JAWS story

Police are investigating the death of a local teenage girl after discovering her body mauled by an unknown attacker on an Amity beach this morning.

Victim Chrissy Watson, 17, was last seen alive leaving a nearby beach party with another teen, identified as Christopher P. Hoggenbottam III, the night before at about 11 p.m. Hoggenbottam informed police of Watson’s disappearance at approximately 6 a.m the following morning, claiming that she had entered the water at a remote section of South Beach the night before without returning.

After a brief search, the Amity High Schoolmangled body was found washed up on the beach by Police Deputy Jay Hendricks. In a recent press conference, Police Chief Martin P. Brody, who arrived on site shortly after, described it as “an extremely grisly and upsetting scene,” recalling the image of the victim’s jewelry-clad hand sticking out of a pile of sand and seaweed covered with crabs.

A local young boy was mauled at a local beach today in what police are saying appears to be a shark attack. The event is suspected to be linked to another recent attack, leading police to believe that

Martin P Brody.

No news from coroner

Hand sticking up out of the sand with some jewelry on it

In a pile of sand and seaweed

Crabs crawly

An extremely grisly and upsetting scene

Could have been a pack of wild dogs, known to roam that part of the island. Human attack not ruled out

Opportunities and Journalism

On Tuesday evening, I attended a speech about the misrepresentation of Muslim women in society in order to fulfill the class requirement of writing a speech story. Having no previous exposure to the topic, I was prepared to be bored to death upon walking into the MUB Theater, slouching in the cushioned movie theater seat with disinterest. To my surprise, the talk ended up holding my attention extremely well, and opened my eyes to an issue that I found pretty interesting. The speaker also expanded the topic beyond just Islam, transcending  racial and religious boundaries to express the philosophy of people being united in the universe by some divine force that exists between all of us. Pretty cool. The best part, though, was that afterward, I was treated to a variety of Arabic horderves by the people who organized the event. Everyone I talked to was extremely welcoming and friendly to me, gave me great quotes and interviews, and even talked with me extensively about career options in journalism. This event was certainly something I enjoyed, and would never have encountered had I not been there to document it as a news story. Thank you, journalism,  for opening my eyes to the subject, for the opportunity to meet so many interesting people, and for all the awesome food.

Roses are Red, Violets are... News?

Believe me, it wasn't easy to convince my mom that taking a poetry class was a good idea. In fact, she was kind of upset, concerned that I was wasting valuable time and money on a wishy-washy course that wouldn't help my career unless I planned on growing a beard and writing sonnets in my parents' basement for the rest of my life. I've had some interest and  experience in the subject over the past couple of years, but I knew that I wasn't going to try and become a poet or anything.  I had to explain to her that my reasoning behind the decision was to better my writing as a whole, hoping that my exposure to a more creative and imaginative form of writing would breathe new life into my creative process, and criss-cross with the more straightforward writing styles that I would use in the field of journalism.  Poetry seems to focus on the minute details in writing, requiring a deeper and more thoughtful kind of composition and reading. Now, almost all the way through the semester, I stand by my decision. I feel that the act of reading and writing poetry has allowed me a new perspective on words, sounds, rhythm (both conscious and subconscious), and has provided me even more versatility as a writer. It's like an outfielder on a baseball team playing a few innings on first base to gain a deeper understanding of the game, becoming much more aware of everything happening on the field. I'm glad that I was able to change positions, so to speak, and balance out one of the more rigid forms of writing with one of the most liberating creative practices, and I definitely plan on sticking to my interest in poetry so that I may never lose that creative spark in my journalistic writing.

Interview Niche = Found

In the past I have found myself struggling to conduct interviews, often getting nervous and scrambling for the next question to ask in my head--especially during phone interviews, when my poor hearing coupled with the inability to read body language or see the expressions on the person's face makes the interview even more painfully awkward. It wasn't until recently during a phone call with New Hampshire Surf Icon Ralph Fatello that I began to notice my skills improving. Knowing that Ralph is a notoriously aggressive character, I went into the interview with a prepared greeting and list of questions that I had written down in my notebook, and even practiced how I would answer the phone. Yeah, I was that cautious. 

What I expected to be a brief Q & A turned into a full-fledged conversation about surfing, philosophy, and numerous other things, lasting almost 40 minutes. During the interview, Ralph basically told me his life story and gave me much, much more information than I originally intended on obtaining, which was definitely a good thing; I got to know the guy really well in that short amount of time, and I was really happy with the amount of help he gave me. 

This interview definitely opened my eyes to how I should have been conducting my interviews all along. I realized that I shouldn't really treat interviews any differently than normal conversations, and felt comfortable asking the first questions that came to mind to help it move along smoothly. Even if the questions were unrelated to the subject of the interview, I think it helps to make the person feel more comfortable answering questions if you act--or truly are-- interested in every single detail they provide you with. So in short, I basically realized that preparation, relaxation, and earnest, deep curiosity are key in having the best interviews.

Choas in the Park Leads to Violent Police Chase, Leaves 5 Dead

Five New York  City civilians fell as casualties to a violent police chase through the city this Sunday, ending with the shooting of the suspected assassin.

New York City Police Detective Jimmy “Popeye” Doyle began his pursuit at the 35^th St. train station to the 15^th St. station in a comandeered automobile after being shot at by his target, Pierre Jeantot from a rooftop, accidentally killing bystander Betty B. Badluck while she was out walking her granddaughter. After a fast-paced chase trhough the city, Doyle met his target outside the train station, shooting him down with a single shot.

