June 19th, 2009. Staples Center, Los Angeles. 11:47 p.m. Kenny Ortega [music] stood backstage, his phone pressed against his ear, waiting for someone, anyone, to pick up. Michael Jackson was supposed to be on stage 2 hours ago. The dancers were exhausted from marking Michael’s parts.
The band had played the same songs on loop. And Ortega, the director who had worked with Jackson for over two decades, [music] was about to do something he’d never done before. Call the artist personal physician [music] to ask permission for his friend to come to work. When Dr. Conrad Murray finally answered, his voice was calm. Too calm.
Michael will be there when he’s ready. Murray said, “Don’t worry about his schedule. I’m handling it.” Ortega [music] hung up. He looked at his assistant director, his costume designer, his choreographer, all of them waiting for an answer he couldn’t give. “Keep warming up,” he said. “He’s coming.” But in his gut, something felt wrong.
Deeply, terribly wrong. [music] This wasn’t the Michael Jackson the world knew. This wasn’t the perfectionist who rehearsed [music] until his feet bled, who demanded one more take even when everyone else was ready to [music] collapse. This was someone, someone, and someone. Ortega barely recognized anymore. And in 6 days, Michael Jackson would be dead.
Rewind to March 5th, 2009. [music] The O2 Arena in London. Press conference. Michael Jackson stood in front of thousands of screaming fans and hundreds of journalists. His voice barely above a whisper. This is it. This is the final curtain call. Within 4 hours, 750,000 tickets sold. Two ticketing websites crashed.
The original [music] 10 shows expanded to 50. Then the whispers started about Australia, Japan, North America. This wasn’t just a comeback. This was supposed to be the [music] greatest concert tour in history. AEG Live, the promotion company behind the tour, [music] projected revenues in the hundreds of millions. They built custom stages.
They hired the best [music] dancers in the world. They designed costumes that cost more than most people’s houses. They brought in Kenny Ortega, the visionary director who had choreographed Jackson’s Dangerous and History Tours. Everything was in place. Everything except Michael. Because what the world didn’t know, what the fans [music] buying tickets didn’t know was that behind closed doors, Michael Jackson was falling apart.
April 2009, the rehearsals began. At first, everything seemed fine. Michael showed up three to four times a [music] week. He was engaged, creative, brilliant. He’d sketch out dance moves on napkins. [music] He’d spend hours discussing the lighting for a single song. He was Michael Jackson, the perfectionist, the king of pop, the artist who saw [music] details nobody else could see.
He was very upbeat. Karen Fay Jackson’s longtime makeup artist would later testify [music] in court, but he was on the thin side. By May, the thin side had become something else entirely. Michael started missing rehearsals. One day, then two, then a full week would go by with no sign [music] of him. Ortega would call, no answer.
The managers would call, [music] no answer. The though person who could reach Michael Jackson was Dr. Conrad Murray, the cardiologist who had somehow become the gatekeeper to one of the most famous men on earth. Travis Payne, the show’s choreographer, went to Jackson’s rented mansion in Home Hills almost every day for private rehearsals.
But more often than not, Michael wasn’t available or he was in his room with the doctor or he was resting. When he did show up to Staple [music] Center, something was off. His speech was slightly slurred. His movements were slower. He seemed distant, like he was performing in a dream. He appeared to be under the influence of something.
Ortega would later tell a courtroom. It was fairly [music] obvious to others involved in the production, but nobody said anything. Not the executives at AEG who had $25 million in pre-production costs on the line. Not the dancers who had quit other jobs for this once in a thy opportunity. Not the crew who had been building this show for months.
Because this was Michael Jackson. And Michael Jackson always pulled through in the end, didn’t he? The rehearsal was a disaster. Michael forgot [music] lyrics to songs he’d performed thousands of times. He couldn’t hit his marks. The choreography movements he’d invented, moves that defined [music] a generation, looked foreign in his body.
He left early. The next day, he didn’t show up at all. Ortega fired off an email [music] to Paul Gongaware. AEG Live’s co-CEO. Were you aware [music] that MJ’s doctor didn’t permit him to attend rehearsals yesterday? Are Randy [music] and Frank aware of this? Please have them stay on top of his health situation without invading MJ’s privacy.
