by Bill Evans
Another waiter walked by with wine and Stewart took one white and one red. He gave the white wine to Lisa, replacing the mostly full glass in her hand. For the next thirty-five minutes, the station owner and the best-looking girl in the Sinatra house stood in the corner by themselves, forgetting the others in the room. By the end of the evening it was clear that there was chemistry between the two.
Simpson didn’t play his normal hand. For whatever reason, he felt differently about Lisa. Not like the others, who he would have just jumped in bed with. This girl from Texas got his attention, but he wasn’t ready to close the deal, and he didn’t understand why.
The reporter couldn’t remember the last time she had such an immediate reaction to someone she had just met. Lisa went to the Sinatra party with the intention of possibly finding her new whale. The problem with whale hunting was that you had to be very careful that the whale was not the one doing the hunting. For the first time in her life, Lisa felt she might be out of her league. But it was hard to think about that while Jack Jones serenaded the partygoers with his ballads and jazz tunes. This was just another typical night around a piano at someone’s home in Palm Springs. And playing the piano that night was Bill Marx, son of Harpo, one of the Marx brothers.
6
DETECTIVE GLEN BARNES called Jack Router at the TV station to tell him they had a break in the bombing case. He wanted to meet with Jack to discuss what they found. The Ponzi scheme had been shut down immediately after the stories aired three months earlier. Lisa became the face of the story because of her undercover work. She did an excellent job at putting herself in the story, filling in for the injured Tom, who took longer than expected to recover.
She ended up testifying in front of the Riverside County grand jury about her undercover piece. She did so under subpoena. Lisa didn’t really say anything. It was the code of journalism. The TV station always made the DA’s office subpoena materials or anything else they wanted because TV3 needed to protect their journalistic integrity. In this case, the word integrity meant something.
Tom Preston testified as well but didn’t provide any of the information the prosecution was hoping the grand jury would hear, including who tipped Tom off about the Ponzi meetings and the story in general. Tom wasn’t about to give up his sources. Tom didn’t face any penalties because the DA didn’t want to pursue that line of information. The DA’s office was very mindful that in doing so they would appear to be making an issue out of the wrong thing.
By the end of the grand jury hearing, twelve prominent community leaders were charged with involvement in an illegal Ponzi scheme. It was determined that as many as a thousand people had participated. The notable community leaders were targeted for prosecution because they used their leadership and influence to bring others into the pyramid. This story would drag on for six more months as the defendants tried to cut individual plea bargains.
***
Detectives Barnes and DiSanto were still working the real criminal case, which was still unsolved: who set the bomb that killed TV3’s photographer and caused so much damage.
“Dick, it sounds like they may have some information about the bombing. They’d like to meet with the two of us this afternoon. Are you available?”
Jack Router was glad that some progress had been made. His department had not heard anything new for a long time. The news director and general manager would meet with the detectives later that day.
“I’ll have to move a few appointments, but yes, I’m available. This is still a priority for all of us.”
Dick Thomas had talked about how quickly people seemed to forget the tragedy that happened the day the bomb went off. The general manager didn’t want anyone to forget.
“I told them we’d come over to the police station so no one would see us meeting with them. We’ll need to leave around 1:15.”
The two men could only imagine what the detectives wanted to share with them. It was still hard to imagine why anyone wanted to target the TV3 live truck. Or, worse yet, maybe the target was news anchor Tom Preston. At this point, no one knew anything. Maybe Dick would get some answers today. A day didn’t go by that Dick didn’t think about Terry Lynch, the photographer who was killed in the explosion.
***
“We appreciate the two of you coming over here. Can we get you anything?” Detective Glen Barnes had become more friendly with the news director through this experience. They found themselves connecting several times a week to grab some beers and lie to each other. Neither one of them had many friends, so it was easy to find friendship with each other.
“No, we’re good. Have you got a suspect?” Dick Thomas hoped for some positive news for a change.
“We’re not quite sure, but we might have someone of interest.” Before the general manager or news director could ask, Glen continued, “Do you have an employee named Brian Tyler?”
The GM and news director looked at each other, puzzled. Dick answered the unexpected question. “Yes. Brian is a master control operator for us. Why are you asking about Brian?”
Detective DiSanto looked at some notes before speaking. “He’s the son of John Tyler, a college counselor and member of the school board.”
The TV3 executives’ minds were spinning. They kind of understood what was being said but really needed to confirm what they thought they were hearing. Jack Router went into his news mode.
“Brian is the son of John Tyler,” said Jack, talking himself through the scenario. “John Tyler was one of the community leaders who we implicated in our news story as a leader in the Ponzi scheme.”
The news director looked at his general manager. The same light bulb seemed to go off at the same time.
“Are you thinking Brian is involved? Do you think he’s the bomber?” Dick blurted.
Detective Barnes anticipated the questions and was ready with his answers.
