Chasing Deception Read online

  This guy is Jeremiah Harmon, no doubt about it.

  He forwarded the photo to Melissa and then walked over to her desk. Normally he just would have sent a clever message, but he had to see her reaction in person.

  “Guess who our dear Pastor Jeremiah really is?”

  Caught off guard, Melissa hesitated. “I don’t know. Who?”

  “Read this article and then check your email.”

  Melissa was shocked as she looked over the articles and photos. She immediately agreed with Jim that the well-dressed 25-year-old businessman was none other than a younger Jeremiah Harmon.

  “So what do we do from here?”

  “Like I said before, we can wait a little bit on this one. I doubt Pastor Jeremiah is going anywhere. And then we can talk about if we want to write it together or do it for my column—”

  “Your what?”

  Slightly embarrassed about letting the secret out, Jim explained in hushed tones about his impending promotion. Melissa patted him on the back and offered whispered congratulations.

  —

  11:43 a.m. Tuesday, June 3

  After the morning budget meeting, Jim spent a few minutes looking over the emailed photos of Jeremiah Harmon and thinking about the next steps he and Melissa were going to take on the story. While there was no question Jeremiah Harmon was Gerald Hartley, the differences were stark between the confident man in the fashionable suit and the grim one in the police mug shot. Gone was the self-assurance and energy they had experienced in person.

  After perusing the photos, Jim placed them in the “Jeremiah Harmon/Gerald Hartley” file at his desk and went back to making last-minute phone calls to the candidates on election day.

  The low voter turnout in Emerald Valley was indicative of the election in general. Few people cared about the candidates or the issues, and even fewer turned out to cast their ballots. Only 17 percent of the people eligible to vote bothered to show up at the polling booths. The two incumbents Jim had exposed as being engaged in corruption were defeated by large margins. Diane Epps and Natalie Torres were the newest council members, and, as expected, Larry Holcombe was re-elected. Voters agreed to raise water rates and fund school renovations. And Measure B passed with 82 percent of the vote.

  —

  When Melissa read the results of the Measure B vote at her dining room table the next morning, she just shook her head in disbelief.

  Four out of five voters in Emerald Valley agree with Measure B, but I bet only a handful of people know why it was on the ballot in the first place.

  Melissa was determined to change that.

  —

  9:33 a.m. Wednesday, June 4

  Having worked until just past midnight culling election results, Jim came in later than usual the next day. He spent half an hour doing busy work before his 10 a.m. meeting with Executive Editor Ted Nelson that had been set up the day before. Jim made a few phone calls just to get the final vote tallies and to try to set up an interview with ousted councilman Thom Stanford to run alongside an article on Epps and Torres.

  Though busy typing notes on his computer, Jim couldn’t help but notice Charlie Stein and Opinions Editor Ken Flaherty making their way to the executive editor’s office at the front of the newsroom. As they entered, Ted greeted them and discreetly closed the blinds. Jim glanced at his watch.

  9:53 a.m.

  He waited five minutes before leaving his desk and walking to Ted’s office. Jim knocked lightly and poked his head past the partially open door.

  “Hi, Ted. You want me to wait out here for a few minutes?”

  “No, come on in.”

  As he entered he greeted the columnist and the editorial page editor respectively. “Hi Charlie, Hi Ken.”

  They returned the greeting as he sat down.

  Ted started the meeting, speaking quickly and clearly.

  “Let’s not waste any time on this one, gentlemen. Charlie is leaving the Courier in a few weeks for a political reporting job at the San Francisco Chronicle. We’re going to miss him very much, but we need to fill his shoes somehow. Charlie and Ken-” he motioned to the two men who were intently focused on Jim, “-have both recommended you as a replacement and I agree with them. Interested?”

  Jim was thrown off by Ted’s no-nonsense, direct approach. Of course he wanted the job, and he knew he would get the offer, but he didn’t think it would be this fast.

  But what do you expect from a man who still likes to roll up his sleeves, loosen his tie and mark up copy just like the other editors.

