’ve gotten letters describing this very same thing or something similar from places I’ve never heard of before.”

MJA: “Wow, first I’d say that’s a relief. I thought I was the only one. I thought it was kind of crazy, that I was crazy. Then I would say ‘that’s awesome.’ I can’t seem to stop the feelings, the urges, the spiritual journey. I don’t know where this is going, but I know I am not the same person as I was before Michael came into my life.”

RB: “I understand. His long time fans feel this too. That is why there is so much grief surrounding him. That is why they are so upset. He was a spiritual leader for many. To many around the world, his lyrics and his message gave them hope for the future. They feel lost without him. They feel a piece of him in their hearts. They want the truth to be known, to preserve his true legacy.”

MJA: “What do you think about it? Do you understand it? You are saying it is worldwide. What is it?”

RB: “I think it is Michael still working to save humanity from itself. It is Michael still trying to save the world. It’s Michael still teaching how it is done and as always, demonstrating it in spite of us: ‘It’s all about L.O.V.E.’ That’s what heals the world.”

MJA: “OK that’s awesome. So what now? What do you say?”

RB: “I’d say, dial in and stay tuned.”

How many more people must die- whether it’s immediately or later because the tabloid and medialoid sources will not look in their own mirror? Michael Jackson died 10 months ago and they are still trashing him. The movie made at the end of his life and about the tour he was planning, “This Is It,” revealed a much different man than we were conditioned to expect. I think that movie may have been a glimpse of the true man and off stage persona behind the Michael Jackson. He was humble, gentle, perfectionistic, an encouraging mentor and master craftsman. “This Is It” was a peek into genius. So why do they keep using “tragic” and “disturbing” to describe his life?

The more I look into this, the more I realize, as have many others who found themselves intensely curious about this man, that he was not the picture that the tabloids painted for us. In fact, what I have learned paints a starkly contrasting portrait of a man who was anything but the manipulated caricature that dominated the collective memory for more than a decade.

A few nights ago I watched Aphrodite Jones’ report on the accusation, charges and trial of Michael Jackson. Miss Jones’ account presented a much different view of the trial and aftermath than we were fed by the media that clustered to cover his trial. Apparently they all expected a guilty verdict. In fact, according to some, the media was salivating over the possibility of an imprisoned Michael Jackson. The jury foreman who seemed credible, said the jury identified something askew in the demeanor and the case brought by Tom Sneddon, the District Attorney at the time.

I knew about Michael Jackson’s trial, of course, didn’t everybody? And I knew it took a long time; and that cameras were banned from the courtroom. I also vaguely remember that there was a reenactment of the daily proceedings each night. I remember thinking at the time that the whole idea was a bit over the top so I dismissed the whole thing. I also remember “breaking news” about the verdict being in and the woman who released the doves during the reading of the verdict. I thought that too, was over the top. But the verdict, the loud not-guilty, the very innocent somehow escaped me. Yes, acquitted. But there were fourteen total charges. Fourteen! Not guilty of even one? One little one? Funny how I don’t remember that so much.

I remember the accusations and the evening shows that discussed the trial. I remember too, that they all speculated he was guilty. Where there is smoke… And I confess I remember very little about the aftermath. And nobody reinforced that Michael Jackson was innocent of all the charges. When someone is a pedophile, at least one of the charges is going to stick! Pedophiles are serial offenders. I knew of another case several years before… but that one was settled out of court. I had the fleeting thought that Michael may have paid that to go away but the second time there were no charges that held up? I thought where there was smoke there was supposed to be fire. When one child agrees to talk, usually the rest come out of hiding. The Catholic Priesthood punctuated that. Why were there no other children?

But the media didn’t focus on any of that. It was almost like everybody slinked away during the hours of darkness never to shine a light again on that trial and the verdict. I remember nothing after that until hearing that Michael Jackson was living in the Middle East. He left the country? Well, I reasoned, either he was guilty and more children were going to come forward or he was dispirited and disillusioned with his country and the justice system that failed him. Where are the children?

Much of my thinking, I realize now, was from what I was being told by the media. Of course it was the biggest story of the century, post OJ—it was Michael Jackson! But I really expected my media to be fair in reporting it to me. I knew the tabloids and tabloid TV was going to sensationalize but I expected the communications industry and especially the profession of journalism to have integrity and to tell me the relevant truth. Journalism was a career that I considered at one time. I had a scholarship opportunity and I was going to go to a good journalism school. I had grown up with Walter Cronkite and I respected the industry because I had researched it and thought my future was in that field. Those were the days before I discovered my fascination with medicine.

But I didn’t give up my love for language, for words. I began a program and worked with journalists, artists, novelists, poets and other published professionals. I went to a school of the arts in Wisconsin. I became an artist and a poet and then an essayist and storyteller. But not once did I consider that journalism, which was my first love, had changed. Never once did I consider that there would be those who laid down their ethics for a fistful of cash.

