Media Justice

by Dennis Carstens

  At about the same time that Marc was enjoying the view from his office window, Gabriella entered her boss’s office. Hunter Oswood pointed to a chair in front of his desk and after she sat down said, “So kid, what’s up?”

  This was a meeting Gabriella had requested and she wasn’t quite sure how to begin. After a moment, she looked at Hunter and said, “What are we doing? What is this bullshit we do all about?”

  Oswood leaned back in his leather executive chair, placed his hands behind his head and said, “Ah. Having the ‘what is this all about’ dilemma, are you?”

  “I suppose, yeah,” Gabriella agreed.

  “Don’t feel too bad. Most reporters if they have a conscience and a soul which, I’ll grant you most lose, go through this.” Oswood came forward, leaned on his desk with his hands lightly clasped together on the desktop.

  “Believe it or not, Gabriella, we do give people the news. Not all of it is what we used to call hard news but, it is still news. Stories that need to be reported, for the most part, are reported.

  “Keep something in mind. Whether we like it or not, this TV station, as are all media outlets, businesses. We are in business to make money and that includes the news division. I don’t know about you, but I like getting paid. We don’t do this as a charity.”

  Gabriella started to protest but Oswood held up a hand to stop her.

  “Sure, there’s a public service aspect to it but, if we don’t make money, like any business, sooner or later we close the doors. Look at what’s happening to newspapers in this country. They’re dying thanks to the internet and other things.

  “Look, the various media outlets in this country, combined, spend millions of dollars on studies, polls and focus groups to find out what the public wants. So, we feed it to them. If you ask individuals, 98% of them will claim they don’t like it and don’t pay attention to it. But, our ratings and research tell us this is a lie. Someone, and an awful lot of them, are watching and paying attention to us.

  “Let me give you an example. Last week, I think Wednesday, anyway, we ran a two and a half minute segment, including film, of a cop rescuing a cat from a tree in West St. Paul. Two and a half minutes of news air time! That’s the kind of shit people say they want. That night, we got over four hundred calls and several thousand tweets or twitters or whatever you call them on that segment. Our research told us over 90% was a positive response to the story. Personally it would have been a far better story and certainly more newsworthy and a lot more interesting if the cop had pulled his gun and shot the damn cat out of the tree.”

  They both chuckled at the thought then Oswood said, “That would have been worth two minutes of film.”

  “Am I going to become as cynical as you?” Gabriella asked.

  “I hope not, but, likely. Look Gabriella, you’re good at what you do. You have a good future in this business. And the camera certainly likes you. Here’s something for you to think about. You might want to start learning more about what goes on behind the camera and in the business offices. It can’t hurt your career.”

  “So, you really believe we do give them the news? Or, at least, the news they want?”

  “Yeah, I do. The real news stories do get broadcast. Or, at least what we believe is news. That argument is for another time.”

  Gabriella thanked him for taking the time to meet with her. She turned the handle on his door to open it, looked back at Oswood and said, “The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.”

  “Willie was a smart guy,” Oswood answered her.

  That evening, Gabriella was alone in her apartment enjoying a quiet evening. Dressed in comfortable dark blue sweats and white cotton socks, she sat cross legged on her couch. The TV was on showing a vapid sitcom she paid no attention to and she sipped a glass of Zinfandel while reading the paper.

  Gabriella was scanning the small headlines in the Nation section when a story caught her eye. She put her wineglass on the coffee table and read the story twice. Something clicked in the back of her mind causing her to get up, go into her small kitchen and check the calendar on the wall. She did a quick mental calculation then retrieved the laptop from the bag she left by the door.

  Gabriella, her reporter’s curiosity having been piqued, carried her laptop back to the couch and resumed her position. She turned off the TV, set the paper aside and spent the next hour doing research on her computer. She opened a file into which she would make notes and copy her findings, then finally stopped to refill her glass.

