The Genesis Files

by Gwen Richardson

  “Okay, Ed. I’m willing to do the interviews and help you run interference with the black community, on one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That everything is done on my terms. First, when I do the interviews, I will be free to answer all questions truthfully. That means that if they ask me if the newspaper got it wrong initially, then my emphatic answer would be ‘yes.’”

  “I’m not going to agree to have you publicly air a personal vendetta with the newspaper,” replied Ed.

  “Ed, I’m a professional. Don’t worry, I’m not going to make any statements that would make the Ledger liable for damages. Besides, you can check with our attorneys, but since we didn’t actually name anyone as a suspect, it would be difficult for us to be sued for any actions the police took in investigating the crime.”

  “Is there anything else?”

  “Yes, there’s plenty. The Ledger needs to print a full-page, public apology on the back page of the front section of the newspaper, to run in tomorrow’s edition. Then, we need to have a team of representatives from the newspaper to go to the church meetings tonight and the rest of this week to apologize personally to the congregations and others who attend.”

  “What church meetings? And how are we going to cover that much ground? We only have a few black employees.”

  “Ed, once this story breaks, most of the large black churches in town are going to have mass meetings to discuss the community’s response. They won’t waste any time, and the meetings will probably start tonight and take place throughout the week.

  “But the black employees aren’t the ones who need to go to the churches,” Lloyd continued. “It should be some of the paper’s top level editors and executives. The black employees didn’t make any of the decisions that led to the rush to judgment about the Pauley kidnapping. The paper can’t hide behind them to soften the blow of the community’s outrage.

  “The important thing is that we get out front of this before it snowballs,” he added. “We need to extinguish the emotional fires before the Nation of Islam, the New Black Panther Party and the other grass roots groups organize and

  make this a four-week nightmare. Otherwise, the Ledger will be the lead story on every news network for the next thirty days, and it won’t be for anything remotely positive.”

  Lloyd knew he had Ed over a barrel and it felt great. Ed had never given Lloyd credit for his reporting skills or his intellect. He had used intimidation tactics to keep Lloyd from pursuing advancement, to keep him in fear of losing his job if he pushed the envelope too much. Now the tables were turned.

  Ed was reluctant, but knew he had no choice. He’d have to get Seymour Johnson, the president of the Ledger, involved, especially if they were going to send some of the bigwigs to the churches.

  “Okay, I’ll call Mr. Johnson’s office and see who he wants to call on to represent us at those meetings tonight. The CNN and MSNBC interviews are scheduled for three o’clock this afternoon, so you and Charles need to get finished with today’s story by then. They’ll be interviewing you on a satellite feed from the news room.”

  “Okay, Ed.”

  “And another thing. You’ll need to work with the folks in layout and advertising for the wording of that full-page ad. I need to approve it before it goes to press, but you’ll need to set it up. Make sure we hit all of the relevant points. And, Lloyd?”

  “Yes, Ed?”

  “This had better work. There’s a lot riding on this.”

  Lloyd sensed that Ed was trying to shift the blame to him and he wanted to make it clear where the responsibility lay. “Ed, I am giving you suggestions based on my personal experience and knowledge about the black community. But, as a reporter, I fulfilled my responsibility when I tried to warn you not to run with the erroneous story. If this effort to mend fences with the black community doesn’t succeed, it won’t be my fault. It will be yours.”

  Ed couldn’t believe Lloyd was issuing ultimatums. Once this crisis was over, he’d have to deal with him. He couldn’t afford to tolerate insubordination from his reporters, especially his affirmative action hires.

  “That will be all, for now,” said Ed.

  As Lloyd and Charles, both with smiles on their faces, left the office, Lloyd felt like a new man, finally getting the recognition he’d yearned for so long. Charles was proud of his friend and equally pleased with the small role he had played in breaking the story. But Ed was not smiling at all. He didn’t like having his nuts in a vise, and that’s the position Lloyd had forced him into. If Lloyd pushed his demands further, Ed would have to do something about it.

