With you in 5-4-3-2-1
Hi friends - I deeply apologize for my erratic publishing schedule. My mind has been distracted and I’m not even sure why. First it’s been terrible writers’ block, and I’m now working through a family emergency that has occupied my every thought. Please know that NOT getting my chapters published to you plagues me the most. I’ve been working in fits and starts, but the ending is coming together, I promise! I wrote this partial chapter the other day, and while I have plenty more to add, I wanted to put it out here to keep my momentum going. I appreciate your patience and I will be back soon with more chapters ASAP!
1:07 PM - Friday, November 6, 2014
Presidio Terrace and Arguello Blvd, Presidio Heights, San Francisco
“With you in 5 - 4 - 3 - 2 - 1…” The cameraman faded out and pointed to the reporter — Michaela “Mickey” Bonnella, the belle of local investigative segments — on the opposite end of his lens, the stately gates of Presidio Terrace framed behind her across the street. Across the street, because the bougie security guard and his little car guarding the gates told them there was no way they’d be able to shoot any closer than this. It was a better angle anyway, showing Mickey in a smart burgundy suit jacket whose neckline barely hinted at her cleavage, framed by her long deep brown hair, ironed shiny and smooth. Her perfectly made-up face was consciously grave — contoured to give deep hollows in her cheeks, set off by a pouty lip that was ready to tell the people all the awful details of whatever was going on. Mickey nodded silently, agreeing with whatever the newscaster at the desk was saying in her ear with the toss.
“That’s right. It was around 5 this morning when federal agents conducted a shocking door-knock raid on the home of James and Marilyn Hartman here in this exclusive neighborhood in Presidio Heights of San Francisco.” Mickey was a pro — her inflection on the word shocking made the cameraman’s face melt into a half smile. She knew how to sell. “You can imagine how surprising this was for the neighbors on this small loop, home to some of the most expensive properties in the city, especially to this family known for its affluent lifestyle and charitable contributions.” Exclusive, expensive, affluent…she was on a role with all the choice words that would make the viewers salivate. Every podunk town in the Bay Area wondered about locales like this on the north side of San Francisco, and now they’d have an inside view.
“Apparently the raid was conducted by multiple federal agencies working together to gather evidence toward investigations underway against James Hartman. We have learned that officers from the DEA, IRS, and FBI were on-site to conduct the raid, packing numerous boxes of evidence and removing them from the home.” The cameraman felt his own eyebrows go skyward; even he knew these people were in deep shit.
“While we still do not know what activities may have prompted these investigations, we hope to know more in the coming days. However, what we do know, is that the Hartman home was a site of a large Halloween party attended by a large group of teens that then migrated into the Presidio National Park, just up the hill from where we’re standing.” And now teenagers? This story is gonna pop. “We understand that one attendee of this party was later found dead in the Presidio on Saturday morning. The victim in this case was a minor, so their name has not been released, but we anticipate further details coming soon. Now, no one at any of these federal agencies has given us a comment about this raid, and likewise no one on the notoriously private Presidio Terrace would speak with us about their neighbors. As you may imagine though, this is has definitely NOT been a normal Friday morning for the residents here.” Mickey nodded again to whatever the newscaster was saying in the studio. “That’s right. Yes, this story is developing and we will be bringing further details once we know more.” Mickey stared into the camera a few long seconds until her face fell and she heaved a sigh. “We’re out.”
“Nice work — short, simple…salacious.” The cameraman offered, stopping the camera. “Where do we go from here?”
“I’m waiting to hear —” Mickey clicked through her phone while unhooking her lav mic. “Rumor is there’s a press conference around 3 o’clock — something about the dead teen. This could be a huge story.”
“I think it already is. It’s made for the outer suburbs — those bridge-and-tunnel people love to watch the San Francisco richies get taken down.” Mickey rolled her eyes at him. “It has all the ingredients: the Feds, early morning raid, big party, dead teen…I’ll bet this gets picked up nationally.”
“Well, I won’t complain about that.”
“I knew you wouldn’t.”