  When she got back to the couch, she shut down her laptop and stared at the blank TV screen sipping the wine for several minutes.

  “Jesus Christ,” she whispered to herself. “Could it be possible? Am I drunk? I need to talk to somebody,” she said as she reached for her phone.

  Gabriella punched the dialer and listened while it rang. During the third ring she heard a familiar voice greet her by saying “Hey Gabriella, what’s up?”

  Gabriella paused for a brief moment then said, “I think I may have found something and I need to talk to you about it. Can we meet for lunch tomorrow?”

  “What’s wrong? You sound a little upset. Everything okay?”

  “No, no. I’m okay. Can we meet? I’ll tell you all about it then.”

  “Sure.”

  The two friends agreed to a noon lunch date at a place they had been to before.

  “Are you sure you’re okay? I can come over now.”

  “No, really, I’m fine. Thanks Maddy. But it is important so, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Of course, I’ll be there.”

  SEVENTY

  Maddy and Gabriella met at a popular Perkins on the west side of Minneapolis. As usual, whenever these two walked through a restaurant together even the other women turned their heads and watched as they were led to a booth in the back.

  They both ordered a light lunch of salads and when the waitress left, Gabriella got down to business. For the better part of an hour, she explained to Maddy what she surmised and why. She showed Maddy everything she had researched including dates and times. Maddy asked many questions, most of which Gabriella had an answer to and several she had not thought of herself. Between the two of them, one a professional investigator the other a professional reporter, both with very inquisitive minds, the two women analyzed everything Gabriella had found.

  When they finished, there was a pause in the discussion and Maddy leaned back on the bench seat, heavily sighed and said, “God I hope you’re wrong.”

  “So do I!”

  Maddy leaned forward again, looked across the table at her friend and said, “It’s not enough to even get the cops interested. We need some real evidence.”

  “I know,” Gabriella quietly replied. “What do you think? You think I’m crazy or…”

  “No, not at all,” Maddy said. “What I think is that I owe it to Brittany Riley to check this out, to do a little road work, investigate this and follow up the trail you’ve uncovered. Or, at least see if it’s a trail and not just a string of coincidences.”

  “Thank you, I think. Tell me if this is a good idea. We find a sketch artist, like the ones the cops use. Have him draw his picture then…”

  “…add the details from the sketch of Bob Olson to see if they match up,” Maddy said finishing the statement. “That’s a great idea. Let me call Tony, I’m sure he’ll know the guy with MPD.”

  Two hours later the two women, along with Tony Carvelli and an MPD detective friend of his, Owen Jefferson, were sitting next to a man at a computer. They were sitting in a tech room at the police department in the bowels of the Old City Hall in downtown Minneapolis. Gabriella described the suspect strictly from her memory and not from a photo and the sketch artist came up with two drawings for them. One was of Bob Olson which was identical to the one Brittany Riley had described. The other was a drawing of the man Gabriella had begun to suspect. Gabriella also had a copy of Brittany’s original sketch and they laid all three of them on
a table, side by side for comparison.

  “They’re a match,” Carvelli said. “No doubt about it.”

  “Yeah,” Owen Jefferson agreed, “but, they could also be a match for a hundred other guys that age. It’s not enough.”

  “Gus,” Maddy said to the artist, “Can you do some more? Do another five or six of him with various disguises?”

  “Sure,” Gus said turning back to his desk top.

  For the next hour, working with suggestions from his gallery, Gus came up with six more drawings of Bob Olson in various disguises. When he finished, he gave the two women a copy of each. They thanked him and the four of them went out the Fourth Street exit.

  “Now what?” Jefferson asked them.

  “We’re going to do a little investigating out of state. We’ve got some things to check on,” Maddy replied.

  “Be careful you two,” Carvelli said sounding like a father to two daughters.

  “Hey, who are you talking to? I’m the soul of discretion,” Maddy smiled.

  “Oh, yeah, that’s right. Well, in your case, try not to put anyone in the hospital,” Carvelli said.

