BUFFALO — E.J. Flammer was a toddler when O.J. Simpson set the NFL’s season rushing record of 2,003 yards in 1973. The Buffalo Bills running back would become the boy’s hero in seasons to come. It was like that for a lot of kids growing up in western New York in the 1970s. Simpson was a shining light in rust-belt Buffalo, its hometown claim on Hollywood glamour.
Fast-forward to a moment almost 20 years ago when Flammer sat in a witness chair in Santa Monica, Calif., and offered testimony that would help convince a civil court jury that Simpson killed Nicole Brown Simpson and Ron Goldman. Another jury had come to a different conclusion in the criminal trial. There, the gloves didn’t fit. Here, the shoes did — and 30 photos Flammer took nine months before the killings proved it in a midtrial bombshell.
“I’ll never forget O.J., maybe 20 feet away, just glaring at me,” Flammer tells USA TODAY Sports. “It was surreal, like he was trying to look straight through me.”
Flammer, who was a student at Canisius College in Buffalo when he took the pictures, is telling a full version of his story for the first time: How he came to shoot the photographs for a Bills booster club in 1993, how he rediscovered the negatives in a box in his parents’ basement days after Christmas in 1996 – long after the criminal trial that ran from November 1994 to October 1995 – and how his testimony early in 1997 helped a jury find Simpson liable for wrongful death and $33.5 million in damages.
Was Simpson’s menacing look an attempt at intimidation, an expression of anger, a display of defiance? Flammer, 43, thinks it was all that. But he says it didn’t bother him: He’d long since realized his boyhood hero had feet of clay. Now Flammer was offering evidence they’d been shod in size-12 Bruno Magli lace-ups — the rare style of shoe that left bloody footprints at the scene of the crime.
The criminal trial lives in the popular imagination because millions watched it on TV, a grisly soap opera with a daily parade of lurid particulars. This year the FX Network serial The People v. O.J. Simpson offered a vivid dramatization of that trial, avowing that today’s reality-TV culture was born of the trashy spectacle of the double-murder case.
The civil trial is much less well known. And for good reason: There were no cameras in the courtroom, no prison term at stake. “Who cares about the civil trial?” Flammer says. “It’s a footnote.”
But Flammer’s photos put feet in that footnote: They clearly showed Simpson wearing “those ugly-ass shoes” — the colorful phrase Simpson had used at his deposition to deny that he’d ever owned them. One other photo of him in the shoes had been offered at trial, but Simpson’s attorneys argued it was a fake. That contention was blown to bits with the discovery of Flammer’s photos — 30 crisp color negatives, including 7-A, which had been published in black and white in an official Bills publication seven months before the killings.
Flammer took the photos to publicize a banquet that would commemorate Simpson’s greatest feat, that 2,003-yard season. Those shots of his Italian luxury shoes, set off against the green artificial turf where Simpson had run to records 20 years earlier, effectively ended his defense. Bitter irony rarely comes more neatly packaged.
Simpson posed with the organizing committee for the banquet — five members of a Bills booster club, including Flammer’s father — before a Miami Dolphins-Bills game in 1993. Flammer snapped the photos quickly and stored the negatives in his darkroom in the basement of his parents’ home, where they were mostly forgotten for three years.
Then, in the days after Christmas in 1996, came a confluence of events: Flammer rediscovered the negatives. John Q. Kelly, an attorney for the estate of Nicole Brown Simpson, flew to Buffalo on a tip there were more photos of Simpson in Bruno Magli shoes. Bills publicist Denny Lynch showed Kelly an incriminating photo while expressing surprise no one connected to the homicide investigation had come to the team offices looking for evidence before then.
All this happened against the backdrop of a Bills wild-card playoff loss to the visiting Jacksonville Jaguars. Quarterback Jim Kelly was carried off the field, like a soldier on his shield, and never played again — and the Bills have not played another postseason game at home since.
It is a quirk of history that fateful moments in the Simpson civil trial coincided with Kelly’s last stand: The end of two eras, in a sense, coming on the same lost weekend.
Flammer got the photography bug as a freshman at Canisius High School in 1986, when he won a Canon 82 camera for raising the most money in a charity drive. Soon he was shooting photos for the Arena yearbook and Citadel newspaper; he did the same for the Azuwur yearbook and Griffin newspaper at Canisius College. By senior year there he was shooting games for Buffalo Bills Report, then the team’s monthly newspaper. That’s how he had a media credential for the Miami game Sept. 26, 1993.
