Inside ‘The Forgotten Briefcase’: Joseph Perrulli on Reclaiming Nicole Brown Simpson’s Humanity and Facing Decades of Avoided Grief
“All kinds of emotions went through me because I had preserved this part of a woman who was viewed merely as a victim by everyone.”
I had the pleasure of talking with Joseph Perrulli. In February 2024, he opened a briefcase he had spent decades trying not to open. Inside were journals, photographs, handwritten letters, and small personal objects connected to Nicole Brown Simpson, whom Perrulli had known first as a friend and later as a romantic partner. He sat on the landing of his stairs for four hours, crying as a sealed part of his life returned in pieces.
The experience was far removed from the kind of problem Perrulli had built his professional life around. An entrepreneur and inventor, he is best known for developing Govino, a flexible, shatterproof wine glass that factories repeatedly told him could not be made. He kept pursuing it, assembled a team, and eventually brought it into production. He describes invention as the pursuit of an “Aha!” moment, followed by the less glamorous work of refusing to let the idea die.
Opening the briefcase required a different form of persistence. Perrulli had preserved the materials for more than half his life, but preservation was not the same as confrontation. The public story of Nicole had hardened long ago into photographs, courtroom footage, and the language of victimhood. Perrulli believed the woman he remembered had been lost inside that story. Yet in trying to restore her complexity, he also had to face how thoroughly he had avoided his own grief.
As a child, Perrulli says, he was “always a kid searching, always on a quest.” He resisted being defined by a single vocation or placed, as he puts it, “in parentheses.” That restlessness carried him through fashion, the wine business, product design, and eventually writing. The changes can look disconnected on paper. In his telling, they share a common impulse: the desire to recognize something overlooked and give it form.
He met Nicole through Kris Jenner while working at Neiman Marcus. Jenner invited him to lunch without initially explaining much beyond the fact that Nicole needed help preparing for a black-tie event. Perrulli remembers driving along San Vicente Boulevard while the coral trees were in bloom. At lunch, Nicole seemed removed from the polished social world around her, “like an island unto herself.”
When she later visited the store, she arrived with a gown she already owned and resisted buying something new merely for the occasion. She considered a simple black pump because it was practical, then left empty-handed. Perrulli recalls realizing that “what she was looking for was not in the store.” The abundance around them could not disguise the sadness he believed he saw.
Their relationship developed during a period when Nicole was trying to establish a life beyond her marriage. Perrulli remembers her as spiritual, intellectually curious, athletic, practical, and unexpectedly down-to-earth. He gave her a copy of Hermann Hesse’s Siddhartha in 1992, a book she later told him had changed her life. He also remembers running with her, seeing her without makeup or social armor, and being struck by how natural she seemed compared with the image others projected onto her.
Some memories are far darker. Perrulli describes a dinner in Laguna Beach when a conversation triggered Nicole to recount abuse in painful detail. She broke down at the table while he held her hands and tried not to draw attention. He now admits he was “woefully unprepared” to understand domestic violence and did not know how to respond. What stayed with him was her effort to force a smile through her tears.
He also says he learned that O.J. Simpson had watched Nicole’s home during the period when they were together. Looking back, Perrulli believes anyone close to her could have been in danger. He does not present himself as the man who could have rescued her. His account is more uncomfortable than that. He was a young man who sensed fear, recognized suffering, and still lacked the knowledge or power to change what followed.
For years, the briefcase allowed him to keep that history contained. Then, while returning from New York with several of Nicole’s belongings, Perrulli suffered a severe ischemic stroke during a stop in Denver. The left side of his body was paralyzed at the time. Among the objects traveling with him was the same copy of Siddhartha he had given Nicole decades earlier. When he regained consciousness, he decided that even if he had to type with one hand, he would finish the manuscript.
The resulting memoir, The Forgotten Briefcase, is Perrulli’s attempt to return individuality to a woman he believes has been frozen in public memory at 35. He imagines the older Nicole as healthy, philanthropic, perhaps running a small coffee shop or pursuing photography. He knows this is conjecture. What he can document are her words, tastes, books, photographs, and gestures, the ordinary evidence of a person whose life has often been discussed primarily through the circumstances of her death.
