“I’m sorry, JP, I forgot to mention to you how sorry we at GNZ are for your loss.”
“The only thing you’ll be sorry about is if you don’t follow up on the lead I’m about to give you. Here’s the scoop—Noah’s death wasn’t a suicide. Do you remember those terrorists who put a bounty on me last year?”
His eyes grew wide behind his spectacles. “You’re telling me that Al Muttahedah killed your brother in an act of revenge?” he asked with a little too much excitement.
“No, what I was going to tell you is that when it’s revealed who was behind Noah’s death, it will be bigger than that.”
Right on schedule, Lauren returned. “So have you come to your senses, John Peter, and decided to come back to work for me at GNZ?”
When she realized that the answer was no, her face flushed with anger.
But before the tongue lashing commenced, Cliff spoke, “JP won’t be re-joining us at this time, but he offered us a lead on a big story.”
Her pouty look perked up. “How big?”
“Huge,” I said. I’d broken so many big stories over the years that they couldn’t completely dismiss me. “There will be a press conference here at Rockfield Town Hall first thing tomorrow morning, at which the police will announce the arrest of the man who killed my brother. And when the name is released, it will be the biggest story of the year, I promise you. I took the liberty of booking you both rooms at the Hastings Inn here in town, so you can be there bright eyed and bushy tailed.”
Sutcliffe didn’t need convincing, GNZ hadn’t broken a big story since I’d left. Lauren appeared visibly intoxicated. This was too easy—like shooting fish in a barrel. Although, I once watched Carter try to do that and it wasn’t really that easy.
The game ended with Rockfield winning 52-6. “You want an interview tonight?” I asked.
“Of course, John Peter,” Lauren could barely contain herself.
I led them onto the field and introduced them to my brother Ethan, who was sporting the smile of a victorious coach.
Lauren looked indignant. “I thought you wanted me to interview you, John Peter—your first official interview since being captured. Why would I interview
him?”
I shrugged. “Because he’s the winning coach. They always interview the winning coach.”
I guess she wasn’t interested because she stormed off, muttering to herself. Sutcliffe followed, but gave me a thumbs-up to indicate they’d be at the press conference.
I congratulated Ethan on the win, and he predictably gave credit to the players.
On my way out, I again made eye contact with the man claiming to be Officer Jones. I smiled at him, which seemed to momentarily confuse him. I might not be cutting edge, but this old dog still had a couple tricks up his sleeve.
Chapter 80
Rockfield Town Hall
October 8
Rain fell steadily on Saturday morning. A group of reporters gathered under the dark skies outside the Rockfield Town Hall, holding umbrellas and wearing rain-slickers.
For those who claimed I’d inevitably return to the life of chasing the big story, I guess they were right, because even though I stood off to the side as an observer, I was directly in the eye of the storm.
Just as I suspected, and was counting on, Lauren was unable to keep her yapper shut. Which explained how everyone from NBC to CNN showed up to provide national coverage of the arrest of Grady Benson. He always wanted his story to be grandiose. The lesson: be careful what you wish for … you just might get it.
Lauren flashed me a dirty look across the press row, unhappy that word of the press conference spread to other networks—oblivious that she was the one responsible for the leak.
Most of the reporters on hand looked as if they’d just graduated college. It used to be that when word leaked of GNZ covering a story, everyone would follow them with their ‘A’ team. That wasn’t the case anymore, which I took into account. With the JV on the story, I wasn’t sure they’d ask the right questions, so I planted Christina in the crowd with a list of questions I wanted answered.
At exactly nine o’clock, Maloney burst through the front doors of Town Hall, wearing a dark pinstriped, three-button Tasmanian wool suit. If this didn’t work out, he could very well be buried in the same suit in a few days’ time. He walked in front of the reporters in an informal style, trailed by two uniformed Rockfield police officers. One was Chief Rich Tolland, and to my delight, the other was Officer Jones, aka the real Grady Benson.
