Thank God for St. Oprah! Thank God the patron saint of all that is good and righteous tonight set the world straight on the practice of polygamy. Those nice FLDS folks don’t force young girls into plural marriages! Willie Jessop said so! The women at the ranch said so!
And St. Oprah gave them her blessing!….more to come
It was stunning to watch the great Oprah Winfrey and her celebrity correspondent Lisa Ling grovel at the feet of FLDS spokesman Willie Jessop on television a couple of weeks ago.
You would think after all my years in the biz, it wouldn’t surprise me what T.V. types will do or say just so they can make some hyperbolic claim about “exclusive access” and “exclusive interviews.”
Judging by Winfrey and Ling’s fawning and sycophantic demeanors, you would have thought Willie Jessop was some sort of Nelson Mandela as he was talking about the “persecution” of his people.
Give me a freakin’ break!
I have always thought that to report on this story accurately, you have to know it’s history and based on their recent broadcast, it’s pretty clear Ms. Winfrey, Ms. Ling and their army of young producers don’t have a clue.
Even worse, on the very powerful platform of Winfrey’s show, they allowed FLDS apologists, people who have elevated the practices of lying and deceiving to the level of sacred art forms, to present a staged and fanciful image of FLDS life that flies in the face of well-documented history and fact.
In so doing, Winfrey and company have now also helped significantly in what has become a very well-orchestrated media and court room campaign on the part of Warren Jeffs’ big-dollar lawyers to roll back all of the hard fought victories that have been achieved over the last decade in behalf of the women and children of polygamy.
Honestly I didn’t know whether to laugh or to throw a shoe at the t.v., when Ms. Ling stood among a handful of FLDS men doing what Ling of course strenuously hyped on t.v. as an “exclusive” interview, talking about underage marriages and letting those men go unchallenged as they talked as if the practice of underage marriage was just some sort of malicious and untrue gossip aimed at their culture–some groundless and scurrilous insinuation.
Ms. Ling if you knew anything about the FLDS faithful, you’d know that they fled to that isolated gulog down in Texas where you were granted your “exclusive access” because, after fifty years of neglect and indifference, the states of Arizona and Utah finally stepped up and began busting those very same polygamous men and throwing them in jail because of forced underage marriages.
Their prophet and still undisputed leader, Warren Jeffs, is behind bars because of forced underage marriages.
Not gossip–not innuendo–adjudicated, documented fact!
And what did the big bad Texas Rangers find on the Yearning for Zion compound when they raided it last year? Photos of the notorious 52-year-old Mr. Jeffs, a guy who already has well over 100 wives, snuggling and kissing a 12-year-old girl who he had just made his newest plural bride.
And for you, Ms. Ling, to allow those lying bastards to stand there and pull their “Oh-schucks-we-don’t-really-do-that-kind-of-stuff” routine is beyond irresponsible.
For well over a decade, a handful of very courageous people have been in the trenches fighting a difficult and dangerous human rights revolution in behalf of the women and children of this repressive, abusive polygamous sect. Your simple-minded coverage and your zeal for “exclusives” and ratings have set that back. Mike Watkiss
I have a lot of respect for Oprah Winfrey. She’s used her power to do a lot of good in the world.
But when it comes to her recent coverage of polygamy and the FLDS community, she and her celebrity correspondent Lisa Ling have been used like a couple of garden tools.
Once upon a time as I sat in a tiny jail cell with convicted serial killer Richard Ramirez, the man known as the Night Stalker looked me dead in the eye and said: “We’re all evil.”
This face off with Ramirez took place in the early ’90’s. Since then Richard has been a resident on California’s death row.
But now it seem, Richard is back.
Recently I got a message from some young woman working for lawyers representing Ramirez. The Night Stalker is apparently down to his finally appeal….more to come
One of the first blogs I ever wrote was entitled “….so you want to make good t.v?”
It was about a man who I greatly admire. His name is John Schultz.
As all of us middle-age journos struggle to survive and redefine ourselves in the crazy world of the “New Media,” I look for inspiration in the stories of guys like John Schultz, a guy who helped create television news in the first place.
John Schultz was a young film editor at CBS in the early days of network news and it was there that John had the opportunity to work with the legendary Edward R. Murrow…..more to come
I was in Denver covering the trial of Oklahoma City bomber and mass killer Timothy McVeigh when I got the phone call from my mom.
Rarely an alarmist, she told me very matter-of-factly that I probably ought to get on a plane home to Salt Lake City as quickly as I could.
