“….There was nothing more humiliating for Michael Jackson than when police strip-searched him while investigating the allegations that he had molested 13-year-old Jordie Chandler.
The boy had given a detailed description of the star’s body and the detectives needed to check if it was true. Jackson was warned that if he refused to cooperate, he’d be arrested and taken away in handcuffs.
After the police arrived at Neverland, it took lawyers an hour to persuade him to leave his bedroom. Finally, he came into the living room clearly agitated, wearing a brown dressing gown. He blocked his face with his hands, as if thwarting the paparazzi.
He was told to stand on a platform in the middle of the room. ‘Please don’t make me do this,’ he pleaded. ‘Sir, we have no choice,’ said one of the detectives.
Staring at a picture of Elizabeth Taylor on the wall, Jackson removed the dressing gown, to reveal a bathing suit. ‘You’ll have to take that off, too, sir,’ said the detective. Michael slipped off the bathing suit . . . under which he was wearing boxers. ‘Sir, please,’ the detective said.
Crying softly, Michael took off the boxers and stood, stripped not only of his clothes, but of all his dignity. All eyes peered at him to see if he was circumcised, as Jordie had claimed (he wasn’t). ‘Oh my God,’ Michael whimpered. He looked as if he was about to faint.
The police circled him slowly, making notes about his body, the colour of his buttocks and private parts. A photographer took pictures before Jackson jumped off the platform. ‘That’s enough,’ he said, before fleeing the room.
He was persuaded to return by his lawyers after 15 minutes of cries, shrieks and pleas. A plaintive wail resonated through the house. Michael Jackson had been broken. He pounded his feet against the floor.
Again, he stood naked. More pictures. Then videotape. ‘Please, can we stop now?’ Michael pleaded.
One of the doctors produced a ruler, at which point Jackson’s doctor intervened. ‘That’s it,’ he said firmly. ‘Mike, get dressed.’ Jackson ran from the room, shaking and screaming: ’How could this happen to me?’”
(from “Michael Jackson: The Magic And The Madness” by J. Randy Taraborrell
The boy had given a detailed description of the star’s body and the detectives needed to check if it was true. Jackson was warned that if he refused to cooperate, he’d be arrested and taken away in handcuffs.
After the police arrived at Neverland, it took lawyers an hour to persuade him to leave his bedroom. Finally, he came into the living room clearly agitated, wearing a brown dressing gown. He blocked his face with his hands, as if thwarting the paparazzi.
He was told to stand on a platform in the middle of the room. ‘Please don’t make me do this,’ he pleaded. ‘Sir, we have no choice,’ said one of the detectives.
Staring at a picture of Elizabeth Taylor on the wall, Jackson removed the dressing gown, to reveal a bathing suit. ‘You’ll have to take that off, too, sir,’ said the detective. Michael slipped off the bathing suit . . . under which he was wearing boxers. ‘Sir, please,’ the detective said.
Crying softly, Michael took off the boxers and stood, stripped not only of his clothes, but of all his dignity. All eyes peered at him to see if he was circumcised, as Jordie had claimed (he wasn’t). ‘Oh my God,’ Michael whimpered. He looked as if he was about to faint.
The police circled him slowly, making notes about his body, the colour of his buttocks and private parts. A photographer took pictures before Jackson jumped off the platform. ‘That’s enough,’ he said, before fleeing the room.
He was persuaded to return by his lawyers after 15 minutes of cries, shrieks and pleas. A plaintive wail resonated through the house. Michael Jackson had been broken. He pounded his feet against the floor.
Again, he stood naked. More pictures. Then videotape. ‘Please, can we stop now?’ Michael pleaded.
One of the doctors produced a ruler, at which point Jackson’s doctor intervened. ‘That’s it,’ he said firmly. ‘Mike, get dressed.’ Jackson ran from the room, shaking and screaming: ’How could this happen to me?’”
(from “Michael Jackson: The Magic And The Madness” by J. Randy Taraborrell
