As the Wicked Watch(87)

Then I heard my name.

“Jordan, I’m calling you out. You’ve been on this story since the beginning. I know you think we failed off the top for having a blind spot when it came to covering the story and giving it the attention it should’ve received from the start, and you were right,” Nussbaum said. “And those are the things we have to come to grips with. What kind of baggage are we carrying into the newsroom? And are we as guilty as anybody else of valuing one type of person over another?”

Some of my colleagues nodded in agreement while others grimaced, disagreeing with Nussbaum’s blanket statement. Not everybody recognizes their bias, and rubbing their noses in it doesn’t make it any better.

“But now we’re faced with this awful set of circumstances of children accused of murder. Not gang violence, but a savage murder of an innocent girl. And I imagine, some of us are experiencing disbelief much like what we’re hearing about in the black community.”

“Disbelief over what? That they were charged?” Keith interjected.

A voice in the crowd said, “Do you know how many people were sentenced to death row in Illinois alone who were innocent?”

Keith didn’t answer the question. Instead, he responded, “You really need to give the police a break. They’re doing the best job they can. This idea that all cops are bad cops or ready to set up some kids has been overplayed. There are some bad apples, I’ll give you that. But there are also plenty of bad apples in the hood.”

Both his tone and his choice of the hood didn’t play well among his peers, eliciting groans and exasperated sighs.

Ellen jumped in and went for the jugular. “Keith, be careful. I know you think every situation is an audition for your cable news show. But we’re trying to have a productive conversation here based on facts, not what-about-isms.”

“Wow!” I said, louder than I meant to. Simone discreetly hit my thigh with a swift pop! reminiscent of the way my aunt used to correct me in church when I was playing too much and distracting the entire pew from the sermon.

“Look, the police have done very little to help themselves,” I said. “None of the evidence that they have provided explains why these boys are in custody right now. And to be honest with you, I don’t believe they did it.”

“Why? Because they’re Black?” Keith asked.

“No, Keith, because I’ve been talking to people, not talking about people. I’ve actually been doing my job. Not to mention that I have the ability to see them as innocent before proven guilty, whereas someone like you struggles with that, and I’m sure you’re not the only one in here.”

“You act like the only way a person can understand someone is if they’re from their neighborhood. That’s ridiculous!” Keith said.

“Am I from their neighborhood, Keith? Am I from their neighborhood? No! I’m not even from Illinois.”

“So, let me ask you, what proof do you have that they didn’t do it?” Keith asked.

“The same proof I had that Masey James wasn’t a runaway—they don’t fit the profile.”

I’d allowed Keith to bait me into a sanctimonious posture. We were dominating the conversation, and I sensed our colleagues were growing irritated with us both. So did Ellen.

“Guys, guys,” Ellen intervened. “This is not about the two of you or your egos. This isn’t the type of honesty we were hoping for.”

Keith, not interested in defusing the situation, went into attack mode. “Hey, Jordan, since we’re opening up, why don’t you tell us how you took an intern out on assignment and put her life in danger.”

His words hit me like a sucker punch. My eyes narrowed to an infuriated squint. He wasn’t finished.

“You’re questioning my integrity? Your professionalism is in the toilet and your career should be, too, given what Grace said happened when you took her out.”

No good deed . . .

“Screw you, Keith!” I said. “And speaking of toilet, excuse me, I’m going to the ladies’ room.”

But I had no intention of going to the bathroom. I was headed to my car in the garage before I said something that could get me fired. Before I reached the elevators, I heard Ellen behind me.

“Jordan! Jordan! Wait! Stop!”

I didn’t want to talk to Ellen. I felt her ego comment was unnecessary. How dare she put me in the same category as Keith, someone we both despise.

“What?” I turned around. “Are you sure you can stand my ‘ego’ long enough to have this conversation?”

“All reporters have egos, Jordan,” she said. “I just said what everybody was thinking. What did happen with Grace?” she went on. “What did he mean by ‘You put her life in danger’?”

“Her life wasn’t in danger, Ellen. Any neighborhood that has more than four Black people is dangerous to him.”

“What was she doing with you in the first place?”

“I was mentoring her, okay? She jumped at the chance to go with me to the area where Masey lived to see if I could get some leads.”

“So you’re telling me you took her after work with no one knowing. Just the two of you? To investigate? Are you crazy?”

“I know you don’t expect me to answer that, do you?”