Deadlines

You wake up at 7:15 AM. Today's an easy day, relatively. You're in the studio all day, doing live video updates for the web. There's also a few articles you need to write, but nothing that requires you to be driving around and trying to get interviews.

You're looking at your phone when you get the text.

"Hey, just a heads up. I need you to report today. We need a reporter in the area."

You groan. Look at your phone again. Groan again. But then you get up and start getting ready for work.

You don't know if you need to FIND a story, or if one will be assigned for you. You decide you won't stress out about it until the 9:30 meeting.

You head into the station and it turns out, you're in luck. You're being assigned a story.

"Press conference, today. 11:00 AM. My office." says the line in the assignment book. "My office" refers to the Sgt who called in this morning. Everyone knows where his office is. He knows that, but it's still kind of funny he knows not to put the address. We all know him.

Those are all the details, and you grab your gear to head out to "his office".

"We got a few messages about a shooting that happened last night," says one of your producers. "It'll probably just be a statement about that."

Pretty cut and dry - show up to the press conference, grab video, and ask questions. A lot of questions won't be answered because the incident is probably under investigation. But, you head out to meet the sheriff.

There's little things you have to remember when reporting on incidents like these. When you report, you don't call anyone from the sheriff's office, "officers", you call them "deputies". Also, it's the sheriff's OFFICE, not department. Sheriffs are elected officials, and there have been a few emails sent to several news stations about the correct way of reporting titles.

You pull into the county's parking lot, where the courthouses, sheriff's office, and district attorney's offices are located. You see one other news station is already there - and grab your gear and head out.

You put your stuff through the metal detectors.

"There's a lot of you this morning, huh," says one of the security guards.

"Well, there's a press conference involving the sheriff," you say with a smile, "don't want to miss that opportunity."

"You already know what it's about?" asks another guard.

"We've got an idea," you say.

You realize immediately it's not going to be just a shooting incident. You haven't had any coffee yet so the pieces of the puzzle don't click right away.

You know it's going to involve officers.

You round the corner, trying to find the press conference room. You hear the photographer and the reporter from the other station - voices familiar since y'all run into each other at a few locations.

You say hi, and set up. The photographer is older, but has a baby face about him. He's tan, with blue eyes. He always wears a hat. He's helpful, even though technically he's from a rival station. He flies drones. You remember that from your last conversation.

The reporter he's with is young, like you. 23 or 24, with long, fake eyelashes. You used to have fake eyelashes for TV, but they became a hassle to take care of. You wish you could keep yours up, like hers. She doesn't talk. You've tried before, but she keeps to herself.

You make friendly conversation with the Sgt. who helped set up the press conference. He has a row of rubber ducks on a table near his office. You remember the conversation you had with him at another time, in this office. Talking about package thefts during the holidays. He told you about a town named Duck, and you remember passing through there briefly a few weeks ago. He usually wears a uniform, but today he's wearing khakis and a blue shirt. That looks suits him better, you think. He looks more relaxed without the uniform.

The sheriff walks in. A tall, black woman who looks tired. She makes friendly conversation as well. Talks about a golden retrieve they have at the department. A therapy dog to help victims and staff.

Another reporter walks in. This one blonde, tan, shorter than you. You ran into on another story - one that you were both sniffing out. About a local restaurant owner and their frustrations with a delivery company. You were able to get interview with the owner, the company, and a delivery driver. It was one of the few stories you truly felt proud of. She had been on that story before you - but you didn't know until you both showed up to interview the restaurant owner. You were able to turn around the entire story in a day. You looked out for hers in the days following, and you never saw anything reporter from her. You were wondering if she knew something you didn't, and felt uneasy for a few days.

After asking around, you realize she just never turned around the story. You're surprised. Even though it wasn't an "exclusive" story for her anymore - it was still a pretty good story.

You say hi, but people tell you to be careful around this girl. So you just keep it as "hi."

The press conference begins, the sheriff relays information about an officer involved shooting. Two officers responded to a domestic call overnight, person had a gun, officers engaged with the shooter. Deputies are on paid leave, man died at the scene. No one else was injured. The entire conference, including questions, takes five minutes. State's taking over investigation.

After the conference, you get the address of the shooting, and head out. The two other reporters go live for the 12 show - but you don't have that luxury. You shoot with your phone and you don't have a photographer. It's you as a one man band.

You head out to the location of the shooting, and it's a trailer park. It's quiet. You run into the same photographer from the news conference, but not the reporter. You chat for a moment with him, waiting around to see if you can talk to neighbor or witnesses. No one wants to talk on camera. You don't blame them, but at least they're courteous. Some people have straight up spit on you before.

You head back and write your script, and edit video. Pretty standard. This is actually a pretty light day. There's a nagging feeling that you can do more, but you only have a minute and fifteen seconds to present this information. The state won't release any more information besides the statement they already emailed to newsrooms.

It's 4:30 and you're told to go live at 5:00 and 6:00. Today you FEEL like a news reporter. In smaller towns, in smaller markets, it's difficult to feel like a news reporter because you don't always have the benefit of resources bigger newsrooms have.

It's Friday - but that doesn't mean much. You're always on call and there's no telling when your boss asks you to come in.