Somebody has to write about these things. Since I’ve worked as a reporter for 30 years, I know enough about how the game is rigged. I’m talking about the big mass tragedies. Sandy Hook, the Aurora theater, Hurricane Sandy, Katrina.
Many of the interviews with survivors are done on the spot, with no prep. But the biggest interviews are done in a television studio or a home, by a recognized anchor. The setting is arranged beforehand and lit well. A mood and a framework are established.
The guests are prepped by one of the producers before they go on-air. This is where the brainwashing occurs. A potential conflict needs to be resolved. The network has its agenda and the guest has his.
The guest is swimming in a welter of emotions, in the wake of the tragedy. A family member has died. The environment of the storm or the murders is still chaotic.
The network wants to “edit” these feelings, to convey something specific.”
The producer says to the guest, “What we want to do here is let our audience know how special your daughter was. How wonderful a person she was. We realize, of course, that you’re grieving. We understand and honor that. We do. In this interview, we really want to give you a chance, though, to tell the world what a special girl she was. Talk about her life, her interests, her hobbies, how she was thought of by the family and by friends at school. Honor her memory…”
Now, this may be the last thing on the guest’s mind. This grieving mother may be feeling angry, outraged. She is feeling absolutely desolate. She is feeling lost. Given the opportunity, she would express these feelings.
But this is not what the network or the anchor wants. The “program” at the moment involves “reflection on the happy moments of the child’s life.” It’s part of the pre-set storyline.
At this moment, for this grieving mother, the happy moments are the farthest thing from her mind. But who cares? She just fodder for the network’s agenda.
And if the producer is skillful enough, he can gently convince the mother that she should devote four minutes of commercially sponsored national television to “a celebration” of her dead child’s life.
Suddenly, it makes sense to the profoundly confused, profoundly searching mother. Yes. Why not? Why not go along with the program? She’ll have a video clip about her wonderful daughter forever. A scrapbook memory.
Under no circumstances, of course, will the producer or the anchor permit the mother to go on camera and show outrage and anger. That’s verboten. That cuts too close to the bone. That doesn’t fit the mandatory sequence of horror, shock, loss, grief, healing, resolution, celebration of a life lost.
The whole sequence is artificial. It’s imposed. It’s orchestrated. It’s a stage play, produced in great part through interviews with guests who have suffered loss and who are “real.” Except they’re not. They’re programmed to deliver what the networks want.
And behind all this? Behind the mandatory spooled-out story line, which takes days to reveal in full, on television? The concealed anomalies and lies and contradictions in the commission of the crime and the ensuing cover-up.
The network story line hides as much of that as possible. This is why the interview-prep is so important. Here is where the guests, before they go on camera, are nudged into the right slot, are shown what to focus on, are brainwashed into doing something they would never do.