Original subtitles

There's so many show-offs in journalism.

So many braggarts and jerks.

They're always selling, always working the room.

Always trying to make themselves look hotter than they actually are.

The good news is...

reporters like that make it easy to distinguish yourself.

If you're even a little bit humble,

a little self-effacing, or solicitous, you stand out.

So you bring a co-worker lunch if he's buried under a deadline.

You remember birthdays.

It's true, journalism is hard work.

Everybody's under pressure, everybody's grinding to get the issue out,

nobody's getting any sleep,

but you are allowed to smile every once in a while.

I mean,

even Woodward and Bernstein went out for a burger now and then.

And they won a Pulitzer.

Some reporters think it's political content that makes a story memorable.

I think it's the people you find.

Their quirks, their flaws.

What makes them funny, what makes them human.

Journalism is just the art of capturing behavior.

You have to know who you're writing for,

and you have to know what you're good at.

I record what people do.

I find out what moves them, what scares them.

And I write that down.

That way, they're the ones telling the story.

And you know what?

Those kind of pieces can win Pulitzers, too.

Contributing writer for Harper's magazine.

Contributing writer for George magazine.

Contributing writer for Rolling Stone.

And, of course, associate editor

of The New Republic magazine in Washington, D.C.

Sorry if I'm beaming, but...

you know, I was his journalistic muse.

It's true.

Just seven years ago, he was sitting...

Right there.

I'm sorry.

Right there.

I was doing the exact same thing you guys are doing.

Grinding out pieces and then...

having horrid nightmares of Mrs. Duke and her infamous red pen.

And see what happens when greatness is demanded of you?

Now he's at The New Republic.

And now I'm at The New Republic.

In May, the editors of The New Republic...

...with The Washington Post, The New Republic, and the Boston Globe.

But the bill was blasted in The New Republic this week.

-- Subs ripped from Amazon by monkee -- -- Subs corrected by darthfrede --

So I said, "Network News, Network News...

Right. That's that show that's on every night

between those Fixodent commercials, right?"

That shut him up.

- Hey, Steve. - Hey, Steve.

Hey, guys.

Gloria, that necklace is you.

Thanks, doll.

I got some new merchandise.

For your girlfriend.

Soon as I get this piece done.

- How's it coming? - Horrible!

It's the fundamental nature of the magazine, Will.

Mallory, can I get some copies, please?

People want photographs, they can buy Newsweek.

They do buy Newsweek, and Time, and U.S. News and World Report,

and our losses are a joke.

Let me guess... He's on you again about a redesign.

Yep. Cover page and graphics.

And photographs. Let me remind you, Steve,

this magazine hasn't changed its look since the eighties.

How is it?

It's good.

- You hate it. - No. It's good. It's good.

It's just a little rough.

It's the worst thing I ever wrote. It's horrible.

If you guys don't help me with it, I'm not even gonna send it in.

- When's it due? - Tomorrow.

I may have to kill myself.

I mean, the New York Times Magazine.

Will you guys help me with it? Please...

- Of course. - Of course.

Thank you.

Call for you on three, sweetie. Someone from Policy Review.

When did you start talking to Policy Review?

I'm not. It's probably nothing.

Send it to my voice mail, okay? And, sweetie?

Caitlin just told me that she needs gifts for two showers next week.

You think you might have something for her?

I'll get my box.

I couldn't resist.

So, you want to do this now...

Yeah. In a second. I just have to return a quick phone call.

I got you some gum.

If I were to throw a party where all we did was play Monopoly,

would you guys come?

Could I be the little shoe?

Of course.

The lawyers have asked us to tone down the cover on Serbia.

They have?

Yeah. They're afraid it might invite charges of libel.

I know a little bit of libel law.

It's only relevant if the person in question

has been out of the public eye.

Well, yeah, so there's Serbia... hidden...

unknown to the world at large...

until it appeared on the cover of The New Republic.

With our weekly circulation of eighty thousand.

Eighty-one, five.

- You almost done with it, Rob? - Two days, tops.

Yes. Two days. Two days from Hanukkah.

Hey, it's basically finished.

- For the most part. - Next up... Amy?

I just finished the piece on ethanol subsidies.

There are 16,800 magazines in this country.

But only one calls itself the in-flight magazine of Air Force One.

And that's the thrill of working at The New Republic.

You're underpaid, the hours are brutal,

but what you write gets read by people who matter.

Presidents, lawmakers.

Your work can actually influence public policy.

That's... That's an amazing privilege.

And a huge responsibility.

I'm sorry. They don't want to hear the whole

journalistic responsibility speech.

Do you?

You just want to know how to get your name in print, right?

That sounds familiar.

Okay.

Let me take you through the life of your typical piece,

so you can see where some of the hurdles are.

We'll use one I wrote last year about...

a bunch of young Republicans at a conservatives convention.

Now, journalism is about pursuing the truth.

And I would never encourage you to do anything

sneaky or dishonest in pursuit of a story.

Such as assuming a phony identity.

I don't know, man.

It seemed like a pretty good turnout to me.

No, man. Conservatism's dead.

- Dead? - We're lost.

Damn straight.

On a story like that, your notes are crucial.

You have to record everything you see and hear.

Every quote, every detail.

All the way down to the mini-bottles in the fridge.

We're like this guy who has to pee.

Lost in the desert.

Looking for a tree.

It's true. Completely true.

You guys know what you're shopping for, right?

Totally.

Get us a real heifer.

The fatter, the better.

Bad acne would be a bonus.

Let's do it!

Hey, Steve.

Hey, Chuck.

What are you working on?

A piece Gabriel Garcia Marquez wrote about the Falklands War.

