Scoop

by Rene Gutteridge

  Hugo stepped forward. “What, exactly, are you suggesting?”

  “We’re going to spin this thing.”

  “Spin what?” Hugo asked. “Pretend Gilda didn’t show up?”

  Chad smiled. “Now, Hugo, that would be misleading, wouldn’t it?” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’m simply suggesting we air some video of Gilda standing here in her…her bathrobe. Maybe we can gather some footage off the security camera of her walking into the station. We call it ‘breaking news’ and there you have it.”

  “You mean, don’t tell the whole story,” Ray said. “That’s misleading.”

  “Suddenly everyone has a conscience, do they? Well, let me offer a little refresher course for you people. Every time you air a story, you’re giving the story you want to give. You pick a sound bite here, a sound bite there, show an image here, show an image there. And what do you have? A story exactly the way you want to tell it. Everyone in this room knows how to do it. We know what image to show and when. We know what music to play under what sound bite. Give me a break!” Chad was nearly shouting now. “You expect me to believe that you’re suddenly worried you’re not telling the entire side of the story?” Chad gestured to Ray. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Ray, but wasn’t it last year that you covered that drunk-driving story? Where the quarterback of the football team struck and killed an eighty-six-year-old woman?”

  Ray nodded.

  “And did you not interview his mother, his father, and all his friends? Did you not show pictures of him winning awards and making touchdowns and being crowned homecoming king?”

  Ray nodded again.

  “In fact, you gained special access to the prison and interviewed the young man yourself, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “If I remember, we ran that story for an entire week. And how much footage did we show of the woman’s family or her funeral or that her three poodles wondered where she was?”

  “What’s your point?” Ray asked.

  “Okay. I’ll answer for you. Thirty-eight seconds. That’s how much coverage that old lady got. Our quarterback, however, came across looking like a young man who had a lot going for him but made a terrible mistake. All because of airtime, visuals, and sound bites.”

  “We both know.”

  “Know what?” Chad asked.

  “There’s fact, and then there’s truth. You can report the facts all you want, but it doesn’t always tell the truth. The truth is the story I told, and it was supported by fact.”

  Chad smiled slightly. “But you didn’t tell the whole truth, did you?” Chad looked at Hugo. “And Hugo, you and I both know that we had three hours of footage on that old woman, from interviews with her children to the sunset burial. You made the call how to air it. It sort of tugged at your heart, didn’t it? You could see your own daughter, in a few years, possibly making the same kind of mistake.”

  “That was the story,” Hugo said firmly. “The story behind the story was that a young man’s life, and countless others’, was forever changed by one mistake. We aired it the way we did hoping that it would have an impact on other kids and maybe they wouldn’t make the same kind of mistake.”

  “Fair enough,” Chad said mildly. “If you want to paint it as a noble endeavor, go ahead. But you didn’t tell the story, you told a story, and it was a story that fit the need of the viewers and the station. Period.” He paused for a moment. “Don’t you see? It’s bits and pieces, and following the same formula, we can save our station. I’ve got a report due on my desk any day now. And it’s going to assess the weaknesses of this station. What’s it going to tell me? Who’s gutsy? Who’s willing to take a risk, to lay it all on the line for success? This is your moment, people, to prove you’ve got what it takes to be in this business. To prove you’re more than glorified tattletales. Gilda, this is your moment to prove you’re a team player. That it’s not all about you. You can talk all you want about justice and the right thing to do, but at the end of the day, we’re all working our butts off to keep our heads above water because of you. You should’ve stepped down a long time ago, but instead, you just keep on keeping on. Well, its cost us a lot. Now its time to pay me and all these nice people back by giving us three more hours.”

  Hugo looked at Ray, and Ray looked at Gilda. That pink flush she had to her cheeks had vanished, and now she looked small and delicate. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked around the room.