Flammer got the assignment to shoot the Simpson photos for the Monday Quarterback Club because his father, Ed, was then president of the businessmen’s booster organization with roots to the beginnings of the Bills. Flammer remembers how excited he was to meet Simpson for the first time.
Flammer hurried through the photos in as little as 10 minutes. They are what’s known in the trade as grip-and-grin shots — six guys lined up, looking directly at the camera, all smiles. There are individual shots of each man with Simpson, too. Every shot is full length. Grip-and-grins are often shot waist-up. Flammer doesn’t remember why these — all 30 — are head to toe.
Simpson, in town as a broadcaster, wears a blue NBC blazer with gray pants and what experts will one day testify are Bruno Magli shoes, Lorenzo model. Club members in the photos include Flammer’s father as well as Jerry Flaschner, then publisher of a local monthly magazine for senior citizens, and Lynch, then the Bills director of public and community relations.
Flammer finished one roll of film and put it in his fanny pack. He took three more photos on a fresh roll and then shot the game. The next day, at Lynch’s request, Flammer made a black-and-white print that would run in the November issue of Buffalo Bills Report. Flammer also had a photo lab make color 5-by-7s for the club members in the pictures.
The dinner honoring Simpson and his 1973 offensive linemen — called the “Electric Company” because they turned on the “Juice,” Simpson’s nickname — was held in November. The slayings took place seven months later on June 12, 1994.
The following fall, Flaschner requested extra copies of a Simpson picture and told Flammer’s father he thought the photo “had something in it.” Flammer says he thought nothing of it when his father relayed that message because he knew Simpson was not wearing gloves in the photos. Flammer’s records show Flaschner, who died in 2006, was billed for one 8-by-10 and one 5-by-7 on Nov. 2, 1994. The jury in the criminal trial was sworn in the next day.
The civil trial began in October 1996. Then, on the day after Thanksgiving, Lynch called Flammer to ask if he still had the photos, according to notes Flammer wrote just weeks later to help him collect his thoughts before testifying at the civil trial. The following account, plus the something-in-it quote from Flaschner, are drawn from those notes.
Lynch asked if anyone had contacted Flammer about his photos. Flammer said no, and the conversation ended soon after. But Flammer wondered what prompted the question and called back.
On that call, Lynch asked Flammer if he knew Harry Scull Jr., who’d taken the photo that Simpson’s attorneys contended was fake. Lynch told Flammer that Scull had seen a Simpson photo at Flaschner’s office and said it could be worth a lot of money. (Scull’s photo of Simpson walking in the end zone at Rich Stadium, showing a distinctive waffle-pattern sole under his right shoe, originally appeared in the National Enquirer, a fact Simpson’s attorneys used to discredit it.)
Flammer asked Lynch what he should do, and Lynch said he could help him contact lawyers in the case, if that’s what Flammer wanted. Then he warned Flammer to be careful, because someone could break in and steal the photos: “Stranger things have happened.”
For all that intrigue, Flammer didn’t go looking for the negatives and says now he doesn’t remember why. Then, two days after Christmas, he happened to talk to Jim McCoy, a photographer at The Buffalo News who’d been a mentor to him. Flammer told McCoy about Lynch’s call — and McCoy said they should get together as soon as possible. This was Friday evening. They decided to meet Sunday, because the Bills-Jaguars playoff game was on Saturday.
That night, Flammer went to his darkroom and found a sleeve of negatives marked “Bills-Dolphins.” It had only the last three photos from the Simpson shoot; the rest of that roll was from the game. Flammer couldn’t find the other 27 negatives.
Saturday evening, Flammer got a call from Scull asking if he’d taken photos of Simpson. Flammer assured Scull that he had. Scull said they should get together, because the National Enquirer was willing to fly in within 24 hours with a cashier’s check for $50,000. (Scull says he vaguely remembers calling Flammer but says he did not discuss money with him.) Flammer told Scull he had to take a call on another line and would call him back, though he was really only trying to end the call. Then Flammer and his brother went to the movies “to avoid Harry and anyone else who might call.”
They returned home to messages from Scull, McCoy — and Rob McElroy. McCoy had asked McElroy, the photo agent who had represented Scull in the sale of his photo, to help Flammer as well. McElroy and Flammer agreed to meet Sunday.
Flammer and his brother Greg went back to the basement to search again for the missing negatives. Greg found them in their original sleeve, marked “O.J. Simpson.” It was in a box filled with old negatives. The next evening Flammer and his father and brother went to see McElroy with the negatives. They met for two hours. McElroy says they came to an understanding that night about copyrighting the pictures.
