Innuendo by R.D. Zimmerman

leaned against one wall, ready to pounce on the Andrew Lyman story, determined to claim it as his own. He stood silent, half-listening as the news director, Tom Busch, opened the meeting and covered the usual items. As they discussed the ongoing saga of whether the omnipotent MnDot—the Minnesota Department of Transportation—was going to persevere in building a huge bridge over the St. Croix River, Todd decided on the angle he was going to take for his own story and just how he'd pitch it.
    “The federal judge assigned to this bridge thing will be announcing her decision just after lunch,” said Busch, a burly guy with brownish hair and big round shoulders. “Any of you reporters want to pick it up?”
    Carol Wyman's hand immediately shot up. “Yep. I'll take it. My parents have a cabin on the St. Croix, so I'm quite interested in this.”
    “Fine, it's yours. Just remember, I want equal coverage of the issue. ‘MinnDOT’s’ all worried about traffic congestion, and the Department of Natural Resources is concerned about the quality of a national scenic waterway.”
    “I'd like to get something in there about the bridge encouraging urban sprawl, which it certainly would do,” said the attractive, slim reporter, her brunette hair clipped short. “I mean, if they build a four lane bridge from Minnesota to Wisconsin you can bet the subdivisions are going to sprout like weeds over there.”
    The executive producer, Bill Summers, a lawyerly looking type with silver hair, looked up and coolly said, “Just keep it even.”
    “So what are we talking here?” asked Steve Carlson, the assignment editor, who figured prominently in all these meetings. “A sixty second package?”
    “No, we covered this one pretty extensively about two months ago,” said Busch. “I think a thirty second live report just about the judge's decision would be enough.”
    “How about I do it from Stillwater?” suggested Carol. “We can get a downstream shot of the river.”
    “Fine.”
    “Okay, it's a go,” said Carlson, writing it down. “A thirty second live shot from Stillwater. We're talking for both the five and six, right?”
    “Right.” Looking up at Todd, Tom Busch said, “Now, what about this kid who was killed last night? What's the story there, was or wasn't he gay?”
    Todd, who had correctly assumed the story would come up on the early side of the meeting, stepped away from the wall, and said, “I couldn't report on it any more directly last night because the police haven't released it, but Andrew Lyman, the kid who was killed, was most definitely gay.”
    “That a factor in the murder?”
    “I'm pretty sure it was. He was found in bed at eight-thirty in the evening with his throat slit. From what I was told by one of the homicide investigators, chances are he'd just had sex with someone,” said Todd, knowing that this was it, his pitch to obtain complete control of the story. “Andrew was a runaway, and he grew up on a farm somewhere outstate. I think it was in western Minnesota, actually. From what I understand, his parents found out he was gay and kicked him out. I met him at the Domain of Queers, the gay/lesbian youth center where I gave a talk.”
    “Did you know him well?” asked Summers, scrutinizing him.
    He was asking, Todd knew, if it was going to be a conflict—which of course it would be for a host of different reasons.
    “No,” replied Todd. “I met him just a couple of times. But that's enough, of course, for me to be able to put a personal angle on this thing.”
    Busch said, “So we got a gay murder on our hands? Is that how you want to come at it?”
    “Absolutely not. First of all, I think just about every other station is going to use that tack. Second, I want to give the story more depth, if for no other reason than it raises some very complex questions. I want to start out by talking about a young, healthy kid who happened to be gay. I want to talk about a kid who was lost and looking,