The Shooter

April 16, 1997 - Boston

The Kennedy library stands on the shores of Boston harbor, a glistening edifice of tinted glass and white concrete. It was almost nightfall and the museum was bustling. Limos, cars and taxis pulled up to the front of the building dropping off the well-dressed dignitaries of the city.

Tonight the library was hosting a reception commemorating the retirement of Warren Church, the long-time editor of the Boston Post. Tonight the city’s elite would honor the man who hounded their every misstep for the last forty years, ending one of the longest reigns in American Journalistic history.

The crowd gathered inside the main foyer, a large open area bordered by tinted glass on three sides with a ceiling that rises four stories above their heads. Most attendees were in formal attire, passing amongst one another making small talk and pressing flesh.

Laying low, staring out at the harbor, a group of people ignored the buzz of activity around them. Only one wore a tux. Charlie "Silver" Fox had the pleasure of delivering the keynote speech tonight. For many years the Silver Fox and Warren Church were two of the most respected men in America; Church at the Post and Fox, as editor, at the Washington Sun.

Widely regarded as men of high integrity and honor they were ruthless in their pursuit of the truth bowing to no institution of government or no man of great wealth and power. Tonight, Church was stepping down just as his friend, Fox, had done seven months earlier in a similar fete in Washington.

For his part, Fox had gone into semi-retirement, having returned to the city where he grew up, purchasing the daily paper there. With no more windmills to conquer, no more dragons to slay, he had taken over the Everett Post-Dispatch in a small blue-collar city on the northern outskirts of Boston.

Tonight he would honor his friend and their profession with one last salute to his old colleague. As he went over his speech for the fiftieth time, in his mind, the gentle woman by his side, looked into his eyes, smiling. Claire Alere was his companion for these last thirty years. It was at her gentle insistence that he stepped down following a triple bypass operation and changes in the ownership that had left him tired and unsure of his future in the fourth estate.

She was happy to see him in the limelight, once again, and had insisted that his only reporter attend the ceremony, just to see him in action. The reporter, Billy "Petro" Petraconti, had followed Fox throughout his illustrious career, long ago having given up his dreams of emulating him. Now as a forty-five year old staff reporter for a daily paper that records the births and deaths in a small city, he found himself unenthused and empty.

He too, returned home after a time with a big city paper, only he came home scared, unsure and beaten. Twenty-two years ago, Billy’s career was on the verge of taking off. He was a hot shot graduate from Syracuse working his way along the fast track at the Buffalo Chronicle when he stumbled upon a trail of corruption and power gone unchecked.

With the support of his Editor and the confidence of his youth, he relentlessly tracked down one city employee on the take after another. His stories appeared daily and he got his own column; The Billy Petro Report. Then after four months of solid investigative reporting it all came crashing down.