  Jim kept his enthusiasm in check with his response. “I would enjoy the challenge, sir.”

  A grin broke out on Ted’s face and the mood in the room lightened.

  “Great. We’ll make the announcement today after lunch. Charlie won’t formally leave until the end of the month, but Ken says you can write one column a week until then.”

  Ken broke in to the conversation. “Your first piece is due next Friday. Keep it light and local. Hit up the other reporters for contacts. You’ll need them. Make a few friends before you go for the jugular of crime and corruption.”

  Jim internalized the advice while the four of them talked particulars for the next 15 minutes. Jim began making a mental list of column ideas he would write down as soon as he got back to his desk. The meeting broke up and they all went back to work. On the way back, he noticed Melissa at her desk, and he went over to share the good news. Jim’s eyes were as big as his smile.

  “Got the job!”

  “Way to go!” Melissa gave Jim a high five.

  Jim spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon working on ideas for his first column. He came up with, and quickly dismissed, six or seven possibilities. The only thing that came to mind was the connection between Measure B, New Creation Fellowship, Larry and Delores Holcombe and Angela De La Cruz. If only he could get someone to talk to him, even off the record would be fine.

  The announcement came about 2:30 p.m. when Ted came out of his office, walked to the center of the newsroom and was joined by Charlie and Ken. He called for everyone’s attention. The reporters, photographers and editors who were busy at keyboards or in conversation stopped their work and looked up. Only two reporters who were conducting phone interviews didn’t leave their duties

  Once he had everybody’s attention, Ted made the announcement.

  “As many of you know, Charlie Stein has been working for the Courier for 15 years. He has done everything from copy editing to sports writing to beat reporting to his columns. Now Charlie is leaving us to become a reporter at the San Francisco Chronicle. I tried to tell him it was a step down, but he wouldn’t listen.”

  There was a mixture of laughter and applause in response.

  “Taking his place is a top-notch reporter who’s been with us for the last eight years. He is a hard worker and knows how to get a story, even when people don’t want to give it to him.” He motioned with two fingers for Jim to join him.

  “Starting July 4th, Jim Mitchell will be the Courier’s new columnist. He’s going to be our muckraker. So if you have some muck, share it with him.”

  Jim soaked in the blend of clapping, cheers and laughter. Looking around the room, his eyes landed on Melissa, who, he swore, was beaming with excitement.

  He just stood there and reveled in the moment.

  9

  8:45 a.m. Monday, June 9

  As soon as Jim got to work the following Monday, he made calls on his regular stories for the week as well as starting his first column for Friday. While he wanted to focus on the Angela De La Cruz-Larry Holcombe connection, Charlie advised him to hold off on the topic until at least his second week.

  “You have to let people get to know you first before they will listen to you. Just because you have your picture and name next to your article doesn’t mean they trust you any more than the guy you are shredding to bits.”

  Jim decided to take their advice and write a “get-to-know-me” type of column, but w
ith his trademark sarcastic wit.

  After all, that’s how I got the job in the first place.

  But he was still planning to get to the bottom of why Larry’s daughter had a new name and what the councilman had against New Creation. He thought about calling Larry directly, but Jim knew he would be as evasive as before. Jim decided to take a different approach. Opening the address book in his email software he quickly found the perfect source. He put on his headset and dialed the number.

  “Holcombe Realty, this is Janet.”

  Jim introduced himself and asked for Delores. After he was put on hold, Jim opened the manila file folder sitting on his desk and picked up the campaign brochure with the family photo on the back.

  Delores Holcombe answered the phone in her professional voice. “This is Delores, how may I help you?”

  “Hi Delores, this is Jim Mitchell from the Courier. I’m doing a follow-up story on Measure B and its aftereffects, and I wanted to get some comments from you.”

  Jim conducted a standard interview for the next few minutes. In actuality, he did need to write a small follow-up story on Measure B, but that provided a pretext to talk about other things, like Angela. After he ran out of the scripted interview, he moved on to the juicier questions.