It might be a good idea to talk with his doctor to make sure everything MJ requires is in place. The response came back quickly. Murray was now in charge of Michael’s schedule. If Ortega wanted to know if Jackson was coming to rehearsal, he should call the doctor. Ortega was given Murray’s cell phone number. He programmed it into his phone.
The director of a $400 million concert [music] tour was now calling a cardiologist to ask if the star would show up work. He was my lifeline, so to speak. Ortega would later testify, his voice breaking. [music] For the next week, Michael Jackson was a ghost. No rehearsals, no calls, nothing. Just Murray’s [music] calm voice on the other end of the line always saying the same thing. He needs rats.
Don’t worry, [music] I’m taking care of him. But Ortega was worried. The tour was supposed to move to London in a matter of days. They were running out of time. Michael Jackson arrived at Staples Center at 9:30. The moment Ortega saw him, his blood went cold. I saw a Michael that frightened me. he would tell a jury four years later.
Tears streaming down his face. He was shivering, cold. He seemed lost. Jackson’s skin looked gray under the rehearsal lights. His eyes were unfocused. When people spoke to him, he would nod, but it wasn’t clear if he was actually [music] hearing the words. He was wearing ear of clothing despite the fact that [music] it was June in Los Angeles and the Staple Center was warm.
Ortega touched Michael’s feet. They were ice cold. >> Michael, when did you eat last? Ortega asked. >> Jackson didn’t answer or couldn’t answer. It wasn’t clear which Ortega sent someone to get food. He wrapped Jackson [music] in blankets. He rubbed his friend’s feet, trying to get circulation going, [music] trying to bring warmth back into a body that seemed to be shutting down.
He appeared lost, cold, afraid. Ortega [music] testified. I thought there was something emotional going on, deeply emotional, and something physical going on. He seemed fragile. [music] Karen Fay, the makeup artist who had known Michael for decades, watched from across the room. She would later describe Jackson as emaciated.
At nearly 6 feet tall, he weighed around 130 lb. She had never seen him like this. Never. Associate producer Alif Sanki stood next to Ortega. She was crying. Ortega was crying and Michael Jackson sat there wrapped in blankets shivering while the crew of his [music] comeback tour watched watch. Why can’t I choose? Jackson kept saying over and over.
Why can’t I choose? Nobody knew what he meant. Or maybe they did and it was too terrible to acknowledge. Ortega made a decision. Michael wasn’t going on stage tonight. [music] It wasn’t safe. He could hurt himself. He could collapse in front of everyone. Instead, they would run through the choreography without him.
Travis Payne would dance Michael’s parts. Michael would sit and watch. But as the rehearsal went on, as the music played and the dancers moved, something shifted. Michael started [music] to engage. He began giving notes. His voice got stronger. By the end of the night, he was standing, walking around, still fragile, still thin, but present.
I felt somewhat calm when we left,” Ortega said. But he was lying to himself. [music] He knew it. Everyone knew it. That night, Ortega went home and wrote an email that would later be read aloud in a courtroom. Each word a [music] dagger. My concern is that the artist may be unable to rise to the occasion due to real emotional stuff.
He was trembling, rambling, obsessing. Everything in me says he should be psychologically evaluated. Today I was feeding him, wrapping him in blankets, and calling his doctor. It would shatter him, break his heart if we pulled the plug. He sent it to Randy Phillips and [music] Paul Gongaware, the top executives at AEG Live.
He needed them to know someone had to do something. The response came the next day. An emergency meeting at Jackson’s house. Michael Jackson’s rented mansion. Noon. In the room. Kenny Ortega. [music] Randy Phillips, CEO of AEG Live. Dr. Conrad Murray and Michael Jackson. The man everyone [music] was talking about, but no one was really listening to.
Murray was furious. You need to stop trying to be an amateur doctor and psychologist. Murray told Ortega, his voice sharp. Your job is to be the director. Michael’s health is my responsibility. Ortega tried to explain. Michael couldn’t perform like this. The tour might need to be postponed. They might need to pull the plug.
