Last March, I had a two-week internship at the Globe and Mail in Vancouver. My first assignment was to zip out to Burnaby to a data security firm.
Days before, 25-year-old Adam Smolcic had allegedly witnessed the shooting of a 58-year-old homeless man by two rookie Vancouver police officers. According to police, the officers shot the man after a confrontation escalated in downtown Vancouver. After being approached by the police, the man pulled out a box-cutting knife and began advancing. After repeated warnings, police had shot the man, who became unresponsive at the scene.

Smolcic claimed he had filmed the incident with his cellphone. His version of the story did not mesh with the official police account. He claimed:

1. Multiple gunshots (police claimed one).
   
2. That the victim “did not make any aggressive movements” towards the officers (police said he advanced).
   
3. Shortly after the shooting, Smolcic was allegedly confronted by a police officer who asked to see his phone.
   
4. The officer looked at the phone for a minute, pressed some buttons, handed it back and told Smolcic to get lost.
   
5. The officer had allegedly erased four minutes of crucial video evidence.
   

With a lawyer from the BC Civil Liberties Association, Smolcic had arranged a news conference at the security firm to submit the phone to attempt data recovery.

It was a potentially huge story. On the heels of cellphone footage of the Robert Dziekanski incident, police brutality was firmly implanted in the public mind. The victim was an elderly man with history of alcohol abuse, but not violence. More disturbing than bad judgment, however, was the possibility an officer willfully covered evidence.

It also fell into a category of speculation. The footage was potentially incriminating, and only potentially recoverable, while the source was somewhat dubious.  Smolcic didn’t exactly fit the profile of an ideal witness (that’s him on the right. See his blog here). Although articulate, he was, by his own reckoning,  a “reverend” (no religious affiliation given) and “marijuana activist” whose main source of income “making t-shirts.”

It didn’t completely add up, either. As the Dziekanski case had shown, it might be easier to retain and withhold evidence of wrongdoing rather than damage it. Smolcic’s actions, meanwhile, weren’t in line with what you might expect after such a confrontation. For one, he had jeopardized any recoverable data by using the phone multiple times after the incident. Whether anything was recoverable was pure speculation. I had my doubts.

Shortly after the news conference ended and scrumming began, I found myself in the crossfire in an all-out scream-fest between two local television reporters. One had spoken to Smolcic before, promising to pay for any data recovery fees in exchange for exclusive rights to air the video. The second reporter cried foul over who should get the recovered video, saying they would pay part of the fees for an equal share. The two squawked at each other while leaving the room.

With all the made-for-TV ego and tension still wafting in the room, I deadpanned, “It’s my first day on the job.”

The remaining reporters laughed sympathetically.

The story ended up fizzling. The data recovery process was unsuccessful despite several attempts. Abbotsford Police cleared the officers and recommended public mischief charges against Smolcic. Finally, two samples of surveillance footage were released, contradicting Smolcic’s account and  vindicating the official account.

VPD chief Jim Chu later criticized some media outlets for their lack of “critical analysis” in repeating the accusation, needlessly jeopardizing the already tenuous relationship between the police and the DTES. Whether or not footage was erased will never be known, but Smolcic’s credibility was critically damaged.

It was my first day, but I knew key ethical issues had been raised. The first was news judgment. As Chu later argued, the story was questionable and potentially damaging to the officers and the force as a whole. Herd instinct was evident: most outlets went ahead and reported the explosive allegations.

A second issue was the credibility of the witness. Even if Smolcic’s allegations weren’t exactly beyond scrutiny, how would you indicate that to an audience without unfairly maligning him? I worried about presenting Smolcic as a stereotype. He may have been telling the truth.

In my own article, I tempered the allegations by bumping up counter evidence near the top of the story. I mentioned the dispute in the second paragraph, brought up the police version of events in the third, before finally telling Smolcic’s version as neutrally as possible.

