conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide a description for a book titled Murder in Brentwood about Furhman, Furhman's, Bundy with the genre: Biographies & Memoirs, True Crime.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: This book yields two surprises that have nothing to do with what made its author so notorious, but which have plenty to do with how public bureaucracies fail. First, it includes Furhman's contemporaneous crime scene notes (with observations as meticulous as any TV sleuth's), which make mention of a " visible fingerprint " Furhman saw on the Bundy back gate (and discussed with his partner at the time). Second, it reveals that Lange and Vannatter, the detectives from "downtown" who took over the case from Furhman, didn't check out the print that night or subsequently, and indeed never read the author's notes at all. That's why you didn't hear about the fingerprint during the criminal trial. (When authorities returned to sample blood from the back gate two weeks later, the print was gone.) In short, the main lesson of this book is an organizational one worth remembering: it doesn't matter if the grunts do a good job, if the big-shots don't follow up.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the first sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: First, it includes Furhman's contemporaneous crime scene notes (with observations as meticulous as any TV sleuth's), which make mention of a " visible fingerprint " Furhman saw on the Bundy back gate (and discussed with his partner at the time). Second, it reveals that Lange and Vannatter, the detectives from "downtown" who took over the case from Furhman, didn't check out the print that night or subsequently, and indeed never read the author's notes at all. That's why you didn't hear about the fingerprint during the criminal trial. (When authorities returned to sample blood from the back gate two weeks later, the print was gone.) In short, the main lesson of this book is an organizational one worth remembering: it doesn't matter if the grunts do a good job, if the big-shots don't follow up.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first five paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Murder in Brentwood
  The similarities are not mere coincidence. Joe and I are both widely experienced former police officers and detectives of the Los Angeles Police Department. Joe's novels are best-sellers, while my screenplay was never produced, but both of us, in our own ways, have taken our experiences on the street and tried to transform them into gritty, dramatic works of imagination.
  That's all I was trying to do in writing a screenplay with Laura Hart McKinny. She wanted gritty realism about life on the streets, so I told her some stories and did some play-acting. These stories were, in part, based on my own experiences and the experiences of others. But they were also stories that had gone through the meat grinder of my own imagination. They were embellished, exaggerated, even entirely made up.
  The issue of truth versus fiction aside, we have to recognize that there is a difference between words and deeds. O.J. Simpson murdered two people. I said some horrible things. Somehow the defense, aided by the media and a public eager to let a popular celebrity off the hook, was able to turn the trial around. Of course, Judge Ito and the prosecution helped out. Ito could have ruled that my use of the "N" word was irrelevant to the murder trial. The prosecution could have fought harder to exclude the tapes or, once they were introduced, put them in their proper perspective. But in the end, since I made the tapes, I bear the responsibility.
  Even accepting my own responsibility for what occurred, it was incredibly frustrating to have the world pass judgment without knowing the real me. Soon after the tapes came out, several of my colleagues in the LAPD were interviewed by the press. Here's what they said:
  Bob Tapia, my former supervisor at West LA, said, "Mark's not prejudiced against blacks. He's only prejudiced against criminals, whatever their color."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I WAS AT HOME in Sandpoint standing in the kitchen when my wife told me the jury was in and they were going to announce the verdict in the Simpson trial. Since the jury had only deliberated a few hours, I figured they would return a guilty verdict.
  I was too nervous to sit down and watch, so I stood and just listened. As I heard the clerk read the verdict of not guilty, I went numb; I couldn't believe that the jury could be so wrong. My wife said, "They're going to blame this all on you."
  She was right. As you might imagine, the day of the verdict was not a fun one for us. The media was already outside our house, and although we had been the subject of media frenzies before, this was the worst we had ever experienced. The sharks were everywhere.
  Cameras lit up the whole neighborhood like a football stadium. Outside our windows, we could see antennas climbing into the sky. Power cords were stretched across the road. Cars and vans were parked hundreds of feet down the block. Journalists, camera crews, technicians, and gofers crowded on the sidewalk and spilled into the street. Reporters tried interviewing the locals, but they weren't getting the sound bites they wanted. Instead of offering commentary on the trial, or about me, my neighbors told the media to leave us all alone.
