“I think I need a vacation,” Gabriella said. “When was the last time you took a vacation?”
“Just before the Prentiss trial,” Robbie answered her after thinking about it for a moment. “I went to St. Louis for a week and saw the Cubs play the Cardinals. I’m going home for Christmas.”
“How was it?”
“The trip to St. Louis?”
“Yeah, was it good to get away?”
“Sure, except the Cubs got their ass handed to them all three games.”
She stood up, patted him on the shoulder and with mild sarcasm said, “That’s a shame. I’m gonna go. I’ll see you later,” and opened the door to leave.
“Okay, if you come across anything…”
“I’ll let you know,” she said as she closed his door behind her.
With that, Robbie went back to the story he was reading. It was about the trial of a thirty-eight-year-old mother of three teenage girls who was being tried for using her daughters as prostitutes. It was taking place in Philadelphia and would be tomorrow’s lead.
SEVEN
“Judge Harlan accepted the plea of Demetrius Young to first-degree manslaughter and immediately sentenced the seventeen-year-old veteran gangbanger to forty-eight months in an adult prison,” Gabriella Shriqui said facing the camera.
She was standing in the front plaza of the Hennepin County Government Center, with the big granite, glass and chrome building in the background. It was a bit of a breezy day and she was having a little trouble keeping her long black hair from blowing in her face. Gabriella and the remote camera crew she worked with were reporting on a gang shooting homicide case. Demetrius Young, the last of the three defendants, had pled to a lesser manslaughter charge in the tragic death of a seven-year-old little girl.
It had started when Demetrius was picked up a few minutes before the shooting by the two co-defendants and was in the backseat of the car when it happened. Demetrius claimed he had no prior knowledge of what his friends and fellow gang bangers were up to. The other two defendants had both testified that before picking Demetrius up, they had been cruising the streets of South Minneapolis looking for an older man who may have insulted the shooter’s sister.
Barely two minutes after Demetrius got in the car, they spotted the man, or at least someone they believed to be him, walking along a residential street. DeShawn, the gang member whose sister was supposedly the grievously offended party, opened up at the man from the passenger seat with a semi-automatic 9mm handgun. His target fled unscathed, but one of the bullets went through a window in the house on the street and struck the seven-year-old girl in the forehead, killing her instantly.
“Primarily, because of his extensive juvenile record, despite his age and his alleged lack of any agreed upon participation in the shooting, the judge was not inclined to allow the probation his lawyer requested. With this final plea, a sad and tragic tale that shocked the Twin Cities last January has come to a close. This is Gabriella Shriqui reporting from the Hennepin County Government Center.”
“How was that take? Are we good?” she asked the technician and the cameraman.
“Yeah,” the technician answered. “It should be fine.”
Gabriella looked at her watch and saw it was almost 3:00. The film would be in time for the 5:00 P.M. news report and would likely be used by Melinda Pace on her show. At that moment she felt her phone vibrate in her skirt pocket. She pulled it out and saw that the caller ID read Dakota County Sheriff. Suspecting it was someone she didn’t want to talk to, she frowned but answered it anyway.
“This is Gabriella,” she said as pleasantly as she could.
“Hey, sweetheart, it’s Stu Doyle. How’ve you been?”
“Fine, Stu. What’s up?” she said as she sat down on the wall surrounding the fountain on the plaza. The caller was indeed the person she feared it was and she needed to sit down because she wasn’t sure she wanted to talk to him.
Stu Doyle was an investigator with the Dakota County Sheriff’s office. Gabriella had met him a couple of months ago while covering a murder trial in Hastings, the county seat. Stu was a tall, charming, very good-looking man who made it clear he wanted to get in Gabriella’s pants in the worst way. Gabriella, being the stunning beauty she was, had plenty of experience with Stu’s type. As politely but firmly as she could, she made it clear to him that she was one conquest he wasn’t going to get. And on top of it, she found out later he was married.
