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FOLDER—NOVEL NOTES…TENTATIVE TITLE '100'

Forward

They say that every reporter wants to be a novelist, and every story is a novel waiting to be written. To quote this book's subject “Yeah, they're novels, but 'guy gets drunk, beats wife, cuts cop' Three pages, tops. Novels are icebergs…1/10 exposed without getting wet.

I am of the last generation of fishwrap journalists, but in college, I hedged my bets and got a B.A. In Philosophy. Less useful in Portland than one could hope.

I'm writing this novel to fill out all the whole story of a man. And he's worth more inches of print than any paper could give. Someday, I hope to be able to call him my friend. But I've got digging to do to find the real 99. And I'd like to take my last selfish moment to apologize to the editors who will help e shape the narrative like a novel, not a news story.

Chapter 1—tryouts and first impressions

It was a softsoap story for the Sunday insert, and I drew the short straw…of course. Hero tryouts. Gah.

I can honestly say that I saw how different 99 looking at the lineup of heroes as I walked in. He was….totally still. Never a fidget, stretch, or scratch. And that face…not a flexed muscle. Every time the line moved up, he stepped forward, eyes up and keeping as much distance from everyone else, and keeping his back covered. No small talk.

When they led them up to the stage to ask questions, there were the burnouts like Lady Paladin and Trump, rookies like Shimmer or RexRay. And then there was 99. It's not that he had the slump of the overwork, or the wide-eyed innocence of the rooks. Just dead flat face until he stepped to center stage. Me, six other journalists and the judges had a chill run down their spines. Standard story for the past two years….Personal Protection, Private Eye, Accidental bounty hunter. But for the previous 149 years, he had been in jail. That's a story.

When I was interviewing people for Y2K, I got the best answer ever for why the Second Coming would be in 2000—god likes round numbers. I called this novel 100, not just for being round, but I wanted to add something to his incredible history.

I was an idiot.

148 years in prison—you don't make history…you make stories. So, I'm going to try to lever 100 stories. Through coverup, malfeasance and intentional idiocy, a Free Man was convicted in a kangaroo court, and a steady erasing of his past. Reporters don't get stories like that dropped into their laps more tan once a century. This book represents conversation and interviews during three visit to Riker's Island.

That is not a round number. He had a name he was born with, but they killed him in South Carolina, and all that was left behind was 99. When you sit with him, he looks right through you….I always felt like I was supposed to confess. And the chill…like walking over a grave. But the most unnerving part how absolutely still he was. He would talk, a gravelly bubbling tone, and his face would take on a sense of warmth, which could disappear in an instant. He got the same sorts of questions the other heroes did, and he was the most adamant about getting the right suspect. As he often said, he was a young black man of average height….he was a walking perp.

When they put the team together, 99 had made it…he and Quantum were the leading vote-getters, and there were 6 or 7 jockeying for the last spot.

I keep trying to catch some affectation…one little piece of a clue of what was inside. He had caught me watching him six or seven times before he walked over. I was standing with 4 cops, and never felt less safe.

“Kid”

“Stop trying to make me the story…this goes back150 years,through statehouses, the Senate, and down through all intelligence agencies. Right now, I'm not a reporter; you are. Get a shovel and start digging.