How about you?

Young Republicans at the CPAC Conference.

Pretty standard stuff.

Hotel ballrooms, boring speeches, chicken dinners.

Which is why everybody spends their time in the suites upstairs

committing felonies.

Oh, yeah?

Yeah. I went to one.

The ballroom was empty. Every delegate under the age of twenty-five

was up on the fifth floor getting loaded.

Drugs, binge drinking, hookers.

Gets pretty ugly.

Sounds great, Steve.

So does yours.

Okay, well, I gotta get back to work.

- Have a good lunch. - Thanks.

Hold it.

Have to give myself a demerit for poor scene setting.

Let me explain. A year ago, Chuck Lane and I were peers.

He hadn't become editor yet.

Michael Kelly was editing the magazine then.

Sorry, Mrs. Duke. I know how you feel about clarity.

We've gotta start calling some other places.

I don't think I can eat this stuff every day.

It was the Cannon building. You had it as Russell. I fixed it.

Thank you.

- I really liked it, Ames. - But boring, right?

Nope.

No. I really, really liked it.

Yes, dear?

Somebody for you on three.

Someone from Harper's.

When'd you start talking to Harper's?

I'm not. It's probably nothing.

Could you send it to my voice mail, please?

- Very good. - By the way, Glo...

That lipstick is the bomb.

Thanks, doll.

What is it? "Midnight Mist"?

- I really gotta stop doing that. - What?

All I do is give people more reasons to assume I'm gay.

I mean, lately, it's everyone.

Like the other night, I went out to dinner with this guy from the Post.

Who?

I can't tell you. He made me promise.

Anyway, we're walking around afterwards,

talking about Medicare, for God's sakes,

and then the next thing I know, we're standing on the corner of 18th and T.

And he somehow managed to slip his tongue down my throat.

And I'm like, wait a minute. How'd this happen?

I don't understand.

Yeah, neither did I.

- Hey. - Michael.

- You have a minute? - Of course.

We have a problem with the "Spring Breakdown" piece.

I just got a letter from David Keene.

He ran the CPAC Conference. He's made some...

Are you mad at me?

He's made some pretty serious charges.

We need to answer them.

Okay... My notes are at home.

I can be back in twenty minutes. Is that too long?

Do your notes have anything about the mini-bars?

'Cause that would help.

I think so.

No, I'm sure. Why?

He claims the Omni Shoreham doesn't even have mini-bars.

He mentioned it specifically.

I saw them. No.

There were little bottles of booze all over the room.

Okay...

I'll get Aaron and Rob into it and start the fact-check again.

- I'll get my notes. - Thank you.

I'm sorry. We're gonna have to finish this later.

No, no. I understand. Thank you.

What's wrong?

Just tell me.

Keene was right, Michael.

I messed up.

I made a huge error.

I don't know what to say. If you want me to resign, I will.

I want you to tell me what happened.

They don't have mini-bars at the Omni Shoreham Hotel.

I guess I just saw all those little bottles,

and I made an assumption.

Which I know we're never supposed to do.

I'm really sorry.

Those guys were drinking out of a rented refrigerator.

A mini-fridge.

- That's it? - Yeah.

The rest of the piece is solid?

Well, yeah. Of course.

Go home, Steve. Your resignation will not be required.

Really? You're not mad?

Of course not.

Do you want my notes?

Have a good night.

Thanks, Michael.

Thanks for backing me.

It's what editors do.

Good night.

Hi. Front desk, please.

Hi. I need some information...

Do the suites at your hotels have mini-bars?

Well, can a guest rent something like that?

Like a mini-refrigerator or something?

They can?

Okay. Thank you very much.

...and she says, "I didn't invite Vernon Jordan that evening

because my guests of honor were girls from Smith College,

some of them were virgins,

and I wanted to keep it that way."

And you're gonna put that in the article, right?

Gosh, Alec. I don't know.

I mean, you know, George is such a dignified publication.

You wouldn't want to put in something that gossipy, would you?

No. Absolutely not.

Of course I'm putting it in.

Thank you, Stephen. You're going to make me look very, very smart.

The Fritos are running dangerously low.

I'll be right back.

Can't hide in here all night, Ames.

Can I ask you something?

What is this?

I found it in the freezer.

You said you hated how the Diet Coke at parties

was always at room temperature,

and how if you wanted to drink it cold,

you'd have to put it on ice, and then it would get too watery.

- Don't you remember? - Yeah, I do. But...

I said that a couple of years ago.

Steve...

I'm gonna call it a night, but thanks for having me.

Thanks for coming.

Alphabetized beer. That's perfect.

Drive safe, Alec.

Who's he?

Associate editor of George.

When'd you start talking to George?

I'm really not.

It's probably nothing.

You know, if they stoop any lower,

pretty soon, you won't be able to tell the difference between Time and People.

You say that as if there is a difference...

- ...between Time and People. - Exactly.

Hey, thank you, Steve.

What?

Are you mad at me?

I told you. I do not respond to "Are you mad at me?"

I'm not your kindergarten teacher.

I just thought we'd been over this a thousand times already.

You can't go to law school.

You don't want to go to law school, remember?

I know. I know. It's only nights.

I wouldn't have to stop working or anything.

I'm just gonna go put these down. I'll be right back.

No, I want to talk about this.

I told you. It's my parents.

Okay? They never shut up about it.

If I don't go, they won't let me be a journalist anymore.

Let you? You're twenty-four years old, Stephen.

You don't know how things go where I grew up, Caitlin.

Okay? There are rules there.

If your son's not a doctor or a lawyer, you keep your curtains closed.

