It’s widely acknowledged now that Goldman’s book was accurate. It wasn’t pleasant - his writing style was ... sleezy - but he spoke to more than 2000 people, and they couldn’t all have been lying, despite what Cilla might have said. She hadn’t seen John since 1968 anyway.
But no, I’m not just talking about Goldman. John’s assistant, Fred Seaman, his lover, May Pang, his diaries, Julian - everyone tells the same story. Then there’s the photos of John looking like a Holocaust victim, his will, which can be viewed online. There’s the fact that Sam Green admitted he was having an affair with Yoko, his involvement in another case involving a rich widow with whom he was also having an affair. She was murdered by her son - a vulnerable, isolated man, much like John - and what do you know, Green was also named in that will.
Then there’s Havadtoy, who Yoko may or may not have married, her involvement in the occult, and her association with other shady characters in her weirdo druggy art circle, who identified as ‘satantists’. It goes on: there’s the fact that John was obsessed with being shot, that he told his record producer on the night he was killed that he probably wouldn’t be seeing him again.
Finally, there’s Chapman, a penniless security guard, who just happened to be married to a Japanese woman, who was obsessed with black magic and the occult. Bizarrely, he had gone on a round the world trip in a westerly direction two years before John was shot - the same direction John was sent on by Yoko round about the same time. Most incredibly, Chapman raised the money to pay for his trip to New York (to shoot John) by selling a painting - a Norman Rockwell no less.
Shall I go on?