The civil trial was on Christmas break when Kelly, the attorney for the estate of Nicole Brown Simpson, flew to Buffalo on a tip from Scull’s attorney about the existence of more Bruno Magli photos. Kelly recalls his wife telling him if he was leaving town over the holidays, he darn well better find something.
“It was really more than a tip,” attorney Michael O’Connor says. “I begged him to get on a plane and come to Buffalo.”
Defense witness Robert Groden had just testified that he thought the Scull photo was a fake. Scull knew it wasn’t. And he’d seen a photo at Flaschner’s home months earlier that he believed would prove it.
O’Connor picked up Kelly at the airport Dec. 30 — Monday morning — and they drove to Flaschner’s home. But Kelly says the photo they saw there did him no good because it didn’t show the shoes. (Scull says the photo he’d seen did show the shoes; O’Connor doesn’t recall except that the clothing Simpson wore in the Flaschner photo matched the Scull photo.)
Then O’Connor and Kelly drove to the Bills offices, and O’Connor remembers seeing TV trucks for a news conference announcing the retirement of popular center Kent Hull, a stalwart of the Bills’ Super Bowl era. The attorneys stopped at the front desk and asked to see Lynch.
“We cold-called him,” O’Connor says, “and he met us in a conference room with a bankers box of old issues of Buffalo Bills Report.”
O’Connor and Kelly recall that Lynch told them he was surprised they were the first since the killings to come to the Bills offices looking for evidence. Lynch confirms that, recalling he’d said something like, “It’s surprising to me that you guys didn’t discover this earlier.”
Lynch says he didn’t know for sure if those were Bruno Magli shoes in Flammer’s photos. Even if he suspected it, Lynch says, he thought his hands were tied because then-owner Ralph Wilson had told Bills employees to remain neutral in the Simpson saga: Cooperate fully if asked, don’t volunteer to comment otherwise.
The 10,000 copies of the November 1993 issue of Buffalo Bills Report featured a cover photo of Simpson running in 1973. Inside, on page 19, hiding in plain sight, was Flammer’s photo of Simpson with members of the banquet organizing committee — from negative 7-A.
Kelly thought those looked like Bruno Magli shoes on Simpson, all right, but it was difficult to tell for sure in black and white. O’Connor asked who took the photos. Lynch provided contact information.
Flammer, who was working at his father’s printing and engraving company, met Kelly later that day and agreed to make prints from the negatives. Kelly vividly recalls his first look at them.
“I knew in that moment,” he says, “that the case was over.”
GALLERY: THE O.J. SIMPSON SAGA
Flammer had told his parents about the negatives the night he’d found them. The family fireplace was gaily ablaze for the holidays — and his mother advised tossing them in.
“You don’t want to get involved in this,” he recalls her saying. “These people live under rocks.”
Flammer says he told her he had a civic duty to come forward. He says he felt the same when Kelly informed Flammer he’d be among the first witnesses when the civil trial resumed.
“I’d never been in a courtroom,” Flammer says, “but all I had to do was tell the truth.”
Perry Mason moments — where newly discovered evidence upends a trial — rarely happen outside TV shows because rules of discovery mean both sides typically know in advance what evidence will be introduced. Flammer’s photos were a midtrial plot twist worthy of Erle Stanley Gardner, the mystery writer who created Mason.
The trial transcript shows Flammer telling how he’d maintained custody of the negatives and how he’d used a 35-millimeter Canon T90 camera, with flash and zoom lens, on 400-speed film color negative.
Kelly asked: “Now, why were you, of any other photographers, why were you hired to take these pictures for the Monday Quarterback Club on this day?”
Flammer answered: “My father was the president of the Monday Quarterback Club.” Laughter washed the room.
On cross-examination, Simpson attorney Robert Baker asked acidly if it was Flammer’s testimony that he’d kept the negatives and somehow just happened upon them years later — “kind of like finding a Rembrandt in your attic?”
Flammer answered: “You could liken it to that.”
Baker pressed him on his plans to sell the photos; Flammer said he didn’t know about the plans. Baker asked if he’d insulated himself from knowing; Flammer said yes.
(Flammer says now he’s unsure how much he made on the photos, guessing somewhere approaching $20,000; he calls it found money. McElroy, who was in New York selling photos to the networks for their newscasts on the day of Flammer’s testimony, says he does not recall what they sold for.)
Harry Shearer, voice of Mr. Burns and many others on The Simpsons, covered this other Simpson spectacle for Slate.com, where he anointed Flammer as “a nobody out of nowhere” who’d broken open the case.
