Andrew Rodgers, author of “News You Can Use”, is a writer and filmmaker in Denver, Colorado. His fiction has appeared in Bright Flash Literary Review and Every Day Fiction. He started his career as a journalist with the Chicago Tribune and has written for several news and culture publications, including Our State and SOMA.
*****
Cassie bolted upright in the dark, heart racing, and lunged toward the nightstand. She fumbled with an unsteady hand and knocked over a water glass before finding her phone. Calls this late never brought good news. As she answered the call, water began spilling onto the bedroom’s carpeted floor. Cassie spoke in a hushed tone to avoid waking Tyra.
The voice on the other end mumbled. Still disoriented, Cassie asked the caller to repeat himself.
“I said, there’s a car accident downtown near Summit Church. You should get down there.”
It was Derek, the station’s night editor. He monitored the police scanner and alerted reporters to potential stories.
Cassie groaned. “Why are you calling me? I’m off this weekend.”
“You’re the sixth reporter I’ve tried. No one else answered their phone.”
The spilled water slowed to a trickle, then a drip. “Lucky me.” Cassie rubbed the sleep from her eyes, collecting her thoughts. “Ok. Car accident. How many cars are involved?”
“You’re the sixth reporter I’ve tried. No one else answered their phone.”
“Just one.”
“Wait, what? When did a one car accident become breaking news? What’s so important you needed to wake me up for this?”
“I have a feeling. The cops on the scene seem nervous whenever they talk with the dispatcher. Interesting, right?”
“Maybe.” With a growing annoyance at the interruption, Cassie reminded herself that Derek usually had good instincts. “What time is it?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe midnight. Listen, my clan’s doing a castle raid and need me to distract a dragon. I’ve got to go.”
The call ended abruptly. Cassie looked at Tyra, miraculously still asleep after the commotion, curled up next to her in bed with Rufus, their Boston Terrier. Then she looked at her phone. It was a quarter past four. Stepping onto the wet carpet as she rose to get dressed, Cassie shook her head. Fucking Derek.
*****
During rush hour, the drive downtown usually took an hour. Tonight, speeding along the desolate, pre-dawn streets, Cassie made it in fifteen minutes. At the crest of the hill in the town’s historic quarter, she turned onto what was once known as Millionaire’s Row and saw the scrum of police cruisers. A dozen historic Southern homes, long since converted to offices, lined one side of the block. On the other sat a Presbyterian church and its extensive grounds.
In the daylight, the pastel-colored homes glowed like exotic peach, rose, and lemon candies. Tonight, bathed in harsh red and blue flashing police lights, they looked more ominous.
Cassie rubbed her arms for warmth after parking. The mid-autumn North Carolina night held a chill, so she grabbed an NBC News Ten fleece jacket from her car.
A Mercedes sat askew on the curb in front of the church with its crumpled front end wrapped around a utility pole. A blue tarp covered the trunk and back fender. Cassie could see a dark form slumped behind the wheel. Since the half-dozen police officers working the scene weren’t in much of a hurry, Cassie presumed the driver was dead.
Searching for a familiar face among the small crowd of officers, Cassie spotted a sergeant she’d met on a previous story. Approaching, she flashed a smile. “What do you know, Joe?”
He nodded. “Hey Cass. Drew the short straw tonight, huh?”
“Don’t I always? With luck, maybe I can get back to sleep before they send me out to interview a raccoon or something.”
The sergeant removed his cap and ran his hand through his graying hair. “I think you’re in luck. This one seems straight forward. You’ll probably be back in bed within the hour.”
“Do tell.”
“Just one fatality. A young man. Single-car accident maybe an hour ago. An anonymous caller phoned it in. Car smells like alcohol. He was probably drunk. Coming from a party maybe.”
Cassie scribbled in a notepad as the sergeant spoke. “Do you know the driver’s identity?”
“Not yet. We’re waiting for the paramedics to move the body before we check his pockets.”
“He was deceased when you arrived?”
“Without a doubt.”
“Did you run the plates?” asked Cassie, focusing on her notepad as she wrote.
When the sergeant didn’t respond, Cassie looked up at his furrowed brow. “Joe?”
