Media Justice Page 14

  The show aired at 4:00 pm that same day. By 4:30, Marc’s office phone was ringing off the hook with inquiries from reporters and angry viewers who believed he knew where Becky was. Starting the next day, there were a dozen picketers marching up and down the sidewalks alongside his office building, carrying signs demanding to know where Becky Riley was.

  TWENTY TWO

  The morning after Melinda’s outrageous and borderline libelous statement hinting that Marc had knowledge of Becky’s whereabouts, he did the first of many interviews. This time it was a one-on-one with Gabriella Shriqui in the conference room at his office building.

  Having been interviewed by her before, he felt comfortable with the belief that Gabriella would play it straight and not sandbag him the way Melinda had. She apologized for Melinda’s conduct before they were on camera and assured him she would not pull a similar stunt.

  The purpose of the interview for Marc was to give him an opportunity for two things. First, to make it clear that his client maintained her innocence on both the current child neglect charges and Becky’s disappearance. Second, to allow Marc to take a shot at Melinda and categorically deny any knowledge of where Becky was. For Gabriella, she had enough professional savvy to know this story was just beginning. It was her opportunity to do a puff piece interview with Marc and get on the good side of Brittany’s lawyer. She really didn’t have to worry about that. Gabriella’s almond shaped, beautiful dark eyes, made Marc’s knees buckle a bit every time he saw them.

  The actual interview took less than twenty minutes but Gabriella was very satisfied. Marc assured her he would not give another one to any of her competitors that morning. This would allow Gabriella to get it on the station’s midday news show at noon. It would also allow the station time to promote it as an exclusive to attract more viewers. If she was lucky, there would be three minutes of air time devoted to the story and would lead all of the newscasts for that evening as well.

  Marc held the hallway door for Gabriella and her cameraman as they were leaving. When he closed the door, he heard the gruff voice of his landlord, Connie Mickelson say, “Hey, Mr. Showbiz, come in a second.”

  “Give me a break with the show biz stuff,” he answered as Carolyn handed him a stack of a dozen or so phone messages.

  “All media people,” Carolyn said.

  “Any client cancellations?” Marc asked as he shuffled through the messages.

  “Not yet,” Carolyn told him as she retreated to her desk.

  Marc stepped through the open door of Connie’s office at the same time the hallway door opened. Chris Grafton, one of the lawyers in the office, was just arriving and Connie invited him in as well.

  “I just saw that smoking hot TV Reporter on the back stairs,” Chris said as he took the client chair next to Marc. “Was she here to interview you?” he asked looking at Marc. “I need to do something so she’ll interview me,” Chris said before Marc could answer him.

  “Take up criminal defense work,” Marc told him.

  “Ah, no, I’m not that desperate. I was thinking more like, maybe kill someone myself. Did you see the idiots out on the sidewalk?” Chris said with a laugh. “Some of their signs are great. ‘Baby Killer’, ‘Defend a Monster’, and my favorite one: ‘Lawyers Are Gutless Scum.’”

  “At least they got that one right,” Marc said to which they all laughed.

  “Did you watch any news last night?” Connie asked Marc.

  “No,” Marc said shaking his head. “Once I heard about what Melinda did after I left the station, I avoided it completely.”

  “Every station in town and most of the one’s around the state used it as their lead story and they all used the same lame-ass, gutless, cover-your-ass disclaimer. ‘It has been reported that the lawyer for Brittany may have knowledge of…’” Connie said.

  “Have you seen this morning’s papers?” she continued. “Both the St. Paul and Minneapolis papers have it on page one. The whole world’s blowing up and this is what these idiots have on page one; a rumor started by a drunken TV slut.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Marc asked Connie.

  “I want you to defend this girl like it’s the last case you’ll ever have, of course,” Connie said with a puzzled look.

  “We’ll stand with you on this,” Chris added. “We took an oath to represent our clients zealously and we always do. This case is no different.”