While the police might have been upset, media outlets made the right choice to cover the story. The VPD is very careful to control its image, skilfully channeling information through its communications department. The possibility that excessive force may have been used in this confrontation was certainly worth repeating out of concern for public interest and for the truth (as it was available at the time), and the police were given the chance to respond to the allegations (they declined).

A more pressing ethical issue, however, was the willingness of the local TV stations to pay for exclusive footage. No one had earned an exclusive story and the story depended on public interest. Buying footage didn’t just set a dangerous precedent, it exposed the true motives of much news-gathering: to win viewers at the cost of the public.

This wasn’t your $100 “eyewitness” footage of an accident or a fire, it was potential footage of police wrongdoing. The dubiousness of the source made the issue of paying for news that much more troubling. The reporters weren’t just giving someone the benefit of the doubt without the discipline of verification, they were creating a scenario that encouraged and rewarded spurious allegations.

Thankfully, my second day on the job was uneventful.

Whether you spent the last hours of February reveling in beer-induced patriotism, or in grim avoidance of that I Believe song, it’s definitely a bit of a downer from Olympic reverie. Years from now, how many children born in November 2010 will look back to Sidney Crosby’s heroics as inspiring a glint in their father’s eye?

UBC cancelled school for the two Olympic weeks. A perfect opportunity for journalism students to make some hay! I took a job as a media liaison officer with Olympic Broadcasting Services.

It meant working with biathletes, ski jumpers, and cross-country skiiers, as well as Olympic broadcasters of an array of nationalities. I was a broadcaster bouncer, an interview timer, and a media cop both good and bad (depending on the situation).

It also meant rubbing shoulders with some interesting folks. Here’s me with a Swedish coterie, including His Highness Carl XVI Gustaf.

King Carl XVI Gustaf (centre, in ball cap), me in Power Ranger uniform.

Coming down into from three weeks in Whistler village, I only have a modest Olympic hangover. At $7-8 pints, I couldn’t afford anything more.

For one, I’ve been trying to keep up on schoolwork heading into the Olympics. Since Tuesday, I’ve been up in Whistler, where I’m working for Olympic Broadcasting Services. Free accommodations at Whistler during the Olympics! Sweet!

My job for the rest of February? Media Liaison officer mostly at biathlon, but with occasional stints at cross-country and ski jumping as well. What’s an LO? I couldn’t have told you before this week. What’s biathlon? I still can’t say too much about that, except that it involves skis, guns, and a lot of Norwegians.

My job is to make sure the camera people from the Olympic rights holders, like CTV in Canada or NBC in the US, are in the correct place, and that they get the interviews they want. Nothing too exciting, but it’s going to be a blast.

Of the surreal moments thus far, probably the most has been biathlon loudspeakers blasting “Silent Night” in the middle of the day, punctuated by the sound of .22 bullets hitting targets.

It’s quite the picture. I wish I had it to display here.

Long before she became pouty ne’er-do-well Kate Austen, Lilly was a teenage camper at Green Bay Bible Camp near Kelowna, BC. My sister spent a summer as a ne’er-do-well camp counsellor. On a costume-themed night, my sister went to great effort to make her 120 pound frame look remotely mannish. It didn’t hurt the appearance of faux-masculinity to have her arm around the petite, feminine Lilly.

Granted, it’s a tad tenuous for a connection, but it’s my Kevin-Baconesque tie to one of the most popular dramas of recent memory. After 8 months off the air, Lost is beginning again on February 2nd (NEXT TUESDAY!!).

For the last couple of months, I’ve been watching old episodes, making up for years of inattentiveness to television drama. At first it was casually viewing as I did chores or cooked supper. But as the show went down the hatch and through time, I progressively became hypnotized by the enigmatic clues the show routinely serves up.

Lost is eminently loyal to its fans, offering complex characters while confounding plot expectations. As I got into season 5, I began perusing the AV club’s lost page after each episode. With its hundreds of comments, it’s not for the faint of heart.  Since then, I’ve pored through the mobisodes, podcasts, and DHARMA orientation films. Yeah. Obsessed.

