Free The Criminal by Jim Thompson

think about is sniping at each other, getting even, carrying on some goddamned stupid feud! It's got to stop, get me? By God, I-I'm-"
    "I'm sorry," I said. And, right at the moment, I was sorry-for him. The way he looked, I couldn't help it. "What's the story, Don?"
    "Sure," Mack said gruffly. "Bill and I don't mean anything; just kidding around."
    "Well, all right," said Skysmith. "It's that rape-murder out in Kenton Hills, the one that broke late yesterday. You may have seen the second-section squib we carried on it?"
    I shook my head. "I don't recall… Wait a minute," I said. "You mean that juvenile case? The one where-"
    "I mean a murder case," Skysmith said firmly. "Rape and murder."
    "Well," I said, "maybe I'm dumb-now, now, Mack!– maybe I'm dumb, but where's the story? The girl was fourteen, the boy fifteen. We can't print a lot of dirt about-"
    "Facts," said Skysmith. "Facts are what we can print."
    I looked at him, and I think my eyebrows must have gone up a couple of inches. "What are we going to hang those facts on?" I said. "What's our justification for tossing our last shred of ethics out the window? I could see it, when and if they pick up the nut who knocked the girl off, but just to go to town on a couple of kids who had a little..
    My voice trailed off. After a minute, I said, "Oh, no! You're kidding. You're not going to imply the boy killed…"
    "What the hell's wrong with it?" Skysmith wouldn't look at me. "The kid got in, didn't he? He was there at the scene of the crime, wasn't he? He can't prove, positively, that he wasn't there at the time she was killed. He went on to the golf course-he says-but he didn't go all the way. He was about a quarter of a mile away when he saw that there were only a few players out and a hell of a gang of caddies, so-"
    "I know all that," I said. "The guys were kicking it around over at the Press Club. The d.a. knows it, too, and he doesn't feel there's sufficient grounds for charging the kid."
    "Goddammit"-Skysmith brought his hand down on his desk. "I didn't say the kid was guilty. But how the hell we going to know unless we get all the facts? We don't know a goddamned thing about him, Bill. What his background is, what his reputation for-uh-truth and veracity is, what the folks out in that neighborhood, his playmates and teachers and so on think of him. All we've got to go on is hearsay, just what that lard-assed d.a. says, and you know that stupid son-of-a-bitch, Bill. I'll bet he still hangs up his socks on Christmas Eve."
    "I don't know," I said. "I've always thought he was a pretty good man. As public officials go, of course."
    "I'll tell you what I think," said Mack Dudley. "We give this the full treatment-get the facts like Don says and pour the coal on the d.a., I'll bet the kid cracks. I'll bet he confesses he took it away from that poor girl and then killed her to keep her from telling."
    "Oh, I agree absolutely," I said. "I'm confident of it, Mack. In fact, I'd go a step further than that. I'll wager that if the Star gave you the treatment and sicced the d.a. on you, you'd confess to the crime yourself. Incidentally, and nothing personal intended, but where were you around noon yesterday?"
    "Now, Bill," said Skysmith. "For Christ's sake-"
    "You refusing to handle the story?" Mack snarled. "Go on! Tell me you won't, do it!"
    "Isn't there some alternative?" I said. "Something clean like scrubbing out the john? I haven't had much experience, but I'm strong and willing to learn."
    "He refuses," said Mack. "According to paragraph six, clause b, the refusal of an editorial employee to-"
    "Shut up!" Skysmith yelled. "Goddammit, SHUT UP!… Now, look, Bill, this is a perfectly legitimate story. It violates orthodox newspaper practice, perhaps, but there's nothing-uh-essentially wrong with it. All we want is the facts, no distortions or exaggerations. All we ask of the district attorney is a thorough investigation. That's not unreasonable, is it? There's nothing wrong