When Michael Jackson's story sadly teaches the opposite of his message

Coming late to the Michael Jackson fan party revealed to me not just the music and the man, but a darker side of humanity.

MJ's message of love, hope, generosity and faith in humanity was unwavering. His ambition to change the world for the better was bold and brave, which is why it hurts that learning his story has had the opposite effect on me. Understanding humankind's limitless capacity for cruelty and greed exploded my worldview.

At first, I thought his suffering was bad luck – the wrong advisers, the wrong friends, the wrong associates, the wrong staff. Seven years later, I see a darker truth: as someone with such stratospheric fame and wealth, his exploitation was inevitable due to the fundamental nature of humans. Replace them all, and the outcome would be the same. Media and public discourse continue to amplify cruelty, mockery and lies. Nothing has changed. "Why work when you can sue Michael Jackson?" – Tom Mesereau's 2005 line resonates even more today, as we wearily watch the Cascio fiasco unfold, 16 years after MJ's death. And so his story is a painful illustration of the destructive power of human greed and envy.

The result for me is a deep suspicion of people. In simplistic terms, I used to think most people were good, but now I think most people are bad. I'm quick to feel contempt. I don't like it, but when you've seen someone punished every time they trust – and punished even harder when they withdraw it – cynicism is easy self-defence.

And yet, the man who dedicated his life to healing the world never allowed bitterness to creep in. The joyful optimism in his eyes during his early life was extinguished after the allegations and trials; you can see it in before-and-after photographs. A light went out, and though I can't un-see it, I also can't ignore his dogged refusal to let it stop him giving.

Conrad Murray's recording of MJ's slurred speech as he descended into sleep tore my heart out. Ill, tired, exploited even as he spoke, rail-thin, weeks from death, he still talked about building a children's hospital with the proceeds from This Is It. Despite decades of cruel mockery, constant betrayal and false accusations, he still dreamed of giving more. His goodness is almost beyond comprehension, and I'll never stop marvelling at it.

And so, if he could do that, then I don't get to accept cynicism as my final position. To honour his message, I'm determined to rediscover my faith in people. It won't be easy, but I promise to try, and I hope being a founding member of PopCrown will be a big step towards it.