You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
Spot News Thursday.
“There’s a fatal wreck in Columbia,” someone says.
The news meeting stops in its tracks.
“The woman who died is pregnant.”
I hear gasps.
The next thing I know, I’m in a news unit rolling down I-65 south.
On the way, I check in with 911 officials, scanner jockey’s and a police officer.
2 of the 3 sources say the the woman was pregnant.
I feel a twitch in my nervous system.
A dead woman is one thing.
A dead baby is another.
The drive is long; 45 minutes.
That’s a lot of time to think about death and dieing and horrific car wrecks.
“Where is it?”, my photographer hollers.
Just then we see brake lights on the hill. Traffic is stacked on top of traffic.
There are swirling blue lights, a tractor trailer is in the other lane. It’s missing a front bumper.
“Where’s the victim?” I say opening the door.
The wind is brutal, 30 mph, blasting us with an icy punch in the face.
I am staring into a late afternoon sun. The four lane is obscured by bright orange rays of light.
I scan the highway. My eyes are frozen and tearing. The light is overwhelming. I don’t see the victim’s car.
Then I see officers taking pictures.
The car is crumpled. The passenger side is caved in.
We shoot video, talk to cops.
My phone rings.
It’s the Lieutenant handling the media. He’s back at his office.
“We can’t tell you much. A woman died. We still have to notify her next of kin.”
“Was she pregnant?” I ask.
There’s a pause.
“No. She was not pregnant. I know there’s some confusion, but that is the latest.”
I am somehow relieved. I’m not sure why. A woman is dead. But the story suddenly lessens in intensity.
News is an evil bitch.
It’s 4pm.
I’m live on the side of the highway. The air is filled with exhaust fumes as a thousand cars drive by me.
I walk and talk; telling a story about traffic shut down and a tractor trailer that slammed into the Saturn SUV. I point to the crumpled car and the woman who died who we know nothing about.
My producer for 10pm calls. She is territorial. She only cares about her show, the 10pm show, still 6 hours away.
“Is this a package for the late show?” she asks.
I pause. I wish it was.
“No. There’s really nothing to this. I hate to be so callous, but it is what it is. Someone woke up today, probably took life for granted and now their life is over.”
“What else do you have?”
I got nothing.
“I’ll get back to you.”
It’s a 45 minute drive back to Nashville.
I call contacts in each little city up the I-65 corridor.
Nothing is going on.
Quiet.
Sorry.
Then….
“We got an armed robber in East. K9 bit him.”
I love bad guys bitten by K9’s.
“On it.”
Traffic at 5pm in Nashville doesn’t allow for quick anything.
It’s like a dream where you are trying to run but you can’t get your boots out of the bog.
We finally get to the scene.
We are met by the warm glow of blue lights.
I love blue lights when I need to find a crime scene.
We park on the sidewalk. News people do this.
That’s when we see the little Mini Cooper.
It’s hood is covered with blood. Big smears of dried, frozen, reddish brown blood.
I feel a tingle of excitement.
Something bad has happened.
I get out and begin asking officers for information. They are all pleasant, but say we need to get it from a supervisor.
That’s when I see the woman talking to detectives. She is the driver of the Mini Cooper.
I will wait my turn.
I look at her little car. So much blood swirling in strange patterns on the hood. It looks like a psychiatric ink blot test.
What do you see?
I see elephants and loan officers rejecting my dcredit score.
I don’t even know what that means.
“Will you talk?” I ask.
“Sure,” she says.
The woman tells me that she is driving by only to see the suspect being dragged outside of a car at 40mph. She says he rolls into the gutter and then runs to her car, slumping on the hood. He is bleeding from the arms, legs and feet. His blood is smearing her hood. She says he wants her to get him out of there before the other people kill him. She says no. And he runs to a house, jumping the fence.
“Thanks,” I say.
What a great interview.
I feel like I’m done.
But I never give up.
“let’s drive up the road where he was caught,” I say.
We pull up to a 2nd crime scene.
The street is being blocked by officers.
I go up to the man in the squad car. He rolls down his window and is stern.
“Sir, I cannot tell you anything. I’m sorry. I don’t want to be rude, but you have to talk to the captain.”
“No problem, ” I say going back across the street.
That’s when I see an iphone in the gutter.
“That’s the suspect’s smart phone,” I chuckle to my camera man.
He immediately zooms in.
I yell to the officer.
“Hey sir. I think your suspect dropped an iphone over here.”
The man comes right over and flashes the evidence with his light.
“Thanks,” he says getting on the radio.
Smart phones are a big investigative clue. Often times criminals take pictures of themselves that are incriminating, or lead to other suspects or crimes. Their phone logs are crucial to time and place. Outside a confession, this is arguably the best clue cops have in this case.
I laugh as we head back to the 1st crime scene.
“I just want a few pick up shots,” my photog says.
I know we have a great story all ready.
“Whatever you need, man.”
That’s when we see two metro officers talking to a citizen who is holding a grey hound.
It just looks weird. What’s going? My brain is racing.
I watch the group walk the dog to the street.
They are met by a woman who is the dog owner.
“Oh thank you. Oh thank you. I’m dog sitting and she got out. Oh thank you.”
We document the reunion.
“Is this part of the crime?” I ask the group.
The officers smile, saying no.
Hmmmmm?
We are about to leave, when the dog owner races back to our news car.
“Oh my God. There’s blood all over my fence.”
My photographer shoots me a smirk, pulling his camera back out of the car.
Here we go again!
We walk up a hill to her back yard.
Her white fence is covered with blood.
The gate is open.
“This is how Magic got out,” she says.
And it all comes together. The bad guy ran, pulled open the gate and jumped the fence.
The woman is shaking. It’s cold, but I also think she’s in shock.
Just then the police public information officer calls. I put her on speaker.
The man they caught is a wanted armed robber. This past July he opened fire on a couple of people at a convenience store.”
The dog owner’s eyes grow wide.
“And we found his gun. Thanks for finding the iphone,” she adds.
“Wow, the dog owner says.
I look at my photographer.
“I wanted to find the gun too,” he says with a smile.
I laugh.
“see ya later mam.”
We walk down to the news car.
What an incredible 3 hours. running gunning live shots exclusives.
Today it was good to be a newsman.
Life’s Crazy™