You're writing for The New fucking Republic.

Isn't that good enough?

Not in Highland Park.

- I'm sorry... - Stop apologizing for everything.

I was looking through your mail. You should be pissed at me.

I'm not.

Well, you're gonna throw this out, right?

I can't. I'm sorry.

Every station on the radio is talking about it.

Mike Tyson biting Evander Holyfield.

And these are supposed to be news stations.

So, on Tuesday, I started calling a few of them,

and I finally got through to one...

a bible-talk station in Kentucky.

And I managed to convince the screener that

I was a behavioral psychologist who...

specializes in human-on-human biting.

I told the guy that I'd done all this extensive research

on people who chomp flesh under extreme stress.

What did they say?

They put me on the air. I took calls for forty-five minutes.

Oh, my God.

Where does he find these people?

It is kind of stupid, I know. It's silly.

I'll probably just kill it.

Does that mean you'll help me with it?

Why? Do you have finals this week or something?

Okay. Moving right along.

Chuck, what do you have for us?

Well, that's a...

that's a bit of a hard act to follow.

Very hard act to follow.

Okay...

I'm starting the piece on Haiti.

And I'll be going to...

Hey. Don't let me interrupt.

- Hey, Marty. - Michael.

I'm going to be going down to Port-au-Prince for a few days.

Marty Peretz. Our boss.

He's a little scary.

How about the commas in dates? Are we supposed to circle those, too?

Let's just get this done, okay?

What the hell is this?

Marty told us to circle all the commas in the last issue,

so he could show us how we used them improperly.

What?

He said commas should always appear in pairs.

Apparently, the issue is rife with comma errors.

- Rife? - That's what he said.

I see.

No, I'm not angry, Marty. I'm embarrassed for you.

These people work grueling hours for meager pay.

They deserve a thank you, not another one of your world-famous tantrums.

Okay.

I'd resign before I'd let you bully them like that again, and I will.

Do you understand that?

Okay. Thank you.

The great comma debate is history,

so we can all go back to work.

There are good editors, there are bad editors.

You'll have both.

My hope for you, though, is that once,

at least once, you get a truly great one.

A great editor defends his writers... against anyone.

He stands up and fights for you.

Michael Kelly was that kind of editor.

He had that kind of courage.

And that's what hung him.

- Hello. - Hey, Chuck, it's Marty Peretz. Got a minute?

Of course. How are you, Marty?

I'm in a bit of an uncomfortable situation, Chuck.

I thought you might be able to help me out.

- Sure. - It's about Mike.

He and I... Well, it hasn't been working out

for some time now, as you know.

The tone of the magazine... I think it's gotten too nasty.

It's strayed from the traditions that make it great.

And I'm going to be making changes.

I see.

I'd like you to step in for him, Chuck.

I'd like you to become editor.

Editor?

There's a catch, of course.

Mike doesn't know any of this yet.

It's going to be two or three days before I tell him,

so it'll have to remain between us... until then.

Will that be a problem for you?

Marty, Mike's a friend.

I appreciate that, Chuck, but I can't remove him

until I know who's going to be his replacement, for continuity's sake.

So this is how it has to be.

I'm going to have to think about this. I'm going to have to discuss it with Catarina.

Of course, of course. Listen...

Marty, have you thought about the impact

this might have on the staff?

They feel very...

He's earned a lot of loyalty there.

Yes, mostly by fighting with me.

Well, the point is I haven't earned that kind of loyalty.

- If it looks like... - I'll be in New York tomorrow.

We'll go over all this in detail.

- Will you call me at the hotel? - Yeah.

I really appreciate this, Chuck.

Your discretion... Night.

Night, Marty.

So, I just got off the phone with Marty,

and I've been fired. Effective immediately.

I'm to be out of the building by 5:00 PM.

Chuck Lane has been chosen to replace me.

Chuck is not an editor.

He's barely even a writer.

There's no way I'm going to be able to work for him.

We should've seen this coming.

The way he laughs whenever Marty tells a joke in the meetings.

They're never funny, but there's Chuck, completely howling.

He's so political.

And stiff. And humorless.

And pissy. I mean...

How pissy does he get whenever you try to fact-check one of his pieces?

It's like, I'm sorry, but we have an obligation to get our facts straight.

Okay. Let's not overdo it.

This is still a great magazine.

It's still an important magazine, and...

Monday morning, he's going to be running it.

I'm going to barf.

All right.

Let me get out of here, okay?

Well, I just want to thank you all again.

Truly...

I've loved every second of this.

Good luck, Mike.

You too, Chuck.

Hi.

Hi.

Hey.

Hi.

So...

Sorry about... what happened when he left.

I just didn't know what to do.

Thanks.

If you need a hand with the boxes,

I'll be in my office.

So, Chuck took over.

And the job, for the first time ever,

began to feel like a job.

But I'm being unfair.

The truth is, I wrote fourteen pieces

while Chuck was editing the magazine.

And the last of them was the biggest story I ever wrote.

Is anyone interested in hackers?

Because I met this kid named Ian Restil.

Biggest computer geek of all time.

He hacked his way into the database

of a company called Jukt Micronics,

and posted naked pictures of women,

and the salary of every Jukt employee

on Jukt's website with a note saying,

"The big, bad, bionic boy has been here, baby!"

The guys at Jukt decided that it would be cheaper

to hire him as a security consultant, than it would be to try to stop him.

So they met with him last week at the hotel

where the National Hacker's Conference was taking place.

It was the chairman from Jukt,

Restil, Restil's mother, and Restil's agent.

- No. - Yes. Hackers have agents, too.

All right...

