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This just in

So we got this odd letter yesterday from attorney Ilan Funke-Bilu, the guy who’s defending Ken Freitas. If you’ve been reading this paper, you know who Freitas is. If you haven’t, too bad. I’m not wasting my time filling you in on one of the county’s biggest stories.

(Okay, okay—Ken Freitas is charged with vehicular manslaughter in the death of Sarah Scruggs last year. Ken’s dad is Frank Freitas, the county’s tax collector. Ilan is the lawyer you call when the ATF grabs you red-handed in your basement meth lab. Me, I just work here).

So this letter from Ilan shows up (page 18) explaining that some comments he made in a news story a couple weeks back were “inappropriate.” He doesn’t restate his misstatement, leaving those of you who don’t read this paper wondering what could have been so inappropriate. Allow me.

Ilan told our reporter, Dan Blackburn, that the reason he wanted Judge John Trice to recuse himself from the Freitas case was because Ilan doesn’t “like bald guys.” He also told Dan that his client didn’t like bald guys, either. Dan, being a reporter with a pad and pen, dutifully wrote this down and included it in a piece two weeks ago. That’s what reporters do.

I’ve never met Judge Trice, but I assume he must be a chrome dome, and after having said that, I hope I never meet him, especially in court. I’ve never met Ilan either, but I assume he’s a neophite noodle-brain who thinks newspaper reporters carry pens for scratching their butts and notepads for blowing their noses, and after having said that, I hope if I do meet him he’s only 5-foot 3.

He’s not either of those things. I was just joking, ha, ha. In fact, Ilan’s been around the block so many times he’s worn a path in the sidewalk. He knows what reporters do. In fact, he’s one of the savviest attorneys this side of Harvard. So why’d he say the bald guy stuff?

This, naturally, takes me to District Attorney Gerald Shea, the subject of last week’s cover story, because Shea is bald, too, and wears a toupee. No he doesn’t. That was just another joke. I must say, however, that it sure seems like he’s got something to hide.

Getting Shea to talk to us was like getting you to watch a Democratic presidential debate. He didn’t want an open interview—he wanted questions submitted ahead of time. He didn’t want his picture taken—he wanted us to go away. He finally relented, then he clammed up, going off the record, then back on, and off again. It was like interviewing a headless chicken—lots of fancy footwork, but the beak don’t speak.

Unfortunately, District Attorney Shea soon discovered that the interview was going ahead even if he didn’t want it to. You know those reporters: always wanting a quote from the chicken. The result was a story that unintentionally cast Shea in an unflattering light, putting his intransigent bullheadedness in sharp relief. Frankly, the guy seemed like a real doofus, although I’m sure he’s not after he finishes killing all the reporters.

If I’ve lost the thread of my argument, let me try grabbing it and pulling until the garment unravels, revealing the naked truth (wow, what a metaphor): Gerald Shea is the county’s district attorney, an elected, public official who’s beholden to the people. I don’t think it’s too high-minded of me to say such a high-minded thing. No, really.

Because here’s the deal: Shea should be straight with the press so it can present him being straight with the public. The last thing he should do is assume an imperious stance and treat reporters like flies buzzing around in need of a good swatting. I’ve known plenty that do, but never mind because sometimes you’ve got to put up with annoying buzzings, especially in politics. The relationship is symbiotic—the press needs good copy and Shea needs to show people how well he’s doing his job. If we get mad at each other, it’ll be great fun for a while before it all turns to chicken poop.

As I was saying before I interrupted myself a couple hundred words back, Ilan Funke-Bilu is the exact opposite of Shea. Ilan talks too much—but his mouth usually does well for him. Without it, he’d be out of business. So he’s making amends for blabbing a little too much. So what? Minor stuff.

Hey, I know—here’s a brief media lesson for all our public officials.

Meet in a convivial atmosphere. Like a bar. This will put reporters at ease, especially if you’re buying.

Begin the interview with a joke. Like the one about what to call reporters who no longer chase ambulances: Dead. This will lighten the mood and get everything off to a great start.

Plan ahead. Never pay off reporters using large bills. Reporters have never seen large bills, so they may think you’re cheating them.

Act like a man. Unless you’re a woman.

Say everything you’re thinking. This is important, most notably when you’re not thinking much, which is the best time to start babbling. Don’t worry, the reporter will make you sound smart, pretty much.

So you’ve decided to hire a hit man. Congratulations. Your reporter problem will soon be over. Be discreet. Use large bills. Then have him call us so we can interview him. ³