There is a code of ethics in medicine and there is a code of ethics in journalism. I liked the idea of a career guided by not only unspoken guidelines but by a code that one lives by and works within. In both those vocations, violating the code of ethics can kill. Never would I have believed that the lofty communications profession had devolved to its current medialoid status. I feel only shame and embarrassment for that. Walter Cronkite would not be proud.

Aphrodite Jones’ feature highlighted how the media continues to look at Michael Jackson through the same lens and that the urban legend continues. How is it that this is not corrected? Death usually shakes people from their complacency and brings to focus the unspoken words, the thanks never given, the acknowledgements overlooked, and the guilt, culpability and regrets related to the deceased. It is usually a time for examination, self examination and making amends for opportunities lost. It drives home that death is permanent and that sometimes it is too little and too late. Death reminds us that there are no do-overs.

Since Michael Jackson’s death, there have been countless acquaintances who have recounted their personal memories with him and each time they speak of a gentle man, an intelligent and masterful genius and magnanimous humanitarian. Even Oprah, who has been critical of Michael in the past, said “this changes the legacy” as she revealed astonishment at the real Michael when not ‘in the spot’ and performing for a live audience, who was showcased in “This Is It.”

It may change perception of the legacy, but it does not change the legacy. Michael has always been Michael- the gentle, loving, generous, steadfast humanitarian and global messenger. And he is also the polished stage performer when on stage. Michael is the man the fans have always known he was. I did not know him until my research began after seeing “This Is It.” And I am frankly baffled by the unusual and even bizarre circumstances of Michael, the press, his legacy and his character. And I feel cheated.

In the last few months of this journey through Michael’s life, I have visited his genius, his monumental talent, his kindness, his generosity, his moments of laughter and joy, his fatherhood and fathering, his wry and stunning sense of humor and the stark contradictions of who he was performing and not performing. He is two different personas- the stage Michael and Michael the man.

And I have been surprised by my finding myself immersed in some of the darkest places I have ever visited in my life. And that includes my close encounter with war and weapons of mass destruction. I never knew what kind of mind invented those killing instruments but I saw at times, the necessity of them in some circumstances. I was appalled that their momentum got loose on this planet and became like a runaway train. That is not a glowing testament to the ability of the human race to settle its differences or better yet, accept them and move past the argument. Genocide is vile and war is always a nasty business and it’s hard to visit those worlds.

But there is, believe it or not, a darker place. And I have spent some time there. It is the shadow of man’s inhumanity to man when projected en masse onto a singular figure. It’s unimaginable; in fact, I could not have imagined it in all its looming intensity prior to my quest to know Michael.

What triggered this journey into the life of Michael was an unsettling intuitive gnawing inside that something about the Michael Jackson story and his life on this planet was wrong. No, not just wrong but eerie and unacceptable and very, very indicative of something yet undiscovered and underbelly in human nature.

As I began to research his life I wondered who the heck “they” had been talking about all these years. I was more than befuddled, I was mortified, I was angry, I was ashamed, shocked and very, very aware of the sorry nature of the beings inhabiting this world and of the beings they were talking about. We really are a species in need of self examination.

There was a kind of static body of knowledge regarding Michael Jackson that had been imprinted into the collective consciousness that was counter to the person I met as I journeyed through the phenomenon that was Michael’s life and career. And it just doesn’t add up; it doesn’t square. It doesn’t ever square. It’s been like having perfect pitch and hearing a perpetual dissonance in the background somewhere yet the source remains hidden and unidentifiable.

I began too, to know Michael’s fans, some of them who have been loyal to him for more than 20-30 years. Oh, some of them are a bit over the top with the gushing and wailing but more than half of them are intelligent, working class professionals who are thoughtful, not easily fooled and while they admire his work, they are not so enamored as to overlook his flaws. And I can guarantee that these are people who, if he had truly done the things to children he was accused of, would have not only abandoned him but would have cut him off at the knees and buried his ability to make money performing for anyone ever again. Michael fans are resolute. And they would have skewered him if he was guilty of harming children. Music, no matter how genius, does not trump deliberately harming innocent children. These people do not abide ambiguity let alone hypocrisy and crime.

If you want to truly know someone in the public eye, look to their fans. If you want blow-by-blow information, ask fans. Fans know every little detail of the lives of those they admire. They also know without question, the character of their chosen star. These people would not look past a crime against a vulnerable person no matter who was the perpetrator. And certainly they would not have overlooked criminal acts on the part of Michael Jackson. They were loyal to him through the charges and trial not in spite of the man, but because they know the man. They stood by him because they knew his character, his mind and they knew he was innocent. They are also more savvy than I regarding the media. I naively thought journalism was an institution. The fans knew what the journalists were doing and they knew the truth. And living with that and the powerlessness of truth could not have been easy.

