> > And I had to read about it in our rival paper while I drank coffee this morning.
>
> ...and here we have been told for decades that competitive print journalism is dead, since all the papers are owned by the same big congolmerate.

No competitive print journalism?? Goodness, no. Why do media personnel all rush to a scene so quickly? Each one of them wants to get the story first, to reach people first and get the best quotes and details. No, I don't have a lot of experience, but every journalist I've ever spoken to, heard in a lecture or read about has always taken a great deal of pride in getting that one TRUE scoop before anyone else. It's a very competitive field.

> > 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 can see that what interests you about your job is the human element, not "just the facts, ma'm". When I read your paragraph above, I wonder, then, how you would have written your story.

I'm not sure, and I can't really make a conjecture, either. I don't write rough drafts, and I don't do well if I think such articles out, either. I've always written almost on impulse, and I go with what comes out of my head and appears on the page in front of me. Granted, I generally have an idea of where it's going to end up, but the way it gets there is no more known to me than it is to the reader. (What came out of my head on Sunday is linked below.)

> Although I don't deny that factual writing can also be dramatic, the "newshounds" I am acquainted with seem more concerned about knowing what happened--and preferably being the first to know--rather that in just the [mere] human drama of it. But, then again, they're just amatueurs, heh.

First of all, I'm certainly no professional. This is my first "real" journalism job, and I'm getting quite the crash course. Mere weeks ago, I had no concept of what a preliminary hearing was, I didn't know the term "held to answer," I didn't know that a verdict of second-degree murder carries a sentence of 15 years to life and I didn't know that a "290" is a registered sex offender. Needless to say, I've got a long way to go.

But to get back to the rest of that paragraph, yes, the first thing "newshounds" want to know is what happened. After all, you can see lots of details, right down to green shoelaces on the suspect's shoes, but if you don't know what happened, you have nothing to tell. So then it becomes a matter of priority. Once you know the basics, then you can start to fill in the details and help the reader see it through your eyes. You can't say someone looked "sad," because that's making an assumption, but you can describe someone who "dabbed her eys with a tissue as tears made streaks in her makeup." As photographers tell stories in pictures, writers tell them in words. In my case, I knew what was going to happen. A verdict would come down, and this would be the one time in which the defendants and their families would be most likely to show emotion. It's one thing to read in the paper that two people were found guilty of murder. But it's another thing to read about how an 18-year-old girl broke down sobbing in the court room as her boyfriend was led away for good. [While I don't know this happened, I have a feeling it did. The reporter from our competition wrote nothing about it, but he didn't know who any of the people were; I did. I came into the case very late so I didn't know many names of family members, but I had figured out who was there for each defendant.] It makes people read the article -- which journalists always want -- and it strikes home the seriousness of the situation. Maybe it will make someone think twice before doing something that could put them in the same situation.

> > 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.

Update on what happened Sunday: I got to work around noon, checked my e-mail, and the person who fills in for me on Fridays had called the district attorney's office twice that day and heard nothing. Then she saw the paper on Saturday and e-mailed me again from home, and she even came into the office briefly on Sunday. She was pretty upset, too, especially since she knew the blame was going to fall at least partially on her. I guess people called for me several times on Friday, and she heard our newsroom assistant say, "I'm sorry, she doesn't work on Fridays. Would you like to leave a message?" I'd circulated a memo and even verbally explained it to everyone in the newsroom so that nobody would simply take a message if people called with the verdict. Whether or not someone did call for me that day remains a mystery.

Anyway, I set out to find someone to confirm the jury's verdict for me, since I was certainly not about to cite the other newspaper as my source. I left messages with everyone I could possibly think of, and got no responses as the afternoon wore on. I even asked the watch commander at the police station if he could attempt to reach the main investigator on the case. Well, I finally went to dinner and left my cell phone number with the night desk, giving them clear instructions that if these certain people called, they could reach me on my cell phone.

Amazingly enough, the investigator called me on my cell phone. He happens to be the only detective I've really gotten to know yet, so that was another good thing. (Bonus: Due to caller ID, I now have his cell phone number, and we didn't previously have it. Yes, he knows. Go me.) However, he didn't even know about the verdict, and that's when I began to think the communication break-down happened at the district attorney's office. The investigator who worked so closely with the prosecutor and sat beside him during the trial should have known about that verdict.

To make a long story short, I called the city editor at home because I was really running out of ideas, and he called the editor at home, too, because neither of them had even known that we'd been scooped. I finally called the police chief at home, who knew nothing about the verdict, and he called the Lodi district attorney, who knew nothing about the verdict. He then called a Stockton homicide district attorney who DID know about the verdict, and there was my source. It's not ideal, but at that point, it worked. The city editor suggested that I lead with the police angle, and I talked to him a little later and read him my first few paragraphs. He liked it and was audibly relieved.

So there you have it. The prosecuting deputy district attorney on the case is out of the country, and I learned today that my reliable source in their office just started a big trial today. I have a feeling that's why we didn't find out about the verdict, because it's not like him to flake out like that. Below is a link to the article that could have been one I'd save for future jobs. It was the banner headline across the front of the paper today, but I'm barely claiming it as my own. Oh well. Moving along, there's a small chance I'll get to ride in a helicopter tomorrow.

Ell"Wow, I wrote a novel ... Coming soon: Ellmyruh-At-a-Glance"myruh