  311

  Gwen Richardson

  CHAPTER 22

  Lloyd’s plan unfolded and things went surprisingly well. The church meetings were packed to capacity with standing room only crowds. The Ledger executives spoke to the audiences, did a complete and unequivocal mea culpa, and apologized for any pain the paper had caused the black community with its news reports.

  The Chief of Police also made his rounds that night, assuring the citizens that all of those who had been falsely arrested would receive a $1,000 check from the city of Houston as compensation. The City Council had called an emergency session that afternoon to allocate the funds.

  Lloyd was interviewed on the national news programs on all of the major networks and cable news channels. After Lloyd’s TV appearances and the news circulated about the actions the city had taken, rather than having a blemished reputation, Houston was being hailed as a model for other cities on how to respond when racial tensions flair.

  Mrs. Pauley was arrested and charged with first-degree capital murder. Further investigation revealed that she had purchased a $2 million insurance policy on Hunter —an unusually large sum for an infant. Apparently, she had planned to use the insurance proceeds to pay off her gambling debts.

  Her husband traveled constantly and spent more time away from home than he did in Houston, so he was unaware of the insurance policy or his wife’s bout of post-partum depression. He was brought to the police station for questioning but was cleared of all charges. Mrs. Pauley’s attorney entered a plea of not guilty by reason of mental defect, citing her post-partum depression as an extenuating factor.

  After filing the last installment of his news report that evening, Lloyd went home physically and emotionally exhausted. He wasn’t sure whether or not there would be any repercussions from his confrontation with Ed, and, frankly, he didn’t care. He was fed up with Ed’s tirades and mood swings, and he decided that night that he wasn’t going to take it anymore. If it cost him his job, so be it.

  The exposure he had received as a result of breaking the Pauley story had raised his profile and his value in the journalism profession. He’d already received two text messages from colleagues in other states, asking him if he’d consider leaving the Ledger to work at regional or national publications. Thanks to his mother’s prodding, he no longer had to live in fear that losing his job at the Ledger would be the end of the world.

  He couldn’t wait to get home to Stephanie’s cooking and, later on, the release of all of his pent-up tension once they went to bed. Stephanie had a prim-and-proper public persona, but she had a sexual appetite that sometimes surpassed his. She had lots of tricks up her sleeve and, when Bria wasn’t home, she had once greeted him at the door completely nude except for the red silk and lace thong she wore. That wild night of passion was irrevocably etched in his mind, and he would summon it often at will.

  On the way home, his cell phone rang. Lloyd looked at the display and saw it was an incoming call from his best friend, Ron. “Hey, Ron. I’m on my way home. Sorry I haven’t had a chance to call you today, but I’ve been tied up with this story.”

  “No need to apologize, Lloyd. I’ve been watching the news all day, and I almost had to do a double take. I’m used to seeing my bashful best friend shy away from the cameras, but you were handling everything like an old pro.”

  “It’s been
a trial by fire, Ron, almost like an out-of-body experience. I still can’t believe it’s happened. When I dug that poor Pauley baby out of the shallow grave, I thought I was going to pass out. I can’t believe someone would do that to her own baby.”

  “I would have passed out too or, on second thought, I would have never been there in the first place. That was a really brave thing you did, Lloyd, and the city owes you a big one. I hope you figure out a way to cash in.”

  “I’ve been thinking about ways for this to advance my career. This may be my only shot out of this holding pattern I’ve been in. I’ll let you know before I make any major moves, okay?”

  “You’d better. Don’t forget about us little people once you hit the big time,” Ron said jokingly, and they both laughed.

  “I’m pulling up to the house now, and I’m ready to eat and go to bed. I’m really tired, so I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

  “That’s cool. Later, man.”