  “Listen,” Jefferson interjected while handing each of the women his business card. “Stay in touch. If you find anything let me know.”

  While they walked to their cars, Gabriella said to Maddy, “You know, I can’t pay you up front. I’ll pay you as best…”

  Maddy stopped, looked at her friend and said, “You’ll pay me nothing. I’m doing this because it needs to be done and it’s up to you and me to do it. Besides I told you, I owe it to Brittany.”

  “Thank you,” Gabriella quietly replied.

  “We need to keep in touch. Talk a couple of times a day, okay?”

  They reached their cars, parked next to each other in a ramp, gave each other a hug, wished each other good luck and went their separate ways. As part of their lunchtime discussion, the two women had decided on a specific course of action. Maddy knew people where she was headed and Gabriella had a couple of contacts with local TV stations where she needed to go.

  Eight days later, while Madeline was still out of town, Gabriella met with Detective Jefferson at his office. She had been in constant contact with Maddy and, with what the two of them had discovered, Gabriella was hoping it would be enough to get an investigation going and possibly a search warrant.

  Jefferson and Gabriella were meeting in a small conference room at the downtown police headquarters. Gabriella went over the details of her trip and her investigation into the disappearance and death of a six-year old girl in Missouri.

  “The death is almost the exact same thing as Becky Riley’s death. The girl was snatched off the street a block from her home. Her body was found in a lake in the Missouri Botanical Garden. She had been tied to a cinderblock with clothesline, carried into the lake then tossed in. The mother was alibied by three people. No one was charged.

  “I took the pictures, the drawings we had done, around to local bars, restaurants and stores. An owner of a convenience store identified this one,” she continued sliding one of the drawings across the table to the cop. It was one with a baseball cap and mustache for a disguise.

  “How could he be sure?” the skeptical cop asked.

  “He was very sure. He said he had never seen the guy before then all of a sudden he was stopping almost every day. He also remembered that after the news of the kidnapping, he never saw him again.”

  “You say Ms. Rivers has more?”

  “Yes,” Gabriella told him. She then spent a few minutes giving him a brief rundown of what Maddy had found.

  Jefferson thought it over for a minute then said, “It’s a little circumstantial. The thing about guys like this though, when they get busted they usually can’t shut up. They confess everything. Like they’re relieved to finally get caught and stopped.

  “Tell you what. Rivers will be back tomorrow night? Let’s get together day after tomorrow and we’ll go over everything. The glitch might be that this isn’t really our case. This is Dakota County. If she’s back, the two of you come in 10:00 o’clock Friday morning.”

  “What do you think, Owen?” Gabriella asked.

  Jefferson thought about it for a few seconds then said, “I’m about seventy percent convinced. But, we may have enough to bring him in and maybe enough for a search warrant. We’ll see.”

  The next night, late Thursday, Gabriella was in her cubicle on the otherwise empty third floor of the station’s building. She had been a last minute replacement on the anchor desk for the 10:00 o’clock late news and was packing up getting ready to go home when the phone went off. She looked at the screen, answered it and said, “I was hoping you’d call, any more news? Where are you? Are you back in town?”

  “Yeah, I’m back. I’m in my car heading toward your place. That man I told you about, the school psychologist,” Maddy said. “He emailed me our guy’s file, lock, stock and barrel.”

  “Your source will be in a lot of trouble if this gets out,” Gabriella said.

  “He didn’t think so. Especially, if what I told him turns out to be true. I glanced through everything and our boy definitely had issues.”

  “What kind of issues?” Gabriella asked.

  “I’ll tell you when I get there. It’s not good.”

  “All right, I’m leaving now and I’ll see you…”

  “Hello, Gabriella,” a voice behind her said.

  Gabriella jumped about four inches off of her chair and put her left hand over her heart. Still holding the phone by her mouth, she said, “Robbie, geez you startled me.”