I was at the table with these guys.

Restil's just laying out all of his demands.

I want a Miata.

"I want a trip to Disney World."

I want X-Men comic book number one.

"I want a lifetime subscription to Playboy."

And throw in Penthouse.

And they're complying with every single word.

Excuse me, sir, pardon me for interrupting.

We can arrange more money for you, and you can buy the comic book yourself.

And when you're of a more appropriate age,

you can buy the car and...

pornographic magazines on your own.

Cool.

After that, after they have the meeting,

he goes back into the conference,

where all these hackers have gathered.

And they're treating him like he's a rock star.

Then, Restil jumps up on a table, and he's like...

I want a Miata!

He starts gyrating his hips like this.

"I want a Miata!"

"I want my Playboys."

"I want a trip to Disney World."

- Show me the money! - Show me the money!

"Show me the money!"

Turns out,

there are now twenty-one states considering versions of a law

called the Uniform Computer Security Act,

which would criminalize immunity deals

between hackers and the companies they've torched.

Meanwhile, Restil's agent claims a client list

of over three hundred... one of whom was once paid

a million dollars... and a monster truck.

That's unbelievable.

It's... really silly, I know.

I'm not even sure if I'm going to finish it.

Shit.

You rang?

Yes. I rang.

Why didn't you get this?

Yeah...

That...

I don't know.

Hey...

Hey.

Is it pronounced "juked" or "jucked"?

It's pronounced "give me back my article."

Hey...

Adam, can you give a man a minute?

Oh, yeah. I'm sorry.

It's just that...

this New Republic piece is a fucking sieve.

I started with a check on Jukt Micronics,

which is supposed to be this major software company in California.

I went through every search engine on the web...

No matches found.

So I called 4-1-1, in every area code in the state,

there's no listing anywhere for a company called Jukt Micronics.

I tried the California Tax Franchise Board.

There's no record of taxes ever having been paid

by a company called Jukt Micronics.

Tried the state comptrollers office,

no license has ever been applied for by a company using that name.

Then I called all the hackers I know,

asking if any had heard of a National Assembly of Hackers,

or of a hacker by the name of "Big, Bad, Bionic Boy."

Nothing. I even tried Ian Restil himself.

There's no listing for the kid in D.C., Virginia, Maryland.

There's no record of him ever having attended a public school before.

- More? - Please.

This guy Joe Hiert was described in the Glass piece

as being this former basketball agent,

yet no one by that name has ever been registered with the NBA,

and none of my hackers knew of him.

I even checked the names of every government...

I was just getting some coffee.

I even checked the names of every government employee quoted in the piece

against a book listing the names of every government employee

in the entire United States.

None of the Glass sources were listed.

But there is one thing in this story that checks out.

What's that?

There does appear to be a state in the Union named Nevada.

David... For Christ's sakes.

God, I'm sorry, Stephen.

I just wanted to see if you'd read it yet.

And it was sitting right here, you know?

Don't hate me, okay?

Stephen, you shredded it.

I'm trying to spare you a spanking, David.

You've got blind quotes all over the place,

your facts are shaky. I mean...

the line about the turnover at D.O.T.

was low by four and a half per cent. I checked.

Of course you did.

Rob and Aaron would kill you over that kind of stuff.

This is The New Republic, remember? Nothing slides here.

If you don't have it cold, you don't turn it in. Ever.

- Okay. - Look...

Bring me your notes later, and we'll go through it together.

There's a lot about it that I liked.

Really?

Really.

And get back to work, okay?

The mailroom floor needs scrubbing.

Okay. Thanks, Stephen.

You have one unheard message.

First message...

Hi, Stephen. This is Adam Penenberg from Forbes Digital Tool.

I just got done reading your hacker article,

and first of all, congratulations.

Everybody here just loved it.

But we wanted to do a companion piece to it, sort of a Day Two story.

And I'm having some trouble tracking down Ian Restil.

You think I can get a phone number on him from you?

Look... I think it's good that you tried this.

It's good to stretch.

I just...

I don't think you're writing to your strengths here.

- Can... Can I? - I mean...

I'm wondering why you'd want to stray from the sort of things you do so well.

Have you noticed the way Steve's phone

has been ringing lately?

Did you see all those editors at the correspondents' dinner?

The way they were circling him?

Is that what you want, Amy?

To get a bunch of smoke blown up your ass

by a pack of editors?

Yes. Yes, it is.

Caitlin...

he's going to double his salary, freelancing like that.

These guys don't want policy pieces anymore.

They want color. They want nuance, humor.

But Amy, you don't write funny.

It's a little funny.

Isn't it?

I was just looking for Steve.

He's in his office.

- You got a minute, Steve? - Yeah.

Do you have phone numbers for all your sources on the Hack Heaven piece?

- But they're at home. - Can I get them?

Of course.

Did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me?

No. I just need the phone numbers.

Okay.

Okay. Okay, I'm trying to keep cool about all this,

but you know the Uniform Computer security Act

in the Glass piece?

Supposed to be under debate in twenty-one state legislatures...

I just checked all fifty... No such act.

Beautiful.

And Julie Farthwork from the Computer Security Center?

Not too sure she exists, either.

Same with Jim Ghort of the...

Center For Interstate Online Investigations.

And I've got nothing on the National Assembly of Hackers,

or Frank Juliet.

Man...

Do you know why this is so great?

I mean, do you see the irony here?

The New Republic, snobbiest rag in the business.

The in-flight magazine of Air Force One.

And their star goes out and gets completely snowed by a bunch of hackers.

I mean, God couldn't have written this any better.

- Adam. - Yeah?

