It was just a note on the mirror of my building’s vestibule. Now it seems like a whole lot more.
People’s lives. The man. The girl. The mother. They’re all locked in a twisted tango. Who is telling the truth? What is the truth?
Reputation. Judgement. Craziness. I am hearing many things. Many. That the man is reputable. That the accusations are groundless. That he doesn’t deserve to have his life ruined this way.
It was just a note on the mirror. But so much more. Ambiguity. A mother’s attempt to warn and protect or a mother’s attempt to indict and ruin a man publically.
What could be her motive? What could be his? And who is telling the truth?
And then there’s my small role in all of this. Did I fan the flames by putting it on OTBKB. But I didn’t know anything – I just saw the note and wanted to share what I was feeling about that note: the fear, the uncertaintly, the sense that these things are complicated. Wondering if it true, or is it slander.
I may know Third Street but I didn’t know this man at all. Now I am hearing about him from neighbors and friends who care about him, trust him, want to belive that these accusations are simply not true.
This is my beat. And if I wake up in the morning and there’s news literally on my door step…
There were moments this weekend when I wondered whether I was the reason that note was left there. That the mother knew, somehow, that I would blog about it, that I would spread the word and be complicit in what might be a lie.
I don’t know the truth—only two people know. And the mother, too. How could I possibly know?
A jury will have to sit through a trial – and hear the evidence – and decide whether there is enough proof. I sat on a jury in a sexual harassment trial last July. I know what it is like. You go in with a whole bunch of preconceptions and the trial can really turn you around. It’s all very complicated. And finally when the jury is sequestered and it’s time to reach a verdict, there must be proof beyond a reasonable doubt.
For someone who purports to know Third Street, I guess I don’t know Third Street as well as I thought. We know what we know and who we know — beyond that we don’t know a thing. If I fanned the flames in this incident – I take full responsibility.
There must be an object lesson in all this. About journalistic ethics and blogging. About Brooklyn blocks and what you do and don’t know. About sexual harassment and the muddy realm of statutory rape, endangering the welfare of a child. About lies, about truth. There must be an object lesson in this.
There must be an object lesson in all of this.
NO
“neighbors and friends who care about him, trust him, want to belive that these accusations are simply not true.”
that’s a pretty stunning statement you’ve written, basically suggesting the man is guilty. his friends, people like me, -want- to believe the accusations are not true?
as evidenced by the comments posted here, you’re doing a good job of fanning the flames of hysteria.
his friends -know- the accusations are untrue.
this guy has the biggest heart in town, and will do anything for anybody. He has keys to my house, and my neighbor’s houses. his biggest fault is being too helpful. look what it got him.
Yes, there is probably a lesson to be learned. Damned if I know what it is either, though :-)
In either case, not publishing identifying information was the right way to go. Let the press hang him IF AND WHEN he’s found guilty.