Media Matters Ch. 03

"Yes sir." Teresa replied.

"Commander, what are you going to do about the Press?" asked Joanne Warner.

"That's why we're going to be wearing armor." I said. "Because I am about to go 'nuclear' on the Press. Commander Ross, would you mind announcing a Press Conference for 10:00am?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

10:00am, Thursday, July 12th. It was one of those 'game change' moments in local history.

"Ladies and gentlemen," announced Captain Thompson to the very full room of reporters standing (not sitting) in attendance, "the Police Commander."

I strode into the room and to the podium. In one hand was a red crowbar. In the other was a thick pile of file folders with sheafs of papers in them, and a Bible on top.

Setting the materials down on the shelf inside the podium, I opened the Bible and began reading to the utterly silent assemblage of 'journalists': "From the Gospel according to St. John, Chapter 8."

I read aloud: "And the scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman caught in adultery, and having set her in the midst, they said to Him, 'Teacher, this woman has been caught in adultery, in the very act. Now in the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women; what then do You say?' And they were saying this, testing Him, in order that they might have grounds for accusing Him. But Jesus stooped down, and with His finger wrote on the ground. When they persisted in asking Him, He straightened up, and said to them, 'He who is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone.'."

Closing the Bible, I said "Who dares ask the first question?" It was an outright challenge.

Brian Jennings said "Commander, is your wife a former CIA Agent?"

"Mr. Jennings," I replied loudly, "today your wife will be given proof that you are having extramarital sexual affairs with two female reporters who are in this room now. Your wife will have that proof by the end of the day."

The room was full of shocked reporters, to be damn sure, as it dawned on them what was happening. "What is this about, Commander?" stammered Amber Harris.

"It is about your hypocrisy, the hypocrisy of every one of you god-damned animals of the Media that have attacked my wife and my child with the filthiest of personal insults, none of which either has done a damn thing to deserve." I thundered. "I am sick and tired of it, and I'm done with all of you. Say anything more about my wife, anything at all, in print or on the airwaves, and your own extramarital affairs, or other relationships that you don't want coming out, will be exposed... and in a way to do you the most damage."

"Are you threatening us?" queried Jennings angrily.

"No." I said shortly. "We're beyond threats. I'm going to war with you. I'm done with you, all of you. None of you God-damned hypocrites are in any position to cast any stones nor aspersions at my wife, and those of you that do will pay the consequences, beginning with Brian Jennings. Okay, who dares ask the next question?"

Bettina raised her hand and I said "Put your hand down, Bettina, before I humiliate you." Bettina's eyes widened, but she said nothing.

"Troy," snarled Lester Holder, "do you really think you're going to win against us? Against the Press?"

"I don't know." I replied. "I'm not really thinking in terms of winners and losers. Everyone loses when the Press has their way. You destroy people's lives for any reason or no reason, and purely for the enjoyment of doing so. Don't give me your verbal diarrhea about 'the Public has a right to know', or 'we are just reporting the truth'... because you're not. You're not journalists, you're propagandists. You withhold the truth, such as the truth that those women were trying to set up Jared and copped pleas to avoid jail, and then you go out and outright lie about me and my family."

"So it's payback time, for what you've done to my wife." I said, taking out a couple of photographs and throwing them into the mass of reporters. "Lester 'Penis' Holder," I said loudly, "those are photos of you performing oral sex upon the Lieutenant Governor of the State, Graham Collins. I don't know if you were sucking his dick to get an exclusive interview, or just because you enjoying sucking a white man's cock, but there's the proof of your doing it."

Holder looked furiously at me. Brian Jennings looked like he was going to physically attack me.

"Oh, and one more thing." I said, seeing Jennings's look. "I have not forgotten that one of your colleagues, a reporter... just like you... tried to murder my daughter last Christmas---"

"Oh, come ON, Don!" screamed Bettina. "Are you really going to say we all are like Hardwood? Are you really going to hold that over all of us, forever?"

"Yes." I said simply. "As far as I am concerned, every single one of you are as evil as John Hardwood, as willing to commit murder as Hardwood. You are reporters, just like he was. Not a shred of difference between him and you, at all... except he's dead now. And I swear to you... any of you filthy bastards try to harm any of my family in any way... I'll rip your asses apart. I don't care if they put me on the table at Jacksonville; you even look at my family the wrong way, and I will stamp out every wet bit of existence out of you."