Perrulli’s larger message is directed less toward celebrity history than toward the private habits of grief. “Let’s stop and grieve properly,” he says. “It’s okay to be a sensitive man.” The briefcase had preserved Nicole’s belongings, but it had also preserved his avoidance. By opening it, he found that mourning cannot be indefinitely stored without consequence.
The inventor who once held what he called “lightning in a hand” now finds himself working with more fragile material: memory, regret, love, and testimony. His interview explores what it means to honor someone without claiming ownership of her story, and what can happen when a person finally opens the container he built to keep the past from reaching him.
Yitzi: Joseph, it’s a delight and an honor to meet you. Before we dive deep and talk about your amazing work, our readers would love to learn about Joseph Perrulli’s personal origin story. Can you share with us the story of your childhood, how you grew up, and particularly the seeds of all the amazing creativity that has come since then?
Joseph: Oh, that’s a question that’s going to take longer than this interview to answer.
I think it’s really interesting; I was always a kid searching, always on a quest. We’ll get into this century-old novel that’s a part of my forgotten briefcase in a moment. I think I was always that child just trying to find his way, and I never wanted to be put in parentheses. I didn’t want people to say, “This is his vocation; this is how this man is identified.”
I was always looking for something different, which is why I was drawn to the inventive process. As Edison said, “Inventing something is 10% inspiration, 90% perspiration.” That is incredibly true, and I learned it firsthand with a few of my innovations. But when it comes to writing, I think it’s 100% of both. It’s a whole different thing.
I know I jumped from my childhood to that topic, but getting back to my youth, I was always that kid trying to find what it was. I was more drawn to the journey than the destination, so to speak.
Yitzi: How amazing. Let’s move to the next chapter. Tell us how you became an inventor.
Joseph: At heart, I think we’re all inventors. We all love to find something and have that “Aha!” moment where we think, “No one else thought of this.”
I experienced that when I was in the fashion industry working for Neiman Marcus. I had been playing around with some ideas for a shoe product. Back then, women’s shoes were $500 or $600 a pair — they’re a lot more expensive now. I had some ideas about protecting shoes and things like that, so I had been working on inventions.
Then I got into the wine industry, and another idea popped up: a flexible, shatterproof wine glass. I knew that could stick; I knew I had found something. It was like lightning in a hand. I never stopped, pursuing it against all odds. So many factories said they couldn’t make it, but I just kept going and finally got it into production. I built a good team around me — I didn’t do it by myself, as it took quite a few people.
I think I was always drawn to that, and all of us are in a way. How many times do you see something and think, “Gosh, why didn’t I think of that?” I had that happen with my wine glass a lot, let me tell you. A lot of people said, “That’s the simplest thing.” I think that’s the most beautiful thing about inventions, and even writing books. Sometimes it’s the most utilitarian thing that we all, as humans, can relate to easily.
Getting into the book, that was different because it didn’t just come to me. I didn’t sit down and plan to write a book. I had been holding onto these mementos for over half of my life.
This was all very serendipitous. I had been hanging onto these mementos for half of my lifetime. That morning in February of 2024, when I stumbled upon that briefcase — which I had been doing my best to avoid — I felt a true calling. It told me, “Stop what you’re doing, take the time to sift through these things, and honor the person you locked away inside here.”
Once I started that process, I stayed on the stairs. I sat on the landing of the stairs for four hours, crying. All kinds of emotions went through me because I had preserved this part of a woman who was viewed merely as a victim by everyone. I had preserved this beautiful story about her: her favorite foods, her favorite wine, her favorite books.
As I found these mementos and started to piece them back together alongside the vignettes I had written about her — about running, or the simplest things like an earring she used to wear — it all came flooding back. I felt compelled to transcribe these decomposing journals and piece together these vignettes. Once I started typing this out, it was incredibly powerful.
