I just read an article about the murder case I've been covering. After deliberating for a little more than two days, the jury came back with a decision and found the two co-defendants guilty of second-degree murder with gang enhancements. Closing arguments in the trial ended Tuesday afternoon, and deliberations began Wednesday morning. Since that time, I've been anxiously and impatiently awaiting the jury's decision. It came through on Friday at 2:20 p.m.

And I had to read about it in our rival paper while I drank coffee this morning.

It's a feeling of disappointment and defeat. I've been waiting for the verdict, which would be the first such article I've ever written in my life. I want to know what it's like to have the jury members file in and tell the judge they have reached a decision. I want to know what it's like to sit in a completely silent courtroom as the judge reads the verdict. I want to see the reactions, no matter how pained the family members are. I've pictured it from reading John Grisham books, but I know it's not quite how books and movies portray it. I don't think actors, no matter how good they are, can truly know what it's like to be the father of one of the defendants. They can't possibly know the emotions that go through that father's mind as he sits in the court room every single day, waiting for 12 people to decide how many years his 18-year-old son will spend in state prison. Well, I'm going to have to wait to see that, too.

While it wasn't my fault, I feel as though I'm the one who was scooped. I don't work on Fridays, and I made sure that everyone KNEW I was waiting for this verdict to come through. Every Thursday night, I e-mail the person who covers police and courts when I'm not there on Fridays. In that e-mail, I remind her what needs to be done the following day. One of the things to do this Friday was to touch bases with a certain person in the District Attorney's office so that he remembered we were waiting expectantly for the verdict. This is the second week in a row that we missed something on a Friday, and this time we really got scooped. It's so incredibly frustrating to sit here, knowing that if I had been at work on Friday, I would have written that story.

I take pride in my work. I think I've gone home on time two or three times since I took this job, but I don't usually bother to ask for over-time to be approved. If I can do the job, I'm happy. I still haven't quite gotten over the fact that they're paying me to do this. I don't just show up to collect a paycheck, and I've never treated a job that way. The way I see it is this: I cover all police and courts things. Yes, I sometimes need some help if it's a crazy day, and that's OK. Yes, I'm still catching up on cases and figuring out how things work, and that's OK. But when a verdict comes back from a jury and I'm not there to hear about it, that's not OK. I know why it happened, and my editors know why it happened, but that's not enough for me. Something I should have covered was completely missed.

I don't blame myself for it, but I am extremely frustrated. If this continues to happen on Fridays, I'll begin to feel demoralized. I've taken on a fairly large beat, and I've challenged myself quite a bit. I'm determined to not be scooped if I can possibly help it, but this kind of thing undermines that goal. I set high standards for myself, and when something beyond my control makes it so that I can't meet those standards, I feel defeated. In all honesty, I'd rather work six days a week than be scooped. I guess that's why I've always tended to be a borderline workaholic; I hate to leave things for someone else, knowing they might not get done.

What's the solution? I'm not sure. But I do know that I'm going to talk to the editor Monday morning (after I make an attempt to reach the co-defendants' attorneys) and let him know that I'm frustrated and almost mad. I don't know if he'll have an answer, but I do know that this kind of thing can't keep happening to me.