Second layoff likely means —30— for journalism career
It was 2:30 in the morning on a late summer day in 1985 or ’86,
I think, when the call came. The Carbon County Fair was in full swing in
Rawlins, Wyo. that week, and until a tragic incident the prior afternoon, I had
been tasked to “cover the fair.”
Instead, I was called away to cover a standoff in which a
mentally ill man ended up being shot by police when he attempted to use a large
knife to attack an officer. Authorities would not discuss the incident with
another reporter at the paper, and my boss hoped I would have more success. And
I did.
“Where do you get off writing stuff like this? You made my
brother look like a criminal,” the caller said. The raw emotion in his voice
was thick with anger, but also, I felt, with anguish. I recall imagining vividly
that there must have been tears in his eyes as he talked.
“No, I don’t make anyone look like a criminal,” I responded,
rubbing the sleep from my eyes and trying to keep my voice low so my wife, who had
answered the call, could get back to sleep. “He did that himself. I accurately
reported what happened.”