As long as I'm grinding away on this thing,

any chance you'd share your byline with me?

Forget it.

We are in uncharted territory here, Adam.

An online magazine going after a giant.

You should have somebody beside you

to take some of the flak in case this thing blows up.

Gosh... That's touching.

You're completely swamped!

I mean, I know you're behind on the Kim Polese piece,

- ...and I know it's due Friday. - I'll get to it.

Look, everything that I'm working on is so...

dull.

And this is spectacular.

Andie... No.

Look, it's not like you found the story yourself.

Kambiz just handed it to you.

If I hadn't been at the dentist,

it might be me about to get famous,

so why don't you just share the wealth, okay?

Shit!

That came out a lot uglier than I meant it.

Sorry.

- Hey. - Hey.

Well, Ian Restil e-mailed me right back.

It might be a little tough to put you in touch with him directly.

At least until next week.

This is his e-mail.

"Your story screwed up my deal.

I don't to talk to... to you." I think he meant...

- "I don't want to talk to you." - Yeah.

"I'm on vacation with my parents,

so leave me alone."

What kind of parent goes on vacation with their kid in early May?

That's a good question.

I guess you have to know his mom.

She's a little quirky.

That's his e-mail address,

if you want to write him yourself.

These are all my notes...

That's the number for the National Assembly of Hackers.

Don't be thrown if all you hear is, like,

a dark, deep, heavy breathing.

It's... I don't know... their outgoing voice mail message.

Don't ask me why.

And then that's... that's the number for Jukt Micronics.

The chairman's name is George Sims.

I... I can't figure out why this Penenberg guy

would have such a hard time finding it.

But, you know, whatever.

That's the URL to their website.

And I can't... I can't seem to find Joe Hiert's number.

I was looking all over at home,

and it's somewhere there, I know it is. So I'll just get that to you tomorrow...

- ...if that's okay? - Sure.

He's Restil's agent. Should I...?

I'll give you some privacy.

No. Have a seat.

650, is that Palo Alto?

No. Silicon Valley.

You'll probably get a voice mail. I usually do.

You've reached the offices of Jukt Micronics. Please leave a message.

It's Charles Lane. I'm calling from the New Republic magazine in Washington, D.C.

I'd like to speak to George Sims, if I could.

They already have our number.

I guess you already have our number.

Thank you.

I'm sorry. We've just, like, spoken a million times now.

That's actually his voice on the answering machine.

Sims is so hands-on

that he won't even let his secretary do an outgoing message.

Who's next?

Penenberg.

This is Adam.

Hi. It's Chuck Lane.

Hi, Chuck.

I've got a phone number for you.

A phone number for what?

For George Sims at Jukt Micronics. You got a pen?

Yeah. Sure.

Okay. Thanks.

It's a phone number for Jukt Micronics.

You've reached the offices of Jukt Micronics. Please leave a message.

Do me a favor...

Call this number...

at the same time I do, okay?

- Ready? - Yep.

Go.

You've reached the offices of Jukt Micronics. Please leave a message.

- What'd you get? - It's voice mail.

I get a busy signal. Hang up.

Try again. Okay?

Redial.

Busy signal.

I got a voice mail.

Hang up.

A major software company with one phone line?

How you doing?

Good.

He's up to 103.

Oh, shit.

Come here, buddy.

Should I give him a bath?

That would be great.

How you doing?

Hello?

Hello, this is George Sims.

May I speak with Charles Lane?

One moment, please.

Honey...

it's George Sims.

I'll take him.

Come on, sweetheart. Yes, yes, yes...

Hello.

Yeah. This is George Sims of Jukt Micronics.

Am I speaking with Charles Lane?

Mr. Sims, thank you for calling me back.

I don't have time for this, actually.

We're trying to have an office party.

Look... If you were calling for a comment on your story,

I don't have one. Other than to say

I wish you'd never run the stupid thing.

That stuff was supposed to be off the record,

and your reporter knows it. That Glass guy.

I'm just calling to verify some information.

I'm not verifying anything.

Bottom line is I'd like you guys to basically get lost, okay?

Hello?

- Hey. - David.

- I'm sorry, Steve. - Shit.

I didn't mean to startle you. I just thought you'd like a cup of coffee.

What are you doing here?

Working late. Working on my article,

so I don't get shredded again.

- Thank you. - You're welcome.

I always forget to ask you.

How are your studies coming?

They're fine. I'm... I'm just buried.

You're buried. Right.

Okay. I should probably let you get back to it.

Is there anything else you need?

No. Goodnight, David.

All right. Night, Steve.

I got it.

- Hello? - Chuck, it's Steve.

Hi, Steve.

Hey, sorry to be calling so late.

I... was just wondering,

did you get a call from the Jukt guy George Sims?

I did. Yeah.

Yeah... I was just sitting here,

and I realized that I'd given him your home number

without asking you first, and... I wanted to apologize.

It's fine.

Sort of a prick, didn't you think?

I couldn't really tell because he hung up so fast.

Are you at home, Steve?

No. Why?

I left a message on your machine.

The Forbes guys want to talk to us again.

Conference call at 9:00 AM.

Sure. Sounds like a party.

Yep.

Okay... Night, Chuck.

See you in the morning.

That's weird.

Morning.

Hey.

Want a laugh?

Sure.

The website for Jukt Micronics.

Good.

Yeah, you might not think so when you see what's on it.

I don't think Mr. Sims liked our piece that much.

And I found this, too, on my fridge for some reason.

Ian Restil's agent. Joe Hiert.

I'd like to pause for a moment.

You can't really go into the world of journalism

without first understanding how a piece gets edited

at a place like T.N.R.