Murray cut him off. Michael is fine. I’m taking care of him. [music] He’ll be at rehearsals. He’ll be ready. Randy Phillips, the man who had reportedly screamed at Jackson so loud the walls were shaking to get him to the London press conference, sat there silent. He left after [music] 15 minutes. The meeting was over.
The message was clear. The show would go on. [music] Ortega walked out of that house feeling hollow. Years later, on the witness stand, [music] he would say, “I didn’t think it was going to go on. I had more than a serious concern.” But he went back to Staples Center. Because what else could he do? Stop a $400 million production because he had a bad feeling? [music] tell 750,000 ticket holders that the greatest comeback in music history was [music] cancelled because the star was too sick to perform. No, he went back to work. They
all did. June 23rd, [music] Michael Jackson walked into Staples Center like a different person. He was energetic, focused, present. [music] He ran through they don’t care about Us with power and precision. The dancers couldn’t believe it. Four days ago, he could barely stand. Now he was Michael Jackson again.
It was miraculous. Ortega would later say the word heavy with meaning. The crew felt relief flood through them. See, he was fine. It was just a bad few days. Everyone has bad days. This was Michael Jackson. Of course, he’d pull through. June 24th, the final rehearsal. Michael arrived early. Unusual for him lately.
They ran through Dangerous, then Thriller with the full costume for the first time. Though Michael didn’t even have his personal headset 10 yet, then Earth Song, the environmental anthem that would close the show. The footage would later be compiled into the This Is It documentary. Fans around the world would watch it and see a man at the height of his powers dancing, [music] singing, directing, creating.
They would see the Michael Jackson they remembered. What they wouldn’t see was the struggle, the missed rehearsals, the weight loss, the shivering, the blankets, the fear in his eyes. The documentary was a carefully edited love letter. The reality was something much darker. Michael rehearsed until just after midnight on June 25th.
His last words to his dancers as he left Staples Center around 12:30 a.m., “See you tomorrow.” At 12:30 [music] p.m. that day, 12 hours later, paramedics would be called to his [music] mansion in Holby Hills. At 2:26 p.m., Michael Jackson would be Bane’s dead at UCLA Medical Center. The cause of death, cocute propol intoxication, the surgical anesthetic that Dr.
Conrad Murray had been giving him every night to help him sleep. The drug that Murray would later admit to police he’d administered that very morning. The drug that in the wrong hands could stop a human heart. The This Is It [music] documentary was released 4 months after Michael Jackson’s death. It made over $260 million worldwide, more than any concert film in history.
Fans fill theaters to see the show that never was. To hear Michael sing one last time, to imagine what might have been. In the film, [music] there’s a moment during Earth Song where Michael stands on stage, his arms spread wide, his voice soaring. It’s powerful. It’s moving. It’s vintage Michael Jackson. What the film doesn’t [music] show is that this performance was from June 24th, Michael’s last night alive.
What it doesn’t show is that just 5 days earlier, Kenny Ortega was wrapping him in blankets and feeding him by hand because he couldn’t take care of himself. What it doesn’t show is the email chains between AEG executives discussing whether they should pull the plug on a tour they’d invested tens of millions in.
What it doesn’t show is Randy Phillips riying to his colleague, “This is the scariest thing I have [music] ever seen. He’s an emotionally paralyzed mess filled with self-loathing and doubt.” [music] What it doesn’t show is Dr. Conrad Murray administering propall in Michael’s bedroom night after night, trying to knock him unconscious so he [music] could rest enough to rehearse the next day.
Murray, who was $1 million in debt. Murray, who had abandoned [music] his medical practice to work for Jackson. Murray, who would lose everything if the tour was cancelled. What it doesn’t show [music] is Michael Jackson saying, “Why can’t I choose?” over and over like a man who [music] had lost control of his own life.