As I got closer to finishing the transcription of these journals, I wondered where the story was ending. I didn’t have an ending, so to speak; I thought it was just my own catharsis. My wife, Rebecca, was very encouraging. She said, “You need to see this through. You’ve been wanting to give people this briefcase and these belongings, but you need to deal with it first.” Once I started to dig in, I understood exactly why it had waited all that time for me.
However, it wasn’t until I had a near-death experience. I was traveling back from New York, and it was a miracle. We didn’t take a direct flight from California to New York from Orange County. I live down in Laguna Beach, and the Orange County airport is much smaller than LAX. During the holidays, Los Angeles is a massive hub, so we thought we’d avoid it. We had an unused ticket, so we decided to fly into LaGuardia. We flew from Orange County to LaGuardia.
On the return flight, I brought these mementos with me because I was still working on piecing this story together. While in New York, I was busy and preoccupied, so I didn’t work on the journals at all. At that point, I thought, “I think I’m just going to give this briefcase to a good friend of mine who knows Nicole’s family, and let them have these mementos.”
On the way back, we stopped in Denver, and I suddenly ended up on a gurney. I had what I later found out was a severe ischemic stroke, caused by a blood clot lodged in my right occipital. It shut down the entire left side of my body. I had an out-of-body experience in the ambulance while they were trying to revive me, and I happened to have some of those belongings from the briefcase with me in the vehicle.
When I came to, I knew I was going to live. It’s a long story that is detailed in my book, but when I realized I had some of Nicole’s mementos with me, including her favorite book, I knew I had to see this through. Even if I had to type it with one hand — because the entire left side of my body was literally paralyzed — I was going to finish that story.
The book she loved so much, which I had given her in 1992, was Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse. It had a huge impact on her life; she claimed it changed her life forever. I had that exact same copy with me. I took that as a powerful sign that I had to finish this. It almost felt like she was reaching out in a way, especially that day on the stairs. I truly believe she was behind the desire to tell this story in many ways.
Yitzi: Can you share one of the most powerful stories about Nicole from your book?
Joseph: One of the most powerful parts of that book to me — and there are quite a few — relates to her spirituality. She was very drawn to spirituality, which people didn’t really know about her. She was much smarter than people realized. As Mark Twain said, she didn’t let her schooling get in the way of her education; she was that type of person.
Something I was floored by when I rediscovered it in my briefcase was a night we spent at a restaurant in Laguna Beach. The chapter is called “The Weeping Woman.” We had a wonderful day together, but at dinner, we talked about something that triggered her, and she broke down at the table. We were in this romantic restaurant in the village in Laguna Beach, and she had a crying breakdown. She told me in brutal detail what had happened to her.
I knew she didn’t want attention drawn to her, so I did my best to calm her down while holding her hands. Seeing this woman, who was normally so strong and vivacious, break down like that at the table is something I’ll never forget. As I’ve said before, I was woefully unprepared for anything relating to domestic violence. It was looked upon so differently back then, and I was very naive. I didn’t know how to react, but she pushed through that night. I’ll never forget how she forced a smile through her tears. I woke up in the middle of the night, still affected by the story she had told me. It was impossible to forget.
Joseph: On a brighter note, she was a great runner and loved to run. I found a vignette about running with her that was beautiful to me. I remember greeting her at her door that morning; she was so alive, vivacious, and natural.
Living in Los Angeles at the time, I was on the periphery of the fashion industry and a bit involved in the film industry. I wasn’t pursuing acting, but opportunities were coming my way and I was fortunate. Greeting her in the morning and seeing her so natural — in running clothes, with no makeup — was incredibly refreshing. That is what I was drawn to; she was remarkably down-to-earth.
These are the little details about a woman whom the world only views as a victim. She was completely overshadowed, and sadly, the same goes for Ron Goldman. In some ways, it is terrible that he is almost forgotten even more so. I hope that if someone found mementos and handwritten letters from him, they would honor him the same way. I felt like this was truly my calling.
Yitzi: Do you ever feel like you almost could have been Ron Goldman, it was just a matter of timing?