My dad was dying.
Oprah Winfrey is in bed with polygamous men–cowardly politicians in Mohave County Arizona have voted to close the Colorado City Justice Center–and Warren Jeffs’ scum-bag lawyers are scratching and clawing to roll back every advancement made during the last decade to protect the women and children of polygamy.
And why should I be surprised? It’s a twisted world!
Read more…
Paul Patrick wanted “to put a face on the victims.” That’s what his mom told me on Saturday afternoon.
Mary Patrick was sitting near a window of a room in St Joseph’s hospital. Her 48-year-old son Paul lay in a nearby ICU bed, tubes and bandages covering his body.
Paul had a very serious stroke on Friday morning.
“It probably didn’t do him much good to go to the trial every day,” Mary told me, “but he couldn’t stay away.”
For the last six months, Paul Patrick has spent most of his days on the fourth floor of Phoenix’s superior court, in the courtroom of Judge Roland Steinle, watching the trial of alleged serial killer, Dale Shawn Hausner.
On a hot summer’s night back in 2006, Paul Patrick was shot by a faceless coward in a passing car. Paul’s lower torso was torn apart by the shot gun blast.
Paul survived but his injuries were so severe that he lost most of his intestinal tract and ended up in a wheel chair.
The cold-blooded and totally unprovoked attack on Paul Patrick is just one of the nearly 90 crimes for which Dale Hausner was put on trail…..more to come…..mw
I’ve been called a lot of names during my career. Some have been nice. Others have not been so nice.
But the one reference that I think I like the best was written by an author named Lisa D. Campbell.
Ms. Campbell, once upon a time, wrote a very sympathetic biography of pop star Michael Jackson called “Michael Jackson: The King of Pop’s Darkest Hour.”
As you may have guessed, the book focuses on the time in the early ’90s when Michael Jackson first found himself facing a little boy’s allegations that he was a pedophile.
The book’s press release says it “covers this tragic time in Michael’s life, emphasizing the detractors and the supporters.”
As you also might have guessed, I did not fall into the “supporters” category in Ms. Campbell’s book.
No, working for the old tabloid T.V. show “A Current Affair”, I dogged Jacko all over the world during his first sex scandal, from Singapore to Switzerland, from London to Mexico City.
Obviously Ms. Campbell did not appreciate my work, leading her in her book to refer to me as a–quote–story hustler.
I know she might that as a slight, but I’ve got to confess, I’ve always loved the title, so much so that I’m thinking about asking my boss if I can have it printed under my name on my next batch of business cards as my official job description.
I think Lisa Campbell was right.
Story Hustler!
It certainly fits what I did back then and it probably still fits what I do today.
Tally Ho!
They say the hottest spot in hell is reserved for hypocrites–people who preach one thing and then do another.
I was reminded of that old adage during a recent trip back up to Colorado City.
Ever since that big raid down in Texas, every FLDS lawyer and spokesperson has been whining to any stupid reporter who will listen about religious persecution.
Please!
This coming from a people who have become experts at persecuting those who have left their group, have been thrown out of their group or disagree with their group.
Go ask some of the apostates (former FLDS members) how their are being treated in Colorado City these days.
Go ask a disabled man named Ron Cooke how he and his family are being treated by FLDS leaders in Colorado City.
Go ask the sweet young couple that recently tried to reopen Colorado City’s tiny zoo, only to have most of the animals that they had painstakingly collected stolen or killed. Ask that same young couple about the FLDS man who was recently arrested by a Mohave County sheriff’s deputy (Colorado City’s FLDS cops still can’t be trusted) for allegedly harassing them because of their efforts to improve the community by reopening the zoo.
Here’s a hint: the bully who was arrested is the brother of the FLDS spokesman who is now screaming the loudest and the most publicly about his people being persecuted.
….more to come……mw
I read somewhere recently that one of Warren Jeffs’ high-priced lawyers, a guy by the name of Michael Piccarreta, is going around writing in court documents and telling sympathetic newspaper reporters that I’m a bad man and unfair to his client.
Of course none of those newspaper reporters have done the professional thing and contacted me to get my response, so if you’ll indulge me, I will give my response now:
I can honestly think of no higher form of flattery than being attacked and disparaged by the likes of Michael Piccarreta, an attorney who has made hundreds of thousands of dollars representing a convicted child abuser and rapist of children. I’m totally good with that! I have always thought that a person is judged by both his friends and his enemies.
