Media Circus • Michael Irvin
The Dallas Cowboys star fumbles his private life, and the world piles on.
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According to Smith, when Irvin heard about her grand jury appearance, he had Pedini and another crony take her to an apartment, where they forced her to strip and searched her clothes and every part of her body to see if she was hiding a listening or recording device. Irvin then demanded that she go back to the grand jury and recant her story. Smith said Irvin “kept on telling me that I shouldn’t be afraid of the DA’s office—I should be afraid of him, because he was more powerful.” She also claimed Irvin said that if she double-crossed him, “you’ll never see John [Johnnie Hernandez] or the light of day again, I promise you.”
How much seamier could this tale get? Plenty. The reason Hernandez was caught in the first place was because the Dallas Police Department was investigating the activities of allegedly dirty cops. The day after Hernandez’s arrest, rumors spread that he hadn’t wanted to kill Irvin for his threats against Smith. Well-known Dallas sportswriter Skip Bayless, the author of three books on the Cowboys, said on ESPN that sources had told him a hit had been ordered on Irvin because Irvin had made it clear that if he went down on drug charges, he would expose a scheme among local police officers to protect a drug and prostitution ring.
Like any professional sports franchise, the Cowboys had had their share of fallen heroes—from Hollywood Henderson succumbing to drugs to Lance Rentzel exposing his private parts in public. The team’s image was certainly not helped when lineman Nate Newton, defending the players’ White House, told one reporter, “We’ve got a little place over here where we’re running some whores in and out, trying to be responsible, and we’re criticized for that too.”
But the Irvin case was a real-life combination of North Dallas Forty and Semi-Tough. In opening arguments, Gillett told the jury that Irvin’s eyes were bloodshot the night of the bust, which he believed suggested Irvin was either intoxicated or in a drug-induced stupor. Royce West, an African American state senator and one of Irvin’s defense attorneys, was outraged, rising to tell the jurors (only one of whom was black) that all African American men’s eyes are a little bloodshot. West played a unique race-celebrity card, saying the only reason the district attorney’s office had intervened in the case was because it saw a chance to put a superstar in his place—or what West called “the back of the bus.”
The truth was that prosecutors never would have thought twice about reinvestigating Angela Beck’s arrest if Irvin had not been in that hotel room. He was singled out, plain and simple. Yet it was difficult to find anyone who felt sorry for him: The man deserved everything coming to him. As the trial progressed, he looked more depressed, never smiling, his head hanging down. He brightened noticeably one morning when quarterback Troy Aikman arrived to sit in the front row of the spectator benches, telling the press he was there “to support a friend.” The Dallas Morning News editorial board was so offended by Aikman’s presence that it published a blistering editorial saying he could be sending a message to Dallas youngsters “that a reckless lifestyle is excusable.”
On what turned out to be the last day of testimony, Rachelle Smith took the stand outside the presence of the jury. (The judge wanted to hear what she was going to say to determine what parts of her testimony were suitable for the jury.) Her dark hair flowed down her back, her lips were frosted with a light-colored lipstick, and her curvy body was draped in a long white pantsuit, apparently borrowed from someone because the sleeves hung way below her hands. Although she had been photographed with braces on her teeth just a couple of weeks earlier, the braces were removed for her moment in the limelight.
Members of the media snickered when she insisted in a slightly indignant tone that she only went to the hotel rooms to have sex with Beck, never with Irvin. But suddenly, a pall fell over the courtroom as she described the way Irvin had her searched for listening devices. “He told me that if I didn’t change my testimony, he would put everybody against me and everybody would hate me. He said that he’d make a touchdown and everyone would love him again.” There was a long silence. Irvin dropped his head.
The next day that court was in session, prosecutors and Irvin’s lawyers agreed to a plea bargain. Irvin pleaded no contest to cocaine possession, a second-degree felony, in exchange for four years’ deferred probation, a $10,000 fine, about eight hundred hours of community service, and dismissal of the misdemeanor marijuana possession charges against him. In one respect, it was an unremarkable arrangement. Nearly everyone convicted of cocaine possession for the first time receives probation. On the other hand, Irvin escaped much greater problems. As part of the deal, Gillett agreed not to pursue felony witness-tampering charges against Irvin for his conduct with Rachelle Smith. Still, Gillett seemed satisfied. He was able to get Smith on the stand to tell her story in front of dozens of reporters from around the country. Irvin’s carefully developed public reputation was ruined forever.
Or was it? On July 17, the day the trial ended, Irvin showed up with his family at the Cowboys’ training facility to hold a press conference. Finally beside him was his wife, Sandi, who had never come to court. She sat expressionless, staring at their eight-month-old daughter while Irvin apologized to his family, his fans, his teammates, owner Jerry Jones, and even his dead father.
Then, at the end of the press conference—speaking without notes—Irvin dropped in a veiled suggestion that his era as a Cowboy was over. He said he was not reporting to training camp but was going to Miami to restore his relationship with his family. Of course, it didn’t make any sense for Irvin to go to training camp because the NFL was going to suspend him for five games anyway after his drug conviction. No matter. Irvin gave such a masterful performance, somber and sincere, that Dallas fans suddenly stopped discussing what he had done to Rachelle Smith. Instead, they began anxiously evaluating the Cowboys’ Super Bowl chances if Irvin didn’t return.
Afterward, Bayless shook his head and called Irvin “the consummate con artist.” But Irvin was right about one thing. He knew that all he had to do was come back to Dallas and make a touchdown and everyone would love him again.
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