If you don’t get the following, don’t bother. It’s not worth your time.
Danny de Vito as Sid Hudgens, master of sin-uendo in L.A. Confidential
Pengovsky was freezing his ass off at the scene of the attack for several hours. At the end did I not only not feel my toes, but was also missing my fingers, nose, ears, lover lip and arse-cheeks. And I was three hours late for the macabre party. Some people were there even longer than me. But the point I’m trying to make that for hours after the attack there was nothing but the eerie feeling of something very bad and intensive happening. The four crews that were there (altogether some seven people, yours truly included) were acting like vultures in a very real sense, as we were hovering at the outskirts of the “do not cross” police tape, waiting for the dead body and carcasses to be transported out. It was us, the vets, cops and people from the morgue. And no one else. Not to sound dramatic, but I imagine that minutes immediately after the apocalypse will feel like that. You know that something bad happened, but you’ve no idea what exactly and just how bad it was.
But if until then passers-by and neighbours were giving the scene a wide berth, they started lurking around late in the evening. Ever threw a ball at a bunch of cats? You know how they instinctively run and hide and come looking what actually happened only after a while? Well, it’s the same with people. After “the coast was clear” so to speak, neighbours started hovering. One of them, a kid, told the TV stations that he filmed the whole attack on the mobile phone and if they’d buy it. No dice. He can share it, but they’re not paying for it. But it’s really awesome. OK, can we have a look at it. Sure, he’ll just go get it. After a while he does appear with a home-made CD, but already he’s saying that the quality is really bad and that he didn’t film the actual attack, but everything after it. OK, so you got the shots, right? Well, no, I only realized something was wrong after shots were fired. Ah. But OK, we’ll take it anyway.
While this was going on another neighbour appeared. No, he will not say anything for the camera. Yes, he knew the deceased. He told him something like this was going to happen. Yes, he’s the one who witnessed the attack four years ago and called the cops. And then another neighbour starts hovering. No, he will not say anything for the camera. Yes, he knew the deceased. He told him something like this was going to happen. Yes, he’s the one who witnessed the attack four years ago and called the cops. And then another neighbour appeared… You can see the pattern, no?
But this was only the tip of the iceberg. The sleazy part of Slovene media (the one which holds The Sun as their role model. You know, we just report what the world really looks like) runs a bomb-shell story about a strap-on, a condom and a pack of abused bull mastiffs which it combined with stories of sex change, political high rollers and perversion (sic!) of justice. Sex, lies, perverts and politicians. It was simply too good not to be true. That “facts” came from “unofficial” sources who spoke on “condition of anonymity” and “off the record”, that certain things were “general knowledge” and that other things were “obvious”, that the truth will “naturally” be suppressed, that pressure is being brought to bear as the story is being written and that your reporter will not be deterred at reporting things that are “hush hush”.
And if the national media first concentrated on the role of politicians (specifically, minister of agriculture), at least one television soon picked up the sleazy n’ sizzlin’ story and – not surprisingly – quoted the same unverifiable sources as the original story. And our sleazy Slovenian on-line version of the Sun takes this as the ultimate recognition, saying that the story was now confirmed by the said television which proves that our fearless rumour-monger-come-reporter was right all along. The circle is complete and unsubstantiated rumours start feeding each other. Forums start filling with hate-speech, links to any version of the story start filling mailboxes, witnesses start appearing, and their testimonies are becoming more and more alike, even further “confirming” the original story from “unofficial sources” and the number of people who know somebody who knew the deceased starts multiplying and suddenly…. Everybody. Just. Knows. Inconsistencies in the story don’t bother anyone.