Just the Truth

by Gen LaGreca

  At age thirty-six, Irene Taninger looked as glamorous as the celebrities that dominated the newscasts, reality shows, and other programming on her network. A short-sleeved, figure-hugging satin blouse with the top buttons open, blond hair pulled back in a stylish braided bun, large earrings ornamenting her perfectly made-up face, and glasses sloping down her sculptured nose defined Irene as a woman in the entertainment business. Her long red fingernails tapped her keyboard to bring up a screen.

  "This year, Taninger Entertainment will get a big, new contract. We'll be broadcasting the Pinnacle Awards."

  "Excellent!" said Clark.

  "Here's the letter from Pinnacle's CEO, Mort Bennett." She read from the document on her screen, "'Dear Irene: We at Pinnacle are delighted to be partnering with Taninger Entertainment this year to bring the industry's most vaunted motion picture awards to our growing television audience.'"

  "Congratulations!" said Laura.

  "Good job, sis," added Billie.

  "We're set to sign the contract at a formal signing ceremony that'll be a big media event. And there's more," she teased.

  "What's that?" asked her father.

  "Ken Martin will open the program," Irene said and paused for their reactions.

  Kenneth Martin was the president of the United States.

  "Wow!" exclaimed her youngest sister, Kate.

  "He'll be there live. The sponsors, ads, and money are rolling in. Viewership will set a new record for Taninger Entertainment."

  "How'd you swing that?" asked Billie.

  "I figured that the president could reach his voters through the event, which would be important to him in this reelection year. And Pinnacle's CEO . . . well, I know he's wanted to get in tight with the president since the proposed Fairness Tax on Movie Theaters has been under consideration in Congress. This tax would raise ticket prices and have a huge negative effect on the movie industry, so Mort Bennett has been trying to get the president to say he'd veto the bill if it passed through Congress and ended up on his desk. When I told Mort my plan for Ken to appear live at the Awards Ceremony, he jumped at the chance for face-time with the president to lobby him about the bill in a friendly setting," she boasted. "That's how I enticed Mort to sign on with me, and I reeled Ken in."

  "Now we need to get President Martin to sit down for an interview with Laura," suggested Kate.

  "Wouldn't that be nice," said Laura. "I've made numerous requests, but so far I haven't heard back from his office."

  "I don't think he likes Laura," said Kate, smiling as though she were delivering her sister a compliment.

  "I rather think Ken prefers me!" Irene boasted.

  Ignoring their quips, Clark said, "That's very good news, Irene. Now, let's move on."

  Clark turned to his son, the president of Taninger Sports. The Sports division of Taninger Enterprises owned a professional football team, the DC Slammers.

  "Billie, what've you got?"

  At thirty-four, Billie looked like a sports figure himself, with gym-tightened muscles and stylishly messy, light-brown hair. An open shirt, loosened tie, and rolled up sleeves with no jacket gave him the look of a hands-on executive, impatient with meetings that took him away from his work.

  "In less than five weeks, the DC Slammers will be playing their home opener in our new stadium."

  "How's it coming?" asked Clark.

  "We're ahead of schedule. Ticket sales are through the roof, and with the increased seating capacity of the new venue, we're on target for a record year in sales."

  "And the inspections, are they in order?"

  "No problem. I've got good relations with the local and federal regulators. We're in compliance with everything they've thrown at us. In fact, we're at the cutting edge for professional football stadiums, with bells and whistles that exceed environmental and public safety rules."

  "That's big news!" said Irene.

  The others smiled approvingly.

  "In two weeks, the old stadium will be imploded. I set up a huge media event to cover it. That'll generate fantastic publicity."

  "We're all looking forward to the home opener," said Clark.

  The others nodded.

  "Now, Laura?"

  "I just got some news."

  "Let's have it," said Billie.

