Enid jackson obituary

Almost two decades ago, an actress friend and I posed as a grieving couple at a grave site at Forest Lawn Memorial-Park in Glendale.

I was being wooed to write an unauthorized biography about the world’s most mysterious man since Howard Hughes, and I had insisted on at least getting a glimpse of the subject, if even from a distance, before I signed on.

As it turned out, I would have a face-to-face encounter with Michael Jackson himself, if only for a fleeting moment.

He was among the Jacksons getting out of a nearby limousine to attend his grandmother’s burial, and his path to her grave site took him past us. When he was inches away, he slowed almost to a stop for a split-second and looked at us.

My friend, a striking blonde from a popular TV show, could have that affect on people, which is why I asked her to join me.

Michael was dressed all in black, sporting a black fedora, and his trademark black curls dangled over his forehead. He wasn’t wearing the surgical mask that had become a part of his wardrobe, and for an instant our faces couldn’t hav

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