"I'm not certain I understand." Mallie looked at Casey. "Do you get it?"
"It's basically a bunch of bad apples falling off the Tree of Journalistic Righteousness."
"That's certainly one way of putting it." Jake almost felt a smile begin to form at his sister's sarcastic explanation. He turned to Mallie. "I think what Casey is trying to say is that some reporters have gone to pretty savage extremes to get a story or be the first to report on a story." He shook his head, wished he could dredge up some cynicism to match her idealistic rage. But knew he was too far beyond it, he'd seen too much, knew just how far people could and would go without regret. And never look back.
"You think that guy caused the bombing?" Mallie was aghast.
Jake took a breath. "I think he instigated a situation that may have ended far differently than he’d planned."
"That's very gracious of you, Jacob," Charlie said with fire in her eyes. "That young man will get his when he meets his maker," she added with no little amount of staunch belief in her voice.
"I hope you're right, Aunt Charlie." Jake found a smidge of relief in her conviction. "It will be more than what he faces in this life."
"They can't arrest him or something?" Mallie was all but vibrating with rage at the thought of it.
Jake simply shook his head again. "It's next to impossible to prove what happened. There's no one but him left to attest to what went on in that room. And consider how easy is it to say he didn't realize the impact of his words." He looked around the table at the range of emotions displayed on their faces. His family. All of them. What in him, he wondered with dawning perception, knew this was exactly what he needed at the end of the road he'd been on the last couple of months...and the beginning of the one he suspected might begin one day in the not too distant future.
Casey broke the heavy silence that enveloped the room as each thought about all Jake had shared. "What now? From what I read in the first article yesterday and the one that ran today he wasn't alone."
"There's one more to run, I would guess either tomorrow or the next day." He leaned back, gratefully accepting another coffee refill Mary leaned over to provide. "I would have preferred it to run altogether but that's neither here or there at this point." He sipped at the steaming hot beverage. Welcomed the heated path it forged down his dry throat. "A lot of what's gone on over the years was minor compared to this but in its own way did significant damage. What happened in Pakistan was the only situation I came across that costs lives. I don't believe that was the intent but that doesn't change what happened. People died needlessly. But all along the way these folks have entered into a pact with the devil himself that has purposely hurt people, some more than others, simply for a story or in their minds a better story."
"How did this come about?" Mary asked.
Jake let out a world weary sigh that bore the weight of someone who had seen more than they cared too. He glanced at his sister, interpreted her shrug to mean her own thoughts ran the same as his. If you didn't live in that world you didn't see it as those who did. Or had.
"It's not anything new for a reporter to spice up a story. For an editor to write up a headline that doesn't reflect the story accurately but draws enough attention to assure someone will read it. Intentionally and often unintentionally, details aren't exactly accurate."
"Tell me about it." Carrie muttered loud enough for all around the table to hear as she thought about all the inaccuracies she had dealt with during her time as a Senator's wife.
"Yeah. Well it happens," Jake said simply. "But this was different. There was nothing unintentional about this. Nothing personal and certainly nothing idealistic about it. And when you push away all the garbage it came down to money and power."
"Most things do," Casey said with the cynicism he couldn't find.
Jake nodded in silent agreement. "I could never pin down exactly where and when it started in any organized way...or with who. It may have just slowly come together in the beginning...like a game but one with high stakes and even higher repercussions." He shook his head as he had many times over the last months when he’d thought about it. "As they quietly came together in a loose knit group they all had a couple of things in common. Greed. A desire for money and power. A need to control."
"Control what?" Mallie asked.
"Everything," Jake said simply. Then continued with what he'd learned. "Quietly over the years the group got bigger. There was no membership list but they all knew who the others were. Their victims weren't always much better than they but in the end they were victims nevertheless. But more often than not they all too often had their own reasons for staying silent and not disputing an inaccurate statement, an incorrect quote, a shift in the context that changed the entire meaning of what they'd really said."
"Who they were." Carrie spoke quietly, working it out in her mind.