  “Delores, who’s Angela De La Cruz?” Jim hoped the question would shake her up enough to divulge some information.

  By her pause, Jim knew his question had found its mark.

  “Huh...what was the name again?”

  “Angela De La Cruz,” Jim wasn’t willing to play games with Delores for too long. “She attends New Creation Fellowship. She’s your daughter, right?”

  “What...uh, no.”

  “I’m looking at your husband’s campaign postcard mailer from four years ago. You know, the one with you, Larry and your daughter, Angie. Now, I saw Ms. Angela De La Cruz at New Creation a couple weeks ago and she looks exactly like the picture on the postcard Larry mailed out to all the registered voters in Emerald Valley. I know who she is, Delores. I’m just trying to find out why this unmarried 22-year-old has a different last name then she did back in high school.”

  Jim paused for effect.

  “Now, eventually I’m going to get someone to tell me what’s going on here. But when I write my story, I’m going to have to say you and Larry wouldn’t comment on my questions. It will look like you have something to hide. Do you want that?”

  “No.” Jim discerned fear and confusion in her timid response.

  “I didn’t think so.” Jim closed in for the kill. “So, when can we get together and talk about Angela?”

  “I’m flying to Atlanta on Thursday for a seminar and my flight takes off at ten-thirty in the morning. Meet me at the Starbucks at Vineyard and Holt in Ontario at eight o’clock and you can ask your questions.”

  Jim heard another voice in the background on the other end of the line, and she ended their conversation abruptly. He took his interview notes and wrote four bland paragraphs about Measure B. Since he had already talked to Diane, Jim only had to call one of the opposing council members for comment. He also called the director of the Bread of Life food bank for reaction as well. By the end of the morning, his story was written and sent off to his editor.

  He spent the afternoon working on his column. After a few false starts, he found the right tone for the piece, respectful but ambitious. Once he found his inspiration, it took him 20 minutes to write his 12-inch column. The column would run in the same place as his predecessor’s did, the front page of the B Section, which focused on local news.

  Jim walked over to the opinions editor to tell him his first column was finished well in advance of Thursday’s deadline and asked him to read it over.

  Ken opened up the document on the computer and said nothing as he read the opening paragraphs.

  MORE OF THE SAME

  By James T. Mitchell

  When Charlie Stein announced in his Wednesday column he was leaving the Courier, many of you were probably genuinely sad.

  You had come to enjoy his strong and fearless writing. You appreciated the fact he didn’t pull punches. If someone was stealing from the public till, he wasn’t afraid to tell it like it was. Charlie Stein took no prisoners.

  But I know some of you are glad to see Charlie head north. Maybe he caught you lying to the public or trying to con a widow out of her life savings. Maybe you thought he was too hard-nosed and straight-edged. He wrote about life in black and white terms which made you uncomfortable living in the gray.

  You’re glad to see him go. Maybe now you think you can go back to business as usual. Maybe now you think you do not have to worry about looking over your shoulder when you abuse the public trust. Maybe you think that with Charlie Stein gone, things will be peaceful and quiet.

  Think again.

  The name’s James T. Mitchell and I’m the new muckraker in town.

  Ken broke the silence. “Interesting.”

  “I thought so. I contemplated going soft for about five seconds, but I remembered people loved Charlie for his head-on approach, so why mess with a good thing?”

  “Hmm.” Ken skimmed through the rest of the article, slowing down at the end of the piece.

  People loved Charlie Stein because he didn’t pull punches.

  Don’t worry; I won’t either.

  James T. Mitchell will be raking the muck on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays full-time starting July 4th. He can be reached at [email protected]

  “You wrote your own tagline,” Ken said matter-of-factly. “Usually that’s something the copy editor takes care of.”

  “You know I’m a bit of a stickler for details.”

  “Maybe it’s something else, like ego?”

  Jim didn’t respond.