“It gives him motive.” The room was very quiet. The two executives were still trying to wrap their heads around the information being presented. “There’s more. Brian Tyler served in the Marines until he was dishonorably discharged. When we dug a little deeper into his background, we found out that he had some anger issues and a tendency to blow things up. There was an incident that almost killed his commanding officer while on training exercises. Brian didn’t like the fact that he was overlooked for an assignment. He planted an explosive device to scare his sergeant. Brian was lucky because it didn’t explode like it was supposed to. When the Marines investigated they determined it was Brian’s work. He denied it, of course. But, a little later on in the investigation, he said he didn’t understand what the big deal was because no one was hurt.”
“Wow! This seems so unreal,” said Dick, who had been a general manager long enough to always expect the unexpected. This was still something he never thought he’d have to deal with.
“So how do we handle this? What’s the game plan? I’m thinking you will be arresting him? Do you have enough to arrest him?”
“We still don’t have great evidence, but we feel we are getting closer. We just didn’t want this guy to be working under your roof without you knowing what we’re thinking. We think that Brian found out about the story that Tom Preston was doing and that Tom was going to name his dad. Our theory is that he was just trying to stop the live shot from happening that night, and therefore his dad wouldn’t be implicated. That’s our theory at this point. And no, we don’t have enough to arrest him right now. But we certainly have enough to question him.”
“I don’t get it. Did he think that blowing up the live truck would kill the story? That makes no sense. Of course we would still do the story.”
“Yes, but you’re thinking rationally. We don’t believe Brian Tyler is rational in his thinking.”
Dick now had to contend with knowing that an employee currently working in his station might have been the one responsible for killing his photographer, injuring Tom Preston, and blowing up their live truck, causing almost two hundr
ed thousand dollars in damage
“What do we do next?” he asked the detectives.
Detective Barnes looked the room over and said, “We have a plan. Dick, we think you should have a conversation with Brian. Tell him that you’ve been contacted by the police investigators and that we’d like to meet with him. Tell Brian you don’t know what it’s about, except that the police want to talk to him about the bombing.”
“You think he might confess if he thinks you suspect him?” Jack was trying to make sense of what he was hearing.
“No, but it would be great if it was that easy.” Detective Barnes tried to stress the danger of having a conversation like this with a person of Brian’s mental status. “The goal here is to see if Brian will tip his hand to us. We don’t have enough evidence to arrest him right now. This kind of confrontation could tip him over and give us a reason to take him in custody.”
“Is it safe for him to still work at the station while he’s being investigated? I’ve got to think about the safety of everyone that works for me. What if I tell him that the police want to talk to him and until this issue is cleared up I must suspend him, with pay? Would that work for you?” Dick asked.
The detectives thought about the general manager’s question. Detective Barnes said, “That’s not a bad idea. You might want to run that by your HR department to see if you can do that. Right now, we only want to talk to him. Maybe if you could position it in a way to make him think it would be better for him to take a few days off to talk to the police.”
Detective DiSanto jumped in. “Or maybe use the time off to help his dad get through this.”
Dick appreciated and considered their ideas. “I’ll figure something out.”
Brian worked from four to one in the morning. The station had two master control operators on during the six and eleven o’clock newscasts. They overlapped so that one of them could concentrate 100 percent on the news shows. Covering Brian’s shift tonight wouldn’t be a problem. They would talk to him before his shift started. They agreed that they would get Wesley, the business manager and self-appointed HR expert, in on the meeting.
Right before the meeting was going to break up, Jack Router spoke up with a new idea. “What if we did this? We’ll ask Brian to come to Dick’s office before his shift starts. The detectives will be waiting. I will escort Brian up from master control. He won’t think anything of it because my office is just down the hall. We’ll introduce him to the two of you and then tell him that you want to talk to him about the live truck bombing. Let’s see what his reaction is. Then you can take him to the police station to interview him. This way we don’t have to suspend him, and we should see a reaction one way or the other. Quite honestly, I’ll feel more comfortable in Dick’s office with the two of you there. Just in case he flips out.”
“I like that idea the best,” Detective Barnes said. “Okay, what time do you want us to show up?”
“Get over to my office by 3:45.” Dick felt like they at least had a plan now.
The four shook hands in agreement.
***
Brian arrived at the station ten minutes before his master control shift was to start, as usual. Ron, the master control supervisor, saw Brian first, and, as requested, called the news director to let him know Brian was in the building. Jack hung up and headed over to master control. Approaching Brian, Jack said, “Hey, Brian, Dick wants us to go up to his office before you start your shift.”
Jack thought that sounded innocent enough.
“Okay. You know what for?”
“He just asked me to grab you and bring you upstairs.” Jack and Brian headed to Dick’s office.
When Brian walked through the open door, he saw Jack, Dick, and two individuals he didn’t recognize.
Wesley was also in the room, which told him that something was up.
“Brian, come in. This is Palm Springs Police Detective Glen Barnes and Detective Sandi DiSanto. They’d like to ask you some questions if that’s okay.”
“What about?”
“We want to do this down at the station. You can ride with us and then we’ll bring you back.” DiSanto was trying to make this as casual as possible.