The documentary shows us the artist, the genius, the king of pop. It doesn’t show us the [music] man who was dying right in front of everyone while the cameras kept rolling. But Dr. Conrad Murray [music] was convicted of involuntary manslaughter in 2011 and served 2 years in prison. AG Live was [music] sued by Katherine Jackson and Michael’s three children for wrongful death. The trial lasted 5 months.
In October 2013, [music] the jury found AEG Live not liable, concluding that by they had hired Murray, they could not have known about the dangerous propall treatments. But the testimonies from that trial from Kenny Ortega, Karen Fay, the dancers, the crew painted a picture that the this is it documentary never could.
They described a man we were struggling, suffering, crying out for help in the only ways he knew how. The 50 concerts [music] at the O2 Arena never happened. The world tour never happened. The greatest comeback in music history became the greatest tragedy. And somewhere in the archives, there are over 100 hours of rehearsal footage.
Moments of brilliance, moments of struggle. The real story of Michael Jackson’s final days, mostly unseen, carefully edited, forfittering complete. There’s a moment in the This Is It documentary Blink and You’ll [music] Miss It. It’s from the June 24th rehearsal. Michael has just finished Earth song.
The music fades, the lights dim, and for just a second, the camera catches his face. He looks tired. Not the energetic, powerful performer from moments [music] before, just tired. A 50-year-old man who’s been famous since he was five, who’s been performing since before he could remember, who’s carried the weight of the world’s expectations for [music] 45 years.
Kenny Ortega is standing off stage watching. In 18 hours, he’ll get the phone call that changes everything. In 18 hours, Paul Gongaware will tell him, “Our boy is gone.” And Ortega [music] will think it’s a prank. Some weirdo on the phone. Because it can’t be real. It can’t be. But in [music] this moment, this frozen frame from June 24th, 2009, Michael Jackson is still [music] alive, still creating, still dreaming of the comeback that will remind the world who he really is. [music] He turns to leave the stage.
Someone, maybe a dancer, maybe crew, says [music] something. Michael smiles, waves. See you tomorrow. The camera keeps rolling for another second. Then it cuts to black. [music] Tomorrow never came.
Michael Jackson’s Final Rehearsal: He Could Barely Stand – What the Crew Witnessed
June 19th, 2009. Staples Center, Los Angeles. 11:47 p.m. Kenny Ortega [music] stood backstage, his phone pressed against his ear, waiting for someone, anyone, to pick up. Michael Jackson was supposed to be on stage 2 hours ago. The dancers were exhausted from marking Michael’s parts.
The band had played the same songs on loop. And Ortega, the director who had worked with Jackson for over two decades, [music] was about to do something he’d never done before. Call the artist personal physician [music] to ask permission for his friend to come to work. When Dr. Conrad Murray finally answered, his voice was calm. Too calm.
Michael will be there when he’s ready. Murray said, “Don’t worry about his schedule. I’m handling it.” Ortega [music] hung up. He looked at his assistant director, his costume designer, his choreographer, all of them waiting for an answer he couldn’t give. “Keep warming up,” he said. “He’s coming.” But in his gut, something felt wrong.
Deeply, terribly wrong. [music] This wasn’t the Michael Jackson the world knew. This wasn’t the perfectionist who rehearsed [music] until his feet bled, who demanded one more take even when everyone else was ready to [music] collapse. This was someone, someone, and someone. Ortega barely recognized anymore. And in 6 days, Michael Jackson would be dead.
Rewind to March 5th, 2009. [music] The O2 Arena in London. Press conference. Michael Jackson stood in front of thousands of screaming fans and hundreds of journalists. His voice barely above a whisper. This is it. This is the final curtain call. Within 4 hours, 750,000 tickets sold. Two ticketing websites crashed.
The original [music] 10 shows expanded to 50. Then the whispers started about Australia, Japan, North America. This wasn’t just a comeback. This was supposed to be the [music] greatest concert tour in history. AEG Live, the promotion company behind the tour, [music] projected revenues in the hundreds of millions. They built custom stages.
They hired the best [music] dancers in the world. They designed costumes that cost more than most people’s houses. They brought in Kenny Ortega, the visionary director who had choreographed Jackson’s Dangerous and History Tours. Everything was in place. Everything except Michael. Because what the world didn’t know, what the fans [music] buying tickets didn’t know was that behind closed doors, Michael Jackson was falling apart.
