That's not even a real live shot but it's the only shot I got tonight to get my mug on TV. I dread my local news assignments but they're a necessary evil if I want to continue to wear my TV reporter hat. It had been a few months since I had worked for this local news station and I knew it was going to suck. I know, The Secret mandates that this attitude was prophetic and guess what? It was.
Working nightside has its ups and downs. On one hand, I don't have to report to duty until 1:30pm, however, the pickings are slim and we're typically screwed if there's no breaking news. But I was determined to be resourceful so I managed to line up sources willing to be on camera and meet me on a Sunday. The story wasn't earth shattering but it was newsworthy by even the most conservative standards. FEMA had finally coughed up the money to bail out residents in a flood prone area. Don't yawn, that's rude and plus, it was the first buyout of its kind. Just as I was wrapping up the story, I got a call from my producer. "Vo-Sot this story, we need you to cover a murder-suicide," she said. For those unfamiliar with TV jargon, Vo-Sot stands for voice-over, sound on tape. Aren't you glad I cleared that up?
The story was awful. A 21 year-old girl had been found by her father, she was stabbed to death. It gets worse. The person responsible was her own mother who had later killed herself by drowning in a nearby creek. However, all we had was the police report. This happened in a very affluent neighborhood and I felt like fucking Geraldo Rivera knocking on neighbors' doors in search of a "reaction." "They were quiet, they kept to themselves," said one. "It's a tragedy," said another but of course no one was willing to say it on camera. I get it but what I don't get is why people act surprised when a reporter accompanied by a cameraman and news van wants their quote on camera. So other than feeling like a fucking vulture, I had to subject myself to the condescending answers of a 4'10" County Prosecutor who clearly had a Napoleon complex. "Of course it was shocking," he replied when I asked him to frame the gruesome crime in the context of his 30 year law enforcement career.
We get back to the station at 8 o'clock and I need to have my two stories written, approved, edited and be in full make-up for my newsroom live shot. Oh, and you're my lead story, my producer reminded me. Just then the assignment editor tells me she's found the victim's picture on a MySpace page. But who to confirm that the girl in the profile is the murder victim? I called the prosecutor who didn't have a clue. The CSI guys had seen her butchered body, Christ, the mother had used a hatchet, but they were unavailable. Someone suggested contacting her friends on MySpace so I unwittingly sent an email from my account asking them to confirm her identity by calling the newsroom hotline. An hour later one of them called. It was awkward.
Asshole Reporter: Hi, you got my email.
MySpacer: Yeah.
A.R.: Well, we just wanted to confirm that it was Sara before we used the image on television.
MySpacer: You can't use the picture. Her dad doesn't want you to use it.
A.R.: OK, well it is public domain and we're reporting the story.
MySpacer: You better not fucking use it, bitch!
A.R.: OK, thanks.
A decision was made not to use the picture even though we were well within our legal rights. But then I started getting really hostile messages on MySpace. I replied with, "I'm so sorry for your loss but I was just trying to do my job. We have decided to honor her father's wishes and NOT use the photo." The friend wrote again and basically told me to go fuck myself which wasn't completely uncalled for.
But this is the world of broadcast news. A heinous crime in an affluent community that warrants the media spotlight. Then the lofty task of balancing sensitivity with the pursuit of the elements required for your story. It sucks. It's hard. It's demoralizing and it makes me feel like a slime ball. At least with my broadcast PR firm, there's some integrity because we all admit we're working for the man. We are prostituting ourselves, at least I am, to assist corporate America in brand recognition, etc. No one is pretending to be providing some sort of community service. On a lighter note, HPG watched me on TV and said I looked good. So there you go, positive affirmation from my former crush. I knew I'd find the silver lining... eventually.
All three journalists had turned their experiences into a quest to expose the ground realities. And all of them did so at their own peril. A second journalist, a freelancer after my own heart, was once a physician who says he learned early on after the American invasion that he could be of more use to his country illuminating the injustices and inconsistencies of the "liberators" than he ever was attempting to practice medicine without the tools or drugs he required. They spoke of journalism as a noble calling and one that had tangible results. 
