because I wasn’t expecting anyone and I have a theory, proven numerous times over the course of my career, that nothing good ever walks through the front door. Exclusives don’t come that easily. Mystery guests are usually viewers who are so angry that they’re determined to yell at you in person. Or those who can’t understand why their story idea has been rejected by every news outlet in the market. But instead of rolling my eyes, I decided to embrace this mystery guest as my lucky break.
“Can we please talk later, Noreen? I really need to meet with this source. It’s important.”
She waved me off, but reminded me that we weren’t finished.
V IVIAN P OST, THE mother of the almost-bride, declined an offer to come into the Channel 3 newsroom and sit down, preferring to conduct matters in the station lobby where she informed me that she only had a minute to spare because her car was out front waiting to take her shopping.
Her wide blue eyes matched her daughter’s, but Mrs. Post looked young to have a child Madeline’s age. And fit. In a fight she could probably take me. And she had to be mid-forties. At least ten years older than me. Not a sign of gray in her dark hair. She smelled good in an expensive sort of way.
“I’m sorry for your pain—” I started out expressing sorrow for all she and her family had been through these many months, but she dismissed me as one might dismiss a servant, if one had a servant.
“Whatever Madeline’s told you, I’m here to tell you our family doesn’t care to be featured on your program. So thank you for your time and good day.” She turned to leave.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Post.”
Working in television, I’ve developed a high tolerance for bitchiness. Give or take. But her manner was so high and mighty that I made a mental note to tell the security desk to post her picture and not buzz her into the station again without an appointment.
“It doesn’t work that way,” I said. “I don’t need your permission to broadcast this story.”
No need to tell her that NEVER WORN hadn’t even been slated on the May board. But I’d already shot tape, done research, and one way or another, I intended the missing-groom story to see air.
“Well,” she answered, “I’m sure my lawyers won’t have any trouble getting a court order preventing you.”
“I think they just might.”
I tried explaining the concept of the First Amendment. But just as I got to Near vs. Minnesota (1931), the most significant Supreme Court decision involving prior restraint and establishing that the government cannot prohibit publication, Vivian was climbing into a black Mercedes, the door held open by a young man in a dark suit.
“The ruling was upheld again in the Pentagon Papers case!” I yelled as the vehicle pulled away.
So bottom line, we’d win in court. If we got to court. But Noreen would be loath to spend legal fees on a story she didn’t believe in. Especially facing the current newsroom economics. So I needed to make her a believer before she ordained me Channel 3’s spot-news machine.
I walked around the outside of the station and went in the back door by the guard desk so Noreen wouldn’t see me sneaking past her office.
Back at my desk, I started to map out the missing-groom story to see what still needed to be done. I wrote Madeline’s and Mark’s names on a wall board along with data I’d collected. I’d not been able to run their names and dates of birth through the national crime records because I needed a cooperative police source to do that check. Since Nick Garnett had traded his police badge for corporate life, that proved elusive.
WEDDING/October 6
MADELINE
POST MARK LEFEVRE
ENGAGED/1 month
No criminal record
Minor drug charge
KNOWN EACH OTHER/
$$$$$$$$
comedian
3 months
cooperative w/media
old girlfriend?
mother from hell
As soon as I wrote “hell,” I felt I probably was a bit harsh regarding Madeline’s mother. Her
“Can we please talk later, Noreen? I really need to meet with this source. It’s important.”
She waved me off, but reminded me that we weren’t finished.
V IVIAN P OST, THE mother of the almost-bride, declined an offer to come into the Channel 3 newsroom and sit down, preferring to conduct matters in the station lobby where she informed me that she only had a minute to spare because her car was out front waiting to take her shopping.
Her wide blue eyes matched her daughter’s, but Mrs. Post looked young to have a child Madeline’s age. And fit. In a fight she could probably take me. And she had to be mid-forties. At least ten years older than me. Not a sign of gray in her dark hair. She smelled good in an expensive sort of way.
“I’m sorry for your pain—” I started out expressing sorrow for all she and her family had been through these many months, but she dismissed me as one might dismiss a servant, if one had a servant.
“Whatever Madeline’s told you, I’m here to tell you our family doesn’t care to be featured on your program. So thank you for your time and good day.” She turned to leave.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Post.”
Working in television, I’ve developed a high tolerance for bitchiness. Give or take. But her manner was so high and mighty that I made a mental note to tell the security desk to post her picture and not buzz her into the station again without an appointment.
“It doesn’t work that way,” I said. “I don’t need your permission to broadcast this story.”
No need to tell her that NEVER WORN hadn’t even been slated on the May board. But I’d already shot tape, done research, and one way or another, I intended the missing-groom story to see air.
“Well,” she answered, “I’m sure my lawyers won’t have any trouble getting a court order preventing you.”
“I think they just might.”
I tried explaining the concept of the First Amendment. But just as I got to Near vs. Minnesota (1931), the most significant Supreme Court decision involving prior restraint and establishing that the government cannot prohibit publication, Vivian was climbing into a black Mercedes, the door held open by a young man in a dark suit.
“The ruling was upheld again in the Pentagon Papers case!” I yelled as the vehicle pulled away.
So bottom line, we’d win in court. If we got to court. But Noreen would be loath to spend legal fees on a story she didn’t believe in. Especially facing the current newsroom economics. So I needed to make her a believer before she ordained me Channel 3’s spot-news machine.
I walked around the outside of the station and went in the back door by the guard desk so Noreen wouldn’t see me sneaking past her office.
Back at my desk, I started to map out the missing-groom story to see what still needed to be done. I wrote Madeline’s and Mark’s names on a wall board along with data I’d collected. I’d not been able to run their names and dates of birth through the national crime records because I needed a cooperative police source to do that check. Since Nick Garnett had traded his police badge for corporate life, that proved elusive.
WEDDING/October 6
MADELINE
POST MARK LEFEVRE
ENGAGED/1 month
No criminal record
Minor drug charge
KNOWN EACH OTHER/
$$$$$$$$
comedian
3 months
cooperative w/media
old girlfriend?
mother from hell
As soon as I wrote “hell,” I felt I probably was a bit harsh regarding Madeline’s mother. Her
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