This is the system that Michael Kelly brought with him from The New Yorker,

a three-day torture test.

If your article is good, the process will only make it better.

If your article is shaky,

you're in for a long week.

A story comes in, and it goes to a senior editor.

He or she edits it on the computer

then calls in the writer, who makes revisions.

Then the piece goes to a second editor,

and the writer revises it again.

Then it goes through a fact-check,

where every fact in the piece...

every date, every title, every place or assertion...

is checked and verified.

Then the piece goes to a copy editor,

where it is scrutinized once again.

Then it goes to the lawyers,

who apply their own burdens of proof.

Marty looks at it, too. He's very concerned

with any kind of comment the magazine is making.

Then production takes it and lays it out in column inches and type.

Then it goes back on paper,

then back to the writer, back to the copy editor,

back to editor number one and editor number two,

back to the fact-checker,

back to the writer, and back to production again.

Throughout, those lawyers are reading and re-reading,

looking for red flags, anything that feels uncorroborated.

Once they're satisfied,

the pages are reprinted, and it all happens again.

Every editor, the fact-checkers,

they all go through it one last time.

Now...

most of you will start out as interns somewhere.

And interns do a lot of fact-checking.

So pay close attention.

There is a hole in the fact-checking system.

A big one.

The facts in most pieces can be checked against...

some type of source material.

If an article is on, say, ethanol subsidies,

you can check for discrepancies against the congressional record,

trade publications...

LexisNexis, footage from C-SPAN.

But on other pieces...

the only source material available

are the notes provided by the reporter himself.

Steve.

This doesn't look like a real business card to me.

Yeah, I know. That... That's the kind of clown this guy is.

He won't even pay to have real cards made.

All right.

My office at 9:00, okay?

Yeah.

Good morning.

A few other people we can't seem to locate.

Julie Farthwork,

Frank Juliet, and Ian Restil's agent Joe Hiert.

We called the numbers you gave us,

got voice mails for all three,

and the e-mails were sent back.

No address or "account closed."

Really? 'Cause I've e-mailed them about a million times each.

Hiert's online all day long.

Did you ever call these people and get them directly?

No... I always left messages

and spoke to them when they called me back.

And the references in the article

to Nevada law enforcement officials...

was Jim Ghort the only one you spoke to?

- Yes. - Do you have a phone number for him?

Yeah. Definitely.

By the way, what was your basis for writing

that Jukt was a big-time software company?

I didn't. That was added by the copy desk.

And... was the hacker's conference

where you first met the Jukt executives?

No, that part of the article is misleading.

I... I was never in the Restil's home at all.

You weren't in Restil's home with the Jukt executives?

No, I didn't mean to imply that I had been.

Sorry about that.

Did the fax come through okay?

Yes, it did.

I think the address must've gotten garbled.

We can't find the site.

Okay. You want to read it back to me?

Sure. You gave us "members.aol.juktn.html."

- Wait. Was that an "m"? - I'm sorry?

After Jukt, was that an "m," as in "micronics"?

No. It was an "n."

As in "not working."

- Try "m." - Okay.

Sorry about that. I was just rushing.

Of course.

But I do find myself wondering, Stephen...

why would a major software company

put their website where only AOL members can access it,

as opposed to the entire Web?

I have no idea.

I don't have a website, so I don't really know that much about them.

I would trust you guys to know better than me.

Okay... Looks like...

we have the Jukt website up now.

I have to say, Stephen,

this looks very suspicious to me.

How so?

Quite frankly, it doesn't look like a real website.

Looks like a site that was... created to fool someone.

I don't know much about computers. Could somebody do that?

- Of course. - Very easily.

So easily, in fact, it's incredible.

Hey, do you guys still want that number for... Jim Ghort?

'Cause I just found it in my notes.

Yeah, sure.

All right, 605-84...

- Wait. - Sorry?

605, that's not Nevada.

I guess I got him mixed up with another source.

Sorry about that one. You know what it was?

Jim Ghort was actually the guy who told me about the law enforcement officials.

I don't know what I was thinking. I'm gonna have to...

Steve.

Give them the number.

This guy is toast.

All right, Stephen.

In light of all this...

how confident are you in this story of yours?

Are we off the record?

If you like.

Well...

off the record...

some of the things that you have brought up...

the website,

the idea that I was always speaking to these people through voice mail...

that is, that they were always calling me...

it didn't seem strange before,

but clearly, there are some problems with the story.

You have pointed them out.

One portion of it was structured in a way that...

I just... Well...

in light of all this...

I just... I'm...

I'm increasingly beginning to believe

that I have been duped.

And so we hang up after he's basically

let these guys interrogate me for an hour,

and I go, "Chuck, what happened?

I mean, why didn't you back me up?"

And he goes, "I'm sorry, Steve. I gotta protect the magazine...

- ...I mean, I'm the editor." - Typical.

He's being such an asshole.

So I'm dead, pretty much.

Yes, this is Kambiz.

Can we have a talk here? Just editor to editor?

Sure. Go ahead.

Completely off the record,

and really almost human being to human being?

Of course.

You guys have discovered something

that a troubled kid has done.

But I still don't know how you plan to play it.

Chuck, we're not in the business of "gotcha" journalism, here.

I have no interest in embarrassing you or The New Republic.

I'm not worried about me or the magazine. That's fair game.

But there's a kid here who basically just plainly screwed up.

Big time.

His reporting was sloppy. We know that.

But we're trying to handle it internally at this point.

- Just as you would. - Listen.

We're going to run something...

along the lines of a trick was pulled,

and some very clever hackers managed to create an illusion.

I can't tell what to print or not to print.