“We did. It’s not his car.”
Cassie studied him. “Do you know whose…”
“We’re not ready to ID anyone yet,” interrupted the sergeant. “Listen, I need to get back to work. You know the drill. You can set up over there.” He pointed to a driveway a couple dozen feet from the scene.
“All right. And if you find anything else, you’ll let me know?”
“Count on it.” The sergeant disappeared as the siren of a distant ambulance grew louder.
Not wanting to be too close when the paramedics extracted the mangled body, Cassie set her camera and tripod across the street as instructed to capture some B-roll. The officers and paramedics moved all around the car, working the scene. Nothing out of the ordinary. It was just another in a long line of unfortunate car accidents. Barely worth a mention on her station’s newscast. There wasn’t much sense sticking around.
Looks like Derek’s instincts were wrong on this one.
But then something happened. The tarp covering the back end of the car slipped off after a paramedic accidentally brushed against it. A nearby officer shouted and leapt to grab the tarp. Cassie saw a new energy animate the group. They carefully repositioned the tarp over the trunk and back fender and set a small toolbox on top to hold it in place. One of the officers swore loudly as another glanced worriedly in Cassie’s direction.
Her reporter’s curiosity piqued; Cassie left her camera and stepped toward the group to ask questions. But the sergeant noticed her approach and moved quickly to intercept her.
“You need to stand back, Cassie,” he commanded with new intensity. “Or we’ll remove you from the scene.”
“What did you find, Joe? What’s under the tarp?” she asked.
“It’s nothing. And I’m not answering any more questions tonight. We’ve got work to do. The chief will issue a statement in the morning. Just stand back.”
That’s odd, thought Cassie as she returned to her camera across the street. The chief doesn’t issue statements for garden-variety traffic accidents. Something’s up.
For the next twenty minutes, she captured more footage of the flashing lights of the police cruisers and recorded a stand-up summary of what she knew about the accident, which wasn’t much. Cassie wanted more information. She wanted to know what was under the tarp.
Soon, she spotted her chance.
After the driver’s body was loaded for transport, the officers huddled with the paramedics near the ambulance. With everyone distracted, Cassie inched around the far side of a patrol car and toward the rear of the Mercedes. She gingerly lifted the tarp.
Everything seemed normal at first glance. But then, she didn’t know what to look for. The trunk was closed. There was no damage to the rear end of the car. The license plate did seem a little odd, though. Kneeling to get a closer look, she nearly lost her balance when she saw it. Displayed prominently below the numerals 0023 were the words “U.S. Senate.”
Cassie’s pulse quickened. What the hell?
A shout erupted. “Hey! What are you doing?” The sergeant and a pair of officers quickly jogged over to Cassie, who stood uneasily to meet them.
“Is that Senator Thomson’s car?” Cassie asked urgently, as the sergeant grasped her upper arm and marched her away from the scene.
Her mind reeled. The state’s junior Republican senator lived in the metro area. But wasn’t Congress still in session? Shouldn’t the Senator be in DC? Recently, the Senator sponsored a bill banning gay marriage, making headlines, and rocketing to fame as the latest rising star of the right-wing.
“We don’t know anything yet,” the sergeant said angrily. “This is already complicated enough as it is. If you don’t stay out of our way, I’ll put you in the back of a squad car and send you to the station. And good luck filing a story from a jail cell.”
*****
As the first light of dawn broke, Cassie returned her camera to her car. She’d spent longer than usual capturing footage at the scene, unsuccessfully trying to get a shot of the license plate from across the street. Now she had a splitting headache from the flashing lights and too little sleep. She needed to get home and collect her thoughts. Because it was a Saturday, she had several hours before the first newscast of the day, that evening at 6 p.m. She would rest, eat something, take a shower, and get to work.
As she started her car, however, one of the younger officers approached with a stern look on his face. She lowered her window.
“We just found your damn earring near the front of the car. The sergeant is really pissed at you for contaminating the scene.” He held the object out toward her.
Confused, Cassie hesitated, but then took the dangly earring from the officer. “Near where? But I didn’t…”
“Don’t be surprised if your station gets a complaint for the stunt you pulled,” interrupted the officer, before turning on his heels and walking away in a huff.