April 2009, the rehearsals began. At first, everything seemed fine. Michael showed up three to four times a [music] week. He was engaged, creative, brilliant. He’d sketch out dance moves on napkins. [music] He’d spend hours discussing the lighting for a single song. He was Michael Jackson, the perfectionist, the king of pop, the artist who saw [music] details nobody else could see.
He was very upbeat. Karen Fay Jackson’s longtime makeup artist would later testify [music] in court, but he was on the thin side. By May, the thin side had become something else entirely. Michael started missing rehearsals. One day, then two, then a full week would go by with no sign [music] of him. Ortega would call, no answer.
The managers would call, [music] no answer. The though person who could reach Michael Jackson was Dr. Conrad Murray, the cardiologist who had somehow become the gatekeeper to one of the most famous men on earth. Travis Payne, the show’s choreographer, went to Jackson’s rented mansion in Home Hills almost every day for private rehearsals.
But more often than not, Michael wasn’t available or he was in his room with the doctor or he was resting. When he did show up to Staple [music] Center, something was off. His speech was slightly slurred. His movements were slower. He seemed distant, like he was performing in a dream. He appeared to be under the influence of something.
Ortega would later tell a courtroom. It was fairly [music] obvious to others involved in the production, but nobody said anything. Not the executives at AEG who had $25 million in pre-production costs on the line. Not the dancers who had quit other jobs for this once in a thy opportunity. Not the crew who had been building this show for months.
Because this was Michael Jackson. And Michael Jackson always pulled through in the end, didn’t he? The rehearsal was a disaster. Michael forgot [music] lyrics to songs he’d performed thousands of times. He couldn’t hit his marks. The choreography movements he’d invented, moves that defined [music] a generation, looked foreign in his body.
He left early. The next day, he didn’t show up at all. Ortega fired off an email [music] to Paul Gongaware. AEG Live’s co-CEO. Were you aware [music] that MJ’s doctor didn’t permit him to attend rehearsals yesterday? Are Randy [music] and Frank aware of this? Please have them stay on top of his health situation without invading MJ’s privacy.
It might be a good idea to talk with his doctor to make sure everything MJ requires is in place. The response came back quickly. Murray was now in charge of Michael’s schedule. If Ortega wanted to know if Jackson was coming to rehearsal, he should call the doctor. Ortega was given Murray’s cell phone number. He programmed it into his phone.
The director of a $400 million concert [music] tour was now calling a cardiologist to ask if the star would show up work. He was my lifeline, so to speak. Ortega would later testify, his voice breaking. [music] For the next week, Michael Jackson was a ghost. No rehearsals, no calls, nothing. Just Murray’s [music] calm voice on the other end of the line always saying the same thing. He needs rats.
Don’t worry, [music] I’m taking care of him. But Ortega was worried. The tour was supposed to move to London in a matter of days. They were running out of time. Michael Jackson arrived at Staples Center at 9:30. The moment Ortega saw him, his blood went cold. I saw a Michael that frightened me. he would tell a jury four years later.
Tears streaming down his face. He was shivering, cold. He seemed lost. Jackson’s skin looked gray under the rehearsal lights. His eyes were unfocused. When people spoke to him, he would nod, but it wasn’t clear if he was actually [music] hearing the words. He was wearing ear of clothing despite the fact that [music] it was June in Los Angeles and the Staple Center was warm.
Ortega touched Michael’s feet. They were ice cold. >> Michael, when did you eat last? Ortega asked. >> Jackson didn’t answer or couldn’t answer. It wasn’t clear which Ortega sent someone to get food. He wrapped Jackson [music] in blankets. He rubbed his friend’s feet, trying to get circulation going, [music] trying to bring warmth back into a body that seemed to be shutting down.
He appeared lost, cold, afraid. Ortega [music] testified. I thought there was something emotional going on, deeply emotional, and something physical going on. He seemed fragile. [music] Karen Fay, the makeup artist who had known Michael for decades, watched from across the room. She would later describe Jackson as emaciated.