You guys are journalists.

But he could be very hurt by what you guys publish.

- His career. - Chuck, I understand.

I do.

I would hope if I made the mistakes he made,

people would be generous with me.

But...

this concerns the very field we cover.

We have to run it.

And when we do, we're gonna need a comment from you.

So, given everything that's happened,

how strongly are you gonna stand behind this story?

I'm looking into it.

It's really not that big a deal.

I mean, you got fooled by a source.

It happens.

We'll print a retraction, and that'll be that.

Steve, it's not like it's gonna hurt your career.

Of course, if you weren't so distracted by your classes,

maybe this never would have happened.

Yeah, I know. I really gotta quit. You were right.

Can I speak to you for a minute, Steve?

What about?

Let's do it in private.

We need to take a drive to Bethesda.

- What for? - I want to meet Joe Hiert.

I already told you, nobody knows where he is.

Well, maybe if we go to the hotel where he met with Restil and Sims...

someone will remember him...

- Chuck, there were... - ...or have some clue...

- ...hundreds of people there, okay? - ...as how to find him.

These Forbes guys want to come down on you.

- This is ridiculous. - They are highly suspicious...

...about some of the material in that article.

- You know that! - Yeah.

But they're gonna go online with their piece tomorrow.

- Okay? - Yeah.

Yeah.

Now...

Steve...

- Steve. - Yeah?

If we can find Hiert,

I can back them off for a day or two. Okay?

- Okay, I'll get my notes. - Okay.

- Let's go. - All right.

We were at this table.

Restil sat here, his mother was on his left.

Hiert... Sorry, his mother was on his right.

Hiert sat there,

but then Restil wanted him closer, so he slid his chair over.

Sims sat here. He had a lawyer next to him.

I forget the guy's name. It's in my notes.

Somebody was smoking at this table,

so then Restil's mother insisted that we move to one farther away.

Over there.

The hacker conference was near here, right?

Yeah, the building next door.

I don't remember from the article.

How many people did you say were at this thing?

Looked like a hundred. It might have been two. It's in my notes.

Two hundred people?

Here?

Yeah, they moved in and out. I mean, most of them were kids.

That doesn't seem credible to me.

All I know is I was here.

All of us were right here.

Excuse me, sir, can I help you?

Yes, you can.

We're looking into a conference

that was held here a couple Sundays ago.

Computer hackers. Do you remember anything like that?

Are you sure you're in the right building, sir?

- Yes, we're sure. - Why is that?

The building is closed on Sunday.

All I know is I was here.

The conference was right here.

That's why the Restils only stayed a few minutes, okay?

Because it was such a dumb place to squeeze into.

So, they... they went to a restaurant for dinner

with some of Ian's hacker friends.

Thank you.

How many?

People at the dinner... How many?

About ten, I think.

Including me.

Ian even put on a jacket.

- Hiert was there, too? - Yeah.

Is it near here?

Yeah, it's across the street.

Good. Let's cross the street.

You know, I really don't like the way you're treating me, Chuck.

It's like you won't even talk to me.

- This is the place? - Yes.

I didn't do anything wrong, okay?

I... I didn't do anything wrong.

You saw my notes. Everything was in there.

I got tricked. I got fooled.

I'm sorry. What are you being so mad for?

It was ten people?

- Yes. - For dinner?

Yes.

They're closed at 3:00 on Sundays.

Yeah, I... I know.

I know. They almost didn't let us in.

Okay? But it was a couple of minutes before 3:00,

and Ian looked like he was about ready to cry,

and so they said okay.

But for dinner?

Go in and ask them yourself, Chuck.

Okay? Go... Go in and see

if they would serve a party that came in at 2:58,

and the answer would be "yes," because that's when we got here.

The Forbes guys are gonna have all this, too,

and they're gonna dig through the records

of that office building, okay?

I'm sure they have surveillance cameras,

and they're gonna check them.

I didn't do anything wrong, Chuck.

I really wish you'd stop saying that!

Steve...

come on, anyone can make a mistake.

You know, this is not right, Chuck.

Okay? I feel really attacked.

And you're my editor. You're supposed to support me,

and you're taking their word against mine?

You're supposed to support me!

...criticism of the president's program has been...

Leave it off.

I'm sorry I yelled at you back there.

Chuck?

Steve!

Pull the goddamn car over.

There has been so much pressure.

I... I... Chuck... I...

- I didn't mean to get anybody in trouble. - Okay.

Okay.

You weren't at the conference.

No.

You know, I had a description of it from so many sources,

I thought I had it solid. Okay?

And I wanted the piece to have an eyewitness feel to it.

For color. So...

I said I had been there myself.

And everything we just told the Forbes guys?

I... I... I'm so sorry, Chuck.

I just panicked.

If you want me to say that I made it up, I will.

If that will help you, I'll say it.

I just want you to tell me the truth, Steve.

Can you do that?

All I'm suggesting is that there might be facets of this that you're not considering.

Why are you defending him?

Nobody is defending him, Chuck.

Of course you're defending him. He's a kid!

He doctored his notes, Lew. Just consider that for a second.

You know? He sat down,

and he hand-wrote a bunch of phony quotes,

and then he handed them in as source material for the fact-check.

- Doesn't that offend you? - Of course it does.

He also lied to his editor. That's supposed to offend you, too.

He's a confused, distraught kid, obviously, Chuck.

So suspend him for a couple of months,

but let's not bury him.

Suspend him.

There also political considerations to take into account here.

The rest of the staff, the way they feel about him.

I... I already know all that.

What I'm saying is if you fire him,

some of these people will leave.