  “I won’t do it,” came a voice, soft and from somewhere nearby. Hugo turned but couldn’t identify who said it. Then Hayden stepped forward and around another person in her way. “I won’t lie on the air, or tell a half truth, or whatever it is you want us to do.”

  Chad smirked. “Not a problem. Go back to being an assistant, Hayden. It’s what you do best. Besides, tomorrow, Gilda’s back, and your job is over. Tate. Where’s Tate? Now that’s who my money is on. That kid’s got a future. Tate?”

  Hugo couldn’t stop the smile. “Tate quit about fifteen minutes ago.”

  Chad glanced around. “Fine. We’ll put Trent in. Or Jill. Even Sam—not much is going on with weather. Why don’t you do it?” Chad’s tone was sarcastic, but his expression flickered with desperation.

  “No,” Hugo said. “We’re putting Gilda back on the air. Tonight.” He looked at her and smiled. “Along with Hayden.”

  Chad growled out a laugh.

  “Why not?” Hugo asked. “Tate’s gone, Hayden’s capable, and Gilda’s an icon, especially this week. It’ll bring the generations together.” Hugo smiled back at everyone who was nodding in agreement. And everyone was nodding except Chad.

  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Chad said. “These two are going to look ridiculous together. Gilda’s old enough to be her mother. And Hugo, in case you haven’t noticed, same-sex anchors, no matter what their age, look really awkward together.”

  “It’s going to work,” Hugo said, and he couldn’t contain his enthusiasm. “It’s going to work! We’ll break new ground here, everyone. Why not? I mean, what do we possibly have to lose here?” He looked at Gilda. “And Gilda, you’ve been in this business a long time. I’ll leave it up to you how much you want to say on air tonight. This story is about you. You tell it.”

  Tears streamed down Gilda’s face. “Hugo, this story is about so much more than me. Look how many lives it has affected. There are so many sides to it, so much beneath the hard-core facts.” She took a deep breath and gathered herself. “But I will do my best to tell it.”

  Hugo slapped his hands together. “All right, folks. We’ve got a news story to cover, and we’re on the air in three hours. Gilda, your first order is to call the police. Then I want you to get to your dressing room.”

  Everyone laughed, and for the first time in a long time, Hugo felt like laughing too. Really laughing. “Someone get in touch with Jill and Trent, and tell them to call me immediately. Ray, you and Beaker get out to the jail and get set up. I want a shot of Roarke walking out of jail. We are going to run breaking news in thirty minutes, before this thing leaks. Hayden, you’re going to do it. We’ll have complete details at ten.” He looked at Chad, who suddenly didn’t seem to be anybody important. “And by complete details, Chad, I mean complete details. You might want to start by packing up your office.”

  Hugo watched Chad turn and walk into his office, slamming the door shut. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought he remembered something in the Bible about the first being last and the last being first. He watched Hayden take Gilda’s arm as they walked together toward her dressing room. He watched Ray talk to Beaker with excitement. He watched the newsroom come alive.

  This was how it was supposed to be. This was news. This was human drama. And this was going to make at least one day in his life right again.

  Chapter 37

  Good evening. I’m Hayden Hazard, and this is News Channel 7. This evening, we are covering one of the most extraordinary stories in the history of our station. As you
know, our own anchor, Gilda Braun, has been missing for several days now. Today, she was found alive and with an unprecedented story to tell. Tonight, Gilda is back in the anchors chair, and we’re so glad to have her here, alive and safe. Gilda, I know you’re eager to tell your viewers where you’ve been and what is behind your disappearance.”

