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Nicole Brown Simpson wore a long-sleeved cover-up by the beach, despite the warm weather. “We kept telling her, ‘C’mon, get in the water.’ She wouldn’t,” Denise Brown recalls of a Hawaiian vacation with her sister, Nicole, and the rest of her family, including her brother-in-law, O.J. Simpson. “We didn’t know it then, but he’d beaten the [hell] out of her the night before in the hotel room. We found out later, after she was killed, when we were reading her diaries.”

The incident is one of many chronicled in Brown’s new memoir, “For My Sister Nicole: Love Shouldn’t Hurt.” The book chronicles who Nicole was — from her happy SoCal childhood to meeting beloved celebrity and football star Simpson at the age of 18 (he was 30) to the physical and mental abuse she suffered over seven years of marriage. Brown also reveals the troubling incidents she witnessed behind the scenes, and pairs them with the knowledge she has now of what could have been done to help her sister.

(Blackstone Publishing, Inc.)

Nicole and her friend Ronald L. Goldman were murdered outside her Los Angeles home in Brentwood in June 1994. The brutal homicides set off a media frenzy, and overnight, Brown became the voice for her slain sister.

Images of an angry and sobbing Brown became the media’s hallmark of grief during the criminal trial, particularly when Simpson was acquitted in 1995. He was found guilty in a subsequent civil trial, yet still awarded custody of the divorced couple’s two children.

Now, 69, with sleek silver hair and a voice raspy from the many speaking engagements tied to her advocacy work, Brown has devoted her life to raising awareness about domestic violence. “It’s too late for Nicole,” says the former model who moved from her native Southern California to Florida decades ago. “I want this book to help others avoid what happened to her.”

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

We’re meeting today in downtown L.A., very close to the courtroom where the trial happened, and to the former LAPD headquarters Parker Center where Simpson was booked after Nicole’s death. Is it difficult being here? Should we have done this somewhere else?

No. This is where it all happened, so it’s OK for me to be here to talk about [the book]. It should start here. And I’m glad it’s with the L.A. Times because Nicole was here in Los Angeles, as was all the chaos. Everything started here.

Denise Brown.

(Ronaldo Bolaños / Los Angeles Times)

It’s been 32 years since your sister’s murder, yet this is the first book you’ve written about what happened.

I had a [previous] book deal, but I wasn’t ready.

It was really hard going back because you think about all the things that should have been, that could have been, that she missed out on, especially with her kids. And everything was so public. It was so out in the open, with everybody looking at you. If you were too happy and laughing, it was, “Oh God, she doesn’t even know how to grieve.” If you’re crying, it’s, “My God, can’t she just get over it?”

I understand why people make these kinds of comments now, because if you’ve never been through something so horrific, you don’t know how to act. You don’t know how you’d respond.

Aside from raising awareness about domestic abuse issues, you haven’t spoken much about your sister’s life or murder until the 2024 Lifetime docuseries, “The Life & Murder of Nicole Brown Simpson.” It was the first production that included interviews and involvement from you and your sisters, which is stunning because there have been so many docs and dramas about the case.

I know. And without asking Nicole’s family, can you really make a good documentary?

A girlfriend of mine who is a producer wanted to [make a documentary] at the 10-year mark, and I just wasn’t ready. Then she asked me at the 20-year mark. I said, “No, this doesn’t feel right yet.” Then on the 30th, I asked my sisters [Tanya, Dominique and Wendy], “Do you guys want to do this?” And it was “Yes, let’s humanize Nicole. Let’s bring her back because she was lost in all of this.” Ron and Nicole were both lost. The trial has been done and saturated. Let’s humanize her, get videos of when we were kids. Stuff like that. So that’s what we did.

In the book you write that the docuseries provided new revelations about Simpson.

What I found out all these decades later shocked me. I learned after Simpson moved down to Florida with the kids, there were 17 calls to 911. There was an FBI raid. I don’t know what it was for, but the police came to the house 17 times?! I was friggin’ livid when I heard that. Where were the advocates? Where were the people protecting those children out there? They would have been protected by my mother and father, by all of us. Coming off that, I thought that it’s time to write a book.

We know so much more about recognizing the signs of domestic violence now than we did in the 1990s. The progress is of course welcome, but it also has to be hard applying that knowledge in hindsight to your sister’s case.

Back then I saw. I was privy to. I was there. I was involved. But I didn’t know it was domestic violence, and that’s what I want people to understand. Don’t read this book like it’s something that I knew about all along because I didn’t. I thought [the fights] were isolated incidents because they didn’t happen every single time I saw Nicole. They were years apart. I learned about domestic violence patterns after the murder.

Can you talk about what was in the diary you found in her home after she was gone?

A couple of months after her murder, my dad was reading her diaries, and I saw him lying on the bed, just broken. He said take a look at these, and it was Nicole’s writing and about the things that were happening. And I sat there like, “Oh my God. We were there.” We were there when this happened, like on a vacation in Hawaii. But we were not in the room with them.

