Whistleblower Ch. 02

"What is that over there?" I asked as I observed something at the eastern end of the Square. As we walked towards there, I could see that it was 'trusted' reporter John Hardwood. He was there with a cameraman, and was talking with four people that had signs.

As we walked up, we could see that Hardwood was coaching the 'protesters'. "Okay, you'll be chanting, and then I'll come up with the camera, and you guys with the signs get behind Chelsea here, to make it look like there are more people behind you. Then Chelsea will make her statement, and... what?"

Two people were standing nearby, doing some camerawork of our own. Cindy and I were filming Hardwood's actions on our iPhones.

"Hey!" barked Hardwood when he saw us. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Filming you arranging and staging fake news." I replied.

"Who the fuck said you could film me?" snarled Hardwood, coming at us. Neither Cindy nor I bothered to respond; Hardwood attacking us would've been welcomed by us... and suicide for Hardwood.

After a moment, it was clear we were not leaving nor stopping our filming of this staged news event. "We're not breaking the law here." Hardwood finally said. "So why are you filming us? This is harassment."

"What," I said sarcastically, "you don't believe in the First Amendment freedom of the Press, Hardwood?" Cindy laughed as she kept right on filming.

"You're not reporters, you're just a couple of fucking jerks." growled Hardwood. "No Media outlet will ever show that."

I laughed. "Straight to YouTube, Hardwood." I said. "Straight to YouTube." Hardwood blanched as he realized I was not kidding.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"This is Bettina Wurtzburg, KXTC Channel Two News at Noon!" said the redheaded reporterette. "People everywhere are watching the newly-posted YouTube video of KSTD reporter John Hardwood coaching persons on how to protest. Roll tape."

A tape rolled, showing the YouTube video of what Cindy had recorded this morning, as it's quality was a bit better than my iPhone's recording. They gave credit to 'Commander Don Troy' as the account that posted the film, which was titled 'Meet Reporter John Hardwood'...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Those bastards." muttered Hardwood as he sat in Dan Walther's office, having just been shown the video of him coaching the 'protesters'.

"Look," said Walther, "don't worry about it. It'll blow over. Everyone else does it, too... KXTC, KSB, all the other riff-raff. What you should do is simply keep your mouth shut, don't mention it, as if it never happened."

Hardwood nodded, his face beet-red with fury. Walther dismissed him.

He walked down the side of the big room, once a thriving area of beat reporters at their desks, but now only half-full. Going outside, he made a call on his cell phone.


"Hi, Thomas." he said when Thomas P. Cook answered the phone. "Yes... yes, I saw it... and that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Yes, let's do it... I'm all in. Let's destroy that fucking piece of shit Troy..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I thought of the letter I had written and sent to the Scouts of Troop 223 in Rocktown: "Of the twelve points of the Scout Law, one is that 'A Scout is Brave'. What does being 'brave' mean in the age of today? It means having the courage to stand up for what is right, in the face of all opposition, in the face of the voices attempting to silence yours by shouting you down, perhaps by attacking you.

"Your Scoutmaster was a very brave man. He saw wrong, and tried to right it. He was Trustworthy, he was Helpful, he was Loyal to what was right. But above all, he was Brave. As you go forward with your lives, let Scoutmaster Wheeler's courage be in your own hearts."

Little did I know what was about to happen. Little did I know that Larry Wheeler's bravery would be needed in my own heart for what I was about to endure...

Finis... for now.