The Broadcast Read online

  The Broadcast

  Liam Fialkov

  The Broadcast

  Liam Fialkov

  Copyright © 2017 Liam Fialkov

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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  Chapter 1

  The Broadcast

  Optimism prevailed at the TXB television network headquarters in anticipation of the upcoming evening programs. Thanks to the unique video clip that had fallen into their hands—and the attention that it generated among the public—the senior managers at the media group had predicted the highest ratings in the history of the corporation.

  The advertising department had gradually built up the tension during three weeks of bombarding the airwaves with trailers and preview broadcasts, in which they promised viewers a TV program the likes of which had never been seen on the small screen.

  As evening approached, it seemed that excitement was growing and spreading throughout the country—on the streets, in stores, at fast-food restaurants, and in gyms. Many people rushed to their homes so they wouldn’t miss what was promised to be an earthshaking broadcast.

  A quarter of a century had passed since the affair that stirred up the nation, but the consequences of that murder trial—which had all the makings of a quintessential Hollywood production—had still not faded, and the emotional wounds in different segments of the population had never completely healed. It was a judicial battle saturated with emotions and turns of events that had captivated the nation. It had fame, wealth, power, sex, and interracial tension.

  The defendant in his trial—accused of committing a horrific crime—was the movie actor Pedro Gonzales, whose friendly face was recognized and liked in most homes throughout the United States. The public had also become acquainted with the slain victims: Melisa Robinson, Gonzales’s golden-haired ex-wife and the mother of his two children, and Adrian Parker, her friend whom she had spent that tragic afternoon with in July 1994.

  The event was titled by the media as “The Trial from the Movies,” and the media circus celebrated the affair in numerous sensational articles. The press, as well as the public’s attention, focused on the charming and charismatic actor, covering anecdotes of his life in the poverty-stricken neighborhood where he grew up, through his rise to fame and wealth. Diligent reporters had also dug up tales about his relationships with women that good looks and considerable talent had brought him.

  People in wide circles remembered how they had a hard time accepting the jury’s verdict, which determined that Gonzales was not guilty of the murder despite plenty of evidence that pointed to the contrary.

  Radio talk shows were flooded with calls from angry individuals who wished to express their outrage over the quick and surprising ruling, which exonerated the Latino celebrity. The widespread opinion was that the outstanding defense team, which included several high-profile lawyers, had played the race card to the jury, predominantly comprised of people of Latino background.

  And lo and behold, twenty-five years later, the popular TV network announced—to the amazement of the public—that it was in possession of a filmstrip that documented the murder. People found it hard to believe that in 2019, after such a long time, they would be able to see the occurrence with their own eyes and settle once and for all the doubts that had lingered in their minds ever since the dramatic court decision.

  An opinion poll funded by TXB found that the far-reaching implications of the affair had raised interest and curiosity about the upcoming broadcast in most segments of the population, including people who were not even born or were children during the trial.

  Competing TV networks intended to play rerun movies at the time of the broadcast, knowing they couldn’t compete with the enormous viewership that TXB had secured.

  TXB-affiliated stations had convened panels that debated the trial and its outcome from the early evening hours, which of course were accompanied by many commercials.

  The network had scheduled the show to air at 10:00 p.m., a relatively late time slot, and warned that the pictures were not intended for children’s viewing. As the hour approached, excitement grew, and many parents hurried to finish their household chores and put their kids to bed.

  Members of the panels were divided into two camps, as expected. On one side there were those who thought they were going to be exposed to an extraordinary and incredible revelation, and on the other side were those who suspected that the bubble was going to burst and turn out to be a hoax, or worse—a deception.

  Looking out through the window of the twenty-eighth floor at the TXB building in downtown New York City, producer Walter Lindsey watched the lights of the big metropolis glimmering below. He saw the traffic subsiding as the hour of the show drew near, but he wasn’t sure whether it was due to the broadcast or perhaps because of the late hour. Lindsey knew that he had come across an incredible journalistic scoop, an out-of-the-ordinary exclusive, and he thought that despite some doubts, he must not miss a great chance. This was an opportune moment that he could only dream about.

  Chapter 2

  Jonathan and Sarah

  In a large wooden house residing among tall sequoia trees in a rural and forested region, were Jonathan and Sarah, engaged in their evening routine. They fed their three dogs, eleven cats, the chickens, ducks, and geese; all the animals appeared impatient and eager to receive their meal.

  While preparing the dining room table in their home, they did not hide the curiosity they felt about the upcoming special broadcast. Sarah was especially excited; she remembered the trial that took place about twenty-five years earlier, and how she had followed it attentively, riveted to the TV and radio.