Nicole wrote in her journal of that trip that once they were in their hotel room alone, he beat her and threatened to hang her off the balcony. But the diary wasn’t admissible in court. And maybe it wouldn’t have even made a difference given the lack of awareness about domestic abuse patterns.

Domestic violence, the jurors didn’t really understand it. They thought if you’re not dead after he’s finished strangling you, it’s not domestic violence. Jurors even said, “This is not a domestic violence trial. This is a murder trial.” Well, lo and behold, the ultimate form of domestic violence is murder.

Your passionate statement to a reporter during pretrial hearings marked the first time a member of your family publicly expressed doubt regarding Simpson’s innocence. From then on the press made a point of painting you as the furious, avenging sister.

Why wouldn’t I be angry? My sister was slaughtered, for God’s sake. I became the spokesperson for our family after I went upstairs to the press room [during the hearing] and said to a reporter: “If O.J. so innocent, why is he trying to suppress all the evidence?!” I couldn’t sit there and watch the so-called Dream Team [Simpson’s defense] constantly berating Nicole and belittling her and turning her into something that she wasn’t.

Before testifying in criminal court, you testified before Congress in 1994, urging lawmakers to fully fund programs and shelters supported by the Violence Against Women Act.

It was a bipartisan act from Orrin Hatch and Joe Biden, who were both senators at the time. Bill Clinton signed it into law after Nicole’s murder. I went to Washington and spoke before Congress because the funding was all [tied up ] in state appropriations. I was the first one to speak. I thought I was going to die. But it all worked out [laughs].

How did you deal with such an immense loss in private?

I ran every day for like an hour and a half until I collapsed because there was so much anger in me. My mom said, “Denise, I’m really worried about you because you’re just so angry,” and I said, “Why wouldn’t I be?!” She said, “I know, but you need to be able to deal with it.” So she invited our pastor over to the house who was a friend of the family. He said to me, “Denise, this is not God’s doing. This is the evil of man.” And as soon as he said that, there was something that just came off my shoulders. I could breathe again. You’re right. This is the evil of man. So I was the one who kept saying from the very beginning that I knew who did it: Simpson.

Nicole emerges as a whole person in this book, which after all these years feels long overdue.

Nicole was a wonderful person. Even when he gave her a Ferrari for her birthday, she didn’t give a s— if there was French fries in the gear shelf. Her kids, her friends, her people meant everything to her, and that was taken away from her by a f—ing monster. She was the best wife. All she wanted was her two kids, a white picket fence. The American family. So for her to put up with everything that she went through, it just breaks my heart because she was such a good person. Stubborn as all hell, but that’s OK. You don’t get murdered because you’re stubborn.

And people ask, “Why didn’t you just grab her by the hair and take her out [of that marriage]?” Well, because she was an 18-year-old girl who knew what she wanted, and she wanted him. She was totally in love with him, and she was not going to listen to her sister.

Your sister did eventually leave. She had been divorced for two years before she was killed. During that time, she wrote in her diaries that Simpson stalked her at the gas station, the supermarket, when she ate out, and your family witnessed it.

She did get away — for two years, and he couldn’t handle it. His ego could not handle it. His narcissistic behavior couldn’t handle it.

He was there for every move she made. She’s with a boyfriend having dinner, and he’s there, plopping his ass down at the table and having dinner with them. And at the supermarket?! C’mon, he doesn’t shop.

People [like him], they’re just so obsessed with control. And they’re narcissists. I don’t believe she could have ever gotten out of her situation because [of all the support he had]. He was so loved.

Why do you think she kept the abuse from you?

I asked [a family friend] why they think she hid the abuse. They said she was trying to protect her family and her friends, and to me that made all the sense in the world because that’s exactly what a victim does. The abuser will threaten the family. That’s their MO. I’m going to kill you. Your family. The dog. Our kids. Something you love will get hurt, and you’re the only one that knows about it. You’re the only one who knows how bad and how mean he can actually be.

Simpson died in 2024. What has that meant to you?

I don’t have to look over my shoulder. Actually, the funny thing is, I was never afraid. There was never a fear of running into him. But is there a relief that he’s gone? I didn’t even know he was sick, and I hope he suffered the way Nicole did. I wish it would have been longer. You can quote me on that.

Is there ever any closure for you?

You try to move on. You never forget. It’s always there. So to go back, it just ripped my heart out. In 32 years I’ve not told my sister I love her, like we did every single phone call, every single time we left each other. It was always, “I love you. I’ll see you later.” But it was never goodbye. We never said goodbye to each other because that’s so final. It was always, “I’ll see you later.”

What impact do you hope this book has on readers?

I just really want your readers to know, if it can happen to Nicole, it can happen to you. It can happen to anybody: rich, poor, Black, white, gay, Democrat or Republican.

At the end of the book, I say that I think Nicole was put on this earth to be the person that shines the light on domestic violence. The 24-hour national domestic violence hotline didn’t exist before Nicole. The Violence Against Women Act didn’t exist before Nicole. There weren’t a lot of shelters. There wasn’t a lot of education. There weren’t PSAs. She changed that.

