A Corner Is Turned in Lives of 3 Families : Relatives: Some emerge exultant. Others wonder how they will go on.

Through it all, Kim Goldman was sure of this one thing: No pain could ever match the grief that swamped her life when her big brother, Ron, was murdered on a warm spring night nearly 16 months ago.

But then came Tuesday.

At 10:07 a.m., as she huddled in her seat in Department 103 of the Los Angeles County Courthouse, Kim Goldman heard the unfathomable: The accused killer was not guilty, jurors declared. He would go free at once.

Exultant, O.J. Simpson clenched his fists in victory--liberated, a football legend once again. Nearby, his relatives flashed smiles of deep relief and cried tears of joy, while the parents of his murdered ex-wife sat in anguished silence, frozen by a conclusion both families had dared not expect.

For Kim Goldman, the moment proved too much too bear. Rocking in her chair, she shook with sobs. Her father, ghostly white, clasped her narrow shoulders in a tight embrace. Fred Goldman’s aim was to comfort, but his daughter was immune. Moments later, she staggered from the courtroom--her beloved brother dead, her hopes for justice gone as well.

“Last June 13, ‘94, was the worst nightmare of my life,” Fred Goldman said at a press conference shortly after the verdict was read. “This is the second.”

For nine months--and especially at its awesomely dramatic climax--the so-called “Trial of the Century” obsessed Americans, mesmerizing us with a tale not just of murder but of raging passions, wealth and fame. We were the fortunate ones. Watching from afar, we could analyze and speculate and ruminate with the comfortable detachment of the crowd.

But three families--the Simpsons, the Goldmans and the Browns--had no such luxury. On June 12, 1994, they became inescapably entwined by killings that claimed the lives of two people they loved, and left a third accused.

For them, Tuesday marked a corner turned. Some emerged triumphant, energized with faith. Others were left to wonder: How will we go on?

The Browns

For nearly 16 months, they stood for victims everywhere.

Traveling tirelessly on the talk show circuit, they held a nation spellbound with their personal account of grief, futility and loss. And they kept good on a vow to stir public debate about domestic abuse, memorializing their tragedy in a foundation named for their murdered daughter and sister.

But in the wake of Tuesday’s verdicts, the family of Nicole Brown Simpson was stunned into silence.

“I was numb,” Nicole’s sister Denise said hours later in a television interview. “I was absolutely numb. I couldn’t cry. . . .

“I think there’s a lot that needs to be said and a lot that needs to be done” about domestic violence, she continued, adding that she plans to work in that area.

Nicole’s father, Lou Brown, said he believes he may be able to “assimilate” with Simpson--now that the long ordeal has ended--through his grandchildren.

“A reason a lot can be overlooked is the children,” he said. “The children have been our lives.”

Yet the Brown family members were left to wonder if their daughter’s story was lost on the O.J. Simpson jury.

Or even on God himself.

“Juditha was wondering ‘Where’s God? Where’s my God? . . . I never asked Him for anything before,’ ” said family friend Candace Garvey, describing how Nicole Simpson’s mother and the rest of her family initially reacted to the finale of the Simpson trial.

“We just said how sorry we were and that we felt that possibly the justice system failed them,” said Garvey, who testified for the prosecution early in the trial. “But more importantly, everybody said to them that the jury didn’t care. . . . They just couldn’t have cared.”

When the Brown family entered the courthouse Tuesday morning, they seemed quietly upbeat. They chatted and bantered with friends, exchanging hearty hugs.

As the court clerk read the not guilty verdicts, parents Lou and Juditha, sisters Denise, Dominique and Tanya sat stone-faced, betraying no hint of emotion. But after making a quick exit from the courtroom--taking a detour around the phalanx of reporters waiting outside--they broke down.

Their feeling, Garvey added, was that the jury had completely ignored the voice of Nicole:

“She left you a diary, she left you a safety deposit box, 911 tapes and pictures of her being battered,” Garvey said. “But the jury didn’t hear her. They didn’t hear her screaming from the grave.”

For 30 minutes after the verdicts, the Browns took refuge in the offices of the prosecutors who tried the case. There, they commiserated with the Goldman family and sought comfort from friends such as Garvey; her husband, former Dodger star Steve Garvey; former Olympic decathlon gold medal winner Bruce Jenner and his wife, Kris, and Nicole Simpson’s friend Ron Hardy.

They were focused, it seemed, on one thing:

“I heard over and over again in that room today: ‘She said he was going to kill her and he said he’d get away with it.’ ” Garvey said.