Police believe the event stemmed from an attempt by Jeantot to assassinate Doyle from a rooftop of an apartmen building at 1767 W. 57th Avenue, where police recovered an automatic rifle and several shell casings. After fleeing the original scene, both shooter and target embarked on a high-speed chase through the city, during which Jeantot boarded an elevated train and killed two conductors and one patrolman with a .44 magnum that was recovered from the scene.

Jeantot, 36, is suspected to have been involved with a French drug kingpin whom Doyle and partner Buddy Russo had been investigating. According to an email from Police Commissioner Ruth L. Ess, Doyle's use of a deadly weapon was justified under the circumstances, although a less bloody outcome would have been preferred.


"Let me just say it is always unfortunate when these incidents end in the loss of life. We would have preferred to see Jeantot prosecuted in the courts, and we believe Doyle was close to a breakthrough on the case. We commend Detective Doyle for his bravery an quick thinking under very trying circumstances. "

 Ess said that Jeantot entered the country on November 4 on a flight from Paris, France, and is suspected to be associated with a crime syndicate, laying the groundwork for a major heroin shipment from France to New York City. Two other men also suspected to be involved in the operation are currently being sought by police.

"We will continue a vigorous and thorough investigation into what appears to be a major smuggling operation," said Ess. "We will not sit while drug dealers walk our streets."

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Jon DeGennaro’s routine Sunday stroll through the park near W. 57^th Ave. was interrupted by the sounds of gunfire echoing from the brick walls of the adjacent apartment buildings.

The scene erupted in pandemonium as over a dozen pedestrians screamed and took cover in nearby buildings, behind trees, and by crawling on the ground. Overtaken by shock and panic, DeGennaro said that although he immediately recognized the explosive sounds as gunshots, it was unclear what was going on and where the shots were coming from.

It was when he saw a nearby woman lying face-down in the street when he realized the gravity of the situation's danger and retreated to a nearby Starbucks, where he remained for about 20 minutes until police arrived on the scene. The woman was later identified as Betty T. Badluck,63, of the Bronx, and was pronounced dead.

Following the original shooting, Detective Jimmy "Popeye" Doyle embarked on a high-speed chase across the city. The shooter boarded an elevated train, where he ended up shooting Roland Evans, 34, of Brooklyn, a 15-year veteran of the New York City Police Department, and Train Conductor Horacio C. Hornblower, 30, of White Plains in an attempt to hijack the train.

The shooter proceeded to break into the driver's cabin and hold Trainman Peter Howe at gunpoint, demanding that he take the train through the next stop without stopping. Overwhelmed by pressure and fear, Howe suffered a heart attack and died at the train's controls, leaving the train without a suitable driver. The train then crashed into another non-moving one, jolting the shooter and passengers forward.

The shooter exited the train and tried to flee the scene, walking to a nearby staircase, where he was met by Detective Doyle, who killed him with a single shot.

Zoo story so far...coming along slowly

The Durham Zoo erupted in a frenzied panic this morning as grumbling patrons poured from its gates and gun-bearing zoo workers scoured the grounds in search of an escaped and extremely dangerous spotted leopard.

The nearby elementary schools have been shut down as both zoo workers and local police search the zoo for Fluffy, a 146 pound carnivorous black and white-spotted leopard described as being “extremely dangerous” by Chief Zoologist Kitty Smith. According to Smith

“We urge anyone who encounters Fluffy to get slowly to the ground, go limp, and lay still. Avoid eye contact at all costs.”

 Fluffy’s disappearance was first noticed when the zoo was opened at 9:30 this morning. Zoo Director Gerry Durrell said that they have no idea where she might have escaped to or when she could have gotten out of her cage, and that she was last seen when the zoo was closed the night before at around 9 pm.

“She may have left the area, and she could be walking around Durham at this point,” said Durrell.

Mainstreet Pt. 2 - A Different Kind of Journalism

Winter is getting closer and so   the deadline for my final draft of my first Mainstreet Magazine article. It's been a challenge to work its writing into my schedule over the past few days, but it's coming along smoothly. I've been doing my best to add much more descriptive detail, tailoring my writing style to fit a much more open environment that allows a much higher word count. I've been following a formula similar to traditional news writing, only embellishing it with lots of detail and focusing more on imagery. I've decided to share my first introduction paragraph as a sample of what I mean:

It’s only minutes after sunrise when Jon Kiskinis pulls his gray Volkswagen into a parking space across from 12th Street on Ocean Boulevard in Hampton. He carefully opens the driver’s seat door and sets his rubber-clad left foot down on the rain-drenched pavement, peering over the salt-stained concrete seawall through a smokescreen of early-morning fog as the light offshore wind pushes his tangled morning hair onto his forehead. Less than a hundred yards away, mountainous lumps in the ocean’s surface approach the coastline, growing taller with every second. The lumps topple over, and hollow curls of whitewater pour from their peaks, cascading from right to left in picturesque perfection before pounding against the shoreline in a furiously powerful yet dreamily-orchestrated flume. This isn’t the Hampton Beach where parents take their kids on hot summer days or where teens go for fried dough and souvenir hoodies—this is the real deal, where local legends are made and the weak-willed watch from the sidewalk.