"Exactly. Who they were, what they did, they were all in a position that could be," he paused, looking for the right word, "damaged even further if they chose to draw more attention to it."
"Compromised," Mallie said, beginning to understand the ramifications of what was being explained.
Jake nodded at his young cousin. "A lot of times folks for one reason or another find it more suitable to not respond, not correct, not call someone to task over something that is simply inaccurate," he sighed, he'd been guilty of the same too many times. "Sometimes because it would call more attention to where they didn't want attention drawn, sometimes because they simply don't want it to seem like they care one way or another, there's lots of reason. Most of them are completely innocent."
"If you call attention to something minor you can make it seem more important than it actually is," Mallie spoke up again.
"What are you going to major in kid?" Jake asked only half joking.
Mallie laughed softly, pleased despite herself.
"Anyway over time...quite a bit of time, more and more people began to wonder if these 'mistakes' were anything but. In the big scheme of things all these minor inaccuracies were having a huge impact on everything from campaigns, stock prices, corporate public relations, just about everything you can imagine." He sighed, people did bad things all the time. He'd spent his career exposing many of them. This had been different though. These had been his people.
"This was hard for you," Charlie spoke up again.
"It was." Jake knew it would wear on him for a long time to come. "Reporters are meant to tell the news not make it up." He watched his sister's lips thin, knew the signs and was glad he wasn't on the other end of her mad. He stared at the painting on the far wall, a vibrant still life of a bowl of fruit so real you'd be tempted to reach in for a piece. He'd bet his last dollar it was one of his aunt's. He’d heard she was painting again and wondered what it would take and knowing her, what it would cost, to get something similar for his own kitchen. "In the big scheme of things a lot of what they did is on the petty side."
"But some of it wasn't," Mary said softly, quietly but her anger was potent and each of those at the table that knew her heard it.
"Some of it wasn't. Not by a long shot. Some of their twisted words and intentionally incomplete statements both in print and broadcast enraged those that they meant to. And in at least one situation people died." His tone was grim. His face set as he remembered tracking the information and where it had led. "And," he looked around the table, not surprised by the sober expressions all the way around. "At some point people outside of the media picked up on what was going on and decided this might be a good thing to get a piece of per se. So now with a financial incentive, which seems to make the world go round even faster these days, the situation grew and the results, often geared for reasons not always rose garden pretty, got worse."
"No wonder Mark sounded so ticked last night," Casey said, pulling her phone out of her pocket even as she spoke.
Jake thought back to his brief conversation with the man and the message that had been sent to him through his sister. T
icked, he thought, was probably putting it mildly. But then, hadn't he felt much the same? He certainly wasn't in Burlington because he was trying to avoid a bunch of reporters.
"Text message from Terry," Casey said as she stood up and walked to the small under the cabinet TV that she and Carrie had both insisted on. "It's two letters. T. V." She clicked the small set on. Flipped to the cable network that she might not work at any longer but had no problem watching. "Here we go." She turned the volume up. "Let's see what's going on."
"That guy doesn't look that much older than me,” Mallie said, studying the young man speaking to the news anchor of the hour.
"That must be the intern Mark was talking about." Casey muttered more to herself than anyone else as she listened to the interview taking place on the small screen.
They all listened quietly as the seasoned news anchor carefully interviewed the young reporter and even younger intern. They explained step-by-step the findings of phone records, interviews with several individuals that disputed the quotes attributed to them including one who had a tape of the interview that proved his claims beyond question. Several of those they’d interviewed expressed the impact of the repercussions on them from the false reporting. Another high ranking politician who had agreed to be interviewed claimed his comments were twisted worse than a pretzel. He also made it clear he’d seen the results in his polls which showed the damage inflicted by erroneous reporting and believed it to be intentional. Near the end of the report the CEO of WNO came on live to apologize to its viewers for the role the network had unwittingly played in this scandal. He called the actions of a few a critical blow to the many who worked tirelessly to provide accurate and factual news coverage and nothing less. He went on to say that while those in the news industry competed for ratings they would come together to make sure anyone and everyone in the industry involved in this were found and would no longer be a member of the news business. He went on to talk about how theirs was the only industry protected by the Constitution and that he personally would work tirelessly to prove to all that it was deserved.
