Last Dance

For the past two decades, Ortega was one of Jackson's closest collaborators. He directed the singer's Dangerous and HIStory world tours in the 1990s, and was among the first people Jackson called when he was ready to emerge from his most recent period of self-imposed isolation, during which his private life had become the stuff of tabloid scandal. ''Over the last few years, Michael would say, 'Let's find something to do,''' Ortega says. ''But he turned down a lot. He turned down an invitation to do a Vegas production. He said, 'It has to be important. We can't do something just because we can.' I'd never heard him talk like that before. This time around, he wanted to do it for deeper reasons, more mature reasons.''

The announcement of Jackson's London concerts at a strange, brief March 5 press conference was greeted with both excitement and skepticism. Many speculated that after years of profligate spending and expensive court battles, Jackson simply needed the money, but Randy Phillips, president of the concert promotion firm AEG Live, says there was more to it. ''After the press conference, I asked him, 'Why now?' He said, 'Because I've spent 12-and-a-half years bringing my kids up, and now they're old enough to appreciate what I do — and I'm still young enough to do it.' Yes, he had to clean up his finances. But money was not the primary motivating factor.''

As the production got under way, it quickly became clear that Jackson's creative ambitions for the concert were beyond anything he'd ever attempted. ''Michael was not playing this time,'' says choreographer Travis Payne, who had worked with Jackson since the early 1990s. ''He was not playing at all.'' With the budget already past $24 million, Jackson told his team he wanted to re-create one of the world's largest waterfalls — Victoria Falls in southern Africa — on the stage. ''I was ready to jump off the balcony of my office,'' Phillips says. ''We went and met with Michael, and Kenny said, 'Michael, you've got to stop. We've got an incredible show; we don't need any more vignettes.' Michael said, 'But Kenny, God channels this through me at night. I can't sleep because I'm so supercharged.' Kenny said, 'But Michael, we have to finish. Can't God take a vacation?' Without missing a beat, Michael said, 'You don't understand — if I'm not there to receive these ideas, God might give them to Prince.'''

Many outsiders wondered whether Jackson could pull off the physically grueling task of mounting 50 concerts. His collaborators were reassured as they watched some of the world's best young dancers struggle to match his moves. Still, Jackson did look awfully thin. ''I was always handing him Boost drinks and meal-replacement things,'' says Payne. ''We all encouraged him to eat as much as he could. But at the same time, I understand: When you eat a lot and then you dance, it hurts. It was all for his art, I think.'' There was only so much anyone could do to influence Jackson, says Ortega: ''He was loved and considered. I told him I worried about him. But we weren't there as his nurses. We were his creative team. He was in charge of his life. He was his own man.''

Jackson had insisted on retaining a full-time private physician, Dr. Conrad Murray, who was to be paid through the show's budget to oversee his medical needs. Murray is now the focus of a manslaughter investigation. ''Michael was very confident in the doctor,'' Phillips says. ''I actually tried to talk him out of hiring him. I didn't want to spend $150,000 a month on a doctor, since we were playing in London, which has phenomenal medical resources. It was the first time Michael and I had cross words with each other. He admonished me that he needed a doctor 24/7, the same way Barack Obama did, because his body is what fuels this whole business. Michael prevailed on that. And I guess, looking back, we know why.''

Recounting the scene at Staples Center when news broke of Jackson's death, Ortega can't hold back tears. ''Every once in a while I still have a moment where it's difficult for me,'' he says, his voice breaking. ''People were falling to their knees, walking in circles, holding on to each other, wailing. It was like a bomb dropped.''

Phillips — who was with the singer's children and mother at the hospital when Jackson died — quickly realized the historical importance, and financial value, of the rehearsal footage. It, along with costumes and sets, was put under 24-hour armed security. Even amid the confusion over Jackson's will and the planning of his funeral, discussions began about what should be done with the material. ''When we started archiving everything, it was riveting,'' says Phillips. ''I knew we had something, but I didn't know if it was a prime-time TV special, an HBO special...''