  “Hell, Barry has a serial child molester on his hands,” Connie said referring to Barry Cline.

  “Alleged child molester,” Marc said.

  “Nah”, Connie said. “Barry’s going to plead him out today. That’s where he is now. He’s going to prison and probably an in-patient sex offender facility after that. He may never get out. Barry did the best he could for the pervert. Once the judge ruled his confession was admissible, his goose was cooked.”

  “One less child molester on the streets. What a shame,” Marc said.

  “Why can’t these guys keep their mouths shut?” Chris asked.

  “Because they want to tell the cops so the cops will be nice to them. They figure if they explain it the right way, it will all come out as a misunderstanding or some excuse that will make the cops see they’re not really to blame,” Marc answered.

  “What about our girl Brittany?” Connie asked getting back to the subject.

  “Where’s the kid? You think she’s still alive? More charges coming against your client?” Chris asked.

  “I don’t know,” Marc said. “I doubt she’s still alive. I think more charges are coming. This Sheriff Cale out in Dakota County, I think he’s the one behind the child neglect charges. He’s trying to squeeze her. There’s not much I can do about it. Wait and see,” Marc shrugged.

  “Are you going to call all of them back?” Connie asked referring to the messages in his hand. “If you don’t they’ll just keep calling.”

  “I know, I promised Gabriella I would wait until after noon.”

  “Why the hell did you do that?” Connie demanded.

  “You explain it to her,” Marc said to Chris.

  “Because if you look in those eyes, that face and body, well, she’d give Madeline a good run,” Chris said.

  Connie looked at both of them to see if they were pulling her chain. When she realized they weren’t, she shook her head and said, “Men. Jesus Christ give me a break. Get the hell out of here, both of you,” but she was smiling when she said it.

  Marc gave Carolyn and Sandy instructions to only take messages from clients or potential clients. All calls from the media were to be told Marc would not be in today and no messages would be taken.

  “What about the obscene calls from assholes like those dipshits out on the sidewalk?” Sandy asked.

  “You decide for yourself what to do with those,” Marc replied. “Hang up or record them for listening to on lonely nights, I don’t care. Do what you want.”

  Both women laughed at that, then Marc said, “How bad are they?”

  “Not too bad. Nothing we haven’t handled before,” Carolyn said. “We’ll take care of it.”

  Gabriella and her boss, the station news director Hunter Oswood, reviewed the three minutes of the interview that Oswood had decided to put on the air. Gabriella had also interviewed several of the protestors marching on the sidewalk in front of Marc’s office. She asked each of them for a quote about why they were protesting in front of Marc’s building and their answers were all about the same in content. “Why are lawyers such scum that they’ll defend baby killers?” and “How can this piece of shit (bleeped out but still clear) sleep at night knowing where this little girl is?”

  Gabriella tried to inform the irrational nitwits that Marc denied knowing where Becky was. She also tried to point out that no one knew if Becky was dead and, in America, everyone is entitled to a lawyer. Oswood decided to include comments from two of the protestors but not Gabriella’s reply to them. Oswood was quite pleased with Gabriella for getting the exclusive with
the lawyer and, because of that, invited her to accompany him to a meeting.

  They left the editing room and went upstairs to the office of the station GM, Madison Eyler. Waiting for them was Eyler, Melinda, Robbie Nelson and Cordelia Davis. After greetings, everyone found a seat in the large corner office. Eyler started the meeting by congratulating Gabriella for the interview and her overall performance of reporting the Riley story.

  “How pissed was the lawyer this morning about what Melinda said,” Eyler asked Gabriella.

  “Very,” Gabriella replied. “He felt she had sandbagged him by adding that last bit after he left.”

  “She did sandbag him,” Eyler said. “But it was carefully planned and it worked.”

  “I cleared it with legal beforehand and stuck strictly to the script. Every word was true, so…” Melinda interjected.

  “It was a little sleazy,” Oswood said.

