Good morning one and all. Today I may be a little on the sleepy side, but it is the natural sort of I didn’t sleep well sort of tired and not the something in my system is still making me foggy. Kind of nice after this week actually. although I am still kicking myself for not seeing it sooner. Still what is done is done and we must press on. Are you ready for today’s writing prompt? I am. I am actually looking forward to it. I think its because i always liked the word resolved. Do you know it doesn’t just mean determined? It means determined not to do something. I don’t know why that specificity tickles me but it always does.
To each his own I suppose.
Friday, August 27th: He was resolved.
He was resolved. He would not reveal his sources. He remembered growing up, hearing journalists say that in movie and television. He thought it smart and dignified. In a way he thought of the information given to a journalist as similar to a confession given to a priest. There were differences of course. The priest heard the confession, absolved guilt and kept the secret of the misdeed locked within himself.
The journalist on the other hand was honor bound to reveal the secret while keeping the identity of the one who spoke a secret from reprisals so that the truth could be revealed and the guilty punished. While the results were different, the official standing of the two were similar enough in his mind to have formed a connection.
When he became a journalist, he took this as his sacred trust and viewed it in the same light as a vow to god. He would disclose the truth to the world and protect those who revealed the guilty from reprisals by shielding their anonymity.
He never told anyone oif this belief and as his career flourished, he began to feel silly for having it. He still kept it close, but in reality it was almost never tested. His journalistic life did not lead him to the sorts of stories where anyone needed to be shielded from reprisal. In many cases where there could be some blow back, the person providing the information wanted to be front and center giving it. They wanted their name printed at the bottom of the television screen, they wanted their face in the center of the camera’s eye and they wanted to be remembered as the one who told the dirty details others wanted to keep hidden.
Many times over the years, Jared often wondered if priests heard as many lies as he did. He wasn’t certain what anyone would hope to gain by lying in a confessional. In his line of work they often lied or at least bend the truth to suit their own needs or desires. Sometimes it was monetary gain, more often it was ego and self-esteem. The people who spoke to him wanted to seem like they were doing the right thing for the right reasons. They often wanted to ease their own guilt over their participation or shift blame for their own participation elsewhere. He was merely the medium through which they would do it. He was a tool in their eyes.
He had a reputation for research and for ferreting out the little details that were often missed by those looking at the big picture. He thought this might discourage the worst of those who wanted justification, but he found the opposite was true. His attention to detail earned him a following as a journalist who could be trusted in a sea of network stoolies. People sought him out believing his willingness to interview them would further assist with their spin.
‘After all if Jared is the one reporting the incident…’ It was a phrase he heard publicists use often. Sometimes it worked, sometimes he found the information they didn’t want to reveal. Sometimes they were good with the spin, other times not. It depended on the person and the circumstances, but still they asked for him.
This time was different. He could feel it in his bones. This time, there would be someone who wasn’t looking for center stage or redemption in the eyes of the public. This time his resolution would be tested.