Promptly at 6 a.m., long before Southern California's chill and brooding morning fog begins to lift, a deputy sheriff unbolts the face-high shutter in the solid steel door of the cell and calls to prisoner 4013970. O.J. Simpson arises and is led across the hall for his daily shower. Returning to his cell, he shaves at the stainless-steel sink. A heated kitchen cart is wheeled down the corridor, and through a slot in the door Simpson is handed a breakfast of scrambled eggs, potatoes, two slices of wheat bread and coffee brewed in a stainless-steel kitchen vat so wide it uses...
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