  “It was very sleazy,” Eyler corrected him. “But it worked. We ran it at 5:00 and 6:00 and our overnight ratings for the 10:00 o’clock show were up over ten percent. Plus, we scooped every station in the cities and the newspapers. They all ran it but had to give us attribution. That will do even better things for our ratings. And Robbie,” she said turning to Robbie Nelson, “what does that translate into?”

  “More money,” Robbie answered with a cheery smile.

  “Besides, the public eats this stuff up with a spoon. We’re just giving them what they want,” Melinda chimed in while Gabriella sat taking it in with a queasy stomach.

  “I’m not complaining,” Oswood said holding his hands up, palms out in protest. “It was very well done sleaze.”

  “Are you good with your interview for the noon show? How much do you have?” Eyler asked.

  “A little over three minutes. It’s an exclusive we can use all day,” Oswood answered her. “I have a production meeting right after this. We can start running promos right away.”

  “Great. Melinda, I want you to use it on your show too,” Eyler said.

  “Robbie and I will go over the entire interview. We may use more than just the three minutes,” Melinda said. “I’ll promote it as our sense of journalistic integrity giving him a fair and balanced blah, blah, bullshit…”

  “Good work everyone. I think we have a hit on our hands. Keep it up.” With that Eyler ended the meeting.

  Marc spent the rest of the morning catching up on his pile of mail, reviewing a draft of a divorce settlement and another criminal matter for which he had a settlement conference to attend later in the week.

  At 11:00 o’clock he called his lady friend, Margaret Tennant, and asked if she was free for lunch. Instead Margaret asked him, “Is this true?”

  “Is what true?”

  “That you know where that little girl is? That Brittany Riley told you what she did?”

  “First of all,” an irritated Marc began to reply, “You’re a judge, you should know better.”

  “I’m also human,” she snapped back at him.

  “And second,” he continued ignoring her. “No, I don’t know where she is! My client maintains her innocence. Look, I’ll call later. I’ve got to go,” and he hung up without waiting for a response.

  Marc leaned back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest and stared at the wall for a full minute. He needed to talk to someone who could give him some advice. Someone who would give him sound, common sense, normal people counsel.

  He reached for his phone, found the number he wanted in his phone log and pushed the speed dial button. After two rings he heard the rough, reassuring voice of a good friend.

  “Hey counselor, how was Paris?” he heard Tony Carvelli ask.

  “How about I take you to lunch and tell you all about it?” Marc answered.

  “Usual place?”

  “Usual place.”

  “You’re buying?”

  “I’m buying,” Marc answered with a laugh.

  “See you at noon,” the retired Minneapolis cop turned private investigator replied.

  TWENTY THREE

  Marc was at the restaurant before Tony and went ahead and got a booth for them. He was seated facing the door to watch for his friend and saw the P.I. come in a few minutes after the waitress brought Marc a soda. He waved at Tony who immediately saw him and Marc watched as the man walked toward him.

  Tony Carvelli was in his early fifties and, due to his years on the streets of Minneapolis, looked it but could still make most women look him over. He had a touch of the bad boy image they couldn’t resist plus a flat stomach and full head of thick black hair, touched with gray highlights; a genetic bequest from his Italian father.

  Carvelli was an ex-Minneapolis detective and had the reputation of being a street predator which was well deserved. He looked and acted the part as well. Dressed in a tan suede jacket, black silk shirt, light gray slacks and Italian loafers, he could easily pass for a Mafia wiseguy. Growing up in Chicago, he knew of few of them and could have become one himself and, very likely, a successful one. Instead, after his family moved to Minnesota, he became a cop.

  “Hey counselor,” Tony said as he slid onto the bench seat opposite Marc and extended his hand for a shake. “How was Paris? Weren’t you going to go to London too?”

  “Yeah, we did. It was nice. Two great cities. Have you ever been?”

  “No, neither one. I went to Italy with my parents when I was a kid. Rome was amazing. So what’s up?”

  “What can you tell me about the Dakota County Sheriff, Cale?”