Maloney looked nervous, which seemed reasonable, considering his life was on the line. I was more interested in Gwen’s life and encouraged him to “get on with it” with an impatient nod of my head. Once the lies started flowing off his tongue he seemed to find his comfort zone.
His voice was confident, but muffled by the click of flashbulbs and the pitter-patter of rain on umbrellas, “Thank you all for coming. I know the conditions are not the best, but I have an important announcement to make. We’re here to announce an arrest in the death of Noah Warner.
“Original reports of a suicide were premature, and we have continued to explore all possibilities this past month. Last night, a local drifter named Grady Benson was picked up for questioning and subsequently arrested for the murder.”
I examined Benson’s face. He remained stoic, but watchful.
Maloney went on, “Without provocation, Mr. Benson confessed to the crime. The police were initially skeptical, but the bullet found in Noah Warner matched the weapon we found in possession of Mr. Benson.”
Christina shouted over the buzzing reporters, “Mr. First Selectman, if you knew about the gunshot, why was it originally listed as a suicide?”
Maloney introduced Chief Rich Tolland as someone more qualified to answer. Unlike his cohort, he wasn’t a very good liar so he spoke in a nervous tone. “Our strategy was to make the guilty party feel comfortable. Our investigation never stopped treating Noah’s death as a homicide, and the family was informed about our investigation. They understood that the killer could have slipped out of town if he felt threatened.”
Maloney introduced Kyle Jones as the police officer on the scene. Only Gwen’s precarious situation kept me from breaking into a big grin.
“Is it true that Officer Jones didn’t hear the gunshots that night, and the bullet was discovered later?” Christina again bullied the rest of the national media to get her question out. She had a future in this.
Rich stepped forward once again. “That is correct. Officer Jones attempted to convince Mr. Warner to get down from a position on top of Samerauk Bridge, trying to prevent him from harming himself. That’s where his focus was, and should have been. There was also loud thunder present on the night in question, making it hard to hear. It was logical that Officer Jones believed Noah Warner’s fall was intentional, as we all did at first.”
The still-too-young-to-be-cynical press clapped for Officer Jones. I held back any applause for the man who killed my bother. But I did wish I could have been a fly on the wall when Maloney and Rich Tolland informed the real Grady Benson of the arrest.
“Was there a silencer used?” asked a young female reporter from CNN. They were catching up quick.
“I can’t get into the specifics of the investigation at this time,” Rich stated.
“Where was the gunshot wound?” followed up the same reporter.
“Back of the head, but that’s all I can say,” Rich said.
Christina aggressively jumped back in. “My sources tell me that while in custody, Grady Benson confessed to numerous high profile murders. I was also told he passed two separate lie detector tests. Can you comment on the validity of the report?”
“I can’t comment on that at this time.”
Christina pushed, “So are you denying that Benson confessed to murdering former NFL football player Leonard Harris, along with US Senator Craig Kingsbury?”
The other reporters gasped. A buzz in the air was palpable. They were starting to realize they were in the middle of catching their first big break in the business. Sort of.
“The only arrest concerning our department is for the murder of Noah Warner. These other so called ‘high profile’ confessions will be turned over to the FBI for a full investigation. We will cooperate with them in any way we can.”
I kept sneaking peeks at the guest of honor, who stood like a statue. I tried to gauge the thoughts in his psychotic mind. I doubted he was very happy that his life’s work was being hijacked right before his eyes.
Lauren was not holding her anger well. “Lauren Bowden … GNZ … this is ridiculous! The case of Craig Kingsbury has already been solved. As first reported on GNZ, Ron Culver confessed to the murder in his suicide note.”
“Like I said before, ma’am, the only arrest we are making at this time is for the murder of Noah Warner. Any additional charges against Mr. Benson will be determined only after an FBI investigation—it’s out of our jurisdiction.”
Rich took another question from Christina. “What was Mr. Benson’s motivation for killing Noah Warner?”