Some of the reporters were not listening; they were enjoying the photos I'd thrown out of Lester Holder and Graham Collins engaged in gay sex. The rest, however, were a mixture of stunned silence and unappeasable hatred. They knew I was going to a level with them that no ever had before, that no one had ever dared to go before. They'd crossed the line with me, they'd found the button to push that would set me off... and now they were realizing that the consequences were not what they'd ever expected...

"You've been warned." I said as I gathered my papers from the podium. I then left the room.

"I'll just add one thing before we kick you out of here and close the Press Room." said Commander Cindy Ross. "Commander Troy's family... is my family. Anything happens to any of them, and he might not get the chance to destroy you... if I beat him to you. Now get the fuck out of here, you God-damned pieces of dog shit!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The words were hardly out of her mouth when, on the other side of Town, Brian Jennings's wife was receiving a package of papers. They showed photos of her husband in flagrante delicto with two female reporters that Mrs. Jennings knew, and also a Muslim woman that Jennings had used as an 'Arab Spokeswoman' in his anti-Israel stories in the past...

"What is it, Mommy?" her ten year old daughter asked, seeing her mother crying.

"Nothing, sweetie. Go upstairs and wash up for lunch. I need to make a phone call." It was to her lawyer; she had had suspicions, now she had the proof to go along with the divorce papers she was going to file...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

They were meeting in the back room of the Cattleman's Club for lunch. Burt West, Executive Producer of KXTC; Gregg Berger, Executive Producer of KSTD, successor to Dan Walther; Diane Williams, Managing Editor of KCTY in the City; Julie Moon, Executive Producer of KSB in the City; Charles Baird, Executive Producer at Fox Midtown; and Brett Rose, Executive Producer of KCAP in Midtown.

They considered themselves the Media Elite. They believed they knew better than the People of the State what was best for everyone. They believed that their job was to tell the People exactly what to think.

Also present was Karl Frazier of Public Policy Polling. And any appetite they had was lost when he reported his devastating findings to them: "We'll do more polling over the weekend." he said. "But the rolling numbers over the last four days have been consistent, especially with the base questions: 'Who do you believe more, Commander Donald Troy or the Press?' and 'Who is more trustworthy, Commander Troy or the Press?'. Similar questions, and the numbers are the same: Commander Troy gets 86%, you guys get 14%, with virtually no undecideds, and a margin of error of only plus/minus 2%."

"Jesus Christ." whispered Gregg Berger. "Really? It's that bad? Did you poll any Democrats at all?"

"Look, we polled nearly everyone in the County, it seems." said Frazier. "Republicans, Democrats, Independents, black, white, blue, green..." There was no laughter; the joke fell flat. Frazier went on: "The bottom line is that Commander Troy notwithstanding, the Press is just not trusted. On generic questions, that don't involve Commander Troy, the best the Media gets is about 20%."

"What do we have to do to change that?" asked Burt West. "What did your respondents say to that?"

"If you guys want me to commission an poll to ask that..." started Frazier.

"God DAMN it, Karl!" West shouted, shocking everyone. "We're already paying you out the wazoo! Now don't tell me you haven't asked already! What changes do people want to see?"

Frazier said "We have some ancillary data. Not direct questions, but correlations. You're not going to like it."

"For God's sake, Karl, just fucking tell us." said Charles Baird.

Frazier exhaled. "People want to see honest news reporting. Unbiased. Reporting the news, not creating it. Just reporting it, instead of ramming biased, politically correct viewpoints down their throats. And reporting all of a story, rather than omitting half of it."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Julie Moon.

"Do I have to spell it out?" retorted Frazier. "Okay, look, in the privacy of this meeting I'll tell you something I won't tell the Public. One frequent example of omitting part of a story is that you guys repeatedly say the women accusing Jared of sexual misconduct had very credible claims... but they didn't. They forged Jared's signature. They lied about him. Commander Troy wasn't bullying them; he was going to haul them into Court and prove they were lying, so they took plea deals."

"So what?" thundered Gregg Berger.

"You guys never, ever mention that part of it, you even go to the point of lying and saying their claims are credible... but people know that the claims were not credible. And now Robert Mullen is trying to build a castle on those quicksands. It's going to end badly, folks. And people remember what you've reported, and they increasingly know you're lying... and they end up not trusting you."