The car’s heater whirred as Cassie studied the earring. It was gold and shaped like a miniature olive branch. And it certainly wasn’t hers.
Looking back toward the accident from her car, she wondered if she should return and tell the officers. But then she froze. Perhaps twenty feet from the crumpled Mercedes, nestled in a patch of ivy above the front door of the church, she noticed the blinking red light of a security camera pointed directly toward the scene of the accident.
*****
Cassie awoke to the smell of coffee wafting from the kitchen. As she sat up in her clothes from the night before, Rufus lay in a curled ball near her feet and studied her warily. Cassie felt like a mess. It was a quarter past nine – less than eight hours till the deadline to get a story on air that night.
She selected one of her favorite camera-ready outfits and set it on the bed. Rufus sniffed it approvingly. The station’s news director encouraged all the female reporters to wear low-cut tops, even though it was wildly inappropriate. “It boosts ratings,” he insisted. Those who went along often got guest anchor spots and higher profile assignments. Cassie’s outfits always disappointed the news director, though.
And that’s why I never get the good assignments.
She selected one of her favorite camera-ready outfits and set it on the bed.
Cassie entered the kitchen, with Rufus trailing jauntily behind her, and found Tyra sipping coffee and scrolling through the news on her tablet.
“Sorry if I woke you last night,” said Cassie.
Engrossed in her reading, Tyra grunted. A moment later, while Cassie poured her own cup of coffee, Tyra shook her head and lowered her tablet.
“Did you see this? The Post says we’re closer than ever to a national ban on gay marriage. We should move to Canada.”
“I think I saw that,” said Cassie, taking out a carton of eggs from the refrigerator. “Senator Thomson is one of the ring-leaders, right?”
Her mind flashed back to the accident. Who was the man in the Senator’s car? And why was he out so late? But Tyra interrupted her thoughts.
“What are you doing?”
“What?” Cassie stood utterly confused, holding a frying pan.
“I thought we were meeting my friends for brunch.”
Cassie grimaced. She’d completely forgotten. “Oh, I’m so sorry sweetie. Something came up. I need to work on a possible story for tonight. Can we do it another day?”
Based on Tyra’s expression, Cassie knew exactly how their conversation was about to go.
“Seriously?” Tyra smacked her palm onto the table, startling Rufus. “Today is supposed to be your day off. We were going to hike Pilot Mountain this afternoon. Are you going to bail on that too?”
With a pained express, Cassie shrugged. “I might need to. It depends on how the story goes.”
Tyra stood and retrieved Rufus’s leash from the pantry doorknob. The terrier instantly sprang to life and jumped at Tyra’s shins.
“If I get done early, I can call you,” said Cassie, nearly pleading. “Or maybe tonight we can watch a movie.”
“Whatever.” Tyra walked toward the front door with Rufus. “I’m getting tired of this.” But then she paused, lowered her head, and walked back over to face Cassie. “I don’t like the way we are right now. I haven’t liked it for a while. We hardly see each other anymore. Something’s got to give. And I just…”
“What?” asked Cassie quietly.
“I don’t see how this job of yours is going to work for us much longer.”
*****
A stream of questions swam through Cassie’s mind as water cascaded over her in the shower. What could she do to make it up to Tyra? Who was the dead man in the Mercedes? What was going to happen with her relationship? How was the man in the car connected to the Senator? Was her career doomed if she didn’t show cleavage? And whose earring did she now have?
*****
At half-past ten, Cassie swiped her badge at the gate and drove onto the station’s parking lot. Both satellite trucks were noticeably absent from their normal spots. For a moment, Cassie’s thoughts turned paranoid. Had crews been sent to cover the accident from the night before without anyone thinking to contact her? Had this already become a bigger story? Had she already blown a chance to learn more? But then she remembered, it was autumn and a Saturday morning in the South. That meant one thing: football. There were at least two big college games today. Silently groaning, she immediately knew what would lead the news that evening. It certainly wouldn’t be her story, no matter what she uncovered.
To even get a spot in the next broadcast, though, Cassie needed to speak with Jonathan, the weekend producer. But she wasn’t ready to make a pitch. Cassie knew she needed more information.
