Locals Talk About the Experience of Being Exposed on Front Pages and Evening Newscasts in Cases Involving Sex

By Steven T. Jones

Back in 1993 when we first decided to profile locals who'd been thrust into the media spotlight, public support for the media’s performance was at an all-time low. Poll after poll showed that the public thought the media was insensitive, exploitive, biased, sensational, and many times flat-out wrong.

Things have gotten worse since then.

The reputation of the media has taken body blows that would have felled Mohammed Ali in his prime: faked stories (dozens in major magazines) and recanted stories (like CNN's heavily hyped but unsubstantiated story accusing the United States of using chemical weapons in Vietnam). And then there's Monicagate, where it seemed the media focused as much on the sexual aspects as the questions of law.

So we decided to revisit the question of media credibility from the viewpoint of local people who have firsthand experience: the subjects of news stories that involved sex. How were they treated by the media? Was the reporting fair and accurate? How do they rate the media?

The two women we profile had difficult, very personal stories exposed in the glare of publicity. Each would have chosen to stay out of the limelight, but events overtook them–and one was even drawn into the national spotlight in connection with the Clinton-Lewinsky affair.

Turner Tried in Vain to Keep Her Name Secret

Kimberlee Turner didn’t want the media spotlight. All she wanted was a remedy for the sexual harassment she was subjected to by Jerry LeMoine, director of the county’s Environmental Health Division.

But even as the county tried to shield her identity and she refused to talk to the media, its spotlight bore down intensely upon her, allowing LeMoine and his people to characterize Turner as a temptress, a liar, and a greedy manipulator of the system.

"What I found was that the longer I stayed quiet, the more stuff came out that was just gross," Turner said.

The story began when Turner filed a sexual harassment complaint against LeMoine in August of 1995 and first hit the media at the end of the month with a report about LeMoine's resignation, ostensibly for "personal reasons."

But then LeMoine hired local private investigator Alan Bond, who began feeding the SLO County Telegram-Tribune stories about how LeMoine was forced to resign by an unwarranted accusation of misconduct and would fight to keep his job.

By Sept. 8 the story was front-page news with an article that for the first time named Turner, quoting a LeMoine letter to the county that said he had been "threatened with the loss of compensation, for sick time accrued, denied adequate time to review the documents presented, denied the opportunity to obtain counsel, and threatened with contamination of my personnel file with unsubstantiated allegations from Kimberlee Turner."

The next day a story on LeMoine's firing ran with a yearbook photo of Turner with caption, "Kimberlee Turner, named as accuser." By the beginning of November the T-T was running long stories on the relationship between Turner and LeMoine and an office where sex was talked about openly, stories based almost entirely on LeMoine's version of events.

"People would read that and think it was the truth," said Turner, who is now 34 years old.

The Telegram-Tribune did 32 stories about the Turner-LeMoine saga, 11 of which came before Turner finally decided to break her silence with a press conference on Nov. 21, 1995, before which she believed her silence would be best for all concerned.

"Unfortunately, it has become apparent that my silence in these matters is no longer protecting anyone but Mr. LeMoine. It has allowed him to use the media as an arena to rationalize his behavior and make demeaning statements as to my character," Turner said that day.

She used the occasion to release handwritten notes LeMoine wrote to her, demonstrating his obsessive, harassing pattern of conduct. But she feels that even those damning letters were downplayed compared to LeMoine's more titillating version.

"I don't think it ever got across that he was ill," Turner said.

Turner's beautiful, sexy appearance and colorful past seemed to feed the perception that she was somehow to blame for what happened, a perception she felt came through strongly in the news coverage.

"I had never claimed to be a saint or a prude. I was raised in this town as a wild gypsy child," Turner said, a mischievous grin playing across her lips.

In fact, she is convinced that knowledge of her wilder exploits caused reporters to arrive at the conclusion that she deserved what she was getting, or that she was manipulating the system and LeMoine, despite her claims of being a victim.

"It was personal. There was just too much personal antagonism in what was written that went way beyond the truth," she said. "So much blame was put on me, so much more than needed to be." Turner grew to despise the local media and all it represented to her, even severing friendships with people who worked in the media. As the conflict wound its way through a Civil Service Commission hearing and other steps in the administrative process–all of which resulted in judgments against LeMoine–the story was covered extensively.

"There was a lot of TV coverage, and the first thing in the morning it was on the radio," Turner said. "At one point I just tuned it all out and wouldn't watch TV or read the papers."

Turner said the barrage of media attention actually made her fearful for her safety at one point. She would have a friend sleep on her couch to deal with knocks on the door. During the height of the coverage, Turner felt like she was being watched everywhere she went.

"It got to the point where I couldn't go shopping and write a check," Turner said. "They'd see my name and have to make a comment."

To this day, Turner said, she has problems trusting people, and her view of the media has been forever changed.