At nearly 6 feet tall, he weighed around 130 lb. She had never seen him like this. Never. Associate producer Alif Sanki stood next to Ortega. She was crying. Ortega was crying and Michael Jackson sat there wrapped in blankets shivering while the crew of his [music] comeback tour watched watch. Why can’t I choose? Jackson kept saying over and over.
Why can’t I choose? Nobody knew what he meant. Or maybe they did and it was too terrible to acknowledge. Ortega made a decision. Michael wasn’t going on stage tonight. [music] It wasn’t safe. He could hurt himself. He could collapse in front of everyone. Instead, they would run through the choreography without him.
Travis Payne would dance Michael’s parts. Michael would sit and watch. But as the rehearsal went on, as the music played and the dancers moved, something shifted. Michael started [music] to engage. He began giving notes. His voice got stronger. By the end of the night, he was standing, walking around, still fragile, still thin, but present.
I felt somewhat calm when we left,” Ortega said. But he was lying to himself. [music] He knew it. Everyone knew it. That night, Ortega went home and wrote an email that would later be read aloud in a courtroom. Each word a [music] dagger. My concern is that the artist may be unable to rise to the occasion due to real emotional stuff.
He was trembling, rambling, obsessing. Everything in me says he should be psychologically evaluated. Today I was feeding him, wrapping him in blankets, and calling his doctor. It would shatter him, break his heart if we pulled the plug. He sent it to Randy Phillips and [music] Paul Gongaware, the top executives at AEG Live.
He needed them to know someone had to do something. The response came the next day. An emergency meeting at Jackson’s house. Michael Jackson’s rented mansion. Noon. In the room. Kenny Ortega. [music] Randy Phillips, CEO of AEG Live. Dr. Conrad Murray and Michael Jackson. The man everyone [music] was talking about, but no one was really listening to.
Murray was furious. You need to stop trying to be an amateur doctor and psychologist. Murray told Ortega, his voice sharp. Your job is to be the director. Michael’s health is my responsibility. Ortega tried to explain. Michael couldn’t perform like this. The tour might need to be postponed. They might need to pull the plug.
Murray cut him off. Michael is fine. I’m taking care of him. [music] He’ll be at rehearsals. He’ll be ready. Randy Phillips, the man who had reportedly screamed at Jackson so loud the walls were shaking to get him to the London press conference, sat there silent. He left after [music] 15 minutes. The meeting was over.
The message was clear. The show would go on. [music] Ortega walked out of that house feeling hollow. Years later, on the witness stand, [music] he would say, “I didn’t think it was going to go on. I had more than a serious concern.” But he went back to Staples Center. Because what else could he do? Stop a $400 million production because he had a bad feeling? [music] tell 750,000 ticket holders that the greatest comeback in music history was [music] cancelled because the star was too sick to perform. No, he went back to work. They
all did. June 23rd, [music] Michael Jackson walked into Staples Center like a different person. He was energetic, focused, present. [music] He ran through they don’t care about Us with power and precision. The dancers couldn’t believe it. Four days ago, he could barely stand. Now he was Michael Jackson again.
It was miraculous. Ortega would later say the word heavy with meaning. The crew felt relief flood through them. See, he was fine. It was just a bad few days. Everyone has bad days. This was Michael Jackson. Of course, he’d pull through. June 24th, the final rehearsal. Michael arrived early. Unusual for him lately.
They ran through Dangerous, then Thriller with the full costume for the first time. Though Michael didn’t even have his personal headset 10 yet, then Earth Song, the environmental anthem that would close the show. The footage would later be compiled into the This Is It documentary. Fans around the world would watch it and see a man at the height of his powers dancing, [music] singing, directing, creating.
They would see the Michael Jackson they remembered. What they wouldn’t see was the struggle, the missed rehearsals, the weight loss, the shivering, the blankets, the fear in his eyes. The documentary was a carefully edited love letter. The reality was something much darker. Michael rehearsed until just after midnight on June 25th.
