Sharon Feinstein

Michael Jackson’s nanny, Rwandan Grace Rwaramba, has rushed in where angels fear to tread. Michael isn’t even buried, his post mortem in process, and the nanny who worked for him on and off for him for seventeen years has, with indecent haste, fallen over herself to reveal the sordid details of his intimate world.
She’s told how she pumped his stomach, how the children froze with fear when he entered the room, she had to arrange for their bedrooms to be cleaned when MJ’s life became so chaotic and neglected that she was the only one keeping some sembleance of order in the home. I find this is all very distasteful. Can someone please shut her up. When anyone dies they leave a terrible void, a yawning, gaping hole. For MJ he leaves behind three children for whom he was their entire world, as well as his legendary parents and brothers, and the feeding frenzy of fans. He was a man with no privacy and no peace. Let him have some now.
I know that’s rich coming from a journalist whose job it is to find the story and make sense of the pieces of the jigsaw, and I know people round the world have poured over the details of What the Nanny Saw. As have I. But I don’t like it one bit and I think she should button it and let those children alone.