On 12 November 1993, looking thin, tired and haggard, Michael Jackson performed what would turn out to be the final show of his Dangerous Tour at El Estadio del Azteca in Mexico City. The rest of the engagements were canceled.

  Apparently, Michael's mental state had truly disintegrated while in Mexico City; the damage to his $12,000-a-week, five-room suite on the fourty-second floor of the Hotel Presidente was evidence of his serious abuse of drugs. After he checked out, the hotel staff was stunned to discover that the carpets in the living room and in Michael's bedrooms were stained with vomit. There were deep dents and cracks in the plaster of the living-room wall, as if someone had either banged his head, or his fists, against it. There was enough rubbish in the room to fill two large trash bags. There was scribblings on the walls ("I love you. I love you."), and even on the fabric of some of the furniture. Chewing gum was squashed into the carpet, everywhere.

  After the final show, Michael, Elizabeth and Larry boarded an MGM Grand 727 jet, chartered for the occasion by Elizabeth, to London. When they arrived at Heathrow Airport, bodyguard Steve Tarling met them on the tarmac. All three had on dark glasses and long coats with hoods covering their heads, as if on some kind of espionage mission. As he walked to the waiting van, Michael seemed drugged, help up on one side by a cloaked Elizabeth and on the other by her husband. [...]

  The strategy had been to drive Michael directly to Charter Nightingale Clinic. However, that plan had to be changed when it was learned that reporters had begun to stake out the hospital because word had leaked that Michael might be showing up there. Instead, Michael was whisked off to the home of Elton John's manager, John Reid.

  He didn't even make it inside the house. As he stepped from the van, he crumpled onto the ground. "That's it," Elizabeth decided. "The press be damned. He has to go straight to the clinic. Now."

  In a matter of hours, Michael was at the Charter, taken in through the laundry entrance in what turned out to be a successfull effort to avoid the paparazzi awaiting his arrival in front. He was immediately searched for drugs and, sure enough, eighteen vials of medicine were found in one of his suitcases. Of course, they were confiscated. After a quick induction meeting, Michael was officially enrolled in the center – albeit in a way befitting the King of Pop: he took over the entire fourth floor of the hospital, at fifty thousand dollars a week, and was expected to remain there for about a month and a half. Michael was immediately put on Valium IV, part of the process of weaning him from painkillers.

  The next day, 13 November, Michael announced in a press statement that he was canceling the remainder of the tour because he was now an addict. He explained that he had begun using painkillers seven months earlier after having undergone reconstructive surgery for a scalp burn suffered during the filming of the Pepsi commercial in 1984. "The medications were used sparingly first," Michael said, but increased as the molestation allegations consumed him.

  "As I left on this tour, I had been the target of an extortion attempt and shortly thereafter was accused of horrifying and outrageous pain in my heart," he said in the statement. "The pressure resulting from these false allegations coupled with the incredible energy necessary for me to perform caused me so much distress that it left me physically and emotionally exhausted. I became dependent on the painkillers to get through the days of the tour." Of Elizabeth Taylor, he said that she'd been "a source of strength and counsel as this crisis came about. I shall never forget her unconditional love and encouragement in helping me through this period."

  [...]

Michael got his first taste of much-needed counseling.

  Rehabilitation is never easy, but it's even more challenging for people who have lived privileged lives. During his first night there, he roamed the halls asking other patients if they knew "a secret way to get out of here". He didn't want to listen to the authorities. No one told him what to do in his private world, and he expected that it would be the same at Charter. It wasn't. Soon, he found himself mopping floors, which he hadn't done since he lived in Gary.

  In the days to come, group therapy also proved to be difficult. Michael had never been in any type of therapy program. How could he now be expected to sit in a room full of strangers and be candid about his personal life?

  Led by well-known therapist Beechy Colclough, Michael's private sessions were more intense and productive than the group ones, during which he hardly spoke for fear that someone there might go to the tabloids. It was during private sessions, according to someone still close to Michael, that he begun to finally deal with the root of so many of his problems: his anger at Joseph. It was a fine line, though, between blaming his father for everything that had ever happened in his life and taking responsobility for some of it himself. In the past, Michael had never been one to own up to his actions, always intent on blaming family members, the press and even his fans for actions that have caused him unhappiness.

  "In therapy, he began to see that he was his own worst enemy," said his associate. "It was slow-going, though. He was not eager to accept that he could change his life if he would just change his mind about it. Old habits die hard. He was determined to dwell on his lost childhood, on how mean Joseph had been to him, how cruel Even had been to him. He practically equated them as one and the same."

  After many hours of therapy at Charter, it seemed as if Michael had a sudden rush of clarity. "It's me", he told his associate. "It's not Joseph. It's me. Not Evan. I'm the one who blew it, and I need to start over again. I want another chance."

  "You can have it, Michael," said his associate.

  "I deserve it," Michael said, crying. "Do you still believe I am innocent?"

  "I do."

  Michael didn't say anything for a few moments. Then, finally: "When I get out of here, I'm starting over. Let's end this thing with Evan. I want my life back."