“I have a ‘no bullshit’ hot tip for you, but the price is meeting me for a drink in an hour. Say four o’clock.”
“Stu,” she said with a sigh, “I…”
“Gabriella, listen. This could easily be the hottest story of your career and so far, no one else has it. I am not exaggerating. Meet me at Giorgio’s in Rosemount. You won’t be sorry.”
Gabriella hesitated for a moment thinking, why do I doubt that, then said, “Okay. I’ll be there by 4:00. Oh, and Stu, how’s your wife?”
The last comment stopped him a bit. Even so, he quietly replied, “See you in an hour.”
A few minutes before 4:00, Gabriella entered the dimly lit restaurant. Giorgio’s is a small family restaurant with excellent Italian food. She stood in the entryway allowing her eyes a moment to adjust from the brilliant afternoon sunlight. At this hour, the place was almost empty except for a few early birds in the bar.
Gabriella looked to her right into the bar and saw Doyle sitting in a booth facing her. He waved at her. She went into the bar and slid into the booth opposite him.
“As gorgeous as ever,” he greeted her flashing his practiced smile as she placed her purse on the table between them.
“Thanks, Stu,” she replied.
A moment later the bartender stepped up to their booth and said to her, “What can I get you?”
“I’ll just have a soda, a Coke?”
“Coke it is,” he replied. “What about you, Stu. You good?” he asked looking at Stu’s glass of beer.
“For now, Milt.”
The two of them idly chatted until the bartender came back with Gabriella’s soda. When he left, she said to the investigator, “Okay. What do you have?”
“Well…’” he started off coyly. “I’m serious about what I told you on the phone. This could be a career maker.”
“Okay, I’m listening.”
“But we need to get your payment straight before I tell you.”
Gabriella knew he would pull a stunt like this. She thought it through, decided to remain calm and interested and hear him out.
“And…?” she replied.
“Well,” he quietly said as he leaned forward. “I do for you, you do for me. You know, favors.”
“Oh, exactly what kind of favors?” she asked seductively narrowing her eyes at him.
“A little, you know, party favors…”
“Sexual favors?”
“Yeah, sure, why not? If you don’t want the deal, I know other reporters who will take it,” he said as he smugly sat back and straightened his tie.
“Okay, why not? I’ve heard you’re a good guy and to be honest, I don’t have much of a social life. So, tell me what you have.”
He wasn’t at all surprised she would go for it. He leaned forward again and sincerely said, “You won’t regret it, Gabriella. Believe me. Plus, I’m telling you, this is a great story.
“You remember a few years ago, that girl in Florida who got away with murdering her daughter? We may have the same deal here.”
“Tell me,” Gabriella said as she removed a notebook from her purse and began taking notes.
“This is all on background, an anonymous source in the sheriff’s office.”
“Yeah, yeah, of course.”
For the next half hour, he told her everything he knew about the situation. A young mother, widowed, was brought in earlier that day by her mother and reported a missing child. Doyle explained it all to Gabriella, gave her a detailed report of everything he knew from the statements taken from
the two women.
“And she didn’t report her daughter missing for what, almost ten days?”
“That’s right. Says she thought she could find this guy herself and get the kid back. One more thing, a little bonus for you. I have this,” he said as he handed her a print of a photo of Brittany and Becky together.
“That’s great. You’re right. This could be a huge story. Certainly worth our deal,” she said with a wink. “Tell you what,” she continued as she started to pack. “I gotta get going. Get this on the air before somebody beats me to it. But,” she said as she softly placed a hand on his, “I’ll meet you back here at, say 7:30?”
The channel 8 six o’clock news broadcast led off with Gabriella’s story. While this was on the air, she was in a meeting with the station’s General Manager, Madison Eyler; the station’s News Director, Hunter Oswood; Melinda Pace and Robbie Nelson.
“You trust this guy?” Oswood asked Gabriella.
“No, he’s a total snake but I can control him,” she answered.
“You’re sure?” Madison interjected.