  “Listen, you’re a good writer with a great sense of voice who’s a fine replacement for Charlie. But I would be remiss if I didn’t pass on a little advice. I’ve been at this job long enough to know that a little ego comes with the territory, but a lot of ego can make you sloppy and eventually cross lines you never thought you would breach.”

  “I have no intention of violating my journalistic integrity.”

  “Neither did Stephen Glass, Jayson Blair, Rick Bragg or Jack Kelley, and we all know how far they have fallen from grace—”

  Jim was offended to be lumped in with those who had so blatantly violated industry standards to get a story.

  “You think I’m like those guys?”

  “I didn’t say that. Actually, I don’t think that’s going to happen to you. You’re too much of a professional. I just wanted to you make sure you know the warning signs so you don’t make mistakes like that yourself. OK?”

  “Gotcha, boss.”

  “By the way, nice job on the column. I’ll send it to the copy editor tomorrow, and you should be able to see the page proof by Wednesday morning.”

  Jim looked forward to seeing his stories being laid out by the copy editors. Since the B Section focused on community events and people, there were often columns and filler stories that were placed on the page early and checked for errors. That gave the editors time to focus on the late-breaking articles.

  Reporters and columnists enjoyed getting a sneak peek of how their stories would be placed on the page. Jim had written his piece so it would start above the paper’s fold and completely fill the entire first column of the five-column page. Tens of thousands of readers looked at the left-hand column of B-1 for what Charlie Stein would say next. Now they would be reading what he had to say. While he showed bravado in his writing and to his coworkers, Jim admitted to himself he was more than a little bit humbled to be was following in the footsteps of a local legend.

  —

  7:48 a.m. Thursday, June 12

  Jim was glad he arrived at the Starbucks on Vineyard and Holt a few minutes before his meeting was scheduled to begin. Jim had left his loft just past 7 a.m. for the 20-mile drive, not knowing what traffic would be like and not wanting to be lat
e. He was going the opposite direction of morning rush hour, and traffic was flowing smoothly until he had descended the arching ramp from the southbound 57 Freeway to the 10 East and passed Fairplex Drive. For about a mile, the cars in front of him moved as slow as rainwater into a leaf-clogged storm drain. Jim turned on the radio and scanned KFI, KFWB and KNX, but none of them mentioned the cause of the slowdown. Just before White Avenue, he saw a broken down 2003 red Volkswagen New Beetle being loaded onto a Brian’s Towing Service truck.

  Jim breathed a sigh of relief as traffic returned to normal speed. He mentally reviewed the list of questions for Delores he had written on his notepad. He didn’t know what to expect from this meeting, and that bothered him. He hated not being in control, and he definitely was not in control of this situation. He admitted to himself there was not much he could do to change things.

  Oh well.

  —

  Delores was dressed in tan slacks and a white collared blouse. Her Dior sunglasses concealed the nervousness in her eyes. She walked briskly into the coffeehouse five minutes before 8 a.m., glancing over her right shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being followed. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to see her. She hoped Jim had picked a table in the rear for privacy’s sake. She saw Jim sitting in the back and quickly joined him.

  I really don’t need someone to see me talking to a reporter and then say something to Larry.

  She tried to keep her hands from shaking as she placed a sealed 9x12 envelope on the table.

  He offered to buy her a coffee, but she declined.

  Jim flipped opened his notepad. “So, tell me about Angela.”

  “Angie was a good kid, she really was. Honor roll. Perfect attendance. Varsity cheer her sophomore year. Active in the youth choir at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church. We still go there, by the way. Yeah, she was doing really well back then.”

  Delores retrieved a tissue from her purse before continuing. “Angie changed after she turned 16. She started drinking, and we thought she might be doing drugs, too. Larry sat her down one day and talked to her for an hour and a half. Told her how sad and disappointed he was. He really poured his heart out, which he doesn’t do that often. Angie told him she felt he loved his work more than he loved her. His whole life was wrapped up in city politics and she never saw him anymore. They both apologized. They even cried together.