  Jonathan had not followed the events of the affair like Sarah had. During the trial, he thought the story was receiving too much attention—that it had become a cynical journalistic farce and was not really a trial from the movies, as was titled by the media. But now he seemed unusually restless.

  Sarah reached out to him as they were sitting at the dinner table with their three dogs sprawled on the floor at their feet. “I’m wondering if the film TXB is going to air is real or some kind of hoax,” she said. “And if it is authentic, where did they get it after all these years?”

  As she did every evening during the week, she took the time to prepare dinner from scratch after returning home from work at the clinic because she didn’t like ready-made meals. “Your husband is spoiled,” her girlfriends teased her. But for Sarah, cooking was a way to unwind and relax her mind at the end of a busy day, so she prepared dinner even on days when she was overcome by fatigue and her body just wished to sink into a comfortable couch.

  Jonathan surprised her when he asserted, “The film is authentic.”

  “How can you be so sure?” she wondered, examining him with her eyes while he appeared to be focusing on his food.

  “Because it’s Walter’s project,” he answered. “And I talked with him.”

  “So what did Walter tell you?” Sarah was interested. She remembered that the two brothers had recently mended most of their profound differences, overcoming deep-seated, long-term hostility, which had lingered for many years. Jonathan’s big brother, who d
idn’t attend their wedding, had even come for a surprise visit and had been their guest for three days.

  “He said it’s his project.” Jonathan didn’t volunteer further details. He laid his plate on the floor, so that his loyal dog, Bono, would lick it clean before it would be put in the dishwasher. Jonathan got up from his chair and Sarah understood that he didn’t want to continue the conversation. She knew that when he found himself dealing with personal issues—like his relationship with his brother—he tended to express himself in short, decisive sentences. On the other hand, he liked to speak and expand on theoretical matters. He acquired knowledge on topics that triggered his natural curiosity and imagination by employing his remarkable self-directed learning capability.

  ***

  They had bought their house at an incredible bargain price. A short ad in the classified section of the local paper had caught their attention. It read: must sell due to unforeseen circumstances. They had called the seller, who hadn’t even bothered hiring the services of a real estate company, and got the impression that he just wanted to get rid of the property—to get away from it as fast as possible.

  They had come to see the place. Sarah had fallen in love with the forested surrounding, which made her feel at home right away. She had always felt a special connection to trees. When she was young, she had participated in demonstrations against forest logging and was not embarrassed to hug and talk to trees.

  Jonathan liked the place because of the large and spacious wooden house, containing three bedrooms connected by a corridor, a rustic country kitchen, and a wide living room with large windows.

  They had not needed an expert eye to notice that the house needed renovation; there were a few broken shingles on the roof, and the wooden walls were crying out for paint. But they thought that with time, they would manage to repair what was needed and transform the house into their home, a nest where their love would blossom and their children would grow.

  While touring the property, they had come across an old barn made of gray, uncoated bricks, which stood about thirty yards from the house on the other side of the unpaved parking lot. “Here I can set up my repair shop,” Jonathan had said to his wife. Like him, she had seen the potential of the barn as a place where he’d be able to repair his customers’ vehicles and store the two antique cars that he hoped to renovate, once he found the time.

  The house stood on the outskirts of Corralitos, a small town in central California. The roads in the area were narrow and partially damaged, and in the last section leading to their land, the paved road turned to dirt, crossing a little creek over an old, narrow, concrete bridge.

  They had assumed that the main reason for the house’s low price, and why its owner was trying to get rid of it in such a rush, was its location in an area prone to severe earthquakes, right on the San Andreas Fault.

  But that hadn’t deterred them, and one month after their first tour of the property, they had already moved in and started to fix their new country home.

  They had found that despite the dangerous location, there were other houses in the vicinity, and their residents were not frightened by the prospect that a strong earthquake could sweep them away. The tough people who lived in the area strictly guarded their privacy and didn’t like anyone meddling in their affairs. Jonathan and Sarah had met their neighbors when they attended meetings of the Corralitos Home Owners Association. They had been proud to introduce themselves as homeowners after years of living in rented houses, dealing with unpredictable landlords and wishing for a home of their own.

  Chapter 3

  Sarah

  She was only sixteen years old. A cheerful young lady, she was usually a good and disciplined student, but there were occasional outbursts of rebelliousness and audacity toward her teacher—which always came as a surprise, for them and also for her.

  When she woke up one morning, dazed and bewildered, she didn’t know that her world was going to crumble. She tried hard to remember the events of the previous evening and night but couldn’t evoke anything in her mind, and her efforts were in vain—like a gap had opened in the time sequence of her consciousness.

