Jackson Perhaps Free to Redeem Himself

But I wasn't in the courtroom. So I won't insult the jury -- whose seven white, four Hispanic and one Asian members included eight parents -- by doubting. I accept that jury members tried, as their foreman attested after the trial, to "look at [Jackson] as just like any other individual." I believe they "seriously" studied the evidence, struggling to meet the judge's 98 pages of instructions. I trust their verdict was fair, according to the law.

But the law isn't perfect. I wished that somewhere in the between -- in the gap between reasonable doubt and unreasonable grandiosity, between certain guilt and far-from-innocence -- there was a place where Jackson could have been found accountable :

For exercising terrible judgment. For taking advantage of -- and allowing himself to be taken advantage by -- grasping, star-struck parents. For the sense of entitlement that a worshipful public bestowed upon him but which desperately needs checking.

I wished for a place, other than "guilty," where he could be stopped. But "accountable" isn't a sentence. So though I wasn't thrilled with the verdict, part of me was relieved. A prison term for Michael Jackson, I felt, might have been tantamount to a death sentence. And though I think that Jackson's discomfiting fondness for youngsters demands counseling and a ban on sleepovers, I don't believe the star deserves to die.

But I'm speculating. The plaintiff can fall back on a civil suit, news of which could be coming soon in a tabloid near you. The rest of us are left with speculation and judgment -- both of which we've offered abundantly.

And we get to decide what it means.

Which brings us back to spared. The word takes us into yet another uncomfortable place -- into the realm of the spiritual. To a place where those who've transgressed-- and who hasn't? -- can find peace, even forgiveness.

Perhaps this man, whose childhood fame, riches, isolation and traumas ensured that he'd have no clue as to "normal," has learned something. Perhaps he understands that the real love of his life -- his devoted public -- has grown less enamored. Perhaps Jackson -- who grinned as he danced incongruously atop a car after his arraignment -- looked grim after regaining his freedom because he'd just heard a wake-up call.

Perhaps my friend was right. After a year in which the public was spared no ugly detail or unfounded conjecture, maybe Jackson was spared for redemption.