studied it, "The accounts from Dixville varied. Smugglers still have a grip on the region, and the grief-stricken families at the scene were unable to give details because of the hysteria that followed. There was an incident reported about a boy who somehow survived the slaughter. Families at the scene said the boy's dog sniffed out the trail and found him at the ambush site. The child's mother was there and struggled to keep her son alive, but to no avail. The boy died on the emergency room table."
Reporters jumped from their seats, waving hands, calling out.
"Yes, Ms. Swanson of NBC News."
NBC journalist Kay Swanson, an African-American woman, scanned her notes before asking, "Did the boy say anything about what he saw?"
"All indicators point to smugglers. The Dixville Notch area has been active with groups moving drugs, weapons, and such. We had sent teams to the area, which made it more difficult for them. Evidently the smuggling ring wanted to send the Federal Government a message. Unfortunately, a Scout troop received it."
The flurry of waving hands and calls from the group returned. This time President Winifred recognized a Caucasian male. "Yes. Steve Morrison." The President recognized the redheaded reporter from Spectator News.
Though young, Steve Morrison had covered a number of assignments around the globe. His father had been a journalist--always on the road. Morrison followed those footsteps. Home to him had been the pocket computer he used to write. His few friends would often see him staring at the screen. The reports, with digital imaging, could be sent from bars, motel rooms or lobbies, anywhere he had phone access. When asked about his home Steve would recite motel rooms where he stayed. He had just returned from the Amur Valley, Russia. There, American troops aided the Russian government in containing a Jewish group vying for independence. Steve considered himself an objective journalist, and didn't placate the White House as many of his colleagues did. His coverage of the Amur revolt did not support the White House. Winifred choosing him was a surprise. The reporter quickly pulled the gum from his mouth before speaking, "Sir, evidently the accounts from the families at Dixville varied widely in content and cooperation. In fact, the town of Colebrook blockaded the roads of the village and, at gunpoint, prevented reporters and government officials from going in. What would explain this, Mr. President?"
President Winifred looked to the floor impatiently. He shook his head before speaking, "Have you no shame, Mr. Morrison," the President glared at him. "To stand there and imply that grief-stricken parents would hold back the truth . . . you have no business wearing that press badge and being in the same room with the rest of these fine people." He backed away from the mike with moistened eyes. "I'm sorry. This Press Conference is over." Clifford stormed through the side door of the Press Room.
Lucas Bennett, Chief of Staff, waited in the short hallway outside. "That was the best news conference I've ever seen you do, Cliff. You had them by the crotch. And that white guy, he must have defecated in his boxer shorts. We'll never see his moronic face in the news business again."
"I did chew that kid's ass out, didn't I?" The President smiled, the moistened eyes vanished. "I can see this incident as a turning point for this country, Luc. This tragic mishap could give the people something to rally behind."
As the President spoke, Bennett noticed Winifred's zipper had been left down. He pointed.
Winifred noticed his Chief of Staff's gesture. He looked around and discretely zipped up his pants. He whispered to Lucas, "Do you think anyone noticed?"
"Your suit
Reporters jumped from their seats, waving hands, calling out.
"Yes, Ms. Swanson of NBC News."
NBC journalist Kay Swanson, an African-American woman, scanned her notes before asking, "Did the boy say anything about what he saw?"
"All indicators point to smugglers. The Dixville Notch area has been active with groups moving drugs, weapons, and such. We had sent teams to the area, which made it more difficult for them. Evidently the smuggling ring wanted to send the Federal Government a message. Unfortunately, a Scout troop received it."
The flurry of waving hands and calls from the group returned. This time President Winifred recognized a Caucasian male. "Yes. Steve Morrison." The President recognized the redheaded reporter from Spectator News.
Though young, Steve Morrison had covered a number of assignments around the globe. His father had been a journalist--always on the road. Morrison followed those footsteps. Home to him had been the pocket computer he used to write. His few friends would often see him staring at the screen. The reports, with digital imaging, could be sent from bars, motel rooms or lobbies, anywhere he had phone access. When asked about his home Steve would recite motel rooms where he stayed. He had just returned from the Amur Valley, Russia. There, American troops aided the Russian government in containing a Jewish group vying for independence. Steve considered himself an objective journalist, and didn't placate the White House as many of his colleagues did. His coverage of the Amur revolt did not support the White House. Winifred choosing him was a surprise. The reporter quickly pulled the gum from his mouth before speaking, "Sir, evidently the accounts from the families at Dixville varied widely in content and cooperation. In fact, the town of Colebrook blockaded the roads of the village and, at gunpoint, prevented reporters and government officials from going in. What would explain this, Mr. President?"
President Winifred looked to the floor impatiently. He shook his head before speaking, "Have you no shame, Mr. Morrison," the President glared at him. "To stand there and imply that grief-stricken parents would hold back the truth . . . you have no business wearing that press badge and being in the same room with the rest of these fine people." He backed away from the mike with moistened eyes. "I'm sorry. This Press Conference is over." Clifford stormed through the side door of the Press Room.
Lucas Bennett, Chief of Staff, waited in the short hallway outside. "That was the best news conference I've ever seen you do, Cliff. You had them by the crotch. And that white guy, he must have defecated in his boxer shorts. We'll never see his moronic face in the news business again."
"I did chew that kid's ass out, didn't I?" The President smiled, the moistened eyes vanished. "I can see this incident as a turning point for this country, Luc. This tragic mishap could give the people something to rally behind."
As the President spoke, Bennett noticed Winifred's zipper had been left down. He pointed.
Winifred noticed his Chief of Staff's gesture. He looked around and discretely zipped up his pants. He whispered to Lucas, "Do you think anyone noticed?"
"Your suit
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