  Robbie was standing at the entrance to her cubicle wearing a look she had never seen before. The normally smiling and affable younger man who had a huge crush on her was looking down on Gabriella with a humorless expression on his face and almost dead look in his eyes. “What’s up?” Gabriella asked as casually as she could. Without ending the call with Maddy, she discreetly set her phone on her desktop.

  “I came by a while ago looking for you,” he said with no inflection in his voice. “You weren’t here. Tell me, how was St. Louis?”

  A stab of fear ran through her but she remained outwardly calm. “What are you talking about? I wasn’t in St. Louis. I went to Michigan,” she lied.

  Robbie removed a glossy, folded paper from his back pocket and tossed it on her desk. It was a four color brochure from the Missouri Botanical Gardens.

  “How did you like the Botanical Gardens? Beautiful isn’t it?”

  Knowing she was in serious trouble and praying Maddy was listening and was now heading to the station and not Gabriella’s apartment, Gabriella decided to go on offense. “Who the hell do you think you are going through my desk?”

  Ignoring her feigned indignation, Robbie continued by calmly saying, “It’s a great place to dump the body of some whiney, spoiled brat, don’t you think? It took them a lot longer to find that one than any of the others.” When he said this he was looking at her with a nasty smirk, almost sinister. He cocked his head back, looked up at the ceiling and started to laugh when Gabriella made her move.

  Seeing her chance, possibly the only one she would get, Gabriella launched herself at him head first. Like a battering ram, the top of her head hit him right in the solar plexus driving him back, off his feet and down, banging his head on the cubicle wall across from Gabriella’s. The blow stunned and staggered her but she didn’t go down. While he was lying on the floor trying to regain his breath, Gabriella stepped into him and kicked him in the groin as hard as she could. The pain went up into his chest like a wave of fire. He curled up, placed his hands on his crotch and instinctively rolled on the floor two or three times to get away from her.

  Still a little stunned herself, Gabriella knew her only real hope was escape. She grabbed her phone and looked around to make a break for it just as Robbie was starting to recover. He was still on the floor groaning and in obvious pain but he was also very effectively blocking her only escape route. Realizing
she didn’t have a chance to get past him, she looked to her left and ran to the door leading up to the roof.

  Gabriella burst through the door onto the roof and was almost knocked down by the wind. As she looked around for a place to hide, an enormous boom of thunder roared overhead and a brilliant flash of lightening lit up the sky and the rooftop allowing her to see the air conditioning unit.

  The weather forecast had predicted a large thunderstorm for that night which was rolling in from the western suburbs. Gabriella sprinted across the roof, fighting the wind, and praying Maddy had heard the conversation with Robbie.

  She ducked behind the four foot high covering of the A/C unit and brought the phone to her ear. “Maddy, are you still there?” she whispered.

  “Yes! What happened? Are you all right? Where are you?”

  The thunder continued to rumble, the lightening crashed and the wind whipped around the roof. It had not started raining yet but it was only a few minutes off.

  “I can barely hear. Can you hear me?” Gabriella whispered.

  “Yes, I can. Where are you? What’s going on? I’m on my way to the station. I’ll be there in three or four minutes.”

  “I’m on the roof hiding. He knows Maddy! He knows! He’ll be up here to get me soon. Southeast corner. Third floor. Door to the roof. Please hurry.”

  “Southeast corner, third floor. I’m coming.”

  At that moment through the sound of the storm, Gabriella heard the door for the roof crash open. She squatted behind the A/C unit and tried to listen for him. She tried to hear the sound of his shoes scraping across the pebble strewn rooftop.

  Two, maybe three minutes went by. She occasionally heard the sound of him walking around. She thought she heard it in front of the air conditioner. She hunched down a little more, then duck walked backward to the edge of the A/C covering. Gabriella, barely breathing for fear of making a sound, silently listened hoping he was moving away. Suddenly a hand grabbed her by the back of her hair and jerked her head back.