As the dust settles on this sad, crazy, infuriating, horrific story of the self-inflicting acid woman — a story, by the way, that gained international attention — what’s the story behind the story?
And could those who raised the question of this being a hoax actually help bring this case to end?
First a little background.
A 28-year-old woman, Bethany Storro, recently moved to Vancouver, looking for a bit of a fresh start. She had been divorced about a year ago so she moved in with her parents. With a new job at a grocery store in Washougal, things must have looked good.
Then, three weeks ago Storro headed to a Starbucks a dozen blocks from her home. But before she could get inside, she said, someone whom she described as a pretty black woman threw a cup of acid in her face.
The hunt was on — literally — for a mad woman.
There were almost immediate ramifications:
• Residents grew concerned about spending time in downtown Vancouver where the alleged attack took place.
• Black residents — a very small percentage in Vancouver — felt a real sense of uneasiness. If you were a middle-aged black woman — someone who even vaguely matched the description — you were concerned about what people might think … or do.
• There was an outpouring of sympathy for Storro. There also were donations. Even in this difficult economy, people dug into their pockets to help her.
But things began to unravel quickly. A press conference was called by the police department Thursday. And if it was unthinkable that someone could do this to another human being, what they were about to tell us would be even more unthinkable.
She had done it to herself. It was all a hoax.
Great job by police
So what turned this case?
First and foremost, it was the diligent work of investigators at our police department. There are very intelligent, dedicated police in our department who worked this case exactly right.
They couldn’t move too fast, because the only person who had any real information was Storro herself. If she was jolted too early by a police confrontation, she could go into a shell.
They couldn’t move too slow, because the community was justifiably on edge. Residents were afraid to go downtown. Business owners did wonder if they wanted to stay in the area.
On Thursday they decided the time was right. They obtained a search warrant and headed to the house Storro shares with her parents. Make no mistake, a search warrant is sort of like an educated fishing expedition. There’s no guarantee you will find anything of worth. The one thing you do know is that, if the person wasn’t aware she was a suspect in the case, she would get the hint very quickly.
Investigators must have been thinking, “This could either be a very good day or a very bad day.”
A possible scenario? The victim-turned-suspect could hold her own press conference decrying the insensitive behavior of the police — to have the nerve to consider her a suspect.
But as we know now, it was a very good day for police. She quickly confessed.
Firestorm after story
Before I talk about our story that asked whether this was a hoax, I need to say that chatter, online comments and blogs raised the hoax idea. Give credit to them. For example, before our story appeared, a number of the folks who comment on our Web site had raised the issue.
But as most people know, there is a difference between blogging, Web comments and news in a daily newspaper. The mainstream media cannot simply shoot from the hip. We must feel comfortable and solid. We can — and should — be careful, but also take calculated risks. And that’s exactly what we did when we did a story asking about a hoax.
My decision to go ahead with this story came after much thought. As I said to the TV program “Inside Edition” (this comment was left on the cutting room floor) “things didn’t add up”:
• Wearing sunglasses at night.
• Hardly ever wearing sunglasses before.
• Not getting any acid on her lips or throat. Wouldn’t you have your mouth open, screaming if someone did that to you?
• No witnesses in a pretty busy area of downtown.
But there was more.
I had several discussions with reporters. What where they hearing and seeing out there?
• A blank stare from a police officer when a reporter ran into him at a coffee shop and asked about the case.
• Hearing that someone might have to play “the bad cop” to break the case.
• Reading between the lines when an officer tells us, “Things will become clear later.”
It was enough for me. I pulled the trigger on the story. We expected a firestorm. And we got it.
Like this friendly e-mail from Gary C.:
“What &^@$ing &%$^% asked the police if the victim possibly hurt herself? Come on you &^%^$#*. How do you think that makes the victim feel? You &^#$@#+ have no feelings whatsoever. We will be better off without this rag.”
Then there was this comment for me under one of our stories. It was from Wishdev:
“Lou, your team deserves the prize for the most ridiculous theory of the year. Does anyone at the Columbian actually think about what they are writing? Or are you just hoping that if you lower your standards low enough you might get some tabloid readers to subscribe?”
To be sure, we had some supporters, but you sometimes feel you’re on the Columbia River without a paddle when you make a decision like we did. But as I’ve said before and I’m sure I’ll say again, we’re in the consequence-feeling business. There’s always someone who doesn’t like what we do. Sure, we should listen, but we can’t be overwhelmed by knowing there will be attacks on us.
Delicate & solid helps
In the end, it’s my view that the mounting media questions could have helped tip this whole thing to a conclusion.
I asked Vancouver Detective Sgt. Scott Creager about this.
Creager said stories like ours could cut both ways. They could make people dig in their heels even more. Or they could have a positive impact on “facilitating an investigation.”
And in this case — because of the positive outcome — it was possible our questioning stories on a possible hoax helped.
So congratulations to the police first and foremost. And long live the mainstream media.
Lou Brancaccio is The Columbian’s editor. Reach him at lou.brancaccio@columbian.com.