Joseph: Absolutely. Looking back, yes. Back then in Los Angeles, O.J. Simpson was larger than life. Everyone knew who he was, so he couldn’t just walk around, punch someone in the face, and get away with it.
Looking back now, absolutely. This is especially true after learning that he had been there, lurking and peering into her windows when we were together. I felt an eerie presence one night while walking out that I will never forget. Anyone in that position at that moment could have been him.
Yitzi: If in an alternate universe Nicole could have lived out her life, she’d be alive today and might have lived to be 100 years old. What do you think she would have accomplished or where would she have ended up? I like to try and game out her trajectory.
Joseph: That’s a great question. It’s funny you say that because my wife and I are in Laguna quite a bit now, and I often think about it. When I go to the farmers market, I can picture the woman she would have become. She was very stoic in many ways. This is the woman I knew — though I know others may have known her differently — and we shared a deep spiritual connection. We shared books, and I wrote prose about her because I was madly in love with her.
We usually only see her frozen in time as a victim. I think she would have been in phenomenal shape, really healthy, and probably either owning a small coffee shop or pursuing photography, as she was a very talented photographer. There is a myriad of things she could have done.
Since she was frozen in time at 35, I can only imagine what she would have become today. She would have been a remarkably philanthropic woman in her own way because she was such a giving soul. I am certain my wife and I would have been close friends with her.
Yitzi: How did you meet Kris Jenner?
Joseph: Kris was, and still is, absolutely lovely. I was a young man working at Neiman Marcus. I always describe myself as the well-groomed mensch. All those women liked me; they would take me to lunch, and I had an apartment in what we used to call “Divorcee Row.” I was quite entrenched with that group.
Kris was wonderful and a great hostess. She was married to Robert at the time, and they were going through their separation at some point, but she was always incredibly gracious. She would invite me over for barbecues, and I remember riding my bike up there. I was getting into mountain biking, and that is actually how Caitlyn enters my story — I ended up mountain biking with Caitlyn frequently.
I met her at Neiman Marcus with that group of ladies. Interestingly, Nicole was not a part of that circle. I remember Kris once saying to me, “Nicole could buy anything she wants, but she doesn’t.” I found that refreshing at the time.
Yitzi: What is the story of how Kris introduced you to Nicole?
Joseph: That was pure happenstance. Kris called me one day at the store and said, “Hey, I’m outside, let’s go to lunch.” I had to work my way out with my store manager, promising I’d be back even though I hadn’t signed out. He used to play a little musical trivia game if you needed a favor, and I answered correctly, so I was able to go.
I’ll never forget that day. It was February, and it was one of those brilliant, spring-like days in Los Angeles. We were driving and Kris was on the phone — she was always on the phone. We were going down San Vicente Boulevard, and the coral trees were in bloom. If you’ve ever seen coral trees in bloom on San Vicente Boulevard, it’s a long, winding swath of a green meridian lined with beautiful trees. They were all just bursting.
I was drawn to those trees and felt like they were pulling me somewhere, almost luring me. It turned out we were going to have lunch with Nicole. I didn’t know who she was. Kris just told me, “We’re going to have lunch with Nicole. Maybe you could help her. She has to attend this black-tie event, and you could introduce her to some people in couture and help her with shoes.” I agreed completely.
When we met Nicole, she was the antithesis of everything else. The contrast between Nicole that day and the people around us — like the young mothers — made her seem like an island unto herself. She was somewhat sullen. At the time, I was reading Siddhartha. I was a man on a quest, and then I met this woman, so I think I was hypersensitive. I’ll never forget that juxtaposition of her and the setting. I was drawn to her sadness; I felt like there was something deep going on there.
We said our goodbyes, and she said she would try to come into the store to get shoes for the event. She came to see me not long afterward — a few days or maybe a week later. She looked even sadder, if that was possible. She wasn’t really interested in the shoes or the merchandise. She brought a gown she already had in her closet because she wanted to repurpose it. I thought that was great, though I did suggest jazzing it up a bit. I wanted to take her over to couture, but she was very practical and insisted on wearing what she had.