The first place to look was the police department’s public information website. Cassie plopped in front of one of the shared computers for junior reporters in the back of the newsroom and pulled up the morning-after statement about the accident. Her hopes for answers were quickly dashed, though. The chief of police issued an anemic press release, briefly mentioning that a federal government vehicle was involved in a fatal, single-car collision late the night before. Details on the location and estimated time of the crash were provided; but because the driver’s family hadn’t yet been notified of his death, his identity wouldn’t yet be released. And that was all it said. Nothing new.
Maybe the Senator will issue a statement. That would certainly make the story more interesting.
But when Cassie dialed the Senator’s regional office, the call went straight to voicemail. It was a safe bet the Senator didn’t have local staff who worked on the weekend. Meanwhile, the assistant who answered the phone at the Senator’s DC office proved to be completely useless.
“I’m with NBC News Ten in North Carolina.” Cassie tapped the tip of her pen on the desk as she spoke. “Can you tell me if the Senator is still in DC right now? Or here in the state?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are there any new public statements this morning? Maybe about the Senator’s car being involved in a fatal car accident last night?”
“Nope. No idea what you’re talking about.”
“Is the Senator’s press secretary available for a comment?”
“She’s not here today.”
“Is there anyone else there I can speak with? Maybe someone more senior? Someone who might know more about what’s going on?”
“No. Want to leave a message?”
Cassie left her number promising to call again. Often, if necessary.
Across the newsroom, Jonathan and few of the other staff sat in the conference room, watching a football game. In Minnesota where Cassie got her start as a reporter out of college, the newsroom was obsessed with hockey. During her years in Indiana, it was basketball. And now, after two years working in North Carolina, she’d grown to expect her stories would always get bumped for sports. Particularly because all she ever got to do were the puff pieces and second-rate crime stories that nobody else wanted.
Still, experience told Cassie there was more to this story; she just couldn’t prove it yet. And that’s what worried her. Even though she’d answered the initial call from Derek, if this story turned into something more substantial, it would likely be taken away and given to a more senior reporter.
She decided to review what she knew so far and pulled out her notepad. It contained a page of scribbled thoughts and observations from the night before. The angle of the car on the sidewalk. The number of police officers on the scene. A sense that the sergeant knew more than he was saying. And, of course, the earring. Sometimes re-reading her notes jogged an idea how to progress with a story. Not this time, though. She felt stuck.
Then she recalled the call she’d gotten from Derek and turned to the previous page in her notebook. He’d been intrigued by the way the police talked about the accident on the radio. Enough to call her to go check it out. He seemed to have a sixth sense there was something more to this accident. I wonder if he might remember anything else.
It was just past eleven o’clock. After working the night shift, Derek would almost certainly be asleep. Cassie smiled at the thought of waking him.
“Uhhh… hello?”
Cassie stifled a laugh at the sound of Derek’s shaky voice on the other end of the phone. “Good morning, sunshine.”
“Uh huh.”
“I’m calling about last night’s car accident. I’m a bit stuck.”
Silence.
“You said it sounded interesting and the police were being cautious on the radio.”
“Yeah?” Derek’s voice sounded like gravel.
“Do you remember anything else? It could be important.”
Derek didn’t respond for a moment. Had he gone back to sleep? She could hear breathing. Eventually, he spoke.
“Like I said, it seemed like the police didn’t want to say too much over the radio. It just seemed kind of suspicious.”
Cassie looked at her notes again, specifically at what the sergeant told her. Then a lightbulb went off. “Last night the police told me an anonymous caller reported the accident. Did you hear them say anything about that?”
“I don’t think so,” Derek said slowly. “Wait. Yeah, they did. The dispatcher said the driver might already be dead. It seemed like the kind of detail only someone on the scene would know, so she told the cops to keep an eye out for eyewitnesses.”
Cassie tilted her head. “I didn’t see anyone other than the police there last night.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you. Can I go back to sleep now?”
Cassie sat lost in thought after hanging up the phone. Did I miss something? She hadn’t asked the police about witnesses. That was a mistake. She’d been so tired; it simply hadn’t occurred to her.