  In a sudden flash, Laura thought of the years she had spent learning the business—covering assignments, reporting on them, writing scripts, choosing graphics, selecting stories to put on the air, shooting segments, editing them. She thought of the past two years of grinding work to develop her own show—of battling the skeptics and critics, of gathering a top-notch team, of being on the vanguard of news reporting, of building an audience that trusted the clear facts and straight-talking commentary she offered. Those years at Taninger News congealed into a lump in her throat that made her pause a moment before she could talk.

  "Just the Truth is now the number one news program in the country!"

  She sent the article around the table.

  "That's great, Laura," said Clark.

  "Very nice!" Irene added.

  "Good work," said Billie.

  "Laura, you did it!" Kate gave her older sister a hug. Then she turned to the others. "And you all told her it would never work!"

  Like a miniature canine that barks at the big breeds daring to approach its turf, Kate, the youngest and most outspoken of the children, was unaware of differences of scale when it came to defending things that mattered to her. Ten years ago, when Laura was nineteen and Kate was only nine, their mother had died, and Laura, the sibling closest to Kate in age and temperament, became a surrogate mother. The two sisters were not only uncanny look-alikes—both brunette, with similar features and tall, lean figures—but they were also alike in how they thought and reacted to things. Hence, a bond developed between them, sometimes to the exclusion of the other family members.

  "Katie, dear, you needn't reprimand us. I dare say we're all glad Laura's show worked out," said Clark. "On the other hand, it is edgy. We want to keep building Laura's fan base without having her stir up the entire world."

  "Maybe the world needs stirring up," Kate persisted.

  Laura looked at Kate, amused. She reached over, as she did when Kate was a child, to brush back strands of her sister's hair that had fallen over one eye.

  "And what's your news," Clark asked Kate, "now that you're about to start your junior year in college?"

  Although Kate was not yet a voting member of the company—her stock was being held in trust for her until she reached her twenty-first birthday—she showed great interest in the business.

  "This year I'll be editor-in-chief of the Collier Voice."

  "The third Taninger to be editor-in-chief of Collier University's oldest campus newspaper, after Laura and me!" Clark smiled. "So, tell me, does your interest in newspapers mean you'll want to join Laura at Taninger News after you graduate?"

  "Maybe I'll take your job, Daddy. Won't you be retiring by then?"

  "Don't get your hopes up!"

  Irene and Billie laughed, but only halfheartedly, wary that Kate may have meant what she said. Laura laughed wholeheartedly, hoping Kate did mean it.

  Clark turned to his laptop, calling up screens of data.

  "The numbers look good," he said. He rolled his chair back, folded his hands behind his head, and looked contentedly at his brood.

  "I have to tell you," Clark went on, "I had my doubts about JT's will. I was afraid it would put us at each other's throats. We've had our rough spots," he glanced at Laura, "but it's worked out pretty well."

  Laura remembered the day they had sat in a lawyer's office hearing the surprising terms of Julius Taninger's will. JT had left equal shares of Taninger Enterprises to each of them so that each heir owned a fifth of the privately held corporation.

  Clark smiled at his four children.

  "Yes, JT's plan has worked, at least so far—"

  His mobile phone rang in his pocket with the special tone he
used for only the most important calls, which he handled personally.

  "Yes?" he answered. "Hi, Darcy. What can I do for you? . . . Oh, really? . . . I see . . . Yes, of course, Darcy. I'll take care of it. Don't you worry, now."

  He hung up and faced the others.

  "That was Darcy Egan."

  The others waited, with a hint of concern on their faces. The caller was the chief advisor to President Ken Martin.

  "Laura, what's this about you trying to stir up trouble at the Bureau of Elections?"

  "I'm trying to get information."

  The faces of the others were blank, except for Kate.

  "Don't any of you watch Laura's show?" she asked. "Laura's covering a hot story about the Bureau of Elections. She's trying to track down money they're spending in implementing the new Voter Fairness Act. She has some suspicions about that. Right, Laura?"

  Laura nodded.

  "I may not be the only one," Laura said. "This afternoon I'm meeting with a source involved with the project."

  "Who?" Clark asked with a sharp voice.

  "A high-level person. That's all I'll say."

