I killed Michael Jackson

Unless you've lived under a rock or in an abandoned missile silo for the past 12 years, you're likely aware that the King of Pop, Michael Jackson, died at age 50 in 2009. However, I had a small part in prematurely reporting his death a decade before his untimely demise.

The year was 1997. I was working as a tabloid photographer, covering celebrities in my home state of Hawaii. This was a big day—Michael Jackson was arriving at Honolulu Airport for the final leg of his HiStory Tour. Security was tight, and the weather was perfect. Police kept fans and the media behind a fence, and excitement buzzed in the air.

A large group of Michael Jackson lookalikes had gathered, adding to the spectacle. Fans held signs, and parents looked thrilled to be part of the event. In my section, we had reporters, photographers, and hula dancers. After quickly checking my cameras, I realized I'd packed the wrong zoom lens and needed to get closer.

After it parked, I overheard a group of hula dancers talking to security about staging a performance next to the jet. Seizing the opportunity, I approached two dancers and concocted a story about needing to join them to photograph their performance. To my relief, they let me tag along.

We went to the tarmac and awaited the plane, which had "Kingdom Entertainment" emblazoned on its fuselage. When the jet parked and the door opened, a tall Middle Eastern man in a custom suit and a TV cameraman stepped out. A lady with a clipboard directed the dancers to get closer to the plane while another group holding flower leis prepared to greet Michael Jackson.

As Michael Jackson emerged, fans erupted in cheers. He received several Hawaiian leis from the greeters, and I began snapping photos as the dancers performed a quick hula show. I edged closer to Jackson, but one of his bodyguards quickly tapped my shoulder and ordered me to move back. Retreating behind the dancers, I managed to capture a few wide shots.

Five large black SUVs pulled up next to the jet, clearly ready to whisk Jackson away. Anticipating his next move, I positioned myself near the SUVs and captured a perfect head-to-toe shot of him draped in Hawaiian leis.

I had some fantastic shots that day and called several editors to sell my photos. One editor requested a big story to accompany the images. In a moment of reckless creativity, I joked that, hopefully, he wouldn't die in Hawaii and mentioned a rumor that he signed autographs with the year 1998 because he had a premonition about dying before age 40.

Months later, I was shocked to see my photo of Michael Jackson in a tabloid under the sensational headline "Jacko Dead at 40" in the Hollywood rumors section. The editor had run with my offhand comment, and I realized I needed to be more careful with my words. Unintentionally, I had contributed to a premature report of Michael Jackson's death.