As the anchor moved on to the next story the kitchen in the Marshall Street house was quiet. Finally it was Casey who spoke up.
"I know that man. He doesn't, and I really mean it when I say he doesn't like eating crow which is what he just did in front of all of America. He doesn't like being in front of the camera period. So this just had to really hack him off big time." She looked around the table and in her eyes was a gleam that told everyone else that she had a pretty good idea what was going on in her old newsroom. "WNO is probably a miserable place to be right now except for those two guys who just did that report. They're his heroes for this moment and likely for some time to come. Everyone else, no matter how long they've been there or what they've done before this, they're going to have to prove themselves all over again." She looked at the TV, a sense of disbelief still hovering over her from what they'd just heard. "And that report...especially his part in it will air over and over again. And not just on that network. And he knows it."
"It's interesting they did it on the reporter they found at their own network who was involved in this mess." Carrie tapped her fingers together as she spoke still watching the movements on the now silent screen.
"More likely it was a matter of expediency and accountability." Jake thought again about his conversation with Mark before the whole thing broke. It wouldn't surprise him if he'd set this in motion, or at least at a germ of it in his mind, shortly after their talk. "If the phone records showed anything they would have the ability to track it from their end. It's the company phone so they have the records. Obviously they found what they needed."
"Obviously the reporter was sloppy," Casey added. "And cocky to boot."
"All of those things," Jake agreed. "It will be interesting to see where it goes from here."
"What do you mean?" Mallie asked, still intrigued by how grownups could be so stupid.
"While WNO probably did this because they had the information right under their feet," not to mention Mark pushing from their backsides, Jake thought ironically to himself. "They also set a standard."
At Mallie's quizzical look, Casey continued where her brother had left off. "They reported on themselves, their own piece in this. Other outlets will now very likely feel honor bound to do the same."
"Please," Carrie reached for the coffee pot. "When did honor enter into this?" She asked with no little amount of sarcasm.
"True." Casey took the pot from her when she finished with it and topped her own cup off. Looked at her aunt and sighed. She rose to make a fresh pot. "But that's how they will see it. If WNO can fall on the sword so can we." She flipped the switch on the machine and sat back down. "It will be good press for them at a time when they really, really need it."
"Why do you think they had those young guys do it?" Mallie asked, still obviously awed by it. "I mean, that one guy, he looked my age. If he's older it's not by much."
"Mark probably set them loose on it," Casey said thoughtfully. She looked at her brother and saw his agreeing nod. "And likely because they are young and innocent and idealistic." She leaned back, her thoughts written plain as day on her face. "I know Dennis Olde," she nodded at the face now silently emblazoned across the TV. "Not well, but well enough not to particularly have cared much for him or his methods." She ran her fingers around the rim of her cup, thinking. "But I still wouldn't have figured him for something like this."
"Who would have figured anyone for something like this?" Jake asked pointedly.
"True." Casey sighed deeply. "Very true and I bet that's exactly what Mark is thinking right about now." She looked again at Mallie. "But to answer your question I'd bet the bank that Mark put those two young and idealistic young men on it intentionally, especially if he suspected who his rogue reporter was. They could dig around and not get noticed. When people are trying to cover their rears they expect someone with a little more status than those two to be the ones trying to uncover it."
Charlie pushed away from the table, irritation in every movement she made. "I thought this was exciting until I realized just how bad it is." She set her cup down in the sink. Hard. "Jerks."
"Same here." Mallie rose to walk over and stand next to her grandmother, worried at the signs of age she suddenly saw lining her face, the weariness in how she stood. Her grandma never looked old. But she did in this moment. She leaned her head against the shoulder that seemed to be there for just that purpose. "Want to go paint?"
