By Robert Massi
Attorney/FOX News Legal Analyst

I had a feeling of déjà vu as I stood in the courtroom. There was O.J. Simpson, standing alongside his defense attorneys, awaiting the verdict of a jury that had deliberated through the night.

O.J. Simpson reacts to guilty verdict on Oct. 3, 2008

Thirteen years ago, I had watched O.J. stand and await the verdict in a Los Angeles courtroom, aware that I was witnessing a trial that would go down in legal and judicial history. Judge Lance Ito’s decision to allow cameras into his courtroom during the murder trial of the famous football player, turned pitchman, turned actor was a pronouncement that changed the face of our legal system and created an audience who couldn’t get enough of “courtroom drama.”

Thirteen years ago, I had watched O.J. stand and await the verdict in a Los Angeles courtroom, aware that I was witnessing a trial that would go down in legal and judicial history.

I was covering the trial for a local Las Vegas television station and it was my first taste of the spectacle that today is described as “celebrity justice.” On any given day of the O.J. murder trial, literally hundreds of news satellite trucks, manned by reporters from around the world, jammed the area surrounding the courthouse. There was no shortage of stories for the group of reporters assigned to follow the case. O.J.’s defense lawyers became known as “the dream team,” and courtroom personalities flourished under the constant media attention. Even Judge Lance Ito became a celebrity in his own courtroom as people debated: Who was really in charge of the proceedings? The judge? Or the lawyers? For months, viewers were riveted by the story of an iconic athlete, a vicious double-murder, a bizarre police chase, stories of sex, drugs, jealousy, and violence, and a glimpse into the lifestyles of the rich and famous in LA.

One of the most dramatic courtroom moments I have seen in my career, came at the moment in time when Orenthal James Simpson walked away from a trial where–at least on the face of it–the evidence against him had seemed overwhelming. For the next decade we didn’t hear much about O.J. Simpson. The $30 million civil judgment against him didn’t grab the public attention, his million dollar “confessional” book, “If I Did It” strained the limits of good taste, and in the court of public opinion, many believed he had literally gotten away with murder and wanted nothing to do with him.

Fast forward thirteen years later – to the very day—as I stood in a courtroom in Las Vegas, and watched once again as the judge polled the jury as to the guilt or innocence of OJ Simpson. There were a few familiar faces in the courtroom, Marcia Clark, the former District Attorney from the Simpson murder trial–now a special correspondent for “Entertainment Tonight”–and author Dominick Dunne who had chronicled the first trial, sat in the press section. But only a few satellite trucks were parked in the lot outside the courthouse, and there were just a handful of reporters who were present each day.

During his murder trial, Simpson had carried himself like a celebrity. I’d talked to him once or twice and he was an engaging guy. He was conscious of his fame and used his charismatic personality to good effect in front of an often-supportive crowd. During his most recent trial he seemed aloof–almost indifferent–to the proceedings. The mood outside the courtroom was low key as well. Las Vegas isn’t Beverly Hills, and there was no star-struck crowd waiting to catch of glimpse of the former football star. The whole situation seemed like some kind of ironic anti-climax: one of the world’s most talented athletes (and arguably one of the most famous murder defendants in recent history) on trial for a stupid robbery in a little hotel in Vegas with a bunch of aging thugs–all but one of whom immediately agreed to testify against him. No Kato Kaelin giving fuzzy testimony about his whereabouts; no “dream team”; no courtroom drama, no reporters asking him for statements at the end of the day. Just the legal system at work–weighing evidence through an impartial presentation of the known facts—as it strives to do everyday for the thousands of citizens whose cases are brought before it.

The judge in the robbery case, Judge Jackie Glass, though at times clearly frustrated, did not let the lawyers control the courtroom. Through her judicial demeanor she let everyone know where she stood. She protected the jury, even though it was a contentious trial. And in the long run, her performance was superior to Judge Ito’s who could not contain the personalities in his courtroom. Where there were issues about briefs or arguments she admitted that she wanted time to read or study them to be sure she understood completely so she could act in a judicially responsible manner. She didn’t play to the cameras in the courtroom. She did not appear to be swayed by media portrayals. She didn’t act like a person in the presence of a celebrity.

Since the trial ended in a guilty verdict, I’ve been thinking a lot about what this says about our judicial system. Did O.J. once literally get away with murder—as many believe—because he was famous and had the means, influence, and ego to manipulate the system? Or did the legal system work just as it should have, letting a defendant go free in the face of evidence that was not 100% compelling, and convicting the same man years later when the evidence of a different crime was captured on audio and videotape and his participation (whatever his motivation) was irrefutable?

After December 5, the day of sentencing, when O.J. may end up behind bars for the rest of his life for a crime in which no one was injured, perhaps I’ll be closer to knowing the answer. Five jurors who were on jury that found him guilty said they believed he should not have been acquitted for murder 13 years ago. O.J.’s celebrity may have faded, but this recent crime shows his arrogance is undiminished. I believe that our justice system will work as it is supposed to, and in this case, the guilty party will not benefit from any special treatment or perceptions and the punishment will fit the crime.