She looked at some shoes and ended up leaving empty-handed. Before she left, she was set on buying a very simple, black leather kidskin pump. I told her I didn’t know if that would work for a formal event. She said, “Well, I’ll only wear a formal shoe once or twice. I’d rather wear something I can actually use.” She left empty-handed, but she still held that display shoe in her hand — the one I told her not to buy.
When she went to hand it back to me, we connected. I remember looking into her eyes and realizing that what she was looking for was not in the store. There was no merchandise there that could help her. As I wrote in the book, when our eyes locked, I knew that no designer shoes or gowns, no matter how lavish, could ever conceal her misery. It was latent, but it was incredibly palpable. I was drawn to all of that. It is interesting that I was reading Siddhartha at that time, ended up giving it to her in 1992, and ended my book with it as well. It has come full circle.
Yitzi: Unbelievable. You’re an amazing storyteller, Joseph. You really are.
Joseph: Thank you. It was never my vocation, so to speak. I never really wanted a specific career, but thank you. I didn’t plan on it; she gave me all of this. Saving and preserving these items made me feel like that was exactly why they existed. I know that’s why they were there all this time.
Yitzi: This is our final signature aspirational question. Joseph, because of your work and the platform you’ve built, it’s not an exaggeration to say that you’re a person of influence. If you could spread an idea or inspire a movement that would bring the most amount of good to the most amount of people, what would that be? You never know what your idea can inspire.
Joseph: That’s a beautiful question, and another one that could take thirty minutes to answer.
Thank you; I’m just one voice. I had a near-death experience, which is in the story, and these belongings certainly had something to do with that. What I learned — lessons from the gurney, so to speak — and from going through that briefcase, is that I was holding onto a lot of grief. I just wasn’t processing it.
I think Nicole was the beachhead. It was as if she were saying, “Hey, stop and look at what you saved here. You never faced my death; you never grieved for my death.” I realized I hadn’t done that for many people in my life.
My main message is this: let’s stop and grieve properly. Do not be afraid of that. It’s okay to be a sensitive man. We’re living in an era where things are a little different, so I think it’s fine to be sensitive, take a break, and not just scroll past a disaster to immediately watch a commercial.
Processing grief is vital. I’m no James Joyce, but I think he nails that perfectly in “The Dead.” It’s one of the most beautiful short stories, where a song triggers a woman because she never fully grieved for a young boy who loved her. I relate to that wholeheartedly. That is the main thing I would want to say to anybody out there: take the time to grieve, because unresolved grief is insidious. It will eventually show up.
Yitzi: How can our readers purchase the book, continue to follow your work, and support your efforts?
Joseph: Thank you. The book is The Forgotten Briefcase, and it is available on Amazon in e-book and paperback. All of our social media handles are @theforgottenbriefcase.
We want to donate a portion of the proceeds to the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence, and we will, along with other causes that help. I didn’t just do this for myself; it took on a life of its own, and I feel like this is something Nicole would have wanted.
At some point, I want to give some of these mementos to Nicole’s family or her children. There is a beautiful handwritten letter of hers in there that is so touching. It could only come from a woman who was dealing with something privately and wasn’t sharing it with others. You can read that in her words to me. I would like them to have that letter and the photo album she left me when we broke up. There is a goodbye note in the photo album, kept just the way she left it. That’s how I discovered it. I’d like to give those things to her sisters or her children, whoever would want to preserve them.
Yitzi: Well, Joseph, it’s been a joy to meet you. I wish you continued success, good health, and blessings.
Joseph: Likewise. Thank you so much.
Yitzi: My pleasure. We’ll have to do this again one day, maybe next year.
Joseph: Thank you. We’ll see — I don’t know if I have another book in me! Thank you, my friend. It was wonderful to meet you. Bless you.
Inside ‘The Forgotten Briefcase’: Joseph Perrulli on Reclaiming Nicole Brown Simpson’s Humanity and… was originally published in Authority Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.