“Baker had shot poison-tipped arrows into Flammer’s limbs and the kid didn’t even notice,” Shearer wrote. “Purely on the basis of casting the scene, you couldn’t have a better guy fronting for the last-minute killer evidence.”
Shearer’s account also notes that at one point Flammer took a sip of water and glanced over at Simpson. Perhaps this was the moment of the evil-eye glare.
If it’s true that the criminal trial begat today’s reality-TV culture, then perhaps Simpson begat the candidacy of Donald Trump, who told Sports Illustrated he only decided to run for president when he failed in his bid to buy the Bills.
The country is in a sort of 1990s time warp. Bill Clinton was president during the criminal and civil trials; now his wife hopes to win the White House even as the nation is in the midst of a Simpson revival. O.J.: Made in America, a critically acclaimed five-part documentary, will begin on ABC on June 11 with the rest of its run on ESPN. It comes on the heels of the FX miniseries.
Flammer didn’t watch that show, just as he didn’t watch much of the criminal trial as it happened or even follow much of the civil trial until emerging as its star witness.
Flammer rarely talks about his accidental place in the history of the Simpson saga, his story largely unknown even in Buffalo, where he’s senior category manager for the golf division of New Era Cap Co. He is married, lives in the suburbs and doesn’t take pictures much anymore, except of his kids.
He’s wrong about one thing: The civil trial is much more than a footnote. It’s possible to draw a straight line from the jury’s award of $33.5 million in damages to Simpson’s cell in Nevada’s Lovelock Correctional Center. Simpson was convicted on armed robbery charges in 2008 — 13 years to the day after his acquittal in the criminal trial — after a 2007 incident in which he and others entered the Las Vegas hotel room of a sports memorabilia dealer to steal items that Simpson said were his.
Though Simpson had paid only a fraction of the damages owed in the civil case, Kelly thinks Simpson was trying to recover the collectibles because he needed the money. Adding a fresh layer of irony: Some of the memorabilia was from his 2,003-yard season.
It’s a season that still holds an important place in NFL history. Simpson’s season rushing record was set in a 14-game season and broken by Eric Dickerson of the Los Angeles Rams in a 16-game season in 1984. But Simpson’s 143.1 yards per game in 1973 remains the NFL record by 10 yards per game.
Scull says he never got a thank you from the attorneys or families in the civil trial, though his Bruno Magli photo was the first to surface and he suffered the ignominy of seeing its authenticity challenged. Scull says he wouldn’t stick his neck out if he had it to do over again. “I’m not bitter,” he says, “but I am disappointed.”
Flammer got all the thanks he could ever want. He met Fred Goldman, Ron’s father, during a lunch break in his testimony, and Goldman gathered him in a warm embrace. “I’ll never forget it,” Flammer says. “That was the moment I realized what those pictures really meant.”
Jurors knew. They called the photos compelling evidence, according to an Associated Press report after the verdict in which juror Deena Mullen said she’d used a standard of beyond a shadow of a doubt, rather than the civil trial standard of preponderance of the evidence or criminal trial standard of beyond a reasonable doubt.
Goldman attorney Daniel Petrocelli asked the sharply drawn deposition questions that elicited Simpson’s declaration he’d never owned such shoes. Flammer’s photos impeached that testimony. They also allowed jurors to visualize Simpson at the scene, Kelly says, and follow the bloody shoe prints: “You could clearly see Simpson’s movements and murderous methods and retrace his steps from slashing Nicole’s throat to butchering Ron.”
Would the 31 photos — Flammer’s plus Scull’s — have led to conviction in the criminal case? Kelly thinks it wouldn’t have made a difference. He says prosecutors provided overwhelming physical evidence, but Simpson’s defense team negated it by putting the Los Angeles Police Department’s fraught history with race on trial.
That history is extensively explored in O.J.: Made in America, which runs nearly eight hours. The Shakespearean dimensions of this American tragedy are such that there always seems an inexhaustible hunger for more.
Flammer has a lesser-known place in the saga as a nobody out of nowhere — a shutterbug out of Buffalo — whose hurriedly snapped grip-and-grins put the killer’s shoes on Simpson’s feet.
“E.J. was the perfect witness, a baby-faced kid with no dog in the fight,” Kelly says. “Here he was, a Bills fan who cheered for Simpson growing up, and he had 30 pictures that showed him in those ‘ugly-ass shoes.’ ”
GALLERY: O.J. SIMPSON CRIMINAL TRIAL
