My photographer, Kebin, and I were sitting on a bench beside the new RiverPlace building downtown. Our last interview of the day was set for 1:15 outside the Starbucks and our previous shoot ended early. It was warm for the first time in days so we just reclined there and soaked up the sun, watching the business folks speed walk to whatever important meeting they had.
I told Kebin they always looked depressed. He said, "They're decision makers. Decisions are never fun, man."
Just before our guy was scheduled to arrive, this older guy leans in to ask a question.
"Did you hear what happened at Virginia Tech?"
IGNORANCE
That morning, when I left the newsroom, I saw the "AP URGENT" update on my computer. It said one person had been killed at the western Virginia school. Frankly, I ignored it.
Earlier that morning I'd chased down a police report on a murder down here. Some guy found dead near his apartment's front door. Someone shot him in the chest. It was newsworthy, but I focused most of my efforts on the big bus story. I felt it was more important to more people. As an added bonus, the bus story was a piece of cake to cover.
So when the older guy at Starbucks asked me about the Hokie shooting, I told him someone was shot.
"No," he said, "22 people were shot."
I called the newsroom. Of course, he was telling the truth. That said, Kebin and I shot our interview and then I went to lunch. Another station reporter, Erin H, was already headed to Blacksburg.
ACCEPTANCE
Just after I pulled away from the station, my assignment manager called, "Can you bang out this story for 6 and then go pack a bag?"
I had the story ready at 3. I drove to one of our bureaus and met another photographer, Scott, for the drive to Virginia. We were both energized by the assignment but, because we're men in the news business, we pretended to bitch about the workload. That's what we do.
We listened to CNN coverage on Scott's sat radio. There were now at least 30 dead, including the lunatic shooter.
Here's Scott on the drive to Virginia:
SELF PITY
By the time we reached Tennessee were were both exhausted. I'd anchored the 11 O'Clock show on Sunday and been back at work by 9AM Monday. I'd been at work for 12 hours that day and our upcoming assignment was even worse.
Erin would report live from the campus at 11 that night. Scott and I would find the hotel, sleep, and take the early morning shift. Of course, by Tennessee, it was clear that we wouldn't get much sleep. It was 9PM. The Blacksburg police were having a news conference.
We blew past Blacksburg and drove another 20 minutes on I-81. The hotel was a filthy EconoLodge right near the highway. At mignight, I asked for a 3AM wake up call and tried to fall asleep. Meanwhile, 3 police cruisers sped into the hotel lot and pounded on one of the doors.
I was damn unhappy. I was awfully worried about what the Blacksburg massacre meant... to me. I'm awfully embarrased about that now.
BLEARY AND DUMB
At 3:30 Tuesday morning, the Satellite truck engineer joined Scott and I for the drive to campus. We stopped for coffee once and got to the school at 4:15. Here's the lot at daytime:
Those big dishes are from the sat trucks. There were hundreds of them. I assume every station on the East Coast had sent a truck. The networks rented theirs.
We were all in that one lot because it was the only place on campus still open. Everything else was still blocked off from the day before. The one building still open was home to all our press briefings and also the lone destination of hundreds of Tech parents.
Students were told to call home and tell their folks that they were OK. Of course, they weren't OK, but if they were calling... they were still alive.
WORK
We did sidebar stuff mostly. One of our Washington reporters was covrting the heavy stuff. Scott and I did 10 live reports between 5 and 8AM then took a quick nap.
By noon we were back in Blacksburg looking for stories. Almost nobody wanted to talk. The restaurants were all closed or about to lock up. Everything was decked out in Hokie colors and signs of sympathy. There was a woman in the middle of one street stopping traffic to tie black ribbon on car mirrors.
Inside one hair salon we found the women glued to coverage of an on-campus memorial service while the President gave his condolences. That's POTUS. Not the President of the school.
These ladies had made their own memorial ribbons and had some on the counter up front. They were cool and relaxed, and without a single customer, they were all lounging in the old leather covered chairs.
We pulled one aside and with a smile she told us about her day so far. The lack of business. The dullness of the afternoon. And, it turns out, the two customers who were murdered the day before. She said it as a matter of fact, nothing more.
For the first time, I was floored.
Everyone here knew something personal about those dead kids. Up until that moment, I'd handled it no differently than this hairdresser in Virginia. I was worried about my job. Until then, I had not interest in the ACTUAL STORY.
They'd just identified the shooter. Some insane 19 year old student.
Here I am with Erin, checking the mics for a live shot at 5:
I'M HOME TONIGHT
It's good to see the wife again and I missed the kids. I'm not playing poker tonight or likely again this week. I may play online a few times. You know, those parents sent their kids off to school and just trusted they'd come back a little older and a lot smarter.
Not dead for Christ's sake.
I still haven't slept.