Gary Solomon - A Ballad for Allison Porter

A Ballad for Allison Porter

A Ballad for Allison Porter

Gary Solomon

ebook Edition

Produced by
1111 Plaza Drive, Suite 300
Schaumburg, IL 60173
Enquiries:
www.ebooks2go.net

ISBN 10: 1-6181-3041-2

ISBN 13: 978-1-61813-041-9

Chapter I

They all cast stones in the name of justice and praised each other for doing Gods work. But only one amongst them felt the shame of knowing that truth had eclipsed all those who choose to turn and look the other way.

Book of Thal, Chapter VI, Verse III

For what seemed like an eternity, every newspaper, television and radio show bombarded the airwaves with what was known as the Trial of the Century, the O. J. Simpson murder trial. Everywhere I traveled, either people were talking about how they hated all the publicity the trial was getting or how they could not pull themselves away from CNN and the ranting of talk-show hosts who were quickest to send Simpson to the chair. It was one extreme or the other.

Everyone had an opinion. Few were caught in the middle. The public seemed to revel in the histrionics of the latest news about O. J. and Nicole Simpsons tempestuous life and Nicoles death. Upon occasion, Ron Goldman, the other murder victim, was mentioned as if he were an afterthought, both of the murderer and the media. No matter what world event was taking place, the rest of the world news took a back seat to the grizzly murders on Bundy Drive. So, even as a reporter, I was more than surprised to see the Columbians morning front page headline: Porter to Be Executed at Midnight: Governor Assures No Possible Chance of Reprieve.

Although it was a big case in Oregon, for the most part, compared to the Simpson trial, it was yesterdays news, treated like the grand opening of a small town 7-Eleven. Until last night I was nothing more than another Columbian reader who knew little about the Allison Porter murders. Strictly an entertainment news writer, I had little interest or stomach for the drama that comes with crime and passion. Crime was definitely not my area of expertise, and I saved my passion for the love of my life, Cindi.

Another cup?

Say, are you trying to keep me awake or kill me? Im floating as it is. Its over a four hour drive. Ill probably have to stop five times before I get there.

I dont think Ive ever seen you act this way over covering a story. Youre really not looking forward to this one, are you?

Dear wife of mine, as far as Im concerned, covering this story is one step below septic tank cleaning. Id rather be doing the society page. And you know how I hate that garbage. Doing the Porter story is definitely not what I would call a positive career move.

Youre the news reporter in this family, dear one of mine, enjoying her dig. Get out there and support me in the style to which Ive become accustomed. Remember the deal? Lets see, what was it now? Oh yes, Cindi, you put me through school and Ill take it from there. You wont have to worry about a thing. You can just sit back, read the paper and watch the soaps. How did I do? she asked, continuing to gloat.

Itll never hold up in court, I laughingly challenged. You got anything in writing, lady? You got proof?

Kissing me lightly on the cheek, she said, I got my good looks and your word. What more does a girl need?

Cindi and I have been together for six years and they have been the best years of my life. Shes been there for me all the way. No doubts. No questions. When I was in school she held down two jobs so I didnt have to work. Because of my terrible spelling, she proofread everything I wrote, down to the envelopes containing the resumes she tastefully licked closed. Sometimes she would take my papers to work and read them on her break. I marveled at her stamina. I still do. The day I accepted the job as a reporter for the Columbian was the last day she ever went to work. It made me feel great just to watch her relax and enjoy life. Tennis and lunch with friends became the extent of her daily tribulations.

Any way to get out of this assignment, Kevin? she questioned, suddenly becoming serious.

Not a chance. When I talked to Wayne last night, he said everyone was out on assignment. Between the Tonya Harding fiasco, the Packwood scandal and the Simpson trial, all the reporters are working overtime. I would never have imagined that a lead writer for the theatrical section would end up doing an editorial on someone headed for the electric chair.

What about Kyle?

In Los Angeles covering Simpson.

Gerald?

Ditto.

Lisa?

Permanently assigned to Harding.

Pausing for a moment, How about Martin? Hed be willing to

Wedding.

Excuse me, she said, shocked at my answer, Theyre having him cover a wedding instead of this murder trial?

No. I mean hes getting married. He leaves for London tomorrow. Hell be gone for two weeks.

Some nerve, she said. Getting married at a time like this. What kind of a reporter is he? Why, Id like to give him a piece of my mind. Wheres his number? laughing as she poured me an unwanted cup of coffee. Hey, whats going on here anyway? This is the kind of thing you used to dream of when you were in school. You said you couldnt wait to hit the streets for the big scoop. What happened?

Im out of practice, Cindi. Hell, all Ive done for the last three years is review movies, interview local starving authors and do an occasional premier. The closest I get to murder and death is burying actors and writers in a bad review. I have no earthly idea what Im supposed to do. What do I say? Taciturn Porter waved goodbye to all her fans as the electricity rattled through her body. The execution was a wonderful success followed by a delightful, complementary buffet and drinks served by the tastefully-dressed death row prisoners.

Hey, I like it. I really like it! What flare you have for expose. You really are a newspaper man, arent you? I can see it now: Kevin Randolph Hearst, Chief Editor, World News.

Why you I jumped up and started chasing her through our sparsely furnished four bedroom home that overlooks Washingtons Columbia River. A year to the day after I got my job, we moved into the huge house knowing we would eventually need more space for the permanent occupants to come.

You get away from me you, you, news pervert. Remember, Im with child.

Catching her in the hallway and pulling her to the soft, ivory-carpeted floor, Now, I still cant figure out how that could have happened. And it seems odd to me that the mailman transferred all the way over to this side of town at the same time we decided to move.

Gee, you mean that quiet guy who delivers our mail used to deliver to our other house? Odd, I hadnt noticed, she said with a mischievous smile.

The news had come as quite a shock to both of us. Even though life was, for the most part, settled, we still had not planned on having a child for a few more years. We both wanted to get our need to feel free from life-long obligations out of our systems so that when we decided to get pregnant, it would be with the knowledge that the next 18 years would be dedicated to our children. We were committed to raising healthy, happy children, unlike the childhood experiences that both Cindi and I went through. But, diaphragms are not one hundred percent foolproof. So, a little over two months ago, blue, instead of pink, popped up on a home pregnancy test, at nine weeks and counting. Much to our surprise we were happier about the news than we expected.

When do you think youll be home? she asked, slightly out of breath, twisting her body as she tried to get a more comfortable position lying on the floor beneath me.