“Yes, believe me,” Gabriella confidently answered her. “He doesn’t know it yet, but I’ve got him by the balls.”
“Melinda,” Eyler turned and asked, “You want in on this?”
“Absolutely. After tonight, there’s going to be a shit storm in the media around here. You see this picture of that beautiful little girl? This is a ratings wet dream.”
“Okay,” Eyler said once again looking at Gabriella. “Gabriella, you’ve got point on this. It’s your story, at least for now. I guess that’s it for now. You’re seeing this source again tonight?”
“In about an hour,” Gabriella said as they all stood to leave.
As the four of them started making their way out of her office, Madison said, “And Melinda, let’s not have another clusterfuck like Cindy Scarpino.”
Without a word, they all left and Melinda, obviously annoyed, stomped off down the hall toward her own office. As she did, Gabriella lightly took Robbie’s arm and held him back.
After Melinda was out of earshot from them, Gabriella asked, “Who is Cindy Scarpino?”
Robbie bobbed his head back and forth several times considering if he should tell her or not. After thinking about it for a moment he decided she probably needed to know.
“This was a couple years before me but I heard all about it. Cindy was a young mother whose kid was taken by the father. There was a big stink about it, nationwide. Anyway, Melinda had her on almost every day for two weeks running the story. Then Melinda found out Cindy had been arrested for solicitation in Miami at age 18. Melinda made a huge deal out of this, you know, for ratings. She ripped this poor girl to shreds, making her look like the guilty one for the kid being taken. After a couple of days of this, Cindy takes a bottle of pills and commits suicide.”
“Oh, my God!”
“Yeah,” Robbie agreed. “Then it turns out, at seventeen, Cindy ran away from home because her stepfather was abusing her…”
“Sexually?”
“Yep. She was pretty much broke, homeless and ended up on the streets. That’s when she got picked up for hooking. And on top of it, two days after she kills herself, the cops find the kid in Montana with his dad. The station got sued over it and I heard they settled but…”
“Yeah.”
Right on time at 7:30, Gabriella once again slid onto a booth bench across from Stu Doyle. This time they were seated in Giorgio’s dining room. The waitress arrived almost immediately to check with Gabriella.
“I’m not having anything,” she pleasantly said to the older woman. “I won’t be staying long.”
“What, you in a hurry to get a little of the Stu wild ride?” he asked with a smirk after the waitress left.
“Not exactly, Stu,” Gabriella replied. She reached into her purse and removed a small cassette player. She placed it on the table between them, pressed the play button and they both listened to a recording of Stu’s proposal from that afternoon and his monologue concerning Brittany Riley.
When it finished playing, Gabriella removed the mini-cassette and held it up in her hand. An obviously furious Stu Doyle simply glared at her as she did this.
“This one’s for you if you want it. I have others, at least one for your wife and one for the sheriff. No, you don’t want it?”
“Fuck you, you conniving…”
“Here’s our new deal,” Gabriella said cutting him off and ignoring him. “You will be my exclusive source for information about this case. You will talk to no one else. If I find out you have, I mail the copies. And the information better be good and timely or I mail the copies. Do we understand each other?”
Stu sat silently, still glaring at her. What galled him wasn’t the arrangement but the fact he had been played by a woman.
“I want to hear you say it, Stu,” she said as she replaced the tape player in her purse.
“Fine, I’ll do it,” he said through his clenched teeth.
“Good. I’ll be in touch,” she continued as she slid across the bench seat. She stood up, leaned over to put her mouth by his ear and whispered, “You’ll never know what you’re missing. I’ve been told I’m even better than I look.”
With that, she straightened up, turned and walked out.
EIGHT
The Dakota County Sheriff was a man named Brian Cale who had been in law enforcement for over thirty-five years. First, he was with the Rochester police department for twenty years, retiring as a sergeant and then decided to double dip his public pension by becoming a deputy with the Dakota County Sheriff’s Office. The previous sheriff, his predecessor, retired five years ago and Cale took a run at being elected to the job. Considered a long shot, what probably won it for him was his physical appearance. Brian Cale looked like what a sheriff should look like. A no nonsense looking bald man in his early fifties, he kept himself in good shape and when he made a public appearance, he not only looked the part but gave off an aura of confidence. This was well received in this mostly white, middle-class suburban county and he was elected easily.
