Superstar, Michael Jackson, murdered his father Joe Jackson on the eve of Christmas, 1979. What drove him to commit such a passionate, heinous crime? Money? Greed? Fame? Th Jacksons and their reputation are sent into a spiral.
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12/23/79 ♰
Michael spent the majority of the next day locked in his room. That morning, he smoked while looking over the 2 acres of Hayvenhurst. He saw the maids driving into the parking lot around 6AM. Joe and Jermaine left in the same vehicle not too far into the afternoon. By evening, Marlon was at Michael's door, practically begging him to come out.
Michael shouted in response to a knock on his door. It was Marlon's third time coming to disturb his solitude. "What?"
"Open the door, Mike." Marlon's voice muffled through the door.
"For what?"
"Because I said so."
"And what about what I say? This is my room."
"I'ma knock til' you open, how about that?"
Michael kissed his teeth before getting up from his bed. He opened the door and peaked at his brother. "What you need?"
"To talk, man." There was a forced disconnect between the two of them. "About last night. Don't play dumb."
"What about it? I didn't show up, now what?" Michael shrugged.
Marlon checked to see if there was anyone listening before continuing to speak. "Mike, I get that you wanna do your own thing. I'm all for it, but we're just tryna ride this wave out until we have the opportunity to as well. Feel me?"
Michael sighed and opened his door for his slightly older brother to come in. Michael and Marlon were closer to each other in age than anyone else and Marlon was one out of his few brothers he felt he could trust.
Marlon walked into the room and leaned against one of Michael's dressers with his arms crossed. Michael locked his room door again. He didn't want anyone else coming in.
"Rollin' up on me like y'all did last night, does not put me in line. It only irritates me and makes me want to drop y'all like a bad habit." He was honest with Marlon. He wouldn't cut corners and pretend he didn't feel disrespected.
"You missed the whole gig after you promised you were coming."
"I said I was coming. I ain't promise shit, 'cause I knew I probably wouldn't show." With sarcasm, "From now on I'll say 'probably'. I probably won't be performing at that weak ass Christmas at Motown event."
Marlon shook his head and got a little offended by Michael's pride. "So, when we perform without you, it's weak? When you decide to do right by us and perform with us, it's magical?"
"Putting words in my mouth."
Marlon straightened his posture and began to slowly approach Michael. He squinted his eyes, "Shit, you might as well say it. You and everyone else in the world thinkin' it. That's my point. We're riding a wave tryna keep up with your talent so we can keep ourselves afloat."
