IT TOOK A WHILE FOR THE NEWSPAPERS TO CATCH ON. THE FIRST reports were matter-of-fact: Kendrick Powell, twenty-one, of Wilmington, Delaware, was found dead of an apparent overdose in a Midtown hotel in New York City. Then The Wilmington News Journal identified who she was and ran a respectful article on the unexpected passing of the daughter of one of the city’s more prominent citizens. A day later the Florida newspapers picked it up and expanded on the story: “Gregory Accuser Found Dead in Hotel Room.”
The New York Post took it from there. The Washington Post and even The New York Times were obliged to follow. The New York Post’s article was lurid, carrying an old picture of Peter looking half crazed as he exited some unidentified drinking establishment and referring to a “wild party” at the Gregory mansion without providing any specifics. The others had short articles that appeared to have been written by someone who did not really want to touch a keyboard. Kendrick was identified, her father was identified, and in a last paragraph it was noted she had filed a criminal complaint against Peter Gregory Martin, nephew of the Senator, and that the Palm Beach state attorney had declined to press charges, citing a lack of corroborating evidence.
After that, one of the national television networks hurriedly put together a half-hour show of investigative journalism that was long on titillation and short on facts. The network had come up with a few photos of its own, including one of Kendrick as a preteen equestrian in full riding garb, another of her father standing next to the mast of some gargantuan sailboat, and yet another of her mother dressed in a formal gown and accompanying her latest husband to a New York City gala, so they were able to refer to Kendrick as a beautiful young socialite victimized by the depredation of the Gregorys.
Josh David Powell, a beefy man with an unruly head of graying hair, was featured prominently in the show, saying there was no doubt in his mind that his daughter had been raped by Peter Gregory Martin and that the authorities’ failure to act on it had sent her into a state of depression that led to drug use, drug dependency, and now this, the fatal overdose. The show cut first to a still photo of a bunch of pills spilling from a jar and then to a video of a body on a gurney covered by a white sheet being wheeled from a building to an ambulance.
The show then caught Mr. Powell in a close-up, looking particularly wild-eyed as he declared that he had reason to believe that it was not a self-inflicted overdose. Even now, he announced, he had investigators working to prove that.
There was a snippet of an interview with Ralph Mars, state attorney for the Fifteenth Judicial Circuit, in and for the County of Palm Beach. Mr. Mars, looking Hollywood handsome and, unlike Mr. Powell, with every hair on his head combed neatly into place, gazed with complete sincerity at his interviewer and explained that he could fully understand Mr. Powell’s emotions, but his office had looked into the matter and there just wasn’t any evidence to support the accusation.
The television reporter, a perky brunette whom I would wager was not hired because of her investigative acumen, was then shown standing on the street in front of the Gregory home on Ocean Boulevard wearing a low-cut blouse and tight slacks as she explained to the viewers: “In fact, on the evening in question there was a full-blown party going on here at the Gregorys’ storied waterside estate, attended by some sixty or so members of Palm Beach society, and not a single person has come forward with the evidence Ralph Mars says he needs.”
Cut back to Mr. Mars: “We’d prosecute a Gregory just as fast as we would prosecute anyone else. But there simply was no evidence.”
Cut to Mr. Powell, his shirt unbuttoned to mid-chest, his eyes puffy, his hair matted as if he had just swum up from the bottom of the ocean: “That’s a load of crap and he knows it. My daughter went to Humana Hospital and they confirmed that she had been raped.”
Cut to perky brunette, still on Ocean Boulevard, this time with documents in her hand: “In fact, Kendrick Powell did not go to the hospital until the day after the party, when she was taken by a female friend who was staying at the Powell home about a mile and a half from the Gregorys’ here in Palm Beach. A spokesperson for the hospital has informed us that it is against hospital policy to release patient records or even to confirm whether someone was a patient. Josh David Powell, however, readily provided records (pause, wave sheets of paper at the camera) that show that both the doctor who examined her and a rape counselor believed her story.” (Cut to the pages, lying in V-formation; close in on top page, scan down, then highlight and magnify the words “vaginal bruising.”)
Cut to Mr. Mars, now in shirtsleeves and tie, leaning forcefully across his desk: “Look, there was evidence that Ms. Powell had been involved in some sexual activity. But there was no proof as to who it was with or whether it was consensual. And let’s be honest here, the type of accusation that is at issue is one that our police department deals with every day. If it were not for the family of the person being accused, I have no doubt we would not be having this conversation.”
Cut to perky brunette, sitting at a studio desk that looks very much like a real anchorman’s desk: “Kendrick Powell did not return to her studies at Bryn Mawr, not even to complete the second semester of her junior year. She appears to have kept a low profile until she checked into this hotel (cut to gray-walled high-rise with modest awning and glass door just off busy Lexington Avenue in New York City) three days before her death. Back to brunette: As for Peter Gregory Martin, he remains a second-year medical student at Northwestern University in Chicago. Both he and members of his family declined to be interviewed for this segment.”