37 #PressPack

Connor stood outside the Baltimore City Hotel and realised the futility of it all. He had travelled 3,000 miles to join the chattering, gossipy throng of yet another press pack. They sounded different from back home, with the big-haired female television reporters who have marginally more make-up and Botox than their male counterparts. But no matter the gender they were all experts in talking complete and utter bullshit.

Every broadcast was essentially the same. The news anchor would announce they were going over live to their reporter at the scene for an ‘update’, where it would be quickly established within thirty seconds that they didn’t have one. Each journalist would try to match the other in banality, generalisations and complete and utter waffle. Fortunately, as is true of all TV folk, they loved the sound of their own voices and could continue in this vein for hours, long after their viewers had given up.

Connor never understood why TV news journalists had such a high opinion of themselves. But they seemed to revel in their minor celebrity status and the odd occasion they were spotted in supermarkets or complimented on their new hairdo – and that was just the blokes.

Back home in Scotland, Connor hated it if a local news crew got to a job before he did, as they would attempt to commandeer the whole event, trampling over print journalists’ interview time slots. As if it was their God-given right because they were TV news, despite the fact they had fewer viewers than his paper’s circulation. He recalled Bryce’s words when he once berated his news and sports colleagues by claiming that they were ‘all sheep – they follow the herd and are too scared to break free. If you are ever going to get something different, you have to break away from the pack.’

That’s exactly what Connor needed to do now. He had one major advantage over the herd here in Baltimore: he had already established a direct line with the captain in charge of the case, and he knew the dead man’s deputy. He would need to start cashing in on his contacts.