Just the Truth

by Gen LaGreca

  "These figures represent everyday Americans who need our help," the president liked to say.

  A critic once asked, "Are the most destitute and challenged people the ones you now consider as ordinary Americans?"

  The president replied simply, "We're a country with a heart."

  The critic persisted, asking, "Are you saying that those opposed to the changes you made don't have a heart?"

  But the president gave no further comment.

  Compared to the significant modifications made to the exterior, remarkably few alterations were made to the interior of the president's house. Inside, the mansion retained the stately, dignified, historical décor and sense of honor and stature that it had always possessed.

  "Is the contrast between the inside and outside of this place supposed to make you folks in here feel good about yourselves and the people out there feel bad about themselves?" remarked an impertinent student on a tour, a young woman who had not yet been schooled in the art of communicating non-judgmentally.

  Rather than taking offense, the tour guide, a member of the administration, replied with a hint of smugness, saying, "You know, a little humility in the masses can be a good thing."

  President Martin did, however, make one significant change to his office. He removed from their honored place above the fireplace the portraits of two past presidents who were founders of the nation, and he had mounted in their spot two television monitors upon which he watched the news.

  "If we're going to display important things on these walls, let's give a place to the one group in America who made our programs popular and our victory possible: the media," he'd said reverentially.

  The television screens were turned off that Wednesday evening in August as President Martin met with his two closest aides, Darcy Egan and Zack Walker, who sat on a sofa across from him. Martin always kept the remote control nearby so that he could turn on the screens at a moment's notice. That evening the device sat on an antique coffee table between Martin and his two aides as they listened to reports from a briefer and a pollster standing nearby, presenting their findings.

  The briefer, Sally Grant, was a young woman with a concerned expression. She read from notes on an electronic tablet she held, then said, "Mr. President, the stock market is tanking."

  "And, Mr. President, your approval rating is tanking too," said the pollster, Arnold Larson, a man with a thin, forlorn face that added to the gloomy news.

  The president sent a questioning glance to Darcy and Zack, who nodded, confirming the statements.

  "The economy is shrinking, unemployment is up, and the national debt is rising," Grant added. She delivered her blunt words in a soft voice, as if she regretted having to convey such bad news. "Sir, more goods are now in short supply, and prices are reaching new highs."

  "Mr. President, I'm afraid the public thinks your new programs aren't working. I'm not saying that's true, but it's what they believe. Every poll shows these programs are becoming less and less popular," said Larson.

  "The ingrates!" Ken Martin whined. "After all I did for the people, they stab me in the back! I deserve better than this. How dare they turn on me? Why are they so disloyal?"

  The full mouth that dominated Ken Martin's face when he flashed his trademark toothy grin looked just as imposing when he frowned, with downturned lips that almost touched his chin. With a compelling voice, a tall frame, short-cropped hair, and collegiate good looks, Ken Martin formed a charismatic presence. He had an athletic build without ever having made a sports team in school, and he had an intelligent-looking face without ever having made good grades. From this unleavened dough, he added the yeast of a persuasive personality to create the winning recipe for his rise to the highest office in the nation.

  "People are closed-minded. They like to cling to their old ways. They need to give these programs a chance," Zack grumbled.

  "And our political opponents poison the public's mind against the president's programs," added Darcy.

  "Including retrograde journalists who oppose everything we're trying to do. They arouse the public's mistrust of us," Zack complained. "If I plant five favorable stories with our friends in the media, the one bad apple with her contrary story can undo all the good we're trying to accomplish." He did not elaborate on whom he was referring to or why he had used the female possessive pronoun.

  "Mr. President, people are also angry about the tax increases," said Grant.

  Martin shook his head irritably.

  "Folks want to keep their stuff and not help out their neighbors. That's not fair!" he lamented. His eyebrows arched in a plaintive appeal as he looked at the person he trusted most, the mentor who had coached him to the presidency. "What do we do now? Any ideas, Darcy?"

  "It's our messaging that's the problem, not us, not our programs, and certainly not our ideas. No one could question our good intentions or our compassionate policies," said Darcy. Her voice carried through the room, making her statements sound like proclamations. "I think we need to explain our programs better to the people. We have to nudge people away from their parochial interests and onto a higher plane! But the problem is, we don't have much time. The election is only two-and-a-half months away!"

  Darcy's face drooped. At sixty-six, Darcy Egan had a matronly look that was not a result of her age. Her below-the-knee skirt, suit jacket boxed over a squatty frame, and hair stiffened like a bird's nest around her face had defined her style since her youth. Standing just south of five feet tall, she was the shortest person in any group; but in defiance of nature's modest endowments, she was the most brightly dressed, with a multi-octave voice as loud and colorful as her clothes. That evening the chief advisor to the president wore hot pink.

  "People are angry. We need to redirect that anger toward our political opponents, who are the real enemy of the people," Zack droned, his words like a mantra. His face formed its customary pose, with his mouth opened to a pie-hole O.

  No one asked Zack to explain why the opposition party was an enemy of the people. Everyone simply nodded at the statement they had long ago accepted as an axiom.

