NOTES ON THE HERALD
VERDICT. Shortly before 4 p.m. on Friday, a low buzz started
among the reporters and other observers who had gathered to wait for the verdict in the
Boston Herald libel trial. Supposedly the 12-member jury -
supplemented earlier in the day by an alternate after one of the
regular jurors was dismissed for personal reasons - was unable to
come to a conclusion, and would be sent home until next Tuesday. The
groans were nearly audible.
But with no one really sure what
was going on, the several dozen people who had gathered in the
12th-floor courtroom hung around, waiting for some official word. It
came at 4:03, when the jurors took their place in the jury box and
handed their verdict to a court official. Boston Municipal Court
judge Charles Johnson, who presided over the month-long trial with
what might be called an excess of calm, spent several agonizing
minutes reading the verdict before it was finally
announced:
The Herald had been found to
have libeled Superior Court judge Ernest Murphy. Herald
reporter Dave Wedge was also found to have libeled Murphy. The case
was dismissed against Herald reporter Jules Crittenden, who'd
shared a byline with Wedge but who had not reported or written the
most controversial parts of the Herald's February 13, 2002,
story, which alleged that Murphy was a "wrist-slapping" judge who had
"heartlessly demeaned" victims of crime. The damages: $2.09
million.
The verdict gets plenty of
attention in today's papers. Start with Jack
Spillane's account in the
New Bedford Standard-Times. Spillane has done yeoman work in
covering the trial, and he's gotten the space needed to do it right.
New Bedford, you see, is in Bristol County, which is where this story
began three years ago. The New York Times covers the
case here;
the Boston Globe here;
and the Herald itself here.
Was it libel? I've got my doubts,
as I wrote
last week in the
Phoenix. Ultimately it will be up to the appeals courts to
decide. Murphy is a public official, and the Herald's
reporting involved how Murphy was performing his public duties as a
judge - reporting that is accorded the highest degree of First
Amendment protection. Under the Supreme Court's landmark 1964 New
York Times v. Sullivan decision, the jury had to find that the
Herald had acted with "actual malice" - a legal term that
means Wedge and his editors knew that their reporting was false, or
that they showed "reckless disregard" for whether it was true or
false.
In practical terms, that means
Wedge and his editors had to have harbored strong suspicions that
their reporting was false, but that they went ahead and published it
anyway. Murphy's lawyer, Howard Cooper, argued that was precisely the
case. But it seems more likely that Wedge allowed himself to get
caught up in a vendetta against Murphy by Bristol County district
attorney Paul Walsh, whose office was the source of quotes attributed
to Murphy that he had said of a 14-year-old rape victim, "Tell her to
get over it," and that he had dismissed concerns about a 79-year-old
robbery victim by saying, "I don't care if she's 109." Murphy had
emphatically denied saying any such thing about the rape victim, and
testified that his remark about the elderly robbery victim had been
twisted out of context.
Last evening Herald
publisher Pat Purcell issued a statement
vowing to appeal the verdict:
I would like to thank the
jury for their diligence on this very complicated case.
However, we believe the first
amendment allows news organizations to provide uninhibited
coverage of government and public figures and we will continue to
cover them vigorously.
We have complete faith in our
reporter David Wedge, and we are confident this decision will be
reversed on appeal.
Legalisms aside, the jury sent a
powerful message to the media about the dubious, inflammatory
reporting in which the Herald engaged. Wedge's first story was
essentially based on one anonymous first-hand source - later revealed to be
then-prosecutor David Crowley - who testified that Wedge got the
"gist" of it right, but mangled the "Tell her to get over it" part.
(In fact, the evidence showed that Murphy had more likely said "She's
got to get over it, which raises the possibility that he was actually
showing solicitude toward the victim - although Walsh testified that
neither he nor Crowley took it that way.)
Wedge, by his own testimony, did
not try to contact either of the two defense lawyers who were present
when Murphy allegedly made those remarks; both of those lawyers
testified that Murphy did not utter the offending statements. Wedge's
attempt to interview Murphy before that story ran consisted of
approaching a court officer at New Bedford Superior Court and being
rebuffed, he testified. He did confront Murphy outside a restaurant
the next day for a follow-up story; Murphy refused to speak with him,
which I had thought might be a mitigating factor in the
Herald's favor. Obviously the jury didn't agree. Nor did it
help that Wedge reported in his follow-up that the 14-year-old had
"tearfully" read a statement in court, when in fact the statement had
been read by a prosecutor; or that Wedge had gone on The O'Reilly
Factor and made statements that even his own reporting didn't
support.
In the hallway outside the
courtroom, after the verdict had been delivered, Herald
reporter Tom Mashberg, who chairs the Herald union's editorial
unit, read a statement in support of his colleague: "Our members are
disappointed by this verdict and are supremely confident it will be
overturned on appeal. David Wedge is an excellent reporter who worked
tirelessly to expose the sentencing practices of a powerful sitting
judge."
The afternoon, though, belonged to
Judge Murphy, surrounded by his lawyers and family members. A tall,
stocky man who towered over the press gaggle that surrounded him, he
decried the ordeal he'd gone through as a result of the
Herald's reporting and numerous follow-ups - including death
threats, a hate-filled message suggesting his own daughters should be
raped, and public characterizations of him as "Easy Ernie" and "Evil
Ernie." At one point, Murphy testified during the trial, he went out
and bought a .357 Magnum for protection.
"I think what happened to me should
be an example," Murphy said yesterday. "Innocent people, their lives
can be altered and they can be hurt immeasurably." He added: "I'm
proud of myself for standing up, I'm proud of my family for standing
by me." And he said that the verdict should stand as an "object
lesson" in "how powerful the press is." Cooper said there was "a
message here for the media." That message: "People like David Wedge
need to think before they put their fingers to the
keyboard."
Murphy also said he hopes to resume
his duties as a judge, and that he will hear criminal cases if he's
allowed. Among other things, he said he hopes that his ordeal will
focus new attention on "alternative sentencing" options, such as
rehabilitation for perpetrators addicted to alcohol or other drugs.
Judges, he said, must "exercise discretion."
Perhaps that was the most powerful
message of all yesterday. Because the truth is that what enraged
Bristol DA Walsh was Murphy's compassion. Regardless of whether
Murphy, behind closed doors and off the record, said things that
could be interpreted as insensitive toward victims of crime, the real
issue is Murphy's belief that not all criminals are beyond redemption
- that it makes no sense to destroy additional lives if there is
reason to believe that wrongdoers can be transformed into productive
members of society. That's not a popular message, especially with
prosecutors.
The Herald's Greg Gatlin
today quotes a prominent First Amendment lawyer, Robert Bertsche, on
why the Herald may win on appeal:
The sad thing about this
is it's clearly a story of public importance. There are questions
about this judge's record and whether he had been lenient, and
that is something that we and our newspapers should be talking
about. That's part of being in public office.
I think Bertsche is right, and I
quoted him to similar effect last week. Nevertheless, there are
numerous things the Herald could and should have done to avoid
legal trouble. One more day of checking would have made all the
difference.