His last words to his dancers as he left Staples Center around 12:30 a.m., “See you tomorrow.” At 12:30 [music] p.m. that day, 12 hours later, paramedics would be called to his [music] mansion in Holby Hills. At 2:26 p.m., Michael Jackson would be Bane’s dead at UCLA Medical Center. The cause of death, cocute propol intoxication, the surgical anesthetic that Dr.
Conrad Murray had been giving him every night to help him sleep. The drug that Murray would later admit to police he’d administered that very morning. The drug that in the wrong hands could stop a human heart. The This Is It [music] documentary was released 4 months after Michael Jackson’s death. It made over $260 million worldwide, more than any concert film in history.
Fans fill theaters to see the show that never was. To hear Michael sing one last time, to imagine what might have been. In the film, [music] there’s a moment during Earth Song where Michael stands on stage, his arms spread wide, his voice soaring. It’s powerful. It’s moving. It’s vintage Michael Jackson. What the film doesn’t [music] show is that this performance was from June 24th, Michael’s last night alive.
What it doesn’t show is that just 5 days earlier, Kenny Ortega was wrapping him in blankets and feeding him by hand because he couldn’t take care of himself. What it doesn’t show is the email chains between AEG executives discussing whether they should pull the plug on a tour they’d invested tens of millions in.
What it doesn’t show is Randy Phillips riying to his colleague, “This is the scariest thing I have [music] ever seen. He’s an emotionally paralyzed mess filled with self-loathing and doubt.” [music] What it doesn’t show is Dr. Conrad Murray administering propall in Michael’s bedroom night after night, trying to knock him unconscious so he [music] could rest enough to rehearse the next day.
Murray, who was $1 million in debt. Murray, who had abandoned [music] his medical practice to work for Jackson. Murray, who would lose everything if the tour was cancelled. What it doesn’t show [music] is Michael Jackson saying, “Why can’t I choose?” over and over like a man who [music] had lost control of his own life.
The documentary shows us the artist, the genius, the king of pop. It doesn’t show us the [music] man who was dying right in front of everyone while the cameras kept rolling. But Dr. Conrad Murray [music] was convicted of involuntary manslaughter in 2011 and served 2 years in prison. AG Live was [music] sued by Katherine Jackson and Michael’s three children for wrongful death. The trial lasted 5 months.
In October 2013, [music] the jury found AEG Live not liable, concluding that by they had hired Murray, they could not have known about the dangerous propall treatments. But the testimonies from that trial from Kenny Ortega, Karen Fay, the dancers, the crew painted a picture that the this is it documentary never could.
They described a man we were struggling, suffering, crying out for help in the only ways he knew how. The 50 concerts [music] at the O2 Arena never happened. The world tour never happened. The greatest comeback in music history became the greatest tragedy. And somewhere in the archives, there are over 100 hours of rehearsal footage.
Moments of brilliance, moments of struggle. The real story of Michael Jackson’s final days, mostly unseen, carefully edited, forfittering complete. There’s a moment in the This Is It documentary Blink and You’ll [music] Miss It. It’s from the June 24th rehearsal. Michael has just finished Earth song.
The music fades, the lights dim, and for just a second, the camera catches his face. He looks tired. Not the energetic, powerful performer from moments [music] before, just tired. A 50-year-old man who’s been famous since he was five, who’s been performing since before he could remember, who’s carried the weight of the world’s expectations for [music] 45 years.
Kenny Ortega is standing off stage watching. In 18 hours, he’ll get the phone call that changes everything. In 18 hours, Paul Gongaware will tell him, “Our boy is gone.” And Ortega [music] will think it’s a prank. Some weirdo on the phone. Because it can’t be real. It can’t be. But in [music] this moment, this frozen frame from June 24th, 2009, Michael Jackson is still [music] alive, still creating, still dreaming of the comeback that will remind the world who he really is. [music] He turns to leave the stage.
Someone, maybe a dancer, maybe crew, says [music] something. Michael smiles, waves. See you tomorrow. The camera keeps rolling for another second. Then it cuts to black. [music] Tomorrow never came.