I don't know if we'd still have a magazine at the end of the day.

- Hey, Caitlin. - Not now, David.

How's he doing?

He's a wreck, of course.

I want him in here, Caitlin.

He's too scared to come in here.

He thinks you want to destroy him.

He knows what he did was horrible.

He knows how badly he messed up.

The part he's most upset about is lying to you, Chuck...

because he knows you took it as a sign of disrespect

instead of as a panic move, which is what it was.

Think about the work load he's been carrying...

All this and classes?

He hasn't slept more than two hours in nine months.

So he got a little sloppy and he lied to cover his tracks.

- He's sick about it. - Caitlin...

The building he described... It doesn't even exist.

He just made it up.

So...

Obviously, he needs some help.

- He needs help. - Just get him in here.

You can't fire him.

I don't think he'll survive.

You don't understand. We're all he has.

You can't fire him, Chuck.

Thanks, Lew.

You guys excuse us for a minute.

He sold all the men watered-down stock,

and, you know, within...

Steve.

What are you doing here?

I'm so dead.

I mean, I'm over.

Nobody's ever gonna hire me again, are they?

I was so sloppy trusting my sources like that...

and then lying about it.

And to Chuck, of all people. I mean...

the one guy who's hated me all along.

I'm sure that none of this is personal.

No?

Chuck keeps a list in his head...

Everybody who is a Michael Kelly person.

A couple of times... I said some things I shouldn't have said...

about you.

So now I'm on it.

That's why he's so set on killing me now.

Well, I have to tell you, Steve,

he's within his rights.

The things you did were fireable offenses.

I know. I'm not saying that they weren't.

I did some terrible, terrible things.

But believe me, Michael, Chuck doesn't care about any of it.

It's my loyalty to you that he's punishing me for.

I'm such an idiot.

Now who's going to hire me?

Steve, I have to ask you something.

Did you ever cook a piece when I was your boss?

Did you ever lie to me?

The young conservatives piece... the mini-bottles?

Was that true?

- Hello? - Chuck, it's David Bach.

Look, I'm really sorry to bother you at night,

but it seemed important.

It's fine. Is there a problem?

Well... I don't know.

I just got off the phone with Stephen.

He sounds horrible.

- Did you suspend him, Chuck? - David...

What is the problem?

He asked me if I would drive him out to Dulles later tonight.

He said he wasn't sure he'd be safe driving by himself.

I just thought I should draw your attention to that.

Did he say where he was going?

Yeah. He said he'd be staying with his family for a while.

That can only be one of two places.

Well, his parents live in Highland Park, right?

Yeah. Or his brother out in Palo Alto.

I'm sorry?

Yeah, his brother. At Stanford.

Chuck?

You had your brother pose as George Sims.

What?

The phony recording from Jukt Micronics.

It's a Palo Alto number.

And your brother is a student at Stanford.

You had him pose as Sims.

- No, Sims is a real guy. - Steve, Steve...

I've talked to him a million times, Chuck.

My brother and I aren't even speaking right now.

Stop it. You faked Sims.

- You faked the website. - You don't know.

- You faked all those voice mails. - You don't know, Chuck.

- Restil, Hiert, Ghort. - You've got this backwards.

It's all crap!

I can trace it if you make me. I'll find it all billed to you.

I don't know what you're talking about, okay?

Those are all real people.

- They are? - Yeah.

Look at me.

And say that again.

Those are all real people.

Okay.

I want you out of here.

What?

I want you out of here.

And you can't take anything with you.

There are some files, okay? I have to put them on a disk.

- No. - No. They're mine.

- Personal stuff! - I don't care.

I know you don't.

Can I at least shut down my computer?

- Don't touch it! - I'm in the middle of a file, Chuck.

- God damn it! - Back away from the desk.

Leave it! Or I will call security.

- Jesus Christ. - Okay?

Can I take my rolodex?

Steve...

Can I take my law books?

Sure.

But I'm gonna need to have your security key.

I'm not a criminal, Chuck.

Okay?

- I'm not a criminal. - I heard you.

Come on.

Chuck...

I said I was sorry.

I know.

But you have to go.

Bond traders, as a rule, do not have much time to loaf around,

and the wall street investment house R.V.L.

takes its work ethic to a particularly...

...one trader is now testing a hand-held urinal

normally used by cops on stake...

A few days after Mike Tyson was disqualified for biting Evander Holyfield,

I offered half a dozen talk shows my services as a biting expert.

I'm someone who knows a...

...the mini-bar is open,

and empty little bottles of booze are scattered on the carpet.

It was a monthly gathering of the commission to restore the presidency to greatness.

Patriotic prophets will have a hard time holding back

this merchandising bonanza...

Thanks, George. Sorry for the trouble.

No problem, Steve.

Chuck?

The...

The thing with George Sims?

That was...

The voice... The voice that you heard on the telephone...

that was my brother. I'm sorry.

There really is a George Sims.

I... I... I've spoken to him a million times.

He just stopped talking to me.

You know, because of the article.

He was so mad about it.

I didn't know what to do,

and the guys from Forbes were putting so much pressure on me,

you know? And you were so mad.

I just thought that if I could get everybody off my back,

okay, for just a day,

just a day would give me enough time to go and find him.

You can understand that, can't you?

You're fired, Steve.

What?

You're fired. You've lost your job.

But you can't. I...

Chuck...

will you please take me to the airport?

Jesus.

Please, okay?

You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to.

It's fine.

But I can't be by myself right now.

Okay? I'm...

I'm afraid of what I'm gonna do.

You know? I...

I can't get there by myself.

I'm not going anywhere with you.

Now, if you feel