True Story Page #2

This doesn't have anything

to do with what happened.

Hi, Ed, it's Mike Finkel.

Since the A.P. awards dinner,

yes.

So, listen, Ed,

I have this thing

I've been working up

on black ops in the Marine

Corps from my war days.

And it feels like a GQ piece.

Right, but none of my other

work has any suspicion.

How long have

we known each other?

Don't make me beg here.

Right, but it's 11:30.

I know he can't

be at lunch because

Playboy doesn't even

open until 11:
00.

I understand.

Okay.

Hey.

Hang on, hang on.

Here.

Hey, it's okay.

It's okay. It's okay.

I'm sorry.

It's okay.

Hello?

Hi, my name is Pat Frato.

I'm a reporter with

The Oregonian.

I'm sure you're buried

in all this by now,

but I wanted to get your side

on the Christian Longo story.

Who?

Christian Longo?

The child killer?

He murdered his entire

family out here in Newport.

You must know about him.

They finally took him down

in Cancun last week.

You hadn't heard?

No. Why are you

telling me this?

Because when

they apprehended him,

he said he was Mike Finkel,

of The New York Times.

Hello?

Hello? Mr. Finkel?

Hello?

Hold on one second.

When they picked him up

in Mexico,

he denied all knowledge of it,

but the cops clearly felt

they had enough to bring him in.

He was just a regular guy,

an intelligent, sane man

from a good family.

Comes home one night

and kills his wife and kids.

It makes no sense.

At any rate,

this turned out to be

the end of the line for them.

He... He drowned them.

Although there is evidence

to suggest

that his wife and baby

were strangled first.

Where are they holding him now?

Lincoln County Jail.

He'll stay there until

it comes to trial, I suspect.

I'm going to have to start

getting back. I'm afraid

it's quite a drive.

But you can keep all of this.

Thank you so much, Pat.

I really appreciate...

No, I wanted to meet you

as much as you me.

I love your writing.

Hey, listen.

Did he say anything at all

about why he claimed to be me?

I'd hoped you might

be able to tell me that.

Just one for your diaries,

I guess.

Thanks a lot.

Yeah.

Dear Mr. Longo:

This is Michael Finkel.

I am told you've been

using my name.

I can't say I understand why,

as I don't recall us

ever meeting.

But, actually, I don't mind.

In fact, in a way,

it makes me feel kind of honored.

I know you are facing

an upcoming trial

and have been instructed

to avoid people like me,

but I was wondering whether

you would agree to meet.

You see, I've been through

a kind of trial myself.

And at the very same time

that you were using my name,

they stripped me of it.

Since then, I've been doing

a lot of soul searching.

I've been trying to find out

who I really am.

I thought maybe

you could tell me

what it's like to be me.

You get 15 minutes.

Guard will be in attendance

the whole time.

No physical contact

during any part of

the meeting, understood?

He'll... He'll be

in the room with me?

Lincoln County doesn't

get many cases like this,

so he gets the only room

we've got.

I thought because

he's accused

of multiple homicide...

Visiting privileges are determined

by your behavior in here,

not your crimes out there.

And how's his behavior been?

Longo? Exemplary.

Thank you for

seeing me, Mr. Longo.

Call me Chris.

Nice to meet you, Chris.

Nice to meet you, too.

What are you writing?

Sorry. It's...

It's a habit.

First impressions?

Yes, first impressions.

What did you put down?

Brown eyes.

That's not very remarkable.

I'm sure 70% of the world

has brown eyes.

I guess so. I don't.

You know, there's a

mathematical technique

that will determine

how ordinary a person you are.

Not just your looks,

but your whole life.

Really?

From my calculations,

I'd say I'm pretty ordinary.

I've been decent and regular for

92.88% of the time.

But you couldn't tell that

from reading the papers.

They write about me and

I'm just another...

Pariah.

Yeah. Exactly.

So why... Why me?

Picked up The Times

and you thought

the name sounded funny?

No, I... I've followed

your whole career.

What?

I've always found

your writing appealing.

The adventure.

The way you stand up for people

that don't have voices.

I've probably read

everything you've done.

I guess I felt like I knew you.

So I read the paper.

Did you do it?

I should be asking you

the same thing.

I'm gonna take that as a yes.

Why?

I don't know.

I needed the story

to be ahead of the game.

But deep down, I don't know.

And now you're here.

Well...

All the networks

have been chasing me,

and I've had a bunch of requests

from different newspapers.

The Times?

Not yet.

I know I'm very valuable

to people like you.

And not everything's

been said yet.

But most journalists

they're only interested

in writing

what their readers want to hear.

They don't want to take

the time to find out

the truth about

what really happened.

But maybe at this point,

it doesn't matter.

Of course it matters.

The truth always matters.

It always seems

to matter to you.

When I was being you,

it was the happiest

I'd been in a long time.

Do you think you could

ever imagine being me?

Longo! Time to go.

Okay. Mike.

I want to tell you

my side of this.

Only you.

But I know that eventually

you're gonna want

to write about it,

so I'm gonna need two things

from you in return.

What?

I need your word

that you will not tell anyone

what I tell you

until after the trial.

And in return,

I will grant you

exclusive access.

Okay?

I promise.

But if I write about you,

you may not like what you read.

I understand.

What's the second thing?

I want you to teach me to write.

- This him?

- Yeah.

You might not even

hear from him again.

I will.

I think he trusts me.

Can you trust him?

Don't do that.

What?

You think after what happened,

I didn't cross-check

the police reports?

This is a

once-in-a-lifetime story.

Don't you see this

as a second chance?

Dear Mike:

Write what you know?

Well, here is a list

of all the ways

I've gone wrong through life,

so I may better understand

how I reached this path

I now find myself on.

My father was a strict man.

I once stole a roll

of quarters from...

We married pretty young

and definitely struggled

for work at first.

And eventually, because

they liked what I was doing,

they put me on

the executive fast track.

I also made a few stupid

decisions about what

we spent our money on.

We traveled a lot.

The children came

like a flock of starlings.

No one tells you how hard

it's gonna be

when you have kids.

Providing for them

was all I sought to do.

You just get through it.

No matter what.

These were the boom years

in America.

No matter where we traveled,

I could never find enough to

give them all

what they truly deserved.

We had to forfeit

all our property.

We went from Ohio

all the way to Oregon.

Motels, takeout.

Being brought up

a Jehovah's Witness

was a blessing in my life,

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