Across the newsroom, the group watching the game dispersed and Jonathan returned to his desk. Must be halftime. Now was as good a time as any to make her pitch. She just wished she had more information.
Jonathan smiled as Cassie approached. “What’s up, Scoop?” He called all the female reporters Scoop. And behind his back, they all hated it.
“I’ve got a story for tonight.”
“Go on.” Jonathan tapped the pen in his hand against his cheek.
“Senator Thomson’s car was involved in an accident downtown early this morning. One fatality. The driver. Don’t yet know his identity. I got to the scene shortly after it happened and have some good B-roll. I still want to track down some loose ends, though.”
“Oh, wow.” Jonathan’s eyebrows shot up. “Was the Senator involved?”
Cassie thought about the earring. “No. It doesn’t appear so.”
Jonathan almost looked disappointed. “All right. It’s a packed show. I can only give you twenty seconds as part of the local round-up in the back half. All pre-recorded. Turn in the package by five-fifteen.”
“Of course.” Six hours till the deadline.
“Oh, one more thing,” said Jonathan, as Cassie turned to leave. “If the Senator’s willing to make an on-camera statement, let me know so we can assign a more senior reporter to take over the story. No offense, but that would be above your pay grade.”
*****
A little before noon, Cassie returned to the scene of the accident. The Mercedes was gone, likely towed to the police lot. Patches of sawdust lay scattered on the ground, covering up spilled oil. Or maybe blood. She’d hoped to find something interesting in the daylight. The other earring, perhaps. But standing near the damaged utility pole, all she could see were bits of smashed plastic and fiberglass from the car.
Cassie wondered if the police had noticed the church’s security camera and if they’d already retrieved the footage. It might complicate things. There’s only one way to find out.
Grasping the ornate handle of the church’s heavy wooden door, she tugged and was surprised when it opened smoothly. Inside, a choir rehearsal was underway and ethereal music filled the nave.
Expanded several times over the past hundred years, the large church had a confusing array of hallways. Upon finding the church’s office, she discovered it was locked. She roamed back toward the front entrance, searching for anyone who could help her. Eventually, she spotted an elderly woman seated in one of the back pews, watching the choir rehearse.
“Hello there,” Cassie whispered as she approached and leaned over to speak with the woman. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for someone who can help me.”
“Oh, hello dear,” said the woman quietly, who stood sprightly and walked with Cassie into the foyer where they could speak. She appeared to be in her eighties and wore a matching floral blouse and skirt, as well as a nametag that identified her as Miriam. “I’m the Saturday volunteer. They want us to sit at the secretary’s desk to answer the phone, but I like to listen to the choir. They’re rehearsing Mozart’s Ave Verum Corpus for tomorrow’s service. Don’t tell on me, okay?” She winked.
“Of course not.” Cassie smiled.
“What can I do for you?”
“I’m a reporter with NBC News Ten. Unfortunately, there was a fatal car accident in front of your church last night.”
“We heard about it this morning. It’s just dreadful.” Miriam shook her head. “I suppose you’d like to see the footage from our security camera?”
Surprised, Cassie brightened. “Yes, in fact I would. That would be really helpful. May I?”
“I’m afraid not,” said Miriam with a sympathetic smile. “It’s just like I said to that other reporter. Only the Reverend can authorize something like that, and he won’t be available until Monday afternoon. He’s busy preparing for Sunday services, you know, and likes to sleep in on Mondays.”
Cassie’s heart dropped. “I see. Rules and all… I understand.” She bit her lip. “Can I ask, who was the other reporter you spoke with earlier?”
Miriam pulled a business card stowed in her skirt pocket and handed it to Cassie.
Maria Lopez! From the local CBS affiliate, her station’s chief competitor. Maria was one of CBS’s senior anchors, a tenacious local reporter famous for digging up dirt on big stories. Why did they assign Maria to this story? They must think there’s more to it as well.
Cassie could feel the story slipping away. Maria was so well known and connected; she probably already had an interview lined up with the Senator. Cassie didn’t stand a chance.
With sagging shoulders, she adjusted her messenger bag and opened the flap to retrieve a notepad. “I guess I should get the Reverend’s contact information.”