"Thank you for coming, Karl." said Burt West, a clear dismissal. "We appreciate your information. We won't keep you from your valuable work." Frazier took the hint, and left.

"We need a new pollster." said Julie Moon.

"Won't do any good." said West. "The numbers will be the same. Unfortunately for us, Frazier does pretty good work. He's actually trying to help us by not sugar-coating this."

"So what do we do?" asked Brett Rose. "And I'm asking about the 800 pound gorilla in the room: Donald Troy."

"Do you really think he will follow through with his threats?" asked Diane Williams.

"You tell me, Diane." said Burt West. "You're the one he's suing for libel. You told us that he'd be quiet and take the accusations of financial crimes, rather than admit publicly that he sired an illegitimate, biracial child. But that's not what he did."

"Yes." Diane said sadly. "We're going to have to settle that one."

"What if he won't settle?" asked Berger. "He is en fuego about going to war with us."

"I'm leaving that to the lawyers." said Diane. "The question is what to do about him?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"As part of this divorce filing, your honor," said Tina Felton of the Women's Law Firm of Dewey, Burnham & Winn, "we are routinely filing a restraining order against Brian Jennings. But in his case, we've provided further evidence of why that should be granted."

"Yes, I'll grant that." said Judge Harry Nance after perusing the papers...

Part 17 - Guns and Hypocrisy

Saturday, July 14th. After a good breakfast with the large crowd of children, adults, and dogs at The Cabin, Paulina Patterson and I went into my office room to talk privately.

"So, what's it about?" I asked after we sat down.

"Don... it's over." Paulina said. "Our internal polling, as well as Frazier's polling and Romanov's polling, show that I'm down to 10%. I've lost the black community and the so-called 'Religious Right' whites. Miriam Walters is at 40%, Jenna Stiles at 35%, 10% undecided, and Krasney at 5%. Walters has promised to keep me on as ADA if I endorse her, which I was going to do anyway."

I nodded. "I'm sorry." I said. "I cost you the election."

"Noooo." Paulina replied with some passion. "You have no idea how proud I am of you for standing up and acknowledging Tasha. And when Carole told the Press to leave her sister alone, I cried for an hour when I saw that on your YouTube channel." (You may thank Cindy Ross for that video appearing on the "Meet Commander Donald Troy" YouTube channel.)

"And there was no way I'd ever deny my child, any of my children, whatever the cost." I said. "But it's cost you, and I'm sorry for that."

"I dunno." Paulina said. "At least I can go back and stop Krasney from making these god-damn easy plea deals for thugs. He has to give me my job back, and he's scared shitless of me."

"Think there's any way you can come back in the polls?" I asked.

"No, my staff and other advisors I've talked to think I'm toast." Paulina said. "When you admitted to a child out of wedlock, your popularity went up. Mine, it cratered. Not blaming you, but this world still loves a virile man, and hates women they consider sluts. Blacks consider me a sellout, a 'house negro' spreading my legs for a white man. And the white elites... well, you know how that is."

"No, I don't." I said. "And I don't want to know."

"Well," Paulina said, "the silver lining is that Tasha is going to grow up knowing that her daddy and her sister love her and took up for her in the face of withering Press hatred. I wouldn't trade that for the D.A. job, nor anything else..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

10:30pm, Saturday, July 14th. Reporter Brian Jennings, his driver, and two cameramen scrambled into the KSTD news van. With a screech of tires, they drove out onto the streets.

"Southside. MLK Avenue. Drug deal gone bad." said Jennings. "Police are responding. Let's go!"

As they tore down Riverside Drive, a car pulled in behind them. Suddenly, their van was bathed in the blinding flash of blue lights.

"Cops." said the driver. "They're pulling us over." He slowed down and began looking for a place to stop.

"What are you doing?" screamed Jennings. "Keep going!"

"I'm not going to get shot by the cops!" the driver yelled back as he stopped. Two more Police cruisers pulled in; one behind the first, another from across the street that was now headlights-to-headlights with the KSTD van.

"Six of them." said the driver. "Armored and wary. They're touchy, so be careful."

Sr. Patrolman Hicks tapped on the window and the driver rolled it down. "May I see your drivers license and vehicle registration, please."

"What is this?" snarled Jennings from the shotgun seat. "We're the Press! We're going to a crime scene!"

"You were eighteen miles per hour over the speed limit when I clocked you with radar." said Hicks. "Anyone else in this vehicle?"

