Michael Jackson: No Angel, But No Osmond Either

DOWNTOWN BETWEEN the Pacific American Fish Co. and the Hotel St. Agnes Hospitality Kitchen there's an alley. Cars block each end, no escape. And silhouetted in the car headlights, two rival L.A. gangs are swaggering towards each other. A couple of people pop their heads out of the hotel window, mutter something incomprehensible and go back to sleep. Down below in the smoke, the gangs are getting closer.