The truth is that Mr. Piccarreta is now desperately trying to keep photographs depicting his 52-year-old client cuddling and kissing a 12-year-old girl from making their way into an Arizona court room where Warren Jeffs will soon go on trial on charges of sexual conduct with minors.
The photos were seized during that ill-advised and ill-fated raid in West Texas earlier this year.
Mr. Piccarreta would apparently do just about anything to keep those rather incriminating pics out of the state of Arizona and to put the Texas raid on trial in Mohave County, including throwing up a lot of smoke screens and legal nonsense by saying mean and nasty things about people like me.
Let me save you the trouble Mr. Piccarreta. You are right on the money! I AM a bad man! Mea culpa! I’m guilty!
But I’m not the issue. The issue is your client, Warren Jeffs, a man already convicted by a Utah jury of forcing a 14-year-old girl to marry her adult first cousin–a man who, if those Texas wedding photos are to be believed, took a 12-year-old girl (maybe two of them) as a bride for himself, adding the adolescent children to the hundred or so wives he already has–a man who once ordered all of his followers to pull their children out of the public schools in Colorado City and then sat back as his cronies bankrupted the school district and turned much of the looted public finances over to their prophet in the from of tithes–just the kind of money that is probably now going to pay much of your inflated salary, Mr. Piccarreta.
And now suddenly Mr. Piccarreta is all upset, whining like a little baby about me merely showing-up at the public offices of the Arizona Attorney General recently to do my job and cover the news.
(By the way, Mr. Piccarreta, I never once reported on that gathering–never once uttered a single word about it on the air or publicly until now. In fact, it seems to me, Mr. Piccarreta, that it is you who are now making this event such a big deal in the media for your own money-motivated, biased and cynical reasons. Bottomline: I never got into that meeting at the Attorney General’s office–never got passed the lobby. Remember! You wouldn’t let me. Whatever deal you cut or agreement you made with Flora Jessop about an interview is between you and Ms. Jessop. I have no idea what conditions you and she set. Although I have now been told that you were trying to get a sycophantic reporter of your choosing into that gathering at Terry Goddard’s office. Interesting! Clearly you don’t really mind the media coverage just as long as it is slanted your way. Let me assure you, Mr. Piccarrea, I didn’t show up at the A.G.’s office because anybody “invited” me. I don’t need an “invitation” to do my job. I don’t know about the reporters you hang around with, Mr. Piccarreta, but I don’t work that way. I was there to cover a story that I have been covering for the past 30 years–the chronic and systematic abuse of women and children inside secretive polygamous sects like Warren Jeffs’ FLDS church and the goon squad of ethically-challenged, money-grubbing lawyers who defend them.)
(See “confessions of an ambulance chaser–liars, lawyers and media scum.”)
Why is it, Mr. Piccarreta, that guys like you and all of Mr. Jeffs’ other $500-an-hour mouthpieces are always trying to have me thrown out of places? I wonder. Maybe it’s because you and your client have something to hide.
The truth is, Mr. Piccarreta, if you want to talk smack about me go right ahead. Because, at the end of the day, it just makes me think that I’ve probably done my job.
Mike Watkiss, Senior Reporter, KTVK, Phoenix Arizona.
Like a lot of people I have been haunted over the last several weeks by the story of an 8-year-old boy who allegedly shot and killed his father and another man…more to come
According to cops in one tiny Arizona town, an eight-year-old boy picked-up a .22 caliber rifle exactly one week ago and then proceeded to pump four bullets into father. The third grader then allegedly turned the rifle on another man and fired off six more rounds.
If what cops say is true, the little kid pulled off a double murder that would make Sammy “The Bull” Gravano proud….more to come
With election 2008 now just a few days away, and campaigning getting about as ugly as it can get, I find myself thinking over and over again about one very famous quote: “Evil triumphs when good men do nothing.”
I also find myself hoping and praying that women and men of fortitude and good-will step forward on Nov. 4th and cast their ballots!
I’ve covered enough murders to fill up a good-sized cemetery. At most of them, I played the role of professional observer.
But once upon a time, many years ago, in a dusty little town called Blythe California, for several very tense moments, cops held me for questioning as a suspect in a brutal and cold-blooded killing.
It all happened at a little roadside motel, just off Interstate-10 as it crosses the Arizona-California border.
I was working on an undercover t.v. story on the secretive world of American cockfighting.
