The True Believers

In Farah Pajuheshfar's house, candles are always burning for Michael Jackson. The 46-year-old Las Vegas hairdresser keeps at least three votives lit at all times on a table with photos of the embattled superstar--also 46--his CDs and vases of silk flowers with simulated dew on their leaves. Her dining-room table is covered with banners: MICHAEL IS 1000% INNOCENT; MICHAEL, KEEP SOARING LIKE AN EAGLE. Her own drawings (Michael with Liz Taylor, Michael with children at his feet, Michael dancing around a volcano) hang from an otherwise bare Christmas tree. Pajuheshfar's husband, 17-year-old son and 13-year-old daughter are also dedicated Jackson fans, so they understand when she takes time from her busy schedule to run a fan club (MJ's Soldiers of Love) and to pray for Michael three times a day. "He was there for me when I needed him," she says. She fell in love with Jackson's music as a child in Iran, but became a devotee after his songs helped her overcome the loneliness she felt in a new, strange home. "Now he needs me," she says, "and it's my time to return the favor."

Michael Jackson hasn't had a No. 1 hit in a decade, his last two albums utterly tanked and he's now on trial for child molestation (sidebar). Why, then, are such fans as Pajuheshfar sticking with him? Because to them, he is far more than the moonwalking legend of the '80s: he is a selfless being who embodies humility and generosity in a world where goodness is persecuted. And--he cares about them. It is their duty as good people to rally outside the Santa Barbara County Courthouse waving homemade signs (innocent! innocent! innocent!), to weep for him outside the Marian Medical Center when he's admitted with flu symptoms, to hold vigils in malls and parks across the United States.

Ever since the first accusations of child molestation were leveled against Jackson in 1993, his fans have created hundreds of Web sites where they study and respond--coherently, too--to the legal issues. They organize large spur-of-the-moment rallies, complete with chartered buses and hotel accommodations. "Their dedication deepens as his personal troubles grow," says Michael Joseph Gross, author of the forthcoming book "Starstruck." Gross spent four years researching celebrity fandom and has found that they glory in a sense of exclusivity. "When no one understands him, no one loves him, there is a small group of fans who rush to his side. In doing that, they become someone special--maybe even as special as he is."

It's not that small a group: the mjjforum.com Web site alone has more than 6,000 registered members. One of the people who help run it--from the bedroom of his L.A. apartment--is Faisal Malik, a handsome, soft-spoken biotech researcher who dresses in chinos and a plain blue work shirt, like someone who'd rather not draw attention to himself. "We just know a lot more about Michael than most people," says Malik, 30, who spent the previous day outside the courthouse. "We've studied the case, and we don't believe what we're being fed by the media." Every square foot of Malik's bedroom is covered with Jackson album covers, posters and laser discs. His bookshelves are lined with Jackson DVDs, Sega games--even chocolate bars. (He also listens to U2 and R.E.M.) Like many fans, Malik feels Jackson is persecuted because he never tried to conform. "So what if he wants to get plastic surgery or live in a place called Neverland?" he says. "I understand what it's like to have a really strict father who makes you work all the time, who denies you your childhood. Maybe he makes fun of the way you look--your nose, your acne." Malik rubs the rough skin of his cheek. "Maybe I'd open my own Neverland, to at least get some of my childhood back."

Invitations to the Neverland Ranch, three hours north of L.A., are one way Jackson pampers his most devout fans. Paul Sakajian, 33, a grocery-store cashier from Las Vegas, drove the 300 miles to Jackson's arraignment in 2004. Jackson thanked him and hundreds more supporters by handing out Neverland passes. "We got to go on the rides, see the zoo," says Sakajian. "We spent the whole day there. It was the most amazing house I'd ever seen in my life. And the food was good, too. They had a caterer. Sandwiches and pastas and salads--he has candy all over the place." This wasn't a one-time fit of largesse. After Jackson's 2001 birthday concert, some fans were stranded in New York after the 9/11 attacks; he put them up in a hotel, chartered a bus to take them around town shopping and gave them spending money.

Even those too young to have experienced Jackson in his golden era, the 1980s, believe that he somehow has their back--or at least understands what it's like when no one does. Take Vienna Wood, 15, who runs a Web site called mercyformichael.com and organized a rally in his support at her middle school in Scotts Valley, Calif. She doesn't have many friends, she had to do most of the work herself and her speech made clear that she and Michael were two of a kind: "Attention to all students. Most of you know me... To many of you, I am just that one freak who's obsessed with Michael Jackson. You may wonder why. I know you have your own opinions on him, as well as on me. I also am aware of the reputation I have acquired throughout the past several months. Don't think I don't hear what some of you say behind my back."

We've heard it. Deluded. Pathetic. Get a life. You may have said it, too, if not as authoritatively or as sympathetically as Stuart Fischoff, professor emeritus of media psychology at Cal State L.A. "These fans have what's called a parasocial relationship," says Fischoff. "They think they know Michael, even if Michael doesn't know them. They have a bond they're not willing to give up very readily. It would take a Sherman tank to blow it out. That Sherman tank may be that kid on the stand." But for now, they have something to believe in. That is a life. How's yours?