  The forty-five-year-old Zack Walker provided a tall, thin contrast to the short, stocky Darcy. While everyone who met Darcy remembered her, no one remembered Zack—until Ken Martin appointed him to be the senior strategist to the president. Zack's thinning hair, unbuttoned collar, tie askew, and pants in need of a hem gave the former journalist an Everyman appearance, which pleased his boss. "Zack looks harmless and not too bright, which means he can push envelopes that the rest of us can't," Martin had frequently said.

  "Your party lost seats in the midterm elections two years ago, sir, and if the poll numbers remain the way they are now, I'm afraid you'll lose reelection," said Larson.

  "Who did you poll for your survey?" asked Darcy. "Those who voted in the last election?"

  "Yes."

  "But that's only one-third of the voting-age population," said Darcy. "The rest of the citizens stayed home. A great many people are confused and discouraged, so they don't come out to the polls."

  "That's our base, the ones who stayed home," added Zack, "and there are a lot more of them. We know they'd want us, if they didn't have such a hard time getting out to vote."

  "There's our majority, the non-voters," Martin exclaimed. "The new voting law will get them out to the polls, and we'll win easily!"

  "The people will love SafeVote. I'll keep playing up how great it is in our talking points to the media," said Zack.

  Sally Grant straightened her shoulders. She looked reluctant to contradict her powerful client but determined to give a fair assessment.

  "The people are suspicious of SafeVote," she said. "They think the law was passed for political reasons. They're afraid of what it might mean . . . mixing the voting process with . . . federal . . . power." The electronic tablet she held close to her chest looked like a bullet-proof shield, should her client want to shoot the messenger. "And the people's fears were magnified by a recent . .
. troubling . . . event."

  There was a pause in the conversation, the kind that suggested the staffers knew what the briefer meant, but no one was eager to talk about it.

  "What event?" asked Martin.

  "James Spenser's murder, sir. Our data shows . . . "

  While Grant elaborated to the president on her remarks, Zack shot a nervous look at Darcy.

  Zack leaned over and whispered in her ear, "What the hell happened with Spenser?"

  "As I already told you," Darcy whispered back, "I was as shocked as you were."

  "So you see, Mr. President," the briefer concluded, "the public's suspicions were magnified by James Spenser's untimely death."

  "Accidents happen," observed Darcy, "and they shouldn't be a cause for alarm."

  "Not unless rogue journalists stir up the people's fears," said Zack.

  "Frankly, Mr. President, your poll numbers sank by eight points since James Spenser's murder," said Larson.

  "And the D.C. police? What do they say?" Martin turned to his aides.

  "Good news from their presser today," said Zack. "The mayor and police commissioner believe that the murder was the result of a random street robbery that escalated. That means they found nothing to connect Spenser's murder to his position at the Bureau of Elections."

  "I spoke to the mayor, and he is totally on board," Darcy told Martin. "Right before this pivotal election, when it's so important for the country that you win another term, the mayor doesn't want to rouse people's fears."

  "People's unfounded fears," added Martin. He glanced at his watch. "Prime-time news is about to start, so if there's nothing else," he glanced at Grant and Larson. "Thank you."

  The two presenters said good night and exited the office, leaving Darcy and Zack alone with the president.

  As soon as the presenters closed the door behind them, Martin turned to Darcy and asked, "And the mayor knows what we discussed?"

  "I shared with him that he's on the short list for a major appointment at the Bureau of Justice in our second administration," Darcy replied. "Don't worry—he's solid."

  "That's good," said Martin. "But we're still in a bind!"

  He rose, walked around nervously, and then pounded his fist on the mantel, shaking the antique plate displayed there.

  "After everything we've done, we're still on the verge of losing!" Martin complained. "The ungrateful public is turning on us!"

  "We can't let a hundred years of progress go down the drain," Darcy remarked.

  "We've made great inroads in reforming healthcare and education. We've been reining in business for the public good. Now we're reforming the voting process to give the neediest people—our voters—a fair shake. Yet we may still lose!" Martin's voice rose as he paced.

  "Darcy's right," said Zack. "We absolutely can't undo a hundred years of progress. Our political enemies are trying to alarm the people with their doom-and-gloom talk about the debt, about out-of-control spending, about every new program we start."

  "Our opponents scare the voters with budgets and figures. They're only concerned with money issues. We need to entice people with appeals to the heart," said Darcy.

  "If we don't watch out, our opponent will take the presidency. We can't let this happen!" bellowed Ken Martin.

  "Extreme times call for extreme measures," said Darcy. "We need to do what's necessary, even if it's . . . a bit . . . unusual."

  "Do you think it's come down to that?" asked the president.

  "Would that make us extremists, which we condemn our opponents for being?" asked Zack.

  "This is different," replied Darcy. "Our ends are noble. Let's not forget that. Let's not dwell on the means. If we delay any longer, it could be too late."

  "No one could doubt our good intentions. . . . Could they?" asked Zack. "We always do what's right. . . . Don't we? Our motives are pure. . . . Aren't they?"