  Lloyd hung up and got out of his car. When he opened the door to his house, he heard the television playing in the den. Stephanie had finished cooking dinner hours ago, since it was past nine o’clock when he got there. When he entered the room, she was seated on the love seat watching one of her favorite programs.

  “Hi, honey, have you been watching the news?” he asked.

  “Of course. I’ve been channel surfing so I could watch you on all the networks. You’re a regular celebrity,” she said and broke out in a wide grin.

  “Hardly. But my advice seems to have helped the paper navigate this crisis. Ed’s running a full-page ad tomorrow apologizing for any pain caused to the black community from our reporting. But, I doubt this attitude of

  inclusiveness will last. Things will be back to normal in a week or two with black criminals once again gracing the Ledger’s front page. Otherwise, we don’t exist as far as the paper is concerned.”

  “You never know, Lloyd. It could get better. Maybe Ed has learned something from this incident.”

  “He may have learned something, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to change. Ed’s a good old boy from way back. It’s hard to teach an old dog any new tricks. By the way, where’s Bria?”

  “She had an exhausting day at cheerleading practice and decided to go to bed early. Oh, I almost forgot, Lloyd. You got a call earlier tonight.”

  “From who?”

  “He had an African accent and he said his name was Hamisi. Isn’t that the man you said you were doing research on?”

  Lloyd was both pleased and surprised, since the last thing he expected was a phone call from Hamisi. “Yes. You mean he called? What did he say?”

  “Well, I asked him if he wanted to leave a phone number, but he wouldn’t. He left an e-mail address, and he wanted you to e-mail him. Here it is,” she said, as she handed Lloyd the piece of paper where she had written it down.

  “Hamisi is very secretive and protective of his identity,” Lloyd said as he looked at the e-mail address, which was a Hotmail account and could be created free of charge to use for temporary communication. “He won’t give me his phone number, and I’m not sure if he even has a phone. I didn’t see a landline when I went to his apartment. He’s probably on cell phone communication only, and he might even use disposable ones that cannot be traced.”

  “I’m going to e-mail him right now,” Lloyd continued. “If he reached out to me, it must be important.”

  “Aren’t you going to eat first, Lloyd? You’ve had a long day.”

  “I’ll e-mail him first. Then I’ll eat, and by the time I finish, maybe he will have responded.”

  “Well, if you want to use your laptop at your desk, I’ll bring a plate to you with your tray so you can eat while you work,” said Stephanie, as she headed toward the kitchen.

  “That would be great, honey,” Lloyd said, as he headed to his home office. He logged onto his laptop and accessed his Microsoft Outlook account. Hamisi provided an e-mail address of pusela@hotmail.com. Lloyd remembered Hamisi mentioning Pusela as the body of water his ancestors navigated during their ancient travels.

  Lloyd sent Hamisi the following message: My wife told me you wanted to reach me. Would you like me to visit you tomorrow?

  He thought it best to keep it short and sweet, since he wasn’t sure why Hamisi had called. Stephanie walked into Lloyd’s office carrying the tray which held his dinner.

  “Here’s your dinner, honey,” said Stephanie. “Are you going to be in here a while?”

  “Yes. I’m going to surf the Net while I’m waiting for Hamisi to respond to my e-mail message. Are you going to be up much longer?”

  “I’m going to read for a little while and then go to bed. You know I have to get up early tomorrow for a meeting with teachers in my department before school starts. Don’t be too late,” she said, winking at the same time.

  “I won’t. Once I hear from Hamisi, I’ll be right up to bed,” said Lloyd, as he looked at Stephanie and winked back at her, anticipating the night of ecstasy to come.

  After Stephanie left the room, Lloyd began surfing news sites on the Web. Nearly every major news organization had the story about the Houston kidnapping on its web site’s home pages. Some of the stories even included Lloyd’s photo. As a local reporter, he had worked in obscurity for so long, this new found notoriety was a bit unsettling, but nice.

