An inside job
I left WFTS-TV one afternoon as I'd done hundreds of times, driving a news vehicle with my gear in the trunk. There was nothing unique about this day. That is, until I realized my gear was stolen.
But first, coffee.
I had time on this particular day to stop for coffee. As I was working the night shift, which ended after going live for the 11PM newscast, bed time wouldn’t come until about 1AM. So, I allowed myself my drug of choice later in the day than I normally would have. I parked outside Buddy Brew in South Tampa, locked the SUV, and within 5 minutes I was walking back out, caffeine in hand. My routine, whenever leaving my gear out of sight for even a few minutes, was to return to the trunk first and check it before getting into the driver’s seat. News equipment was often stolen in places like San Francisco, but it was much more rare in Tampa. Still, it seemed like good practice to note that I’d left my last stop with thousands of dollars worth of technology still in tact. That way, in the event it did go missing at some point during my day, I’d know where I had last seen it all and could tell law enforcement. I opened the trunk and to my shock and horror, it was completely empty! My camera, tripod, laptop bag - stolen!
A latté do about nothing.
I nearly passed out. What would I tell my bosses (who already thought I was a little “kooky” - as our general manager once described my clothing choices) about how I’d lost thousands of dollars in equipment? And with no camera, how would I shoot my assigned story? Of course my assignment was the least of my worries, but if overthinking were an Olympic mental gymnastics routine, I’d make Simone Biles look lazy. I probably ran through the scenario about how this robbery could give me cancer someday before I called 911. I told the operator that I was a reporter at ABC Action News and while I’d been inside a coffee shop ordering, someone had run off with all of my gear. Within minutes, two blue clad Tampa police officers were investigating while I talked to my chief photographer, who also came out to meet me. It didn’t take long for one of the officers to walk up to us and say, “Ma’am…this was an inside job.”
Who dun’ it?
An inside job? I was immediately bewildered. Like, someone I knew stole it? “There is no sign of forced entry,” he said. He continued, looking as puzzled as the rest of us. “Are you aware of any contractors who have access to the station garage? Landscapers or construction?” Yes, we always had work crews of one kind or another around WFTS. But I couldn’t think of anyone specifically that appeared shady or seemed to have been scouting our parking area. Right then, my chief photographer’s phone rang. He shook his head as he listened, then hung up. He looked at me, grinned and sighed, as if to brace us all for the head-scratcher he was about to report. “Alison, your gear is back at the station in another vehicle. You must have loaded up one car and driven off in another.” The cops were right. It was an inside job - I did it to myself.
It’s (almost) always an inside job.
How I managed to pull off such an intricate and secretive plot to steal my own gear, I’m still not quite sure. For the 12 years I was a TV reporter, I was always in a rush. I have no experience of the boredom others describe at work, watching the clock slowly tick by until they can finally go home. I raced seconds everyday to deadlines that I can’t believe I made (and sometimes didn’t), talking to the public as if I was a semi-authority on a subject when in reality I barely had time to go to the bathroom much less comprehend complex issues. It took me over a decade to begin to really understand how the system of mass produced broadcast journalism rarely allowed for journalism. But ultimately, I can’t blame the system, because for much of my career, I never really questioned it. Of course, I complained like my peers that I never had time to do my job well, but it took a decade to really wake up to how that put me in a position to be a stenographer for special interests rather than someone seeking the truth. Ultimately, I am responsible for the narratives I pushed. Even if unwittingly, I did it. My participation in propaganda was an inside job.
A journey inside-out.
My journey after leaving corporate news, then, has also been an inside job. I have focused on censorship because I believe silenced voices offer important information, not simply because of what is said, but also because it gives us insight into what knowledge is deemed dangerous by power and why. However, my conversations with society’s heretics are really a chance for me to hear ideas I never knew existed, even as I had believed myself proficient in understanding the world around me. It is a personal journey toward understanding why I was asleep for so long - and how I slowly began to wake up. If you’d like to join my journey, consider subscribing here to support my work. I hope to turn this Substack page into the book I’ve wanted to write for years. Thanks to everyone who has generously gotten me to this point. You have made this dream a tangible reality.
Posing for a photo in front of Air Force One when President Obama was in Tampa. How little I knew about the United States government, its increasing encroachment on civil liberties, and how my career would cross its path long after leaving TV news.