War in the Middle East. The hottest summer on record in the U.S. AI getting as scary as “Terminator 2: Judgment Day.” An eroding coastline. A president who spends more time posting pathetic memes than improving the lives of everyday Americans.

It sure seems like we’re living in the End Times, right?

Why, we haven’t even reached the most frightening part of 2026: Election Day, when false prophets will besmirch ballots as the Great Deceiver, also known as Donald J. Trump, does everything possible to maintain his reign.

While people should research candidates and ballot initiatives before deciding how to vote, I also suggest that they read up on some of the thousands of saints recognized by the Catholic Church. You don’t have to belong to the faith to find wisdom in the lives of people who dealt with trials and tribulations far harder than ours and are now considered worthy of emulation.

This campaign season contains all sorts of scenarios screaming for holy intervention. We should pray extra hard to these saints for the next two months:

St. Homobonus: The Catholic Church recognizes no patron saint for the wealthy, since Jesus preached that it was easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven. Captains of industry instead venerate this 12th century Italian nepo baby, who ran a successful clothing business yet gave most of his earnings to the poor. If tech bros followed St. Homobonus’ example, that would be a far more convincing argument against Prop. 40, the California ballot initiative that would impose a (supposed) onetime tax on billionaires, than what they’re doing: whining about socialism, threatening to leave California and spending tens of millions of dollars on ads that voters are already tuning out or tossing in the trash.

Archangel Gabriel: His role in telling the Virgin Mary she would become the mother of Jesus makes my brother’s namesake the patron saint of mail carriers. With Trump doing everything possible to ban mail-in voting — and a compliant Postal Service leadership eager to do his bidding — here’s to hoping Archangel Gabriel calls up his winged homeboys Michael and Raphael, fights off all electoral Satans and ensures a fair election.

St. Benedict: Patron saint of exorcisms. Someone place his prayer card at all the city halls in southeast L.A. County to rid the area of civic corruption once and for all!

St. Peter Claver: Chapters of the Knights of Peter Claver — the oldest Black Catholic fraternal organization in the U.S. — exist in parishes across South L.A. Some in the area are fretting because, for the first time in 63 years, not all of its three City Council seats will be held by Black representatives. With Curren Price terming out, a Latino immigrant — either Jose Ugarte or Estuardo Mazariegos — will capture the District 9 seat. May the winner follow the example of Claver, who spent his life advocating for Black people in Colombia despite the fact he was a white Spaniard, and ensure that Black Angelenos — now only 8% of the city’s population — continue to have strong representation at City Hall.

St. Augustine: The founder of the Augustinian order to which Pope Leo belongs, he’s the patron saint of converts and preached against the haughty. “They uplift themselves,” Augustine wrote, “as though they were righteous or important but, as Paul writes, ‘Like smoke they will not last because their insanity will soon become obvious to everyone.’” Are your ears burning yet, JD Vance? Do you feel a tingle on your neck, Gavin Newsom?

Xavier Becerra, left, and Steve Hilton during a California gubernatorial candidate debate Feb. 3 in San Francisco.

(Laure Andrillon / Associated Press)

St. Stephen and St. Francis Xavier: They share names and attributes with Steve Hilton and Xavier Becerra, who are running against each other to become California’s next governor. Becerra has spent his decades-long political career serving as missionary for California liberalism, just like Francis Xavier helped make the Jesuits a worldwide institution. Of the two St. Stephens, one was a former king who’s the patron saint of Hungary, birthplace of Hilton’s parents. Far more relevant is the St. Stephen who was the first Christian martyr. The way Hilton is sacrificing his political life in the name of Trump, he’d better ask that Stephen to tell God not to make his likely electoral demise too painful.

Our Lady of Refuge: Although St. Junípero Serra was the Apostle of California, this Marian apparition has been the patroness of the Golden State since the days when we were part of Mexico. Sinners ask her to beg God for forgiveness on their behalf — and isn’t that what we all will do when our chosen candidate inevitably messes up?

St. Thomas: He’s the patron saint of India, where Los Angeles city councilmember and mayoral candidate Nithya Raman was born. He’s also the patron saint of architects, too many of whom have sat around with their hands tied up in red tape while waiting to rebuild Pacific Palisades after last year’s inferno, a stasis that many residents will forever blame on Mayor Karen Bass. But history better remember the Apostle as Doubting Thomas, who refused to believe that Jesus had risen from the dead until feeling the holes in His crucified hands. Let’s hope Angelenos are as skeptical about the claims of both Bass and Raman that they, and only they, can revive L.A.

St. Clare of Assisi: She died in the 13th century, but the Italian nun was named the patron saint of television in 1958 because she could see a Mass held far away, despite being bedridden. May St. Clare convince God to short-circuit networks and streaming services every time another annoying political ad interrupts me while I’m watching the latest episode of “Project Runway.”

St. Thomas More: The patron saint of politicians famously stood up to England’s King Henry VIII and his philandering, unethical ways. May St. Thomas More’s witness inspire someone in Trump’s cabinet to do the same.

Eh, who am I kidding? Some things are beyond even God.