  "We do what's right for the country," confirmed Darcy.

  "We do what we have to do!" said Martin, returning to his seat. His forehead wrinkled with worry lines, belying the conviction he put into his voice. He seemed like someone trying to convince himself to skate on thin ice.

  Martin stared at the floor. Zack glanced vacantly out the window. Darcy slouched in her seat. They each looked reluctant to name something that was in their thoughts.

  "It's time for Operation Topcoat," Darcy said finally, her voice low.

  "Let's see how the media is covering the Spenser case," Martin said, ignoring Darcy's remark. He picked up the remote control, and turned on the two monitors, muting the sound.

  One monitor was tuned to Miller News Network, the other to Taninger News, the two most popular channels. Martin turned on the sound just as News and Views with Sean Browne was beginning. The host opened his program with a clip from the mayor and police chief's press conference earlier that day.

  "The police believe that James Spenser was murdered during an armed robbery. They beefed up security in the area, and they have a manhunt on to find the killer. In other news . . . "

  "We can always count on Sean," said Darcy.

  Martin turned off that monitor and raised the volume on the other one. The opening segment of Just the Truth was in progress. A close-up of Laura Taninger filled the screen. Her straight talk and calm manner had won her many fans, none of whom were in the president's office that evening.

  "The subject of my Daily Memo tonight is: Tools of Silence: Stalls and Delays," she began. "One way in which governments try to silence their media critics is by ignoring and stonewalling journalists who attempt to get information. Even though administrative agencies are legally bound to release information about their activities for public scrutiny, they may oftentimes resist giving out material they think is harmful to them and their bosses. They hope their critics will grow weary of the effort to obtain the information and thereby go away, or the story will die down, or friendlier voices in the media will drown out the detractors. Administrations with something to hide count on their media friends to give a more favorable interpretation of a controversial issue or to distract the public by changing the subject.

  "We have public disclosure laws in America to ensure transparency and to prevent agencies from concealing questionable activities. Although politicians and agency heads loudly voice their approval of these laws, their compliance with them is another matter.

  "How does the Martin administration fare in complying with our public disclosure laws? We'll soon find out.

  "Just the Truth has been trying for weeks to learn who is receiving $400 million from the Bureau of Elections for work being done on SafeVote's development. We know this money has been allocated, but Elections has failed to indicate who's getting it and for what purpose. So far, the agency has not responded to our phone calls, emails, and other requests for information. The agency's assistant director, James Spenser, had information for me—I believe it pertained to this $400 million that's unaccounted for—but he was murdered before he could reveal it.

  "Just the Truth has now formally filed a Public Disclosure Request, petitioning the Bureau of Elections to release full information about all expenditures and contractors involved with SafeVote. Is Elections going to be open and above board, like an agency that has nothing to hide? Or is it going to be evasive and unresponsive, like an agency that has done something it doesn't want us to know about? We'll know soon. . . . "

  "We have to do something about that," Martin growled, pointing an angry finger at the screen to punctuate his words.

  "Good old Laura," Zack said, smirking. "She never changes! The goddamn hack!"

  The sight of Laura on television took him back to a day six years ago, when he'd first called her a hack—and worse.

  Zack Walker had worked for Laura at Taninger News when he was a seasoned journalist, and she a young executive just out of college, taking charge of the giant news corporation founded by her grandfather. There was a senatorial candidate that Taninger News was backing. In the belief that he
was aiding his employer's efforts, Zack wrote an article on the Taninger-backed candidate's opponent, charging that he had falsified his military record. This blockbuster revelation, which ran just two days before the election, severely damaged the candidate. He had been leading in the polls, but he lost the election after Zack's exposé gained national attention. A week later, it was discovered that Zack's accusations were false.

  "How could you not verify the charges you made? The story you wrote was a lie," Laura had said when she confronted him.

  "I wouldn't characterize it in those terms. I reported something that I had heard certain sources mention."

  "You mean, you reported a rumor as news?"

  "I mean, I left it to our audience to make up their own minds about whether the story was true or not."

  "You mean, the people who read our newspaper and watch our television network are supposed to petition the military for the candidate's records to verify the story for themselves? If that's the audience's job, then what's your job?" Laura asked hotly.

  "I brought to light a story, a narrative, that was making the rounds."

  "But it wasn't true."

  "Not yet," Zack replied.

  Laura looked exasperated. "It wasn't ever going to be true—because it was false."

  "But that didn't come out until after the election," he said and smiled smugly.

  "That makes what you did even worse."

  "How can you say that, Laura? I was doing Taninger News a favor."

  "With an unsubstantiated hit piece?"

  "The candidate you backed won, didn't he? What else matters?"

  "You're fired."

  Zack had been incredulous.

  "Now wait, Laura, just wait! I know you're new at this, so let me give you some advice, since I've been working in the media from the time you were sitting on your grandpa's knee. You have no creds whatsoever in this business. It's my reporting that draws an audience and sells advertising for you. It's my tactics that get results."