Things were happening so fast in Brian’s head that everyone could see the wheels turning.
“You okay with this, Brian?” Dick Thomas’s voice was calm and soothing.
“Shit! You know, don’t you?” Brian’s face changed color and his eyes grew as big as saucers. He took a couple of steps back toward the door he had just entered.
“Brian, know what? We don’t know anything. We are talking to everyone and we’d like to take this time to talk to you, if that’s okay.” Detective Barnes tried to calm him down. He saw that very dangerous, glazed look that came over too many of his suspects when they knew something terrible was going to happen to them.
Brian bumped back against the wall. In a matter of seconds, he’d removed his backpack, surprising everyone in the room by pulling out a .38 caliber.
“Gun!” screamed Detective Barnes.
Brian Tyler put the barrel to his temple and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed through the building, like one of those loud backfires everyone was used to hearing from the alley next to the station. Brian’s brains splattered across the walls and carpet. Blood sprayed the five people in the room.
Dick, Jack, Wesley, and the detectives stood frozen in shock. Detective Barnes called for emergency vehicles on his radio. Several people ran to the general manager’s office and saw the horror on everyone’s faces. Brian was on the floor, his blood spilling onto the carpet. Dick, trying to be inconspicuous, leaned over his trash basket and threw up. And just like that, the scene was over.
TV3 was again going to be their own lead story—something that television stations tried to avoid. It was happening way too often and, sooner or later, Dick Thomas knew Stewart Simpson would get tired of it.
7
LISA ADDELSON TRIED to comprehend her first five months in broadcasting. Her roommate was beaten the day she arrived to start her new career. Then, the attacker committed suicide. Lisa’s first assignment was a major undercover story. She came to the station on the heels of a station cameraman dying and the main anchor getting blown up with the station’s live truck. She met Frank and Barbara Sinatra, and, more importantly, she met Stewart Simpson, the owner of the station she worked for. Now, one of the master control operators had blown his brains out, literally inside her general manager’s office. This shook the core out of everyone at TV3.
The investigation about the bombing ended. Everyone believed that Brian Tyler was the sole person responsible for blowing up the live truck. But no one would ever know for sure. Once Brian killed himself, the police agencies closed the case, believing it was solved.
“Lisa, you’ve had a career’s-worth of firsts. If just one of these things happened in someone’s life, it would be considered a special event, and you’ve had one event after another. You’ve only been in this business five months,” said Kristen, who was sitting with Lisa on their couch having one of those rare conversations that there never seemed to be time for.
“I know. Things like this seem to happen in my life a lot.”
“It’s because you’re special. Special things happen to people who can handle special things. As weird as that sounds, you have the touch.”
Lisa didn’t argue. She had recognized this about herself for a long time. She could never explain it to anyone and very seldom tried. Her roommate seemed to understand it, though, and she was glad someone else recognized these things as special, not just unusual, circumstances.
It had been only a month since Brian Tyler shot himself in Dick Thomas’s office. There was a mandatory staff meeting tomorrow at nine o’clock. It had been a long time since the station held a full staff meeting, but considering what everyone had gone through, it was probably a pretty good idea. Because the meeting was scheduled at nine, everyone on the evening shift had to come in.
; “What do you think tomorrow’s meeting’s about?” Lisa asked Kristen. This was going to be Lisa’s first full staff meeting. She was nervous about it. She didn’t know why; Lisa wasn’t one to get nervous. About anything.
“Why ask me? I’m just the morning anchor.” Kristen had a way of saying certain things with a wink.
“You know, you say that, but you seem to always have the inside information when it comes to the station. So, what’s the meeting about?” Lisa looked directly into Kristen’s eyes when she asked the question the second time.
“I have no idea,” Kristen laughed. “But don’t be surprised if something major is announced.” Another wink.
“Major like what?”
“I’m going to bed. I’ve got to be up at 2:30.” Kristen headed down the hall, leaving her roommate to think about what major could mean.
***
Across town at Sirocco’s, one of the best restaurants in the desert, sat Dick Thomas, Stewart Simpson, and Jeff Wallace, Mr. Simpson’s CFO.
“Look, Dick, I appreciate how you are handling this. I think you have to agree that this change needs to be made.”
“I agree, it’s time for me to leave. This past year has been difficult. The topper was watching that kid blow his brains out in my office. I’ve had two employees killed. That’s tough to take.” Dick’s voice cracked with emotion. Since the shooting in his office he had fallen apart. He went to counseling twice a week, but it wasn’t paying off.
Three weeks earlier he picked up the phone and called Simpson, for whom he had worked for more than ten years. They talked openly and honestly. Simpson had Dick talk to Jeff Wallace. Both company men gave Dick their support. Over the past three weeks they worked out a game plan that would provide Dick with what amounted to early retirement.
“Dick, are you sure you don’t want to tell the staff yourself? We’re okay with you being at the meeting.” Wallace was the voice of reason for Madison Broadcasting. Simpson didn’t care about feelings or emotions.