IS O.J. REALLY BROKE?

By S.C. GWYNNE AND ELAINE LAFFERTY

As the wrongful-death civil trial of O.J. Simpson sputtered toward conclusion last week in Santa Monica, California, a key issue that hung over the courtroom was money. With Simpson's camp openly proclaiming he is out of cash, many observers were left wondering what the plaintiffs stood to gain.

Ron Goldman's father Fred has said he simply wants a jury to find Simpson responsible for his son's death. His lawyer, Daniel Petrocelli, offered a stirring closing argument that even some Simpson defenders conceded was the most masterly in either the criminal or civil trial. Petrocelli again cataloged the physical evidence: the blood in the Bronco, the hair fibers, the newly discovered photographs of Simpson wearing the Bruno Magli shoes that he denied owning. "There's a killer in this courtroom," Petrocelli declared, pointing at Simpson. Quoting a 16th century French poet, Petrocelli concluded, "'My lovely living boy, my hope, my happiness, my love, my life, my joy.' Fred Goldman's lovely living boy is no more."

As many in the courtroom wiped tears from their eyes, it was left to Simpson lead attorney Robert Baker to persuade them to focus on questions of police corruption and contamination of evidence. Baker offered his own interpretation of the lawsuit brought by Ron Goldman's parents and the estate of Nicole Brown Simpson. Said Baker: "This isn't a fight for justice. It's a fight for money."

The problem with the notion of monetary retribution is that Simpson insists he is broke. His friends and lawyers support this claim. They say his net worth, estimated at $11 million only four years ago, has been annihilated by legal costs, the upkeep of his large estate and the loss of the $1 million a year he once received from his contracts with Hertz and NBC.

However, while Simpson is indeed beset by payment demands from lawyers, contractors, gardeners, housekeepers, bodyguards, accountants and even the IRS, he is far from broke. In fact, most Americans would still consider him quite wealthy. A TIME/CNN investigation into Simpson's finances, which involved searches of public records and court documents and interviews with key sources, has found he is worth $3 million and probably more. Most of that money is untouchable, meaning that Simpson can look forward to a comfortable retirement even if there is a large judgment against him.

Where is this money? Is it, as some have theorized, locked away in opaque offshore havens such as Belize or the Isle of Man? (The Goldmans were so concerned that Simpson might have tried to hide money offshore that they engaged international sleuth Kroll Associates to find it.) The truth is closer to home. While Simpson may have stashed some funds overseas, the bulk of his remaining wealth is sunk into completely legal, completely domestic havens: two pension and retirement funds that he set up long ago and that now hold at least $2.5 million, according to sources close to the case.

These funds, which were established by Simpson's financial adviser, Leroy ("Skip") Taft, back in the early 1980s, cannot be touched by outsiders even if Simpson files for bankruptcy. Yet they can easily be turned into cash for Simpson's own use prior to retirement. He can borrow from his retirement funds, and has already done so on several occasions. Simpson can use these funds to buy real estate, something he has done repeatedly in the past. And the pensions begin to pay off their untouchable annuities five years from now, when Simpson turns 55.

But that is not all he has. Untouchable too are his $2,000 monthly pension checks from the N.F.L. and the Screen Actors Guild, which he will start drawing on in five years, and half a million dollars, which will ultimately land in the estate of his children and which will be available to pay expenses such as schooling. He owns a small equity interest in his multimillion-dollar home, but that is expected to be consumed by legal fees. Defense lawyer Baker and moneyman Taft have already slapped liens on it. Simpson also has a life-insurance policy, believed to have a substantial cash value, that would be available to pay him an annuity. It too is beyond the reach of the plaintiffs.

All that appears to be left for the plaintiffs to seize is Simpson's $250,000 San Francisco condo, where his mother Eunice lives and which he apparently has left unencumbered and vulnerable; a $213,000 real estate lien, of which he is the beneficiary; miscellaneous home furnishings; and whatever money he may have in bank accounts. The plaintiffs can attach up to 25% of his nonretirement income too, though he earns virtually nothing now, since most of his traditional sources have dried up. Even if the Goldmans and Browns succeed in gathering these modest amounts, it may seem cold comfort from a man they are convinced killed their children.

In spite of this residual wealth, Simpson has seen the bulk of his fortune eaten away by an estimated $3.5 million in legal fees for the criminal, child-custody and civil trials. He has had to pay taxes of more than $1 million, continuing overhead of more than $100,000 a year on his Rockingham mansion and interest payments of $200,000 a year on outstanding loans.

To meet these demands, Simpson has liquidated almost everything he owned before his arrest in June 1994: condominiums in New York City and California; property in Mexico; his 50% interest in a string of HoneyBaked Ham franchises; even his Ferrari Mondial and the infamous Ford Bronco. What he hasn't sold outright he has mortgaged to the hilt: he borrowed $3 million against his Rockingham home and used a Warhol serigraph of himself as security for a loan he took from his children's estate. He has tapped his homeowner's insurance to pay for his defense in the civil trial.

What happens to Simpson if he loses the case depends partly on how big the judgment is against him. If the judgment is large enough, he may well declare bankruptcy. He would be likely to lose his home on Rockingham and perhaps his property in San Francisco. He would probably have 25% of his income attached for at least the next 20 years. It is difficult to forecast his future earnings, but Simpson's public image and celebrity still have market value. He has already earned $3 million from a combination of sales of his book I Want to Tell You, of postacquittal photos to the Star tabloid and foreign publications, and of various sports promotions, including cards and statues.

Whatever happens, most of his $3 million-plus net worth would be protected. He could borrow against his retirement funds to buy a new home and bridge the gap until his pension checks started arriving. In the meantime, rumors still swirl about Simpson's hidden money. There is one piece of evidence that suggests, in spite of his protestations, that he just might have some free cash. Last summer, after he complained publicly about his dire finances, Simpson was able to come up with $685,248 to clear an IRS lien on his home.