"Two a/v techs in back." said the driver.

"Any weapons in the vehicle?" asked Hicks.

"Not that I know of." said the driver. Jennings remained silent.

"Mr. Jennings, are you armed?" Hicks called out.

"That's none of your business." snarled Jennings. "Now let us go, so we can do our jobs and cover a news story!"

Hicks responded by drawing his weapon and pointing it at the driver's head. "Show your hands! Now! Show 'em!" he yelled. The driver showed his hands on top of the wheel. Jennings did not. Then he looked out to see Corporal Kirkpatrick right outside his window, gun drawn.

"Get out of the car!" yelled Hicks. "All of you! Slowly! Keep your hand where I can see 'em!" The driver slowly opened his door and got out. The back doors to the van also slowly opened, and the two techs exited, their hands in the air. Kirkpatrick had to bang hard on the passenger door window before Jennings finally complied. Once out of the van, he was slammed against the side of it. Kirkpatrick frisked him while Sr. Patrolman Johnson kept his gun practically in Jennings's ear.

"We've got a weapon!" Kirkpatrick yelled, finding a pistol in Jennings's back pocket. The rest of the crew were searched, but no more weapons were found.

"Hey!" yelled Jennings. "I've got a concealed carry permit for that."

"And you didn't tell us about it when we asked." said Kirkpatrick. "Any answer that did not affirm you had the weapon is legally Lying to Police, a felony offense in this State."

"That's bullshit!" yelled Jennings. "This is a set-up!" Kirkpatrick pushed Jennings in the back, slamming him against the side of the vehicle.

"You better start showing the Police some respect." Kirkpatrick warned. "We've got you on two felony charges already."

"For what?" yelled Jennings. "I did not lie to Police! And I have a permit to carry that weapon!"

"No you don't." said a voice. From behind the van came a tall, broad-shouldered man in a Tilley Hat, with a trenchcoat over his Police uniform. A red crowbar was in one hand, some papers in the other.

"Mr. Brian Jennings!" I said loudly. "Your wife filed for divorce on Thursday. As part of that, she obtained a restraining order against you. When it was issued, your concealed carry permit was revoked, and the papers notifying you of the Court action, including the revocation of your weapons permit, were signed for as being received by you. So you have no excuse: you are carrying a weapon illegally, and you did not notify Police that you had it when they asked you about it."

Finally learning, Jennings's potty mouth said nothing. His eyes said volumes about what he thought of me at that moment.

"Book him, Kirkpatrick." I ordered. "Multiple felonies. In fact, take all four of them in, impound this vehicle, and thoroughly search it for more illegal weapons. After all... according to Mr. Jennings's rant on television, only the Authorities should have guns... isn't that right, Jennings? Don't you just love the smell of hypocrisy on a summer evening?"

The Uniformed Officers all laughed. And it is possible that they were a wee bit rough in arresting Jennings and shoving him into a Police cruiser...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was well past midnight, and therefore Sunday, July 15th, when Gregg Berger and lawyer H.J. Lynch entered Headquarters. Lynch went to talk to Jennings in Interrogation-1. Berger came to my office, escorted by Commander Cindy Ross. Why was she here? I didn't know; she'd just appeared, and being a TCPD Command Group Officer, she had every right to be here.

"What the hell is this, Troy?" snarled Berger as he stood before my desk. "Trying to make a point?"

"Mr. Berger," said Cindy, "I suggest you show the Police Commander more respect, a lot more respect, if you want his cooperation to get your a/v techs out of his jails tonight." It was only then that I bothered to look up at Berger.

"Seriously," said Berger, "what's going on?"

"Mr. Berger," I said acidly, leaning back in my comfortable 'Command Chair', "your van's driver was going 63 miles per hour in a 45 mph zone... on Riverside Drive, right in front of this Headquarters. And then your 'journalist', Brian Jennings, lied to Police, then was found illegally carrying a gun. Fortunately for you, we found no other guns in your vehicle."

"The driver may have to pay a fine for the ticket, which you might reimburse him for. But Jennings... he's got felony charges coming, and possibly Federal weapons charges, as well. As I'm sure you know, there are over 23,000 gun laws on Federal and State books today, most of which get very little enforcement because you Media shit eaters whine when we enforce the law. But be assured that I will be charging Mr. Jennings with some of them now."