O.J. Simpson, even in his final years, was somewhat of a spectacle.
In his presence, heads turned and whispers swirled. There was no story about him without that white Ford Bronco, the bloody gloves, the two chilling murders.
When he settled in Las Vegas seven years ago, it seemed fitting that he would choose a city of escape and second acts. Here, he became a man about town, known for pulling up to a steakhouse in a Bentley convertible, appearing at lavish parties and posing for selfies.
His lifestyle was comfortable — and far too pleasant to those who believed he deserved to spend his remaining days in prison.
But there was one element that made him feel accepted in Las Vegas. A little-known golf crew called In the Cup.
Its 40 or so members are neither wealthy nor powerful. They play at public courses, not lush country clubs. They are military veterans, retired police officers, small business owners, airport security workers.
Most are Black. And none of them cared about Mr. Simpson’s past.
“It’s not something we talked about, not something we discussed, not something we went into. We left it alone,” said one member, Leroy Wordlaw, 72, a retired Marine master sergeant. “This is a man who came to us the way he is.”
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