"It's such a powerful tool, but it gets abused," she said. "The truth is far less exciting than what was presented."

But after a few years, Turner says she's getting past the incident, largely with the help of a journal she has kept, a process she sees as cathartic. She is currently in the process of turning that journal into a book about the experience.

Battalino Feels Reborn by National Media Attention

The national media spotlight has transformed Los Osos prisoner Barbara Battalino, changing her from a felon without hope to a politically active citizen with a potentially bright future, a metamorphosis in which she sees God's hand.

"Though my life as it was was taken from me, [the media attention] has given me a new approach to life," Battalino said. "This happened to me for a reason. This is greater than me."

Battalino has spent the last six months in the national media spotlight, appearing in the country's most prominent newspapers, magazines, television news programs, and radio talk shows: "Dateline," "20/20," The New Yorker, The New York Times, Los Angeles Times, Washington Post, "The Rush Limbaugh Show," and on the CNN, NBC, Fox, CNBC, and ABC networks.

All this attention has come because she pled guilty to perjury involving her sexual relations with a patient at the Idaho Veterans Administration hospital where she worked as a psychiatrist.

The story probably would have warranted just local coverage, but her case came at the time when the national media was focused on President Clinton's sex and perjury case. Both cases featured lies about sex exposed by secretly taped telephone conversations and abuse of power by a federal employee.

The media focused on what it saw as a double standard between Clinton, who might get away with lying under oath, and Battalino, who pled guilty to a felony perjury charge and is serving an electronically monitored six-month sentence of detention in her mother's Los Osos home.

Shortly after pleading guilty last April, Battalino said the media found out about her case. An article about perjury that referred to her appeared in The New Yorker, and other press calls started coming in.

"I don't know exactly how they found out about me," Battalino said. "I didn't seek it out or make any overtures, but I did start to get phone calls."

Initially, Battalino didn't take any of the calls or give interviews. But that changed as she became convinced by the media calls and her own observations of Clinton's actions (which she condemns as warranting removal from office) that her case offered a valuable lesson for the public.

A turning point for Battalino was her contacts with Alexandra Pelosi, a producer for "Dateline," whom she described as compassionate and professional. She helped convince Battalino that the public needed to hear her story.

"I realized the significance of what I was being asked to do," Battalino said. "And it was my love for the country that made me do it."

By August, when Monica Lewinsky got her immunity deal and it become apparent that Clinton had lied, Battalino's phone began ringing regularly with press calls, which built to a crescendo by November when she was summoned by the House Judiciary Committee, which was considering Clinton's impeachment, to testify about perjury.

"I had no idea that it would get to the magnitude it did," Battalino said.

She began doing several interviews a week and even accepted the help of a supporter who wanted to help screen press calls and serve as a public relations representative. She was on a mission to use her story to criticize the behavior and character of the president.

"It was my faith that helped me put my embarrassment aside. I felt like there was a reason this was happening to me," said Battalino, a devout Catholic. "My situation became a political issue and a moral issue for me."

Overall, Battalino has no quarrels with the press she received.

"I'm very impressed with the national media," Battalino said. "My overall interaction with the media has been very positive."

But locally, Battalino has had mixed experiences with the media. While she was impressed by Kofi Jones of KCOY-TV and granted that station an interview after initial denials, she found KSBY's reporter to be rude, so she didn't give that TV station an interview.

"I wanted to reward people who were respectful and considerate of my feelings," said Battalino, who called Jones to give KCOY an interview after her bad experience with KSBY.

Despite initially refusing to return calls from the Telegram-Tribune, she eventually talked with a reporter from Morro Bay's Central Coast Sun-Bulletin, which is owned by the Telegram-Tribune, and was pleased with the story that came out in the T-T.

New Times has the distinction of being the only bad press Battalino says she received, after being slammed by The Shredder. Battalino even threatened a lawsuit over the item, but eventually decided against it.

There was a personal price to her new fame. While her mother–also a conservative Republican–was supportive of her efforts, Battalino's brother, who also lives in Los Osos, was sharply critical of what he saw as a sullying of the Battalino name simply to criticize a Democrat president. Battalino's relationship with her brother remains strained.

"He was never happy, and still isn't happy," Battalino said.

Yet she sees her bout with media celebrity as being one of the most positive experiences in her life. She has gotten calls of support from all over the country and has undergone a political awakening.

"It's given me a greater understanding of the importance of being political active," Battalino said. "I plan to be much more politically active. I hope this notoriety will allow me to be more active in the political scene."

Battalino plans to work on getting her felony changed to a misdemeanor, allowing her to run for political office if the opportunity presents itself. She is also looking into a lecture tour.

"I feel an opportunity to be a spokesperson for those who can't speak out," said Battalino, whose home detention sentence ends Feb. 27.

Steven T. Jones is a New Times staff writer.