When the sheriff’s investigators finished interviewing Barbara and Brittany Riley, they met with Cale to review the case. A decision was made for the four detectives to begin preliminary arrangements for their investigation. The first step would be to locate the missing Bob Olson and the child. In addition, after considerable discussion, argument and heated debate, it was decided to hold off informing the media until the next day. Three of the detectives argued strenuously to make an announcement immediately. The other detective, Stu Doyle and the sheriff himself, favored waiting until the next day. Doyle wanted to wait so he could take a run at Gabriella by leaking the story. Cale wanted to wait until they were more prepared for the media storm this news would create. What finally decided it was when Cale stated what they all believed; the odds of finding Becky Ann Riley alive were probably zero.
Despite this obvious fact, the sheriff had authorized the issuance of an AMBER Alert for seven o’clock that evening. His hope was that the media would act responsibly for a change and not come pounding on his door. It was, of course, a vain hope at best and he knew it. By the time Gabriella’s report finished airing, the phone lines at the sheriff’s office were exploding. It seemed every news source in Minnesota had seen the broadcast and were now clamoring for information. Sheriff Cale decided he had little choice but to hold a press conference that evening and issued the AMBER alert immediately.
The Dakota County Sheriff’s Department is located in Hastings as part of the Dakota County Government Center. The Adult Detention Center, the latest “PC” term for jail, the main courthouse and county administrative offices are all part of the same complex. It is about twenty-two miles from downtown St. Paul and almost thirty from downtown Minneapolis. This was a trip the media horde would become very familiar with over the next several months.
After the detectives finished their interview of her, Brittany sat down with a poli
ce artist. Between them, they came up with a very good drawing of Bob Olson. The problem was that it was both too vague and too specific. Too vague in that, with the glasses and the facial hair, it could be just about any twenty-something white male. Too specific because remove the glasses and facial hair and it could also be used to rule out just about any twenty something white male.
The department’s press liaison officer, Patty Dunphy, prepared a press release package to hand out to the media representatives before the press conference. In it, with the sheriff’s approval, were recent photos of Becky, a synopsis of the information available and a copy of the drawing of the missing Bob Olson. By the end of the week, the photo of the missing, beautiful, blue-eyed little blonde girl would be tugging at the hearts of people from coast to coast. The media firestorm it would unleash was about to begin.
At precisely eight o’clock, Sheriff Cale stepped up to the podium. Standing behind and flanking him were the four detectives, two men and two women, who would be leading the investigation. It was a very pleasant, warm, summer evening and because of the size of the crowd, the podium had been set up on the steps of the government center with the courthouse for a background.
Cale started off with a monotone recitation of what had been written and handed out in the press release. Before he was halfway through it, the questions were starting to fly. He did his best to ignore them and continue on, but there was one question repeated over and over that he finally could not disregard: “Why did it take the mother ten days to report her missing daughter?”
Setting aside his notes, he removed his reading glasses, placed them on the podium and looked directly at Gabriella Shriqui standing in the front row. A clearly annoyed Cale said, “She told us that she believed her daughter was safe with her boyfriend, Bob Olson. She believed her daughter would be returned by him.”
A murmur went through the crowd and more questions were thrown at the sheriff. Knowing this could very easily be the most important case of his law enforcement career, Cale was doing his best to keep calm and patient. Despite the fact that he was an elected official, his patience with the media was not a strong point in his make up. After gritting his teeth and not answering the howling mob for a full minute, he slammed a fist down on the podium and bellowed for order to be restored. The sheriff’s momentary loss of control worked. The noise and the chaotic questioning immediately ceased.
[Marc Kadella 03.0] Media Justice Page 5