But Miriam didn’t respond. Cassie looked up and saw Miriam staring at her bag, where an LGBTQ pride pin was now visible, affixed to a pocket.
“I like you pin,” said Miriam gently. She reached up to the collar of her blouse and turned it over, revealing a small hidden pin of two interlocking female symbols.
The two women studied each other in silence. After a moment, Miriam took Cassie’s hand in hers and gently squeezed. “Maybe I can help you. Besides, the Reverend doesn’t care much for rules either.”
She led Cassie to a back room and retrieved a ring of keys. Soon they were seated before a console and a series of monitors.
“Because they take up so much space on the server, we delete all the videos at the end of each week,” said Miriam as she cued up the images from the camera above the front door. “Fortunately, we haven’t deleted anything from yesterday. Not yet anyway.”
The two watched the footage rolling by in high speed. The view was perfect, and well-lit by the streetlamps. Suddenly, there it was. Cassie motioned. Miriam paused the video and rewound a few seconds.
The camera captured a typical calm and quiet night. But then the speeding Mercedes careened into the frame and slammed into the utility pole. Both Cassie and Miriam flinched. Smoke poured from the engine. One of the rear doors opened and two women emerged from the car, clearly shaken. The younger-looking woman appeared to be topless and started weeping, perhaps in shock.
The other woman peered through the shattered passenger window at the driver. Recoiling in horror, she staggered backward to examine the car. Then she looked up and down the street. Moving quickly, she returned to the back seat of the car to gather some items, including a shirt she tossed to the other woman. After closing the car’s door and wiping off the handle she’d just touched, she took out a phone and made a call. Then she grabbed the younger woman’s hand and led her out of frame, into the night.
Fast forwarding through the footage, Cassie and Miriam watched as the police arrived about ten minutes later. Cassie’s heart raced. She looked at her watch. Three hours till airtime. “Miriam, is there any chance I could get a copy of this?”
“Sure thing, hun. Google link or flash drive?”
*****
“What do you want?” A man’s voice echoed from the intercom near the stately home’s front door.
“I need to speak with Senator Thomson,” said Cassie, more confidently than she felt. “I’m with NBC News Ten.”
She’d tried contacting the Senator by email and social media. She called the district office again – still no answer. And she called the DC office. Several times. The same hapless assistant would only offer to take a message. Reluctantly, knowing it went against the station’s protocol, Cassie located the Senator’s home address. Purposefully, she also didn’t contact Jonathan to tell him what she’d found.
Now, here she stood. In the country club section of town. On the Senator’s porch, with her camera and equipment in tow.
“The Senator is busy and cannot see you,” came the voice. “You’re welcome to call the office on Monday.”
“No. I’ve done that already,” said Cassie with tension in her voice. “I’m on deadline and am here about last night’s accident involving the Senator’s car. I have information that implicates the Senator and will run a potentially damaging story with or without a statement. I think it would be better for the Senator to speak with me right now.”
Cassie’s heart pounded as she spoke. Was she really threatening a United States Senator?
After a long wait, the voice returned over the intercom. “The Senator will give you five minutes. Leave your camera outside.”
*****
Senator Melanie Thomson didn’t stand when Cassie entered the well-appointed living room. She sat in a large, overstuffed chair and wore a gray tunic with white palazzo pants.
When she motioned for Cassie to sit on the nearby couch, the Senator did so stiffly, and with her left arm. Noticeably, the Senator also kept her right arm resting awkwardly on her leg.
“Thank you for seeing me.” Cassie set her messenger bag on the floor and pulled out a notepad. “I just have a few questions.”
The Senator nodded. “I have an event tonight, so we need to keep this very brief.”
“I understand. To start, I wanted to ask if you were aware of the fatal accident involving your car late last night.”
“I am.”
Cassie waited for the Senator to share more details, but instead the older woman just sat with a blank expression.
“What can you tell me about it?”
“Not much.”
Cassie shifted in her seat. Oh jeez. This is going to be fun. “Do you know the identity of the driver?”
“I do. His name is… was… Eric Shafer.”
“And who is he?”