The Browns were so overcome, Garvey said, that they could not bring themselves to appear at a scheduled press conference.

Shortly before noon, the Browns arrived at their home in a gated community in Dana Point, where reporters and the curious were kept at bay by a small army of private security guards, Orange County sheriff’s deputies and undercover officers.

Nearby, five office workers at the Nicole Brown Simpson Charitable Foundation were combing through what they said were grant applications from women’s shelters. By late afternoon, someone had left a small bouquet of gladioluses, carnations and a sunflower at the door. The flowers bore this message: “In Memory of Nicole and Ron.”

In a neighboring town, well-wishers showed their silent support for the family at Nicole’s grave in Ascension Cemetery. The verdict prompted a steady stream of people--mostly women, many who said they were victims of domestic abuse--to leave flowers.

At the beginning of their ordeal 16 months ago, the Browns had shunned opportunities to comment on Simpson’s role or on his flamboyant defense team and remained stoic during the opening parade of tabloid pictures and headlines.

But under the leadership of Denise Brown--a virtual mirror image of her dead sister--family members began to speak out.

By last fall, they had begun a series of riveting television interviews--with Geraldo Rivera and Diane Sawyer, among others. They invited America into their home to see videos of Nicole as a child, to make her more than the trophy wife of a celebrity athlete.

An emboldened Denise, who initially told reporters that she was unaware that Simpson had abused Nicole, then asserted that her former brother-in-law was a domestic terrorizer who she believed killed her sister. Her comments, along with those from the Goldmans, were calculated to counter what both families considered to be sympathetic publicity for Simpson that overshadowed their own losses.

During the trial, Denise’s testimony provided some dramatic moments, as she wept while painting a portrait of a possessive, controlling Simpson. She described, for example, how the former football hero once threw her, her sister and a former boyfriend of Brown out of Simpson’s house.

While the Brown family kept to itself Tuesday afternoon, their attorney, Gloria Allred, thanked the world for its outpouring of sympathy and called the verdicts a miscarriage of justice.

Now, Garvey said, the Brown family’s shock must be put aside as they deal with another difficult task: Preparing their grandchildren, Sydney and Justin, to go live once again with their famous father.

She expects the Brown family to “pack those kids’ bags and . . . with all the class and dignity they have . . . send them back.” It will not be easy. The Browns have “already lost a child. Now, they’re going to lose their grandchildren.”

But the youngsters, it is hoped, will resume their lives unscathed:

“Juditha and Lou,” Garvey says, “did not disparage O.J. . . . They will come home to a father that they love.”

The Simpsons

O.J. is free, and God deserves the thanks.

That was the message--delivered with unbridled cheer and relief--that came pouring forth from the Simpson family Tuesday as his grueling, celebrated trial came to a climactic close.

For the Browns and Goldmans, the day was an extension of their mourning. But the Simpsons were finally free to celebrate. At last--after months of stress and sleeplessness and worry--their ordeal was over. O.J. was coming home.

“I just feel like standing on top of this table and dancing a jig!” Shirley Baker, O.J.’s sister, told reporters shortly after the verdicts were read.

As Tuesday dawned, her heart was not quite so light. Indeed, as they gathered before court in a crowded hallway, the Simpsons feared the worst. O.J.’s eldest son, Jason, who works as a chef in a Beverly Hills restaurant, could not endure the moment; he broke down in soft sobs. His mother, Marquerite, O.J. Simpson’s first wife, laid a consoling hand on the back of his neck.

“We were very prayerful but we were on an emotional roller coaster,” Carmelita Durio, Simpson’s sister, said later of the suspenseful hours before the verdicts were read. “When one would break down, the others would lift that one up.”

But then came the verdicts, and suddenly, Simpson’s mother, children, sisters, brothers and cousins could relax and rejoice.

“God is good, see?” said Tracy Baker, O.J.’s niece.

No one in her immediate orbit disagreed. As they confronted the future, the Simpson clan was ebullient, declaring that justice had prevailed, that truth had won out.

“I knew that my son was innocent,” Simpson’s mother, Eunice, said from her wheelchair, “ . . . and I had the support of people all over the world. I know that prayer is the answer.”

While religion was their principal source of strength, there was another binding force--family.

Throughout the trial, Simpson’s relatives stuck tightly together, fighting mightily to keep his--and their--spirits up. During visits to the County Jail, they shared talk of old times, of O.J.’s boyhood in San Francisco and the fame that came later when his swiftness and talent for football emerged.