It was back in the early ’90’s and there was a big-time cockfighting arena just over the state line from Blythe, in a really tiny Arizona dot-on-the-map known as Erhenberg.
At the time, Arizona was one of only four or five states in which cockfighting was still legal.
Legal or not, however, given the brutal and ugly nature of the so-called “sport,” it’s supporters and practitioners did everything they could to keep their activities and their gatherings out of the spot light. We were there to change that.
My camera crew and I had been staying at a little roadside motel in Blythe for several nights as we shot video for the story, each day traveling back and forth over the bridge spanning the Colorado River from California to Arizona to attend what turned out to be a huge cockfighting tournament at the very out-of-the way arena on the dusty outskirts of Ehrenberg.
Of course we weren’t there just as spectators. We were there with cameras hidden in cowboy hats and sweat shirts. We wanted to show what cockfighting was really like. What we found was a bloody orgy of cruelty and violence. From early in the morning until very late at night, the booze, the bets and the blood flowed. Inside a warehouse-sized building, packed with hundreds of bleacher-style seats, there were three very busy cockfighting pits. The center pit was like the Super Bowl, a huge dirt stage where birds, fitted with long razor-sharp blades protruding from their legs, thrashed and slashed themselves to death.
At first the birds would rush at each other, colliding in an explosion of fury and feathers. With each pass, the knives and daggers tied to their legs would tear and stab. It usually didn’t take long before one or both of the birds began to stumble. Owners would then grab their animals, prop them up, blow hot air on the backs of their necks and then shove them back into battle. Eventually, with blood often gushing out in spurts and the animals unable to stand, the large crowd around the center stage would begin to boo and shout. The action was no longer thrilling enough. At that point the sliced up animals would be carried to one of the two smaller pits where these fights to the death could go on for another fifteen or twenty minutes.
Ultimately a winner was declared and usually that animal ended up strapped down to a tiny gurney having its guts sown back into its quivering body by a so-called “bird doctor.”
And for the loser, defeat usually meant having its neck wrung and being tossed into a garbage can. We shot an incredible story–dozens and dozens of cockfights–small children with their faces pushed up against the enclosure watching the animals rip themselves to pieces–thousands of dollars exchanging hands in bets–concession stands serving up booze from morning to night–men so drunk they could hardly stand up–and in the wee hours of the morning strippers brought in to entertain the lecherous diehard who were still in the audience.
After the story ran on the old t.v. show “A Current Affair” I was presented a thing called a “Genesis Award” for reporting on issues involving animals and many years later, when I moved from California to Arizona to take a reporting job in Phoenix, an official with Arizona Humane Society told me the story had actually had a significant impact in pushing Arizona lawmakers to finally outlaw cockfighting.
I’m proud of all that, but it’s certainly not what I first think of when I think back on that trip. For as graphic and disturbing and bloody as the whole cockfighting spectacle was, it was nothing compared to what was going on in the room right next to mine at that roadside motel in Blythe California. A young man was murdered in that motel room.
I first saw him early one morning. I was standing in the parking lot of the motel smoking a cigarette and waiting for my cameraman and sound man to join me so we could load in the car and head across the state line to start shooting the story in Ehrenberg.
All the rooms of the motel opened on to parking lot and as I was standing there having my first smoke of the day I couldn’t help but notice that the door of the room next to mine was open and that rather handsome, skinny, long-haired young man was standing there in the doorway. He was wearing only gym trunks and looked like he had just got out of bed. He also had a phone pressed to his ear and was obviously deeply engrossed in conversation as he stood there looking out into the parking lot. When I noticed him, he was already looking at me. It was a tad awkward.
I was only about ten feet away when I first became aware that he was standing there in his short, talking on the telephone. And I remember feeling as though I was invading his space. So I nodded at him as politely as I could and took a step or two back away from the doors of our two rooms that were literally side-by-side But the kid didn’t seem offended in any way–quite the contrary. I remember him, still talking on the phone, nodding back at me with a friendly look on his handsome young face–nothing weird, just being a good guy. I don’t know why, and you may not believe me when I say this, but I also remember feeling a slight sense of foreboding race through my body as our eyes met and we exchange what was really nothing more than a very quick and casual morning greeting.
Suddenly my camera guy and sound guy came out of their rooms and we loaded up our van, drove out of the parking lot and headed out for a long day of watching the cockfights.
It wasn’t the only time I saw the young man in the room next to mine. But it was the only time I saw him alive. ….more to come….mw