Charlie perked up almost immediately. She knew her Mallie, knew she hated sitting for her. Knew this was a gift and was more than willing to accept it. "Let's start a new one. I got this package in the mail yesterday. It's a gorgeous old Civil War ball gown. Got some damage to it but I can work around that."
"But will it fit?" Mallie wondered out loud.
Charlie eyed her, thought about the gown. "We'll make it work." She laughed lightly, loving the look in her baby granddaughter's face as she walked out with her.
Jake watched them go. He understood the tight relationship that existed between grandparents and the children of their children. He'd had that too once upon a time. But he didn't completely grasp any of the rest of it. "What did I miss?" He asked the room at large.
Mary took another muffin and decided to call it her lunch. "Mallie hates being painted."
"She offered." Jake got it even as he spoke. "Because she was worried about Aunt Charlie."
"Yeah. Mom's not as young as she used to be," Carrie answered knowing even as she did it wasn't necessary. Her mother had been through a lot and they all knew it.
"Could have fooled me," Jake said around the muffin he'd stuffed in his mouth whole. "Let's take a look at the house."
Mary stood with George Dlorsack and his son Jim simply looking at the piano the two men had just carefully hauled into her small house. She had decided after moving the furniture around half a dozen times to put it against the front wal
l near the door. It was the only place where there was room without sticking it in front of the many windows in the room.
"Looks good there," George rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Just like it belongs."
"I can't thank you enough, Mr. Dlorsack." Mary had already been shown the writings on the inside of the piano's lid which lifted easily. She had immediately recognized her mother's writing and was overwhelmingly grateful to see her grandfather's. She had many of his writings but they had all been typewritten. This was the first of his actual handwriting she'd ever seen.
"I only regret I wasn't able to return it to your mother."
Mary understood his feelings. She could never seem to let go of her own regret of not taking the time to bring her mother back here for one more visit. Such a small thing yet she hadn't allowed herself to make the time for it.
"Regrets do little but weigh on you," came the quietly worded response from George's son, Jim. "You know that Grandpa. You told us the same often enough," he added in a no-nonsense tone.
"That I did, Jim. That I did." George gave his son a smart smile, included Mary in it. "But how often do you follow your own sage advice, boy?"
"More so now than years past." Jim shook his head pleased to hear his grandfather's laughter rather than the sadness that had laced his voice minutes before.
"If that's not the truth." George clapped his grandson on the back before turning back to Mary. "We'd best be going. I want to stop by and see your Aunt Charlie, introduce her to my best grandson."
Jim laughed hard, unable to control it. "Your best grandson for the moment. If it were Mitch with you you'd say the same."
"I would at that," George agreed easily. He winked at Mary. "They're all my best."
"Just the way it should be." Mary held the door open for them. "Aunt Charlie will be thrilled to see you. Just go around back to the Carriage House." She waved as they drove away. Then turned back to the piece of her mother's childhood she'd never expected to see let alone be given. It was such a priceless gift. Walking over to the piano, she carefully lifted its lid enough to see the lines of writing that covered much of the underside of the wood. "Oh, Mama." Mary felt the grief that never strayed far. But it was nothing compared to the longing ache for her mother's presence. She sensed more than felt the gentle wind against her face, almost like a hand cupping her chin with its warmth. Let herself imagine in that moment it was her mother's smooth and gentle hand holding her as she so often had. Looking into the eyes so like her own. Thought about what Jim had said. Regrets did weigh on you, stacked up like bricks in the heart. And suddenly she could vividly smell her mother's scent, that flowery mix of wisteria and Channel she'd always associated with her. And understood. There were to be no regrets. Her mother had voiced much the same as Jim had. She could remember hearing it often enough in her childhood. She wouldn't want there to be regrets of things left undone. Mary sighed, took in a deep breath absorbing the lingering scent. Not certain if it was in the air or her mind. And in her heart, as best as she could, let the hurt of all she'd not done for her mother slide away as she slid her fingers over childhood writings of the woman still so missed everyday of this life lived without her in it.
Retreat to Woodhaven (The Hills of Burlington Book 2) Page 10
