You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
The moment.
Have you ever had one moment in time that makes you stop and wonder, stop and ponder, stop and say what the hell was that?
I had that moment today.
The moment was buried under a day filled with pressure. The moment was lurking inside a day of crazy. The moment approached me like a thief in the night.
After a full day of emotions burning on the stove top, it’s the MOMENT that I will consume at this frenetic meal.
The day that leads to the moment starts with a producer coming to the afternoon meeting.
It’s Friday and we are half talking about covering news. We are mostly talking about the weekend weather, dreaming of a two day respite from this journalistic jailhouse.
Then the invisible producer approaches the table. He leans over and whispers quietly into the ear of the assignment editor seated to my right.
There is light talk at the table on hard core topics like cutting grass and taking hikes.
The invisible producer’s voice is muffled. He finishes his message and like the newsroom ghost, the invisible producer disappears into the news ether.
The assignment editor looks up at the table.
“We have an officer involved shooting at a school.”
That’s a show stopper.
It has all the ingredients for a spot news story.
The words are gasoline poured on an open flame.
In my mind, I see a flash of light, an explosion of action, a kick in my spot news ass.
To a news man, the words are red pepper on a hot tamale, shoved in your eye.
GO. GO. GO.
OFFICER. INVOLVED. SHOOTING. SCHOOL.
If we were chefs the words would invigorate us to bake a 7 layer chocolate cake in a Viking oven for the Pontiff.
If this was a test track at Indianapolis, these words would excite us to punch the accelerator and hang on in turn four to slurp milk in victory lane.
If this was a frat party, the words would prompt us to do another beer bong and then drive the porcelain bus home.
But this is news, and the words should ignite our fuse like a fourth of July rocket.
I feel my ass quiver as I begin to get up. My muscles pulse and my senses stir.
Then another producer casually says “so what else you got?” to a reporter nearby.
I remain quiet as I watch this theater of the absurd unfold.
“What else ya got?”
Did I miss something? OFFICER INVOLVED SHOOTING AT A SCHOOL?
Maybe I didn’t hear the ghost producer’s message accurately.
I wait a moment. The table is calm.
I am a storm churning in an angry sea. We should lower the sail and batten down the hatches.
Instead we are a table of apathy floating aimlessly without a compass.
“WHAT ELSE YA GOT?”
The reporter begins talking about another story that barely has a pulse on a regular day.
I look around at the silly calm before me.
The mood is wrong. The vibe is bad. Someone needs to stick a boot up this table’s ass and get the show on the road.
“I think we need to go,” I blurt out to the group.
Like a sudden blast of cold water in the shower, the words command attention.
“Officer involved shooting?”
I mean what do we know.
“All we know is it happened 15 minutes ago, and a school is on lockdown,” the assignment editor says.
I am mad. Why are we still sitting here. My pilot light is lit.
I push away from the table.
“We gotta check this out,” I say reaching for my bag.
Suddenly the siren’s bewitching hypnotic veil is lifted and trained news people see the light.
“Take a TVU with you. You’ll probably be live in the 4pm,” a producer shouts.
That’s a given.
I kick open the door and let the warm afternoon slap me in the face.
My photographer is waiting for me by the door.
I jump in.
“That was like pulling teeth.”
He smiles and guns it out of the gate.
The school is nowhere close to the station.
It’s rush hour traffic. Construction is everywhere and highways are stagnant.
We opt for surface streets and country highways to get to the crime scene.
It takes a frustrating hour to get to the school.
Along the way, I will learn that an off duty cop stops a DUI suspect. A sheriff’s deputy arrives at back up. The DUI suspect produces a knife. The deputy tazes the suspect. The taser has no effect. The DUI suspect will make a threatening move toward the cop who pulls his weapon and shoots the suspect one time. It all happens in the driveway of an elementary school that is now on lock down.
When I arrive news helicopters are circling the crime scene.
They have the 1st pictures, but I am the first news boots on the ground.
I see a woman with bad teeth and way too much cleavage on the side of the road.
“You a momma?” I ask approaching the scene.
That’s the 1st thing you learn in news.
You can’t be quiet, you can’t be polite, and hope news just comes to you.
You gotta pierce the sphere of sanctity immediately.
You gotta shout at people, heard them into possible categories of witnesses, suspects, friends, family, bystanders.
“I’m here to pick up my step son,” she responds.
She is young. She has teeth like a veteran NHL defenseman. I wonder why someone so young, almost attractive would smile with teeth that look like a black hole.
“Tell me what you saw?”
Rule 2. Never ask for an interview. Just start interviewing. If they don’t want to talk, they’ll let you know. If they want to talk, then you’ve wasted no time.
She tells me that she is there to pick up her 11-year-old step son, but he is locked inside the school.
She is concerned, nervous, but the scene is stabilized and the kids are ok.
I thank her and move to the epicenter of confusion.
Crime tape surrounds a pick up truck and a small Nissan in the front of the driveway.
We shoot cops and teachers and crime tape and yellow placards with numbers on them.
We are here 10 minutes before the next news crew arrives.
We park in a man’s driveway next to the school. His property also happens to border the crime scene where the placards and crime tape are.
He gives us permission to be on his land.
We have a wonderful vantage point of the scene.
It’s 3:55 pm. I’m live in 5 minutes.
My photographer is busy getting his live unit on and sending back video to the station.
I am going over notes and the sequence of events.
Suddenly a bald man with a badge and gun approaches.
His face is stern, his demeanor that of stone.
He is the Stonehenge of law enforcement.
I can tell by his no-nonsense attitude that he is not approaching for an autograph.
Something is about to happen.
He gets to the crime tape and stares at me.
We are 20 feet apart.
The moment begins.
Life’s Crazy™
to be continued….