Chapter 132 Media Attention
JASON'S POV
The next morning I woke up to my phone blowing up. Text messages. Missed calls. Voicemails. I looked at the screen. Most of them were from Tommy and the crew. A few from Detective Rourke. One from DA Walsh.
I checked the news app on my phone and my stomach dropped. We were the top story. The trial. The verdict. Photos of Caitlyn and me leaving the courthouse. Photos of Caitlyn on the stand. Photos of the defendants being led away in handcuffs.
"Caitlyn," I said. "Wake up."
She opened her eyes slowly. "What is wrong?"
"We are all over the news," I said. I showed her my phone. "Every major outlet is covering the trial."
Caitlyn took my phone and scrolled through the articles. Her face got paler with each one.
"Oh god," she said. "They have photos of me. Photos of Emma. How did they get photos of Emma?"
"I do not know," I said. "Probably from social media. Or maybe someone we know sold them."
"Someone we know?" Caitlyn said. "You think someone we trust would do that?"
"People do crazy things for money," I said. "We need to be careful. Need to protect our privacy."
There was a knock on the door. Loud and insistent. I looked through the peephole. Reporters. At least five of them with cameras.
"Do not answer it," Caitlyn said. "Please do not answer it."
"I am not," I said. "But they are not going away."
I called Detective Rourke. He answered on the second ring.
"I know why you are calling," he said. "The media attention. I saw."
"There are reporters at our door," I said. "How do I get rid of them?"
"You cannot," Rourke said. "This is a big story. High-profile case. They are going to camp out until they get something."
"What do we do?" I asked. "We have a baby. We cannot have reporters following us everywhere."
"I will send an officer over," Rourke said. "They can clear the reporters from your property. But they cannot stop them from being on the street. That is public property."
"Okay," I said. "Send someone. Please."
"On their way," Rourke said. "And Jason? You might want to consider making a statement. Something short. Just to get them to back off."
"A statement?" I said. "Like talk to them?"
"Not an interview," Rourke said. "Just a quick statement. Thank the jury. Say you are grateful for justice. Ask for privacy. Then walk away. It might satisfy them enough to leave you alone."
"I will think about it," I said.
"Do not think too long," Rourke said. "The longer you avoid them the more persistent they will be."
He hung up and I looked at Caitlyn. She was holding Emma. Looking terrified.
"What did he say?" she asked.
"He is sending an officer to clear them from our property," I said. "But they can still be on the street. He suggested we make a statement."
"A statement?" Caitlyn said. "You want to talk to them?"
"Not really," I said. "But Rourke thinks it might help. Might get them to leave us alone."
"Or it might make things worse," Caitlyn said. "Might make them ask more questions."
"Maybe," I said. "But we have to do something, we cannot live like this. Cannot be prisoners in our own home."
There was more knocking. Then a doorbell. Then someone called my name. It was getting worse.
"They are not going away," I said. "We need to deal with this."
Twenty minutes later a police officer showed up. He cleared the reporters from our front door. Made them move to the street. But they stayed there. Cameras pointed at our apartment. Waiting.
"I am going to make a statement," I said to Caitlyn. "Just a quick one. Then maybe they will leave."
"Okay," Caitlyn said. "But be careful. Do not say too much."
"I will not," I said.
I went outside. The reporters rushed toward me immediately. Shoving microphones in my face. Asking questions all at once.
"Please," I said holding up my hands. "I will make a brief statement. Then I ask that you respect our privacy."
The reporters quieted down. Started recording.
"Yesterday a jury found five men guilty of serious crimes," I said. "We are grateful for justice. Grateful for the jury's service, grateful for law enforcement's hard work. This verdict shows that no one is above the law.
That victims can get justice. That is all we have to say. We ask that you respect our privacy during this time. We have a newborn baby at home. We need space. Thank you."
I turned to go back inside but the reporters started shouting questions again.
"Mr. Cross how do you feel about the verdict?"
"Are you worried about retaliation?"
"What is next for you and your family?"
"Will you testify at the other trials?"
I ignored them all and went back inside. Locked the door, closed the curtains.
"How did it go?" Caitlyn asked.
"I made the statement," I said. "But they did not leave. They are still out there."
"What do we do?" Caitlyn asked. "We cannot stay inside forever."
"I do not know," I said. "Maybe we can go somewhere. Leave town for a few days until this dies down."
"We cannot just leave," Caitlyn said. "What about your work? What about Emma's doctor appointments?"
"We will figure it out," I said. "But I do not want you and Emma to be harassed. Do not want cameras in your face every time you leave the house."
My phone rang. It was Tommy.
"Hey man," he said when I answered. "I saw the news. You guys okay?"
"Not really," I said. "Reporters are camped outside our apartment. We are basically trapped."
"Come stay with me," Tommy said. "You can crash here until things calm down."
"You sure?" I asked. "We have a baby. That is a lot to ask."
"I am sure," Tommy said. "You are family. And family helps each other. Pack a bag. Come over. You can stay as long as you need."
"Thank you Tommy," I said. "Really. Thank you."
"No problem," Tommy said. "See you soon."
I hung up and looked at Caitlyn. "Tommy offered to let us stay with him. Until the media attention dies down."
"Really?" Caitlyn said. "He would do that?"
"Yeah," I said. "He said we are family."
"We are family," Caitlyn said. "Okay. Let us go. Let us get out of here."
We packed quickly. Clothes for us, supplies for Emma. Everything we might need for a few days. Then I called the police officer who was still outside.
"We are leaving," I said. "Can you help us get to our car without being mobbed?"
"Yes sir," the officer said. "I will clear a path."
He did. Held the reporters back while we loaded the car and got in. They took photos the whole time. Shouted questions but the officer kept them away.
We drove to Tommy's place with reporters following us. Two cars. Tailing us the whole way. It was creepy and invasive, it made me angry.
"They are following us," Caitlyn said. She was looking in the side mirror. "They are actually following us."
"I know," I said. "I see them."
I tried to lose them but they stayed close. All the way to Tommy's. When we pulled up they parked across the street, still watching and waiting