  Night came, but the street remained blindingly bright. Inside our house we had the curtains drawn and the lights out, yet still it was brighter than daylight. Ron Chaney, my good friend and the mayor of Sandpoint, saw the disruption the media was causing and called in the police to tell the camera crews to turn out the lights and shut down the generators. This is a residential neighborhood, the police said, people are trying to sleep. So ended the first day after the verdict.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: So ended the first day after the verdict.. This is a residential neighborhood, the police said, people are trying to sleep. Ron Chaney, my good friend and the mayor of Sandpoint, saw the disruption the media was causing and called in the police to tell the camera crews to turn out the lights and shut down the generators. Inside our house we had the curtains drawn and the lights out, yet still it was brighter than daylight.
  Night came, but the street remained blindingly bright. Instead of offering commentary on the trial, or about me, my neighbors told the media to leave us all alone. Reporters tried interviewing the locals, but they weren't getting the sound bites they wanted. Journalists, camera crews, technicians, and gofers crowded on the sidewalk and spilled into the street. Cars and vans were parked hundreds of feet down the block. Power cords were stretched across the road. Outside our windows, we could see antennas climbing into the sky.
  Cameras lit up the whole neighborhood like a football stadium. The sharks were everywhere. The media was already outside our house, and although we had been the subject of media frenzies before, this was the worst we had ever experienced. As you might imagine, the day of the verdict was not a fun one for us."
  She was right. My wife said, "They're going to blame this all on you. As I heard the clerk read the verdict of not guilty, I went numb; I couldn't believe that the jury could be so wrong.
  I was too nervous to sit down and watch, so I stood and just listened. Since the jury had only deliberated a few hours, I figured they would return a guilty verdict.I WAS AT HOME in Sandpoint standing in the kitchen when my wife told me the jury was in and they were going to announce the verdict in the Simpson trial
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Three years ago I was just another detective. Now I am a public figure, which means that anyone can say whatever they want to about me. They have taken away my career, my life, and my privacy. But I cannot lose my faith in myself, in who I am, and what I have done with my life. I have always believed that I could make a difference. Despite all that happened, I still believe this.
  The whole ordeal has taken an incredible toll on my wife. She is a private and reserved person, and living under the scrutiny of the national media for the past two years has been very difficult. She knows the real me—which only makes what she had to go through even worse. I wish there could be some closure for her, but I do not know if that will ever happen.
  We could build a house so far up in the woods that nobody could ever get to us. We could move out of the country entirely. But I am not sure that would change things, and I do not know if there ever will be an end to this, wherever we go or whatever we do. I cannot stop thinking about it. I only hope my wife and kids can. That does not mean I cannot be happy, but it is never going to be the same.
  I did nothing wrong. I was only doing my job. I made some mistakes in life and corrected them. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone says things they wish they had not. But not everybody is forced to stand naked in judgment before the rest of the world.
  No matter what happened in the Simpson case and how I felt about it, no matter how my life has been irrevocably changed, knowing everything I know now and everything that happened to me, my family, and others, there is one thing I can say without question. I still would have answered the call on June 13. I still would have gone to the crime scene and done everything at Bundy and Rockingham the same way I did it then. I still would have tried my best to catch the murderer of Ron and Nicole. What else would I do? I'm a cop.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Three years ago I was just another detective. Now I am a public figure, which means that anyone can say whatever they want to about me. They have taken away my career, my life, and my privacy. But I cannot lose my faith in myself, in who I am, and what I have done with my life. I have always believed that I could make a difference. Despite all that happened, I still believe this.
  The whole ordeal has taken an incredible toll on my wife. She is a private and reserved person, and living under the scrutiny of the national media for the past two years has been very difficult. She knows the real me—which only makes what she had to go through even worse. I wish there could be some closure for her, but I do not know if that will ever happen.
  We could build a house so far up in the woods that nobody could ever get to us. We could move out of the country entirely. But I am not sure that would change things, and I do not know if there ever will be an end to this, wherever we go or whatever we do. I cannot stop thinking about it. I only hope my wife and kids can. That does not mean I cannot be happy, but it is never going to be the same.
  I did nothing wrong. I was only doing my job. I made some mistakes in life and corrected them. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone says things they wish they had not. But not everybody is forced to stand naked in judgment before the rest of the world.
  No matter what happened in the Simpson case and how I felt about it, no matter how my life has been irrevocably changed, knowing everything I know now and everything that happened to me, my family, and others, there is one thing I can say without question. I still would have answered the call on June 13. I still would have gone to the crime scene and done everything at Bundy and Rockingham the same way I did it then. I still would have tried my best to catch the murderer of Ron and Nicole.