  What did I do? Who was I with? She remembered that during her lunch break she chatted with her friend Megan and they talked about meeting that evening, and she could vaguely see them sitting in the park, not far from her home. But what else did they do? Did she get drunk?

  She called Megan, “What happened yesterday?” she asked, feeling somewhat embarrassed. “It is strange but I can’t remember anything.”

  But Megan could only confirm that they had indeed met, sat in the park, drank a little beer and gossiped for a while, nothing unusual. After about an hour they had separated and headed back to their homes.

  Then came the main crisis of her life, her world, and her relationships with her parents and everyone she knew. It had never occurred to her that the day would come when her parents would be ashamed of her—so much that they would want to send her away from them to a nunnery until the disgrace disappeared. They didn’t believe her when she said she didn’t remember what happened. They blamed her for destroying her life by getting pregnant at such a young age. They claimed that she brought shame on the family and that she had been inconsiderate toward them and hurt their good reputation, as they were a good, Christian family.

  She arrived at the convent, located on the outskirts of Phoenix, Arizona, scared and confused. Her parents had expressed their willingness to take her in their car—after they arranged the details of her stay at the place, at least until she gave birth—but she preferred to take a bus, dragging a small suitcase with her. After they had treated her in such a harsh, cold, and inconsiderate manner, she felt that she would rather be by herself.

  At the convent, she was received with kindness and cordiality. She noticed a large banner behind the receptionist’s desk, reading “God is Love,” and that warmed her heart.

  After signing some forms—that she didn’t really bother reading—she was taken for a tour of the monastery’s grounds, was shown the facilities, and received precise explanations of what was expected of her. She went to sleep feeling encouraged and sensing that she had arrived in a community that accepted her as she was and forgave her in spite of her condition.

  She liked life at the convent. The sisters, led by the mother superior, treated her with empathy, accepted her with compassion, and didn’t judge her for her actions and the circumstances that had brought her to the nunnery.

  The nuns, and Sarah among them, were required to lead an austere way of life, which included work and prayers from the early morning hours until bedtime. Sarah found that she preferred to be busy, thus avoiding too much thinking about her situation, about her ruined dreams, about the upcoming birth, and about everyone who had betrayed her. She saw the convent as a shelter and a place of refuge, and felt grateful that it was available to her. She loved the shared communal prayers, the singing, and the vocal harmonies that the nuns skillfully sang. Slowly and gradually, she started to feel drawn to the religion itself. She observed that a few nuns radiated with inner joy, grace, and love that stemmed from their faith, so they believed, from God, Jesus, Mother Mary, and the Holy Spirit.

  She tried to pray with wholeheartedness and found it difficult. Her parents, despite considering themselves as belonging to the Protestant Church, were fairly secular in their way of living, and visited church on rare occasions, mainly for social reasons. During her childhood, Sarah had visited church on a few occasions but hadn’t connected to the sense of sacredness that the pastor tried to induce. She didn’t find religion alluring, so she adopted a secular point of view, accepting that believing in God didn’t make sense to her.

  The nuns, old and young alike, bestowed affection and compassion upon her. She felt, perhaps for the first time in her life, that she had arrived at a place where she was accepted for who she was, and with all her flaws. She liked that they all wore the same clothes, so she didn’t need to bother trying to stand
out. She even found that she liked not having men around; with men, she always felt how they would scan her with their eyes, and she could sense how they would undress her in their minds and imagine her from sexual perspectives.

  She was charmed and even slightly in love with the image of Jesus, who she perceived as a merciful and loving figure. She continued to pray with perseverance, reading and pondering over religious Scriptures, and began to think that this was the life that was meant for her. She wondered if, in some mysterious way, she had arrived at the most suitable place for her, where she would realize and fulfill her hidden destiny.

  But before long, she started to observe several elements in the religion and hermitage that bothered her. At first it was just a touch of aesthetical reservation toward the many paintings that decorated the monastery’s walls, in which Jesus was being crucified and bleeding or angels were flying in the sky above the savior’s birth, looking like chubby, happy, genderless children. Later she found different manipulations in the religious literature that contradicted her basic understanding, annoyed her, and disturbed her yearning to find perfection and complete integrity in her new path.

  One day, when Sarah was required to clean and scrub the private living space of the mother superior, she discovered a small door hidden behind a book cabinet. She opened the door, and to her amazement she found other living quarters, completely different in appearance and functionality than the official modest living space of the nun. It contained soft couches, a large color TV, and a state-of-the-art computer. In an adjacent room, Sarah was surprised to find a spacious Jacuzzi.