The Day OJ’s Bronco Chase Buried My PR Triumph

And what you can learn from my experience

June 1994: I was riding high. After months of grinding and hard work, I’d lined up national media for the first Saturn Homecoming—the carmaker’s big, warm thank-you to its loyal owners, set for June 24–25 in Spring Hill, Tennessee. I’d even hooked Kenley Jones from NBC National News’ Southeast Report. I’d grown up in Alabama watching his stories on TV and had made him a personal target to pitch this story—and he was coming.

Then, a week before the big event—on June 17—OJ Simpson took off in his white Bronco, and our shot at any national coverage sank under a wave of low-speed freeway footage and the crazy early stages of murder trial coverage that would grip the country for months on its way to becoming an iconic moment in our national psyche.

Let me set the scene. I’d been tasked with coordinating national pitches for Saturn—a car brand betting big on its loyalists. Picture thousands of owners rolling in (one all the way from Taiwan), tailgating, concerts, factory tours, product pride on full display. My job? Make it a national story. I’d spent weeks chasing national media outlets, and Kenley Jones specifically, leaving voicemails, tweaking pitches—think “America’s car community comes home.” By mid-June, it was working. Local outlets were in, trade pubs were covering it, and Kenley was on track to be in our media tent, notepad in hand. I could see the NBC Nightly News slot in my mind. And my parents might finally understand what I’d did for a living. IYKYK.

Then, Friday the 17th hit. We were prepping final logistics when every TV flipped to Los Angeles—OJ, AC, the white Bronco, the choppers. It wasn’t just a story; it was THE story. By Monday, it owned the news cycle—every network, every paper, every conversation. My pitches? Dead on arrival. Kenley and the national crews didn’t ghost us—they just had no airtime to give. The Homecoming went off beautifully—cars, smiles, handshakes, happy owners—but on June 24–25, it barely cracked the regional radar. OJ’s shadow—and the growing tragedy of that story—stretched too long.

Not gonna lie: It was devastating. We’d done everything right—identified targets, had an incredible story, nailed the narrative, built the momentum. But PR isn’t just skill; it’s timing, luck, all in a world you can’t control.

A freeway chase 2,000 miles away trumped our months of work. I remember pacing the media tent trying to figure out how to possibly generate national coverage that ultimately would never come. It was a masterclass in futility.

Here’s what I learned: You can’t fight a juggernaut. OJ’s Bronco was a once-in-a-decade beast. But every PR pro faces their own version—breaking news, a weather event, a CEO gaffe, a random Tuesday disaster. The trick? Don’t cling to a plan that’s drowning—pivot fast. We doubled down on local media and Saturn’s diehards. Sure, it wasn’t NBC Nightly News, but it kept the brand’s heart beating.

The lesson stuck: Some things are bigger than your pitch.

What should be your takeaway from my professional trauma? When the big dogs bolt, lean into the niches. Local outlets, trade mags, or these days even a branded newsletter or podcast can carry you when national dreams fade. The next time, I had a Plan B baked in—think “If this goes south on me, what’s my fallback?” You can’t stop a Bronco, but you can steer around it.

Ever had your perfect win hijacked by chaos? Hit reply—I’d love to hear your war story.

Additional note: To ensure I never forget, I bought my own Bronco a few years ago. 😊