Trust Me

On starting a new investigative project

At this point in my career, I have no trouble finding stories. They find me, a bounty of tragedy, too many untold injustices in a media landscape that keeps drying up. Sometimes a frustrated source reaches out after reading a story of mine, needing to tell someone, anyone: that happened to me too. Sometimes, like with what I suspect could become the investigative project that consumes at least my next year, it’s an advocate who knows too much about the abuse inflicted upon a group of people she needs another way to help. She patiently pinged me as I explained I had a book I had to finish, parents I was tending to.

I didn’t want to promise too much. I’m a freelancer after all, and as online media collapses and print shrinks, so too do many of the outlets that could have provided contracts to support the reporting I’d need to do.

The advocate told me details about more victims, and I caught myself wondering about them during off hours. When I grew distracted in the evening after my other work was done, I did some simple internet searches—curious, preliminary research. The advocate had me hooked, and I didn’t even realize it.