What they ignored were the dreadful accusations--and the unbearable thought that despite their prayers and hopes, despite all the goodness they knew to be in O.J., a jury might be persuaded to lock him away.

‘We are survivors,” said Arnelle. “Family is the most important thing. No matter what you do, you know you can depend on your family.”

And on Tuesday, even Simpson’s ex-wife, Marquerite, was part of the whole. After spending Monday night at Simpson’s Rockingham estate, she stood beside her children in court as their father was set free.

“I think whenever you have children, it’s never over,” she said, watching the press conference unfold.

For Arnelle Simpson, Tuesday marked the end to a wearying era of her short life. Less than two weeks ago, she said in an interview that the dramatic events of the past year had played out even for her like “a Sunday night movie.”

After the murders, she put her fledgling career as a wardrobe stylist mostly on hold, devoting her time to coping with her family’s court ordeal and presiding over a Rockingham household that expanded to include relatives who came to town to keep a vigil in court. At her father’s request, she has looked after the house, run interference with the housekeeper and tried to reduce the family’s expenses.

Now her burden will be lighter. When she arrived home from court Tuesday, she found bouquets of balloons and wheelbarrows of flowers in the yard. But a nicer surprise waited inside. Arnelle’s father--jailed for 16 months--was already there.

The Goldmans

Today is Yom Kippur, and the Goldman family will spend the Jewish holiday at home. They have had enough of the media, enough of the drama and tension and worrying that engulfed their lives for the last 469 days. Ron is dead and his killer, they believe, got off free.

One day earlier, the Goldmans had hope. As they huddled in the dreary courthouse hallway Tuesday morning, they told themselves that truth was on their side. Wearing buttons bearing Ron’s picture, they fought their nagging doubts, struggling to remain calm.

They were all there--Fred Goldman, his wife, Patti, her two children from an earlier marriage, and Ron’s sister, Kim. Looking frail in a denim blue jumper, Kim confided, “I just feel sick.”

When the courtroom doors opened, Fred Goldman announced, “Patti, it’s time to go in.” This was the fateful moment, the hour they had both anticipated and dreaded since Ron, 25, was stabbed to death that June evening.

When the verdict was read, the Goldmans reacted palpably, looking as though their very breath had been snatched away. As a TV audience of millions looked on, they collapsed forward and wept, a wrenching, and perhaps lasting symbol of grief.

Later, Fred Goldman met the press, looking shattered and fragile in a black suit. Battling to keep his composure, he thanked “all law-abiding citizens,” friends, and the crew of lawyers from the district attorney’ office who had sought to persuade the jury of Simpson’s guilt.

“This prosecution team didn’t lose today,” Goldman said. “I deeply believe this country lost today. Justice was not served.”

After the murders, media accounts focused on Ron’s off-and-on modeling career and the hunky good looks that led to an appearance on the television dating show, “Studs.”

But his relatives insist there was much more to him than that. This was a young man who volunteered at a nursing home, where he was known to dance with wheelchair-bound cerebral palsy patients. Not long before his murder, he had launched an amibitious plan to open a restaurant. It seemed, finally, that Ron had all the pieces of his life in place.

After the murder, Kim Goldman--younger than Ron by three years--was in denial for months, feeling, at times, like “this was a really bad joke.” As reality sunk in, she decided to take a leave from her banking job and psychology studies in San Francisco to move back in with her parents in Agoura Hills. That way, she could attend the trial full time.

For nine months, Kim and her parents sat in court each day, listening to testimony, clutching each other for support.

As the Goldmans saw it, Ron’s death was often treated like a footnote in the celebrated case. Nicole was the famous victim with the glitzy life, the fancy cars and the juicy marital problems. Ron was simply the friendly waiter from the Mezzaluna restaurant--the unlucky guy who just happened to meet his fate while delivering eyeglasses to Nicole.

When the trial shifted to the explosive topic of Detective Mark Fuhrman’s racist views, Fred Goldman politely spoke up, reminding the public that Ron was an innocent victim. And when defense attorney Johnnie L. Cochran Jr. compared Fuhrman to Adolf Hitler in his closing argument, Goldman called Cochran “the worst kind of human being imaginable. . . . He ought to be put away.”

The Simpson family said Goldman had gone too far. Yet others shared his outrage. To them, this was the anguish of a father fighting to cope with his loss. This was a wounded parent frustrated by a judicial system that seemed senseless and grossly unfair.

The verdict only compounded Goldman’s grief. Fighting back sobs and facing the cameras, Goldman’s emotions reached a crescendo. “I will forever be proud of my son and my family,” he said.