  At that moment, the waitress arrived. The two men gave her their orders and, since they had eaten there many times neither of them bothered to look at the menu.

  “I know of him a little,” Tony said when the waitress left. “I met him once or twice. Why, what do you want to know?”

  “You know about the missing kid? The little girl, Becky Riley?”

  “Sure, I saw on TV last night you’re representing the mother.”

  “Right now, she’s only charged with child neglect, but the sheriff’s office is looking at her as suspect number one for the disappearance,” Marc said.

  “You think the kid’s still alive?”

  “I don’t know. Probably not,” Marc said a bit sadly. “What I want to know is: how far will Cale go to get a conviction? I know the County Attorney, LeAnne Miller. She’s always seemed pretty straight, but Cale, I don’t know.”

  “Will he manufacture evidence? I doubt it,” Tony said. “But, I don’t know him that well. I’ve never heard of anything like that about him. Most cops will stretch the truth a bit to convict someone they know is guilty. If you’re wondering if he would he do something like Jake Waschke, I doubt it but I couldn’t say for sure. I wouldn’t have thought that of Jake either.”

  “What about using the media?” Marc asked.

  Their lunches arrived before Tony could answer. He waited for the server to set their meals in place then said, “Every police department in America will use the media. You leak information to them that you want publicized. Some true, some not so true. It’s done all the time. We, I mean cops, all have media sources. Some of the guys even pick up a few bucks tipping off reporters.”

  “You?”

  “Sure. I had a couple guys would flip me fifty or a hundred for a juicy tidbit. Why not?”

  “Because it’s morally, ethically and probably legally wrong. Or, at least questionable,” Marc replied.

  “Give me a break. You’re a big boy. You’ve had cases that got a lot of publicity. You know the deal,” Tony said.

  “Yeah, but, this is different. She’s being tried and convicted before being charged. I know damn well it’s coming from Cale and probably the county attorney’s office. I just wanted your take on it. You know anybody I can to talk to about Cale?”

  “As I recall, he’s not from the Cities. He’s from Duluth or Rochester. I can’t remember which. I’ll check around and see what I can find out and let you know.”

  The two men spent th
e rest of their lunch time chatting about another case Marc had tried. Tony was still a bit involved with the extremely wealthy matriarch of a well known local family. He had met her doing some investigation for her that became connected to Marc’s trial. A romantic spark ignited between them and Tony was still seeing her. After the small talk petered out, Marc picked up the check and they parted in the parking lot.

  Marc arrived back at his office and decided to set up a press conference for that afternoon to tell his and Brittany’s side of the story. There is a local community center about a mile from his office. Marc knew the director, an ex-con Marc had represented whom Marc called. He gladly allowed Marc the use of the gymnasium for his event. Marc then called Brittany to explain to her what he was up to and, as the client, get her permission. She offered to attend but Marc emphatically told her not to and again warned her not to talk to anyone. It was at that point Barbara took the phone from her daughter and listened while Marc told her what he was up to.

  “Do you want me there?” Barbara asked. “I’d like to be,” she quickly added.

  Marc thought it over for a few seconds then said, “Okay. I guess it might not be a bad idea for someone to be there from the family. I’ll schedule it for 3:00 o’clock.” He told her where it was and gave her directions to the community center then said, “Be a little early.”

  He disconnected with Barbara and called back all of the media people who had called for him that day. He explained to them his plan for a news conference and gave them the information.

  At 2:45, while the small crowd of journalists began setting up in the gym, Marc met with Barbara Riley. They discussed what they were going to say and agreed Marc would take most of the questions. The two of them were using the center’s director’s office and Marc was a little fidgety.

  “Are you okay?” Barbara asked.

  “I’m a little nervous,” Marc admitted. “Don’t ever believe these people are your friends, they’re not. They’d like nothing better than to have one of us say something that they could use to sensationalize the story. Blow up what you said and take it out of context. Being a little nervous is a good thing. It will keep me on edge.”