You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy.™
Losing it all at Christmas.
A Maury County mother and her 3 year old son are forced to flee their burning trailer.
The family got to safety, but their dog Lucy and three cats perished.
I knew about the story Monday, and didn’t bring it up. Too much going on.
I pitched the story Tuesday in the morning news meeting. I had received more details and thought it was very viable. The idea was met with apathy in the production meeting.
I wasn’t exactly clear why. You never know why.
“Was the child hurt?” A producer asked.
“Maybe his hair was singed, but I think he’s OK,” I say.
I end up on a story about a woman carjacked, ironically, in my own neighborhood.
Wednesday I pitch the fire story again. There is more discussion, but again there is a tepid response.
“We want you to work on a story about a pharmacy burglary they say.
I stare at them incredulously knowing that the trailer story has to be told. There is no victim in the pharmacy story. A junkie caught on tape getting dope. Yippee Kayay Mother F***er!
I call my buddy at the 911 center.
“Dude, you guys took that fire call right?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it any good?”
“frantic,” He says. “I’ll email it to you.”
I get the 3 minute long 911 call.
It is gut wrenching. The woman is screaming for help. She is partially talking to the dispatcher but mostly telling her baby boy to stay clear of the fire. She is hollering for her dog still inside the burning home. She is wailing out loud, crying uncontrollably, screaming repeatedly “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”
On the tape you hear her irrationality. She starts talking about going into the flaming house to retrieve her pets, her keys, her TV. She is out of her mind with fear and chaos is circling the wagons.
The dispatcher is yelling at her to stay back and wait for the fire department which is on it’s way.
The tape is “gold.” I could shoot the burned house and play the tape, and it’s compelling. If I can get momma, it’s a slam dunk.
I go back out to the news meeting which is still in disarray.
I tell them that this story must be told. I am still getting producer resistance and they still bring up the pharmacy burglary.
I say OK, but tell them affirmatively that I will be doing the family house fire tomorrow.
“They’ll still have no home, dead pets, and lost Christmas presents,” I say for all to hear.
I’m kind of pissed. I know that this is the story I should tell. I know the family has lost it all. I know they need baby clothes and food and Christmas presents and dish soap and slippers and a TV and well everything that we all take for granted every day.
My phone rings. The assignment desk tells me they have changed their minds and tell me to go to Maury County.
I will later hear that there is lot of conflict over this decision.
I don’t care. I’ve been a newsman full time since 1988. I have been broadcasting since I’m 16 years old. I know a story when it hits me right between the eyes.
The woman agrees to meet me at the burned out trailer.
I begin to shake her hand but her hands are covered with soot.
“I’m trying to salvage what I can,” she says with a smile.
She is a 22 year old single mother.
She shows me a picture of her three-and-a-half year old son. He is adorable. Blond wavy hair with huge dark eyes. He is model handsome.
“He got out OK?”
“Yes.”
I hold the boy’s picture before the camera. “You lost everything, but you really saved the most precious thing of all,” I say, referring to her son.
“You’re right,” she adds.
She is embarrassed to tell me that the fire started by a candle. She says her family has a tradition of lighting candles when they decorate for the holidays. She says her son asked if he could have one in his room. She knew it was wrong, but she said OK.
Ten minutes later he came out saying “Mommy, my bed is on fire.”
By the time she went in with a bucket of water, most of which she says she spilled running through the house, the fire was out of control.
She says she tried to get animals out. She says she tried to get her TV out. She says the smoke knocked her down to her knees.
She called 911 and cried uncontrollably, unsure what to do next. In the tape you can actually here here say “I Want my dad” over and over again.
I tell her maybe our story will raise money or donations. I hope it does both.
I put the story together and I find it compelling each time I watch it.
Just as I’m leaving, a night side reporter comes by my edit bay.
“They want me to follow up your fire story,” He says laughing. “They want me to talk to the dispatcher who kept the woman from going into the house.”
I nod affirmatively knowing that a story that almost didn’t get told is now going to be a home run for not only me but for the 10pm show.
The morning ratings also vindicate me. The story gets a good number.
Sometimes you have to trust your instincts.
And that is crazy.™