TEARS AND DREAMS

By Kevin Fedarko

Denise Brown: He grabbed Nicole, told her to get out of his house, wanted us all out of his house, picked her up, threw her against a wall, picked her up and threw her out of the house

Christopher Darden: Are you O.K., Ms. Brown?

Brown: Yes, it's just so hard. I'll be fine.

Darden: Your Honor, if it pleases the court, can we adjourn and continue this Monday morning? Your Honor, will the court instruct the bailiff to assist Ms. Brown if she needs assistance?

There was nothing open-ended or ambiguous about the 28 minutes of closing testimony from Nicole Brown Simpson's sister Denise. Last weekend, jurors lived in close quarters with dramatic memories of Denise's ragged anger. Her agitated testimony offered a tympany of accusations that struck blow after blow at the base of O.J. Simpson's carefully wrought image as a celebrity icon, athletic role model and loving husband. By the time she stepped from the stand, she left behind her the overwhelming impression that it had been a very bad week for the defense.

Most trials begin at the brutal edge, marshaling the facts of the crime before attempting to pin them on the accused. But prosecutor Marcia Clark and her team chose to set the murder aside for the moment and instead cast their line far back into the past, calling to the stand a cluster of witnesses to events that happened six, even nine years ago, each one embellishing the picture of Simpson as a cruel and abusive spouse.

First came Sharyn Gilbert, a 911 operator who received a call from the Simpson residence at 3:58 a.m. on Jan. 1, 1989. Gilbert's testimony allowed the prosecution to introduce a chilling tape in which the jury could hear Nicole's screams. Detective John Edwards, who arrived at the front gate that night, then testified that Nicole, who had been hiding in the bushes, rushed forward and yelled, ``He's gonna kill me; he's gonna kill me!''

The words were powerful, but not as riveting as the three Polaroid photos that Edwards later took at the West Los Angeles station house. In them, Nicole looks stunned, terrified and brutally bruised. ``Do the pictures fully portray her injuries?'' Edwards was asked. ``Not even close,'' he replied curtly.

Edwards then testified that O.J. drove away from the house that night in his blue Bentley. The officers pursued but failed to catch him--though O.J. was eventually charged with battering and pleaded no contest. Such a lenient response contradicts a key defense theory of the case: O.J. has been framed by a racist police department. If anything, the cops' behavior that night seems to reflect a climate of collusion with an idolized sports star.

Ronald Shipp, a former police officer who took the stand as a friend of both O.J. and Nicole Simpson's, gave jurors a graphic glimpse into the couple's tempestuous marriage. Assistant D.A. Darden elicited solid testimony from Shipp, a domestic- violence specialist, which stretched from informal counseling in 1989, to a potentially incriminating private conversation in O.J.'s bedroom the night after the murder. But, ironically, it was the blistering cross-examination by the defense that indelibly etched the depth of Shipp's credibility.

Attempting to portray Shipp as a hanger-on and frustrated actor with a drinking problem, attorney Carl Douglas accused the witness of betraying his old friend to get publicity. ``Do you realize, Mr. Shipp,'' demanded Douglas, ``that by testifying as you have, you are going to enhance the name of Ron Shipp around the world?''

``That's not why I'm doing this, Mr. Douglas,'' Shipp insisted. ``I'm doing this for my conscience and my peace of mind. I would not have the blood of Nicole on Ron Shipp. I can sleep at night, unlike a lot of others.''

Shipp's testimony also provided a dramatic link between two key areas of the prosecution's case: O.J.'s alleged history of abusing his wife and his state of mind on the night of the murder. Shipp was among those who gathered to comfort and assist O.J. on the night of June 13. He testified that Simpson had admitted something that the defense had vigorously petitioned Ito to suppress. ``He jokingly said,'' recalled the ex-cop, `` `To be honest, Shipp, I've had some dreams of killing her.' '' Having ruled the highly controversial dream remark admissible, Judge Lance Ito has now opened the possibility that it could be construed as a reversible error in an appeals court, should O.J. be convicted.

But long before that point is reached, the defense must confront the challenge of rehabilitating O.J.'s image in the wake of last week's evidence, which included another taped call to 911 in October 1993. On that one, O.J. had allegedly broken the back door of Nicole's home, and jurors listened to him screaming obscenities at her for 14 minutes.

There were also letters, stored in Nicole's safe-deposit box, in which O.J. expressed ``how wrong I was for hurting you.'' The remorse seemed genuine--if integral to O.J.'s obsession with control--and so did the love. Both sentiments might have softened the mood if matters had ended there. Instead, it was the inconsolable grief of Denise Brown that the jury took into recess--and was to face again on Monday morning.

--Reported by Elaine Lafferty and James Willwerth/Los Angeles

With reporting by ELAINE LAFFERTY AND JAMES WILLWERTH/LOS ANGELES