After looking at Maloney, as if to get permission, Rich answered, “As the First Selectman stated earlier, we are in the early stages of this investigation. But what’s clear is that Mr. Benson was affected greatly by his parents being killed by a drunk driver. All the victims Mr. Benson confessed to killing had some link to a drunk driving fatality, including Noah Warner.”
Lauren was still not satisfied. “Do you have any evidence, besides the confession of this homeless guy, that he was involved in any way in the murder of Senator Kingsbury? How would a homeless guy get to North Carolina? Don’t you see how ludicrous this is?”
Rich just shrugged his shoulders. Welcome to my world, Chief. I flashed Maloney a look to indicate he needed to stop mugging for the national cameras and wrap this thing up.
“I just want the people of Rockfield to know they are safe and always have been. And with dedicated servants like Chief Tolland and Officer Jones behind me, they will continue to be. Grady Benson never targeted average citizens—he specifically chose his victims based on their past actions.” A satisfied look formed on his face and I thought for a moment he might take a bow. He was probably already strategizing how he was going to ride this all the way to the governor’s mansion.
At that point, Rich announced that they were going to hand out the latest photo of Grady Benson to the media members present. He had Officer Jones assist him in this endeavor—awkward. The picture was of Christina’s friend, and Fordham theater major, Damon, who was getting his big acting break. Sort of. With the help of make-up he looked twenty years older, which would coincide with Benson’s current age.
A young JP Warner would have done his due diligence and found an old photo of Benson. He would have been fascinated by how much he looked like Officer Jones and dug deeper, but that type of detail is no longer prevalent in the rapid pace of the modern 24-hour news cycle. So I doubted any connection would be made.
Lauren gave me a dirty look on her way out, but Chuck smiled at me. He knew I’d delivered him a big story. But little did he know that I’d completely gone to the dark side and finally embraced the modern cable news mantra of: if you don’t like the news, make up your own. I once thought that newsertainment would be the end of me, but now I realized it might be the one chance to save my life.
Chapter 81
Sunday October 9
I drove the van to the
Gazette
headquarters to get the first edition. I sat at Gwen’s desk, drinking coffee that Murray had brought, along with a bag of jelly-filled doughnuts.
The headline read:
Local Drifter Arrested in Noah Warner’s Murder
.
I read the front-page story that I wrote under Gwen’s name. It wasn’t too bad, considering I hadn’t written for a newspaper since college, but it didn’t compare to Gwen’s work, and I knew it.
I moved on to the more important, and much better written, full-page editorial. As only Murray can do, he turned Benson into a heroic figure, lashing out at the epidemic of drunk driving that took approximately eleven-thousand lives last year, more than triple the number of lives lost in 9/11. Where is the outrage? he asked. He compared Benson’s actions to everyone from Robin Hood to New York subway vigilante Bernie Goetz. And of course, Batman.
He used his endless connections to get the editorial run in most major newspapers around the country. The article sparked debate, much to Murray’s delight. He always was a firm believer in the accuracy of news stories, but the editorial page was the playground for his contrarian nature. The “Hero vs. Vigilante” question was being argued on the Sunday morning news shows, and trending on the Internet. Grady Benson was getting his headlines.
Murray put on his fedora and headed toward the door. Before leaving, he turned back to me with a smile. “I’m off to church, John Pierpont. Hopefully nobody will decide to hang me on one of those many crosses they like to decorate the walls with.”
“Thanks for everything, Murray.”
“We will get our girl back, don’t worry.”
He didn’t have any sources to back it up, but his words made me feel a lot better. When he exited stage left, I skimmed through the rest of the paper. A fake opinion poll said 75% of all citizens in the area believe Benson performed heroic deeds and shouldn’t be prosecuted. Fake letters to the editor vociferously praised Benson. We were turning him into the heroic figure he craved to be. The only problem for him was that he was no longer Grady Benson. Two can play that game.
I leaned back in my chair and ran my hands through my hair. I thought about the beautiful editor who the letters were addressed to.
Chapter 82
Ocracoke Island
Monday October 10