  “Thank you, Hayden.” Gilda looked at the young woman next to her and smiled. In those tender, young eyes she saw authenticity and even wisdom. “First of all, I would like to commend Hayden for the wonderful job she has done in my absence.” Gilda took a breath and could feel a nervous energy threaten to destroy her calm. She turned toward camera two and looked into the lens, knowing thousands of eyes were staring back at her. “I know there are many questions to be answered, many rumors to address, and there have been many misguided attempts to explain my situation. I know everyone is anxious for the scoop.” Gilda smiled slightly. She swore she would never use that word on air, but it had to be said. And it did make her sound about two decades younger. “But before we get into details, I think something more is at stake here. I’ve been in the news business longer than many of you have been alive. I knew I wanted to do broadcast journalism the first day I watched Edward R Murrow. I wanted my voice to have that deep, authoritative quality to it. I wanted to make a difference with the news I covered. Over the years, I’ve grown older, and life has been whizzing by me like a bullet train. Today I sit in a chair and stare out at a generation whose idol has become the instant visual.

  “I, for my part, have contributed to the worship of that idol. We live in a culture that does not have time to know, nor does it care to know, all the facts. That refusal invades our need for entertainment, these lengthy descriptions, extended reports, in-depth investigations. News has become entertainment, and I am deeply grieved for it. There was a time when news made a difference. But it is rare now that news is anything more than a puffed-up, self-important sideshow. Who doesn’t gather around the television, watching to see if all 183 passengers on an airplane with its nose gear stuck will survive or die in a fiery crash? We see images come through our television every day…but we’ve all become so numb that we’ve forgotten how very real the people behind those images are.

  “In due time, the real story behind my ordeal will emerge. You will see images and interviews and plenty of commentary. But tonight, suffice it to say, I must resign my post.” Gilda paused, hoping to keep her voice steady and professional. She blinked once and averted her eyes for a moment, but she quickly recovered and sat tall as she looked into the lens. “It has been an honor and a great pleasure serving you over the many years you have invited me into your homes. I never took that for granted. But I did lose myself. I forgot what was important to me. And I forgot that I was more than an image and a talking head. I’ve found myself now, and the person I am knows that for many reasons I must say good-bye.”

  Gilda smiled warmly, though she imagined her eyes glistened with tears of regret. She stood and walked away from the news desk. On the monitor, she could see the camera zooming in slowly on the empty chair in which she once sat. She stood to the side and watched. She’d never known so much silence to go by. Then the floor director cued Hayden, and her voice carried over the picture of the empty chair. “We’ll be back after this.”

  Gilda turned and walked to her dressing room. She wouldn’t be back on air, but Gilda Braun was back

  “Mr. Keegan, do you have any comment?”

  “What do you plan to do?”

  “Do you have anything to say to Gilda Braun?”

  “Were those letters really from you, Mr. Keegan?”

  “Can you give us any idea what it was like for you in jail?”

  The questions shattered the quiet night air. Ray stood clustered with all the other reporters, punching his microphone toward the man walking down the front steps of the city jail.

  Roarke looked tired but happy. He eyed the cameras not with surprise but with suspicion. He tried to go one way, but the horde blocked him. He held up his hand and said, “Please, let me be.”

  But nobody was letting him off the hook.

  “Just a few questions, Mr. Keegan!” one reporter shouted. “Dont you want to vindicate yourself?”

  Ray stumbled, nearly tripping Beaker, who was trying to hold the camera steady as they followed Roarke toward a cab that was parked twenty yards away.

  “Please, just leave me alone,” Roarke said, and the frustration on his face grew as he tried to make his way to the cab.

  Ray jammed the microphone under Beaker’s arm. “What are you doing?” Beaker whispered.

  Without answering, Ray shoved his way through the crowd and grabbed his big friend by the arm. Ray turned to the reporters and stuck a hand out. “Leave him alone! He asked to be left alone!” Ray’s voice echoed against the concrete, and the reporters hushed and whispered. “Come on, my friend,” Ray said to Roarke and ushered him toward the car.

  He opened the door, and Roarke laughed. “You just made a spectacle of yourself.”

  “What are friends for?”

  Roarke lowered himself into the cab. “How’s Gilda?”

  “She’s fine.”

  “Did she…mention…?”