It got so bad I can appreciate this hilarious video from the Onion: Final Season Of ‘Lost’ Promises To Make Fans More Annoying Than Ever

Hopefully I’m marginally less annoying than the worst fans, but I have a theory why the island inspires such irritating levels of loyalty:

1. Our brains crave the challenge of mystery. Given a bunch of unconnected details (polar bears, mysterious numbers, and dreams of axe-wielding hippies), we’re naturally inclined to search for pattern and meaning. I have my own theories for the way things work (such as Ben Linus’s tantalizing claim of a box which contains whatever you want). But check the AV club comment boards or a few of the nearly 6,000 articles on the lostpedia wiki page, and you’ll know there’s theorizing aplenty. Usually, I’m just resigned to let it all wash over me and not sweat it.

2. Losties bring the devout together, religious or unaffiliated. And like the world of spirituality, I’m sure there are casual viewers out there. But nobody really notices them, do they? Aside from those who just drift away because they can’t make a lick of sense of it, there are recent converts and loyal followers. After five seasons, they are the chosen remnant: there’s something to be said for a shared experience of 12 million viewers in a fragmented media market.

3. Lost is full of iconic moments. I’ll never see backgammon, nosebleeds, or hieroglyphics the same way. From the opening dilating eye to the fade to black (or white!), Lost makes amazing use of curiosity, repetition (and variation). I, for one, love the craziness of DHARMA and Egyptology on the same show. Genre-defiance of the best possible type.

4. Lost raises all the questions of meaning in a non-parochial way. The Island itself is philosophically intriguing. Beyond the fact that half the people have recognizable names and nobody seems to be remotely hungry or malnourished, islanders are always asking key questions most of us are too damn sleepy to raise aloud: Am I in it alone or living together? Am I free or confounded by destiny? Am I a leader or a follower? Am I being lied to? No wonder the Oceanic 6 were lured back after returning to boring old everyday life.

So, in summary, isn’t life just a matter of piecing some pretty weird stuff together and trying your damnedest to live together and not die alone? Consider me among the losties, and try not to roll your eyes.

The day coincides with the end of my time at the Edmonton Journal. It ended on a bit of a somber note. The death of Calgary Herald health reporter Michelle Lang, reporting in Afghanistan, hit a lot of people pretty hard. My condolences to her family and friends.

It was a week of some fun stories. On Tuesday, the paper ran my profile of a Stony Plain “dog whisperer” Sarah Pay (here’s her blog), including my own photo (eerily similar to Sarah’s shot here, of me and her dog, Winston). Yesterday, I had the double whammy of writing about the New Year’s blue moon and the Olympic torch relay route. My original blue moon story included an interview with Victoria moon-man Gary Seronik, who has a nice little blue moon entry on his website. Seronik very graciously noted he liked the piece, despite the fact he got cut out by the editors.

One more story left in the can. I’m pretty sure it’ll run this weekend. It includes my career’s first (and hopefully only) reference to the “boob fairy”!

Tues. Dec 29, Stony Plain woman targets canine-human relations

Thurs, Dec 31, Olympic torch to travel scenic route

Thurs, Dec 31, New Year’s blue moon won’t happen again until 2028

Happy holidays!

Thursday, December 24: Customer makes amends after 24 years.

Wednesday, December 23: Kids fly Santa’s sky.

Tuesday, December 22: 5,000 people coming for dinner.

Edmonton lawyer Frank Mackay pled guilty today in McBride Provincial Court to causing or permitting an animal to be or continue to be in distress under the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals Act. On a joint submission, he received a $1,000 fine, a $150 victim fine surcharge, has to pay restitution to the B.C. SPCA in the amount of $5,910.16, received a prohibition against possessing any animals for two years (in B.C. only), a probation order for the period of 12 months, and a counselling term because of his in appropriate behaviour. He further has to deliver a copy of his probation order to the nearest SPCA in Edmonton and to the provincial SPCA office in Alberta so that the authorities are alerted, and purchase advertisement in two issues of the local paper in order to publish his statement which was read in court today. The proceedings on the two criminal code offences were stayed (causing unnecessary pain and suffering to an animal and cruelty to animals).