The relationship and loyalty between Michael Jackson fans and their object of admiration is a very unusual one. He was kind to fans; he was thoughtful. He knew their hearts and he met the love that came at him with his own aimed full force back at them. He consistently sent comfort measures to fans camping out at hotels and outside his home: sending his security personnel with blankets, pillows, pizza, Michael mementos and letters. He went out of his way to be as accessible as he could at the times it was safe to do that. Some fans are safe; the hysterical ones caught up in the frenzy are not. Michael, while on stage, would have his security team pick a female fan from the crowd to meet him and dance with him on stage. Each time, without fail, he cradled the fan by spanning the back of her head with his huge hands. This is a tender and genuine embrace of respect and endearment that every woman in the world knows and understands.

For many fans, Michael was a mentor, a hero. For some he, his lyrics and their messages held their only hope for a better future, a better world. The world that they inherited did not look so attractive to them. In fact, it seemed broken. But Michael counseled them for decades “you can change the world.” His message was an empowering and spiritual one. He lifted and revered the human spirit at least in its potential. Their loss and their grief are because their messenger is gone. He was their healer killed by a healer. Imagine that grief. And imagine it compounded by the false legacy that still hangs out there in the collective mind, in those who do not know Michael and do not understand there are two versions—the tabloid and the real.

A member of the jury in his court case rife with accusations about impropriety with children said that Michael was a children’s advocate and his interest in children was to better their futures. In fact, even a cursory look at Michael’s interactions with children in films of him visiting or performing where children are included reveals a touch that holds reverence, almost to the point of worship. His smile at children and in their presence is brighter than at any other time. One only has to watch to see the reverence in his eyes, hands and face around children. This is not a man who would harm a child.

The tabloids directed some of the most laser-focused and vitriolic unkindness this world has ever witnessed at Michael Jackson. And the same thing was said over and over. Each time Michael Jackson’s name came up the word predator or Pedophile came up. Even after he was found innocent of 14 total charges they continued to use those words, those descriptors. Repetition creates the illusion of truth. The frenzied gallop to assassinate his character was, it turns out, to sell magazines. That is why an innocent man was sacrificed on the cross of public humiliation? For profit? Oh that is a new low.

So since his passing, there is a push by fans, by those who knew Michael, and those involved in his life and affairs to finally demand the truth be told. To oversee the restoration of the character and legacy of this man who gave entertainment to hundreds of millions.

So in that regard Aphrodite Jones’ special was aired on Investigative Discovery. And the finger of blame that was pointed at the media as responsible for the man’s demise? Perhaps that is warranted. This is certainly where millions of fans believe the responsibility lies—in the lap of the media who printed headline after headline and page after page of innuendo, distortions, lies and paid-for tell-all articles for which the tabloids shelled out hundreds of thousands.

The tabloids have admitted as much in articles published and in documentaries. And the mainstream media was complicit in the destruction of one of the most talented geniuses in entertainment history. Stories were made up and paid for. This is an old story. You can read the prequel in the New Testament. Look for a story with the words: “Thirty Pieces of Silver.”

So now Michael is dead. Snatched from those who loved him in this world. And still his legacy is kicked while he is already down. What price do we pay as a society when we engage in this kind of behavior? Maybe selling one’s soul to the devil has outlived its relevance? Is obsolete? What do we exchange for those thirty pieces of silver? We sell nothing less than the collective soul of humanity. We preempt good people moving forward or moving onto any stage to share with us the genius God gave to them. We sabotage the future where the celebrities and leaders might offer stellar performances and where we, their audience, might learn valuable lessons from the fare they share with us.

How many humanitarian projects will go undone because Michael Jackson is gone? He was a global humanitarian, our planetary cheerleader and one of humanity’s best friends. He never gave up on the human condition even though the inhumanity of it cost him his career, his future, his work, his sleep and eventually his life.

It would be very difficult for the media to admit their part in the demise of Michael Jackson. How would they apologize for the death of this global humanitarian? How would they apologize to his children? To our future where the work of Michael Jackson will never appear? He intended to do films next and based on his music videos they would have been epics.

What would it mean to actually come face to face with the fact the media was wrong? That how they do things is less than human? What would they do to change—for they would have to by necessity. What lessons could we all learn from knowing the truth about Michael Jackson? Could an admission of guilt make us better people? Could a vow to do it differently in the future make this world a better place?

It is not likely to happen soon that the media says “We understand our guilt, our complicity in the deaths of Michael Jackson and others like Vince Foster and Lady Diana. We are sorry. We are ashamed. We were wrong. And people’s lives were destroyed because of our cavalier gleefulness in taking them down. We realize now we made them; then we destroyed them. We never, ever, want to do that again. We promise we will make it up to you, our public, our constituency. We will immediately change our policies and our tactics. We promise to give you only the truth from now on. Pinkie swear.”

I don’t need to hear that confession. I just need to see change. I need it to start now, today. I am intelligent enough to recognize when an effort is made. Go ahead, save face. Confession not required. Change essential. Please prove me wrong: Diana and Michael both gave their lives because of who they were. They were targeted by tabloid and medialoid journalism devoid of humanity. We crucified them and they died for us. Seems to me we haven’t learned much in those last two thousand years.

** To send feedback to Discovery ID about Aphrodite Jones’ program and/or let them know what else you’d like to see: Viewer Relations