  "Hey, that's the president's signature program," Irene warned. "You don't want to poke your nose into that."

  "Don't I?" Laura asked.

  "Laura looked at the Bureau of Elections' posted list of contractors that were paid to design and implement the new voting system we're going to have. But the list was incomplete," Kate explained. "See, I watch Laura's show!"

  "The list of contractors and expenditures that the Bureau of Elections posted doesn't add up with what the Department of the Budget shows Elections is spending," Laura added.

  "Don't you have better things to do than weave through agency budgets and try to stir up problems for Ken?" asked Irene.

  "There's a $400 million line item—money that the Department of the Budget shows the Bureau of Elections is paying out, but Elections hasn't accounted for it, and Budget lists the item only as 'Other,' without a recipient," said Laura, "so there's a mystery about what that money is for and who's getting it."

  "It's chump change," said Irene.

  "Who cares, besides just a few policy wonks?" Billie added.

  "Is anyone else covering this so-called story?" Clark asked. "Who in the media thinks this is important?"

  "I do," said Laura.

  "Why should Taninger News be the only media outlet sticking its neck out to fence with the administration?" asked Clark. "We don't want to seem antagonistic to the president."

  "She's always attacking him," Irene complained to her father.

  "But I defended him when his political opponents spread nasty stories about his tax returns, stories that turned out to be false. I was the first one to find out the truth and report it. Remember that?"

  "It's not just the way you report on Ken," Irene continued as if she hadn't heard Laura's response. "It's your show in general. Why are your stories such downers?"

  She paused for a reply but received none.

  "You need more uplift," Irene said. "You need entertainment spots on Just the Truth."

  "And sports coverage too," said Billie.

  "We mustn't be too suspicious, Laura," Clark warned. "We don't want to appear to be against this new voting system, do we? People will think we're against voting rights."

  "But we're not against disclosure, are we?" Laura countered. "By law, these agencies have to disclose the money they spend and where it goes. I've contacted them with my questions—and been ignored. That raises my suspicions."

  "I'm sure they have better things to do than cater to you," said Irene.

  "But I'm the press. Do you think the administration shouldn't have to answer to the press?"

  "You've always been against Ken's Voter Fairness Act!" Irene charged.

  "I have," Laura replied.

  "Now that it's passed, can't you accept it and go on to other things?"

  "No."

  "Why not, Laura?" her father asked. "You remember how the media smeared us as being against the poor, the minorities, the immigrants, the disabled, the elderly, the needy—all because you attacked that law."

  "I said the Voter Fairness Act was a ploy to make people feel as if they were victims of a terrible injustice, and Ken Martin was their savior. It was a ploy to drum up votes for the president and his party. I stand by that."

  "It was a law to protect everyone's right to vote, to make it easier for the disadvantaged, to make sure everybody's vote counted," Irene said.

  "Then why are they hiding a big expenditure of the program from public scrutiny?"

  Looking bored with the meeting, Billie, who avoided politics, checked his phone for messages.

  Clark looked irritated.

  "Your whistleblower may be nothing more than a disgruntled insider looking for attention," Clark said. "It wouldn't be the first time somebody played the media for fools."

  He pointed a finger at Laura.

  "I don't want any more calls about you from Darcy. Watch your step."

  That afternoon Laura stood on the curb outside the Taninger building, the mid-August sun burning her face. Steam rose from the hot pavement to wilt her clothes. The cab she hailed pulled up, and a burst of cool air greeted her as she entered. When she gave the driver the address, he turned around to face her, eyeing her expensive clothes.

  "Sure you wanna go there?"

  "I'm sure," Laura said.

  She was headed to a place called Bailey's, an eatery in a neighborhood—and a world—removed from the stately buildings, expensive shops, and trendy restaurants around Taninger Enterprises.

  She followed the instructions of the man she was to meet: Leave the cameras and crew behind. Arrive in a cab, and pay the driver in cash. Two years ago, when the Voter Fairness Act had passed, she had interviewed the man she was to meet. He was a leading member of the team tasked with its implementation. At that time, her interview with him was on the record; this time, he wanted secrecy.