In his statement, Mackay said: “I wish to thank the rescuers who volunteered their time and effort to rescue the horses. … If it hadn’t been for the accident, I would have gladly participated in the rescue.”
Court also heard that this was the first time Mackay had been in the backcountry by himself.

Here’s the Edmonton Journal’s coverage of the verdict.

Our piece, a little ditty on water meters and Vancouver’s Greenest City plan, was a “process” piece, meaning we show how our story got pieced together. The idea is to add editorial depth to an existing newscast.

While the video will soon be up at ThunderbirdTV.ca, I thought I’d post a sneak peek here on YouTube:

That might be a tad bit dramatic (let’s call it “somewhat scholastically punitive month”), but it explains my current slothfulness on this site. Advanced TV has been a big part of my miseries.

Apparently, it’s been equally punitive for the powers that be in Advanced TV. Perhaps that’s why it’s taken so long for our new UBC j-skool website to appear: ThunderbirdTV.ca.

Beyond the riveting opening theme and pirated Joy TV set (a studio in Surrey, a current workplace for our Emmy award winning prof, Peter W. Klein) are the pieces constructed by my colleagues and I.

Buried deep (= last) in this inaugural T-birdtv newscast is my piece on the Abbotsford Heat. It’s essentially the same piece I already placed on YouTube, but with some colour correction and different fonts for the “lower thirds” (the names of folks interviewed).

So sit back and enjoy two-month-old news! I dare you! The next installment of scholastic punishment will be coming in a couple of weeks.

There would be no George Carlin’s “seven words,” Red Foxx’s smutty oeuvre would be severely truncated, and Bob Saget would have to find other ways to slowly shed his wholesome Danny Tanner image.

The world would be poorer, certainly, but we would still have all six seasons of Dr. Katz: Professional Therapist, the innovative Squigglevision cartoon which ran on Comedy Central from 1995-1999.

While the Simpsons were reaching the zenith of animated comedy, Dr. Katz was quietly diagnosing the funniest men and women of a generation.

The premise of the show was simple: comedian Jonathan Katz played a professional therapist, and each episode featured two or three comedic “patients.”  To provide some semblance of plot, enter the regulars: Katz’s unemployed 25-year-old son Ben (pictured right, H. Jon Benjamin) and snarky receptionist Laura (Laura Silverman). Katz’s bar buddies would intersperse some nuggets of wisdom.

Why am I writing about Dr. Katz now? Because my iPod classic is full of dozens of episodes, forever at my disposal. Whenever I’m stuck in line somewhere, I never frown or yawn. Instead, I am apt to start giggling loudly (much to the consternation of my fellow line-mates). And because of the show’s non-linear elements, I can cycle through each of the six seasons without ever growing tired of the good doctor.

Guests on the show are a veritable who’s who of today’s comedy stars. There are late night talk show hosts (Jon Stewart and Conan O’Brien), sitcom stars (Ray Romano, Dave Attell, David Cross), zany HBO/Comedy Central stars (Dave Chappelle and Sarah Silverman), panelists from The View (Whoopi Goldberg and Joy Behar, but no Babs). Katz had them all. Even Ben Stiller, Wynona Ryder, Carrie Fisher, and David Duchovny showed up at one point or other.

But the real stars of the show are the lesser known but truly great standup comedians: Dom Irrera, Paul F. Tomkins, Brian Regan, Louis C.K., and Kevin Meaney, to name but a few.

A quick search of YouTube reveals a small sample of the show’s hilarious moments.

The always funny Patton Oswalt skewers Star Wars:

Al Lubel does a spot-on Jimmy Stewart:

Dom Irrera on cat-punching: