Happy December, friends. Don’t know about you, but I’m ready to throw all of 2021’s stuff out on the lawn and tell it to leave and never, ever come back. It’s been a brutal year for so many of us. Loss feels bigger. Pain feels worse. If you’re feeling the same way, know you aren’t all alone. Out there in the world, across the wide fields of the Internet, you can know that I, too, am screaming into a pillow. This is a home for the pillow screamers. Come shout with me.
One bright point of light for me has been this newsletter. I don’t want my thank-you’s to come across as hollow, or something I’m saying willy-nilly. I truly want you thank you for your kindness.
Next year I plan to continue pumping out essays and Q&As here, and hopefully give some behind-the-scenes looks at some of the projects I’ve been up to, which I will tell you about just as soon as I can.
In the meantime, if you know somebody that you think would dig this newsletter, feel free to gift them a subscription. I realize there are many, many ways you can spend your money this holiday season. A paid subscription to this project goes directly to supporting the journalism I make. In the last year, subscriptions covered the costs of a ton of public records and on-the-ground reporting that I wouldn’t get paid to do otherwise. Here’s the link:
For this last edition of 2021, I want to tell you about the best narrative podcast I heard this year. For the record, I listened to a lot of really good shows this year. I thought The Witness: In His Own Words was so powerful, and a really interesting way to tell a story. I loved The LA Times’ The Trials of Frank Carson. I thought CBC did a great job with White Hot Hate, and OPB set the record on Portland straight with The Fault Line: Dying for a Fight.
But there was one narrative podcast that I thought went above and beyond everything else I heard — and not just because someone I know made it. You might not have heard about this show, and to me, that’s a crime all by itself. It’s a podcast is called An Absurd Result, and was produced the University of Montana School of Journalism professor Jule Banville, who is a good friend of mine from my time teaching there in 2019.
If you want to listen, and don’t want any spoilers, maybe stop reading here and go check it out?
Tell people about An Absurd Result, and you’ll get some raised eyebrows: the show deals with the rape of a child in the late 1980s in Billings, Montana. Not exactly light material, even by true crime standards. But here’s why you have to listen: that child is now a woman in her 40s named Linda Glantz, and she came to Jule to make this podcast and find some kind of justice. The podcast starts with her assault, and follows all the ripples outward from it: a wrongful conviction and exoneration, the life of the survivor, the absolutely absurd way the law deals with sexual assault and … I could go on and on.
And guess what? This show almost didn’t get made. Here’s Jule:
“What if I didn't truly believe in my story? I would have given up. … This [story] consumed me and I believed in it a lot. I knew that I had to do it. But it's like, if you had [any] doubt in your story, this industry will make you quit.”
For my final Good Talk Q&A of this year, Jule and I sat down to talk about just how difficult it is to sell a podcast in a world obsessed with true crime. We talk about that label — true crime — and why it is both a blessing and a curse. (We talk about some of the plot points of the podcast, so again, if you want to know nothing, stop reading here.) And we talk about why, sometimes, to make journalism, you have to wait a really, really, really, really long time.
(This conversation has been edited for length and clarity. Also, I caught a couple of typos after sending the initial email out — they’ve been fixed.)
Leah Sottile:
Give me the origin story of how this all started: how you met Linda, why you couldn't forget her story and why you thought it needed to be a podcast.
Jule Banville:
Linda is really kind of a shy person. All the stuff that had happened with an exoneration that's involved in her case — it was huge. He was the first guy exonerated by the Innocence Project in Montana, so there's like barrels of ink on it.
There was a development in her case and this prosecutor shows up at Linda’s door and says, ‘we know who did this. Here’s his name. Here’s where he lives, and we're going to get him. We’re going to charge this guy.’ Afterward Linda is checking the roles at the Yellowstone County Jail for his name … and didn't see it. [Prosecutors] didn't communicate very well with her. And so she got mad basically in the way that Linda gets mad, which is like soft and lovely.
.. She talked to her sister and [Linda] was like ‘I think I need to talk to a journalist.’
A few years ago, we met up on campus. We talked for hours and I recorded it because I thought maybe it would be helpful work I wanted to do. But it was also really clear to me that she needed something now. She needed press right now… she needs the press to put some pressure on these guys. … I just stayed in touch with her. You have a responsibility when someone comes to you with their story.
I handed her over to somebody else. And afterward I checked in on her to see, like, how was that for you? I felt like I had sort of orchestrated it. So I wanted to make sure that she was okay.
LS:
I think some people in your position would immediately say, ‘look, I have a full-time job as a journalism professor. I’ve got a family, I've got an extremely busy life. I can't do this.’ So why did you? Was it that you couldn’t forget what happened to her?
JB:
It was like if I do forget about it, then what's wrong with me? I felt guilt that it took me awhile to get the time to do it. But, I was just like I have a real responsibility to her story. I have a responsibility to her. This just landed in my lap. And I was grateful for it. I think that if I didn't do her story, I'd regret it for the rest of my life.
LS:
After listening to the first episode, it made me of something Al Letson said in the Reveal series Mississippi Goddam. He basically was like ‘this is a podcast about a crime, but it is not for your entertainment. This is me trying to figure this out as a journalist.’ And I found it striking that you kind of almost say the same thing: this is a podcast about a child rape. It's horrible and unflinching.’ So I wanted to talk to you about the entertainment factor in true crime. In the process of trying to sell An Absurd Result, were people deterred from even wanting to touch it because it’s not a story meant to entertain?
JB:
To me, this story is really the story about the survivor who, at the point when we met, she had never talked to a journalist. There had been so many things that had happened in her case and it was in the news a lot. For me, it was a story about the survivor. But then as I got reporting it, it was really a story about the law. Try to pitch a podcast series about a rape survivor and problems with the law. To be honest, I was like the only way I'm going to be able to sell the story is if I treat it like a “true crime” story. At first I did pitch places that I don't think are true crime entertainment related.
I thought it was this story that's focused on this one case, but it was really about problems with prosecuting rape in this country and all of the confusing loopholes that are there. Statutes of limitation — lots of people know about that. But then there's this Supreme Court case. There's these DNA exceptions that are in some states that have these clocks on rape. I knew I had all these things that weren't like “true crime entertainment,” but were serious and boring.
As I got piling up the rejections, I was talking to a friend of mine, who's teaching a podcast workshop. And I was like, ‘please tell them that the podcast industry is not for wimps. You gotta like have a real thick skin.’
I've been teaching this for 10 years and not ever really doing a project this big. And so then I had to sort of pivot and say, ‘you know what? I guess this is true crime. I guess it's true crime, the way that I'm going to define it and the way that I'm going to do it.’
If you're doing journalism and it's about a crime, it's true. It’s not a fake crime! … Like, why do we call it true crime? I hate that.
LS:
Talk to me about the flaw of that label. I mean, l work on true crime stories all the time and I feel like that means that a ton of people won't engage with it or it sort of marginalizes the story in a way.
JB:
It's kind of like you have to embrace it in a way because there's this sort of like double edge to it. If you're following a criminal case and you don't call it true crime, you may not sell it. But if you call it true crime, people you respect and people you want to really hear it may not listen to it or engage with it because it's called true crime. It's a problematic label, but it’s like the indie music scene. People who were in indie music scene hated that label. What does it mean? Or like an alt weekly when then they were like mostly on the web. All these like labels emerge and you just have to like take a pill and swallow it.
LS:
We're pretty far downwind from Serial at this point, but I'm curious how you think that show set up the podcast industry to either succeed or fail.
JB:
I love ‘downwind of Serial.’ That's amazing. That’s my new podcast.
LS:
Downwind of Serial: a podcast about trying to sell podcasts. Eight episodes of tears and screaming.
JB:
[laughs] Crinkling up scripts. Printing out the emails then setting them on fire.
I liked Serial. I was riveted along with everybody else. … I think it's really popular to say Serial ruined us. But really I think opened so many doors to personal ways to do good, important journalism that is like a chapter book. You want to see what happens next. I mean, we love those really, really good books that have a plot and deep characters and have things happening. You have keep going. I think Serial was kind of a great model for how to roll out a story in an audio format in a way that's like a book. I think it sucks if we're all sort of like copying that, and I think some of us do. Like, I am in my podcast, but it’s not about me. I not rolling around Maryland with my producer. I'm not on a personal quest like Sarah Koenig was, but that was that kind of the story. She sort of showed us that you are allowed to tell a story that way.
LS:
One of the things that I loved the most about Serial Season One is that she didn't solve the crime.
JB:
But some people hate that. They’re like ‘oh well, I need closure at the end.’
LS:
I said to an editor a million years ago that I feel like there's like this need for every story to have a bow on the end. Like ‘here’s the like point of levity.’ But life isn't that clean, so why should journalism be that clean? I've found with podcasts I've tried to sell, people are like ‘what's the end?’ But I never know the end, nor do I want to know the end. You need to pay me enough money to figure out what the end is. Did you need to know what the end was of your podcast was to sell it?
JB:
The nice thing and also the thing that made it hard to sell about my story is that it's over. We know who the bad guy is. We know who did this thing. When I met Linda, it was still in progress. By the time that I could get a sabbatical and really dig in the way I wanted to, it was over. That was both like a really hard thing when I was selling it, but it was also like we have our ending of sorts. That's not really where the podcast itself ended up ending. We sort of have to say, what does it mean now that it’s over?
LS:
So you spent a year of your life on Linda’s story. I want to hear about that choice to spend a sabbatical working on this specific story, and what that was actually like for you.
JB:
I mean, it was exhilarating. It was life-affirming. During the pandemic, I took reporting trips and they were amazing. You know this, too; you even wrote an essay about it. If you're feeling like shit, take a reporting trip. Go see people where they are and get a feel for what they've gone through … It was great to have a full year to focus on the story.
I would say where I got really depressed and frustrated is because I knew I had a story. I just launched into the sabbatical where I just was like, ‘okay, now I'm on sabbatical. I'm going to go report.’ The problem was I didn't know how hard it was going to be to sell what I knew was a story.
LS:
You didn’t think you’d have to be spending a big part of your sabbatical on salesmanship.
JB:
Right. And that's dumb because I should know that I know enough about this business, but I was just so convinced about my story. I'm 48 years old. I've been doing this for a really long time. I know that I've been out of it teaching. But I know how to pitch. I know not to waste people's time. … I talked to a lot of people. There was a little bit of interest from a lot of people. In the end that was the hardest thing, mentally. I just think, like, what if I didn't truly believe in my story? I would have given up. … This [story] consumed me and I believed in it a lot. I knew that I had to do it. But it's like, if you had [any] doubt in your story, this industry will make you quit.
LS:
The amount of time I've wasted on conversations that were like ‘this is promising!’ And then follow up emails I send never get responses. People are just gone. Ghosted.
JB:
Who does that?
LS:
I don't do that.
JB:
I would never do that.
LS:
Apparently. A lot of people do that. That's crazy.
JB:
These people have to do better.
LS:
What do you think needs to happen to make this process less bad? Journalism exists because people have altruistic ideas about what the industry can do. People tweet about truth all day, but at the end of the day, like there is a major business mechanism getting in the way of truth. So what do you think needs to happen? Cause I don't know.
JB:
I don't know either, but I would say concentration of power of who can say yes to a pitch
You hear some of these podcasts, I hear some of these podcasts and I'm like, ‘so how did that happen for them? And then the rest of these people are toiling in the background with the stories that they truly believe in. You know?’ Mine's not perfect. But it's just like, you look at the ones that get through and get like the big splashy marketing, and you’re like ‘why you and not me?’
LS:
How many times do you think you pitched this project?
JB:
Well, I have a long document called ‘Pitch That, Bitch.’ It's like single space and two pages.
LS:
That's a lot. You could fit what? Like 50 lines on a page.
JB:
A lot.
LS:
With the ticking clock of your sabbatical, did you think I have one year to get this done or did you just at a certain point say to yourself, ‘podcast company or no podcast company, I will make this story?’
JB:
I felt so very committed to Linda that I was like, well, if I don't sell the story, then I am going to do it. But I just knew that that really wasn't going to do her story justice. Yes, I can mix the thing. I can record the things. I can score the things.
LS:
The distribution is what you needed.
JB:
Yeah.
LS:
When did you get the MoPac audio deal?
JB:
It was in negotiations for awhile, but the contract didn't come until July.
LS:
Holy shit. So almost an entire year?
JB:
Yeah. It's like that is journalism. It doesn't line up with academic calendars. So now I'm like teaching a full load and finishing up this podcast.
LS:
How do you feel like working on the story realigned your priorities as a journalist?
JB:
I think I forgot how much fun it is. … I think I forgot how fun it is to like dig for documents and get people to say yes and then show up and talk to these people and look them in the eye and like really listen to what they say. And to go places. I got to travel all around Montana for this story.
I've been an editor for a long time and — I’ve heard this from other people too — that if you're an editor for awhile and then you go back to reporting, then you understand how much better a reporter you are for having edited other people.
I've edited many, many, many students. I think it really did help me.
LS:
When I was listening to the first episode this morning, I was thinking about how Montana — like many places in the West, Oregon included — doesn’t have a sufficient number of reporters. After being a reporter on the ground again, did you get a sense that there is a great need for a lot more people to be able to tell stories like this one?
JB:
Yeah. Montana's kind of weird because there are a couple of startups that are successful. There’s the Daily Montanan, which is part of the state's newsroom. They're in a bunch of Western states, too. … They’re pretty legislature-focused, but these are adding like honest-to-God professional journalists where there wasn't. There’s the Montana Free Press, which has been going for a little bit a while and it's growing. So much now is focused on the legislature and the Capitol and the politics and the government. You have all these bodies and all these minds now focused on this thing where there was this vacuum, but at the expense of so much else.
A little bit of my reporting was in White Sulfur Springs. This is the county seat. And there’s like a thousand people who live there. White Sulfur Springs isn’t off the highway and, guess what, a lot of Montana is not off the highway. …
Obviously we care about the West. But, I really feel like there's so much happening that's really important. When you're talking about healthcare and you're talking about mental health and you're talking about stuff around addiction, and you're talking about really great things that are happening in those places. People who are doing creative things to bring services to serve their communities. I mean, there's tons of that. And there's just not tons of reporting. There's not happening.
LS:
This has been a bit of a sweeping conversation, and I appreciate that. What have I missed?
JB:
Well, I guess we didn't talk a lot about sexual assault and coverage. I think a lot of what's happened with sexual assault in journalism is really great. We say “rape.” We say people “ejaculated.” We have conversations around whether someone is a victim or survivor or both. I do see that most of the journalism around sexual assault is done by women. I kind of wonder about that a little bit. It's just a huge area of what happens to people. People are afraid of those stories.
I really do think that people were afraid to buy my story… There were a couple like really big organizations that were like “well, we think it's a really great story, but we have a story already like that in the pipeline.” And the code is, “we're already doing a rape story.”
You can do more than one story about it because rape is a common thing that happens. And it has all of these problems attached with justice around it.
LS:
We have to stop talking about it as a novelty.
JB:
Yeah. I was just like let's take a look at the statute of limitations and how that's changed. I mean, what happens, what my story shows — and I think what a lot of people don't realize, understandably, because it's pretty rare — is the statutes of limitation are getting like a little more woke. Basically since 2003, when The Boston Globe blew the Catholic church out of the water, states started to change things.
Last year, [Montana] eliminated statute of limitations on sex crimes against children. So states are doing this, but these victims from before the laws changed can't get justice.
I keep running up against people who think this is an important story … but in the end they don't really want to do a story about sexual assault. And I get it. It's hard. It's really hard. This girl in my story was eight years old. She got assaulted in her bed by a stranger. If you want to think what is a parent's worst nightmare other than your child being murdered in her bed. Right? That's it though. It's really fucking bad. What happened to her is really bad. If you think that's not a story worth telling you're wrong. She survived it and she has a lot to say, and if you don't want to listen to her, I feel bad for you. Because she's amazing. And she wants what happened to her to mean something. And that's what this story set out to do.
LS:
It’s almost like production companies and editors couldn't get past the crime itself to see what you are doing as a journalist to say, ‘yes, this crime is horrific, but I’m telling you about it because it's a part of a gaping hole that needs to be fixed in the justice system.’
JB:
I would say that to people. I would say, ‘it's not just about this horrible thing.' I'm not going into ridiculous detail, although I am honest about what happened to her. She talks about it in this way that's really raw and honest. And if that's how she chooses to talk about it, that's how we choose to tell a story.
LS:
You worked on this for so long, and I think that it's good to be reminded over and over again why time is the best thing for journalism. Fast journalism is journalism that makes mistakes. Linda's not eight years old anymore and has had 30-some years to process.
JB:
She's ready. You come in like so long after it and that makes it harder to sell it. Cause it's like, ‘well, why are you telling this story now?’ Because sometimes you gotta wait for people to be ready.
This was incredible to read. Thank you both, and Linda, for sharing. I'm really grateful you're all out there not giving up in this work.
This line: "concentration of power of who can say yes to a pitch" feels like it can apply to a *lot.* Not that gatekeeping is all bad, but the parameters and who has the authority to say yes have gotten so narrow.