  She watched as the view outside her cab window changed. The iconic monuments, classic buildings, landscaped thoroughfares, and tourist-packed museums faded behind her, replaced by meager stores with walk-up flats, parking lots with makeshift signs, sidewalks strewn with trash bags, and empty lots bound by chain-link fences to keep the squatters out.

  The driver's radio, tuned to an all-news station, droned back to the passenger compartment. She listened absently.

  "I'm Diane Harris with National Report."

  Music played, and a cheerful voice came through the airwaves.

  "Our segment today is on the new voting system that's being developed by the Bureau of Elections. Earlier today we caught up with the man who's supervising the project, the assistant director of the Bureau of Elections, James Spenser."

  Laura's attention piqued. James Spenser was the informant whom she was traveling to meet.

  The radio host continued her introduction, "Following the Voter Fairness Act that was passed two years ago, our nation is getting a complete overhaul of its voting practices with a new national voting system that guarantees a fair and honest election for everyone. Isn't that right, Mr. Spenser?"

  "That's the idea. A completely new electronic voting system will be ready to roll out in time for the November elections," said Spenser.

  "I love the name you gave it: SafeVote. It inspires such confidence!" Diane Harris sounded as if she were nearly swooning. "Describe SafeVote for us, Mr. Spenser . . . "

  Laura snickered at the name: SafeVote. She remembered how President Ken Martin had chosen to revamp voting in America as the key issue of his first term. The president and his surrogates launched a campaign to correct what they claimed was a grave danger threatening the country. Citizens were being denied the right to vote, they charged. Many of the states had requirements that a person prove citizenship or show official identification before voting, which the new law's proponents said discriminated against the underprivileged. Moreover, the new law's supporters claimed that most
of the states had voting machines that were outdated and could be hacked, and state coffers lacked sufficient funds to update them. There were also instances of voter fraud, which the advocates of revamping the system claimed could only be rectified by the federal government's intervention. These claims of injustice, inaccuracy, and fraud were widely publicized by the president's party, the groups that supported him, and sympathetic reporters.

  Whether the problem was alleged to be discriminatory state laws, outdated voting equipment, or outright voter fraud, the solution proposed by the president and his surrogates was always the same. The voting system needed a thorough makeover. It needed a massive influx of funds and good intentions that only the federal government could provide.

  Before anyone realized, the tempest generated by the interested parties had funneled into a crisis. The public was swept up into its vortex. Demands intensified for the federal government to step in to ensure the modernization, uniformity, and integrity of the voting process. The Voter Fairness Act was created, and the president's party successfully pushed its passage through Congress.

  The Voter Fairness Act gave the federal government the power to develop a single new system to replace the multiplicity of voting systems used by the individual states. Going forward, the individual states would be able to program the new system to enter the candidates and tally the votes for local and state-wide elections, maintaining control of those contests. However, it would now be the federal government that would program the system and tally the votes for elections to national office, beginning with the upcoming presidential election, then in subsequent years expanding to include the contests for the House and Senate, which for the time being remained under state control.

  There were those who had misgivings about the new measure, but they were harshly criticized by the bill's advocates. The critics were accused of being anti-suffrage, bigoted, unenlightened, and part of the privileged class—the Got-ins, as they were called—who were unconcerned about those who were disenfranchised—the Left-outs.

  Opponents of the bill questioned the legitimacy of giving the federal government control over voting when the Constitution clearly gave that power to the individual states. But there were many precedents in other areas—from schools, to housing, to healthcare, to buildings, to energy, etc.—where the federal government had stepped in to oversee areas previously left to the states and the people. In so many cases Congress had passed laws and issued rules to the states, had given them funding to comply with the rules, and had withheld funds if they failed to comply that many in Congress had seen nothing wrong with granting yet another power of the states to the federal government. With the advocates of the new bill relentless and the opposition put on the defensive and ineffectual, the Voter Fairness Act passed.