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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Static crackled on the NBC nightly news before the generic face of a white woman flashed on the screen. She let a hot second pass before she started to speak. Her blue eyes kept a serious stare. "Joseph Jackson, the father of child prodigy, Michael Jackson, was found stabbed to death not too far away from the family home in Encino, California. Police say that his murder was most likely premeditated, but currently there are no leads on who could have committed the gruesome crime."
A cameo of the road that Joseph was hidden away from showed on the screen. Sheriffs in puffed coats roamed the area on the gritty screens of many americans.
"Yes, Janine," A man in front of a blue screen replaced the footage, "This is one of the most surprising and diabolical things that has happened this year. Joseph Jackson was the father and manager of The Jackson 5, now renamed The Jacksons, and no one knows who'd do something as horrific as this. We still haven't received any type of statement from the Jackson family."
The woman reappeared on the screen. "I'm sure the Jacksons have been stuck in grief. Police say that there is no official statement concerning the death, but they can confidently say that there is barely a trace of evidence at this time and no suspects. Joseph was found by one of his employees; Bill Bray."
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The Jacksons sat in the conversation pit of Hayvenhurst, accompanied by two detectives. They had come hours after the family returned from the Civic center. Since then, everyone had stopped their crying except Katherine.
The detectives introduced themselves as 'Detective Mason' and 'Detective Green'. Detective Mason was a man in his early fifties. He sported a porn stache and hair buzzed to his scalp. He approached the door of the home in a pair of Shades and a camouflage jacket. Detective Green was a woman with dirty blonde hair that reached her waist and a long torso. She was a tall woman with a deep voice.
The Jacksons sat waist to waist as they slouched on the couches. Everyone but Michael was caught in confusion and no one said it but an angel of relief sat on their shoulders as they gave almost useless accounts to the detectives.
They had barely spoken to each other since the news break. The otherwise talkative family was caught in the darkness of the crime. Jackie and Randy's usual humor was chained.
Michael's nerves rattled. He had less than 24 hours to collect himself and he hadn't done it. The police were ready to send Joseph's killer to jail and he sat under their nose, trying to keep a slight frown on his face so he could show proper emotion. In reality, he wanted to run.
"When was the last time all of you saw Mr. Jackson?" Detective Mason asked, holding a small notebook in his left hand and a pencil in his right.
Katherine Jackson patted her teary eyes with a handkerchief before offering an answer. "We were in our bedroom the last time I spoke to him. He told me he was going downstairs to check on the boys."