  Ray closed the door, hurrying around to the other side of the cab and hopping in. “Let’s get out of here,” he told the driver. He turned to Roarke. “You okay?”

  “Fine. Hungry. Really hungry. We on tonight for pizza and TV?”

  Ray laughed. “Yeah, unless you have a hot date.”

  Roarke looked down. “You’re just saying that.”

  “No, I think you have a real shot.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah.”

  Roarke stared forward, looking bemused. Ray took a breath and tried to calm himself from all the excitement. He looked out the back window to cameras lingering in the night’s darkness.

  “Roarke,” Ray said after a moment, “I want to…I want to apologize.”

  Roarke looked at him. “For what? You didn’t do this to me.”

  “I know. I’m not talking about this. I’m talking about…I don’t know. I just feel like maybe I haven’t been very…” Ray searched for the words. They were hard to come by.

  “Yeah?”

  “I haven’t really been open about my faith. We’re really good friends, you know, and I don’t talk about God much with you. Being around Hayden has made me understand how important it is to me, and since you’re my good friend, I want you to know that about me.”

  Roarke laughed, and Ray felt a little self-conscious. “Dude,” he said, “don’t worry about it. I already know that about you.”

  “I know you know it, but I don’t really—”

  “Look, dude, you don’t order salads, okay?”

  “What?” Ray asked.

  “It’s like this. I used to hang around this guy, and every time we’d go out to eat, he’d order a salad and water. Then he would sit there and talk about the health benefits of salad and water. He was always trying to get his point across, you know? I felt like he was my friend because he thought he could change me. I’m perfectly aware of the health benefits of salad and water. I saw him once at a restaurant with another friend, and he was eating cheese fries. You’re my friend because you like me. And you don’t care about embarrassing yourself with me when we go places. I’ve never once felt like my weight was an issue. Ray, Hayden’s cool and everything. I really like her. But you’re cool too, and you don’t have to talk about it all the time. It shows in everything you do. You know I started reading the Bible last year?”

  “You did?”

  “Yep. And when I go home to visit my folks, I attend church with them.”

  “You do.”

  Roarke nodded. “And you know what? I’m going to start eating more salad and drinking more water.”

  “You are?”

  “Well, there’s nothing like seeing yourself on television to get the message. They say the camera adds ten pounds, no
t a hundred.”

  “Hmm. TV-and-salad night. Has a nice ring to it.”

  “Whatever. I’ll eat salad the rest of the time. We’re sticking to pizza for TV night.”

  Ray laughed. “What do you say we swing by the station?”

  “I hear there’s a couple of hot chicks there. Maybe it’s time we both burped the Tupperware.”

  “First, my friend, we gotta go by Walgreens. We could use some cologne.”

  The newsroom had finally settled down. Hugo loosened his tie and walked out of his office after checking his e-mail one more time. What a night. He’d had such an adrenaline rush he was having a hard time winding down. He wanted to do something, go out and celebrate, but everyone had gone their separate ways. Oh well. He’d pick up an Icee on the way home. He didn’t want to go home and face an empty house. He wanted to go home and tell someone about his night, but there was no one to tell.

  Hugo observed Chad’s office. The lights were off. Chad had slithered out some time during the newscast, when everyone was distracted, reportedly carrying a couple boxes. He was never so glad to see anyone go in his life, and the fact that he had to go shamefully was all the better. The DA’s office had called Hugo the minute the newscast was over, and a criminal investigation had already been launched.

  “Hi, Mr. Talley,” Hayden said as she approached.

  “Great job tonight,” Hugo said, embracing her with a hug. “You really held your own. This was not an easy night to cover. Especially by yourself.”

  “Thank you, sir. How are you doing?”

  “I’m…okay,” Hugo said. He couldn’t feign a smile. And he knew he didn’t have to for Hayden. “I booted the Blue Pills.”

  “That’s good news!”

  “Yeah. It’s nice to get some feeling back in my soul.”