“One of my aides.”
“What else can you tell me about him?” asked Cassie, getting a bit irritated at the Senator’s obstinance.
“He had a bright future. My thoughts and prayers are with his family.”
Cassie pursed her lips. This was going nowhere. “Senator, why was Eric driving your car so late last night?”
“I left it at the office to attend an event. My husband drove me home,” said Senator Thomson. “Eric offered to drop the car off after work and Uber back to his apartment from here. He was a very dedicated staffer who enjoyed working late.”
“Had Eric been drinking?”
“I don’t know and wouldn’t want to speculate.”
“Was he alone?” Cassie studied the Senator, whose placid expression hadn’t changed at all throughout the conversation.
“That’s what the police told us this morning.”
“I see,” said Cassie. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”
“I don’t think so.”
Cassie studied the Senator. Then she reached into her pocket and held out the earring. “Is this yours?” The Senator noticeably tensed.
“I’ve never seen that before,” she said, ignoring the earring and looking squarely at Cassie. After an awkward silence, the Senator glanced at her watch. “Have I answered all your questions? I really should be going.”
“Just one thing more.” Cassie retrieved the laptop from her bag. “I’d like to get your reaction to a short video of you that I located. I think you’ll find it very… interesting.”
*****
“In a stunning reversal, Senator Melanie Thomson announced she will withdraw her own bill banning gay marriage, introduced earlier this month.”
Cassie’s story led the 6 o’clock news and was now repeating at 11pm. The station also sent footage to the network, which planned to feature it the next morning on the Today show. Meanwhile, a segment from the story was running every half hour on MSNBC, and the wire services were blasting the news out to papers and stations around the country.
Tyra and Cassie sat on their living room couch and held hands as they watched the story together. Rufus slept on the floor near their feet. An image of Cassie appeared on the screen, with a “LIVE: News Ten Exclusive” chyron appearing below her.
“Today the Senator revealed she would drop the bill to focus on other legislative priorities.”
Footage of Cassie talking with the Senator on her porch now appeared.
“Can you tell us more about why you made this decision?” Cassie held an NBC microphone out to the Senator to answer.
“After talking with voters throughout the state, I believe this bill, while still important, would be a distraction during a time of tremendous economic uncertainty. I withdrew my support to focus instead on the critical pocketbook issues facing the middle class. Perhaps someday we’ll revisit this legislation, but for now I’d like to put my energies elsewhere.”
“This is big news.” The weekend anchor, an older man named Rick, now spoke to Cassie in a split-screen. “Do we know what this means for the bill?”
Cassie nodded. “Experts I spoke to say this all but assures the gay marriage ban won’t advance in the Senate, despite the Republican majority, all but killing its chances to become law for now. Shortly before airtime, a White House spokesman said they were surprised by the Senator’s reversal, but excited for what it meant for marriage equality. On Monday, I’ll be in DC interviewing the Minority Leader and the director of GLAAD about this new development. Stay tuned for those interviews.”
“We’ll definitely look forward to that,” said Rick. “I understand you also spoke with the Senator about another matter today?”
“That’s right,” said Cassie. “In other, unrelated news, we learned an aide to the Senator was killed last night in a single-car collision. Police are awaiting a toxicology report. No one else was injured or involved in the accident.”
“Thanks for your report, Cassie,” said Rick. “Now, coming up after the break, have you ever wondered what’s inside your cell phone? A chimpanzee at the local zoo certainly did. Today he…”
Tyra hit mute on the remote.
“Well?” asked Cassie.
“Incredible! That’s the biggest story you’ve ever done, Cass. And the station is sending you to DC for those big interviews now. You’re finally getting a shot.”
“My producer and the station’s news director were pissed I interviewed the Senator on my own without notifying anyone. But they couldn’t deny it was a great story.”
“I’m so proud of you,” said Tyra, hugging Cassie. “I’m curious, though. Some of this doesn’t make sense. Everyone was saying the marriage ban would pass easily. So why would the Senator withdraw her support now? Something seems off. Did she tell you anything more about why she changed her mind? Maybe off camera or something?”
Cassie thought of the earring, still in her pocket. “We may never know.”
*****
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