  Then a message notice popped up on the screen, indicating that Lloyd had received an e-mail. It was from Hamisi.

  I’d like to see you. Meet me tomorrow morning at 10 o’clock where the fountains are at the Lake on Post Oak complex. Are you familiar with the location?

  Lloyd responded: Yes. It’s not far from where you live. Where will you be?

  Hamisi’s reply, which arrived within a couple of minutes, said: I’ll be sitting on one of the benches in front of the lake. Please come alone.

  I’ll be there, replied Lloyd, as he pushed the send button. Hamisi’s constant cloak-and-dagger routine was both frustrating and intriguing. Lloyd closed his laptop, turned off the light in his office, and headed upstairs, all the while wondering why Hamisi had such a sense of urgency about meeting him.

  311

  Gwen Richardson

  CHAPTER 23

  When Lloyd and Charles left Ed Jackson’s office on the day the Pauley baby was found, the editor pounded his fist on the top of his walnut desk. His face reddened as he thought about what had just happened. How dare Lloyd be so heavy-handed with him! Ed couldn’t believe the change in Lloyd which seemingly occurred overnight.

  Before this latest episode, Lloyd had been a docile, compliant reporter who had little ambition and did not make waves. He did what he was told without any back talk. The Pauley incident and the way it had transpired had turned Lloyd into a troublemaker—Ed was sure of it. Lloyd had the audacity to make demands, as if Ed was the underling and Lloyd was the boss.

  Ed had known there was going to be trouble when the boys upstairs forced him to meet their predetermined racial quota in the reporting pool. Those guys could sit back, smoke cigars in the expensive lounge chairs at the country club and pat themselves on the back about what a fantastic job they were doing with diversity among the staff.

  Meanwhile, Ed was in the trenches, trying to keep readers interested enough to buy newspapers while simultaneously juggling the demands of a workplace that was a multicultural cauldron, always on the brink of exploding. There were constant arguments, rivalries and emotional flair-ups.

  Ten years ago, the powers that be had forced Ed to hire at least one additional black reporter as window dressing. After all, the paper had to be politically correct in a metro area with half a million black residents. Now he had an out-of-control nigger on his hands and he was going to have to do something about it.

  It wasn’t as though he had anything against blacks as a race. He just thought some of them didn’t know their place. Affirmative action couldn’t make up for what an employee lacked in fundamentals, and it was common knowledge that blacks simp
ly couldn’t compete with whites when it came to English and grammar skills, nor did they have the same intellectual aptitude. Look at how low they scored on SAT tests, for Christ’s sake! And why were they always late for appointments?

  Lloyd’s reporting was proficient. If Ed sent him on an assignment, he could obtain the basic five w’s of who, what, when, where and why.

  Every newspaper needed those types of reporters. But if Lloyd continued to believe he could call the shots, there was no telling how far he’d take it.

  To further complicate things, the Ledger was receiving accolades from media outlets around the country for the way the paper had handled the entire Pauley kidnapping escapade. The paper was being hailed worldwide as an operation that had its finger on the pulse of the local community.

  The executives at the paper had, in fact, called Ed into the corporate suites to congratulate him. They actually presented him with a bonus check and gave him a raise. But the success came with a high price tag, and Ed had not mastered the fine art of hiding his true feelings behind his facial expressions. He was, in two words, pissed off.

  Ed had been in the newspaper business his entire life. As an adolescent in the early 1960s, he had earned spending money by delivering the Houston Ledger in his working-class Heights neighborhood. He vividly remembered riding his bicycle in the summer heat and autumn rain, tossing papers early mornings before school started.

  While he was in college majoring in journalism, Ed was editor of the University of Houston campus newspaper, The Daily Cougar, and during his senior year completed an internship at the Ledger.

  After graduation, he was hired as a researcher for the Metro section of the paper. When he started in the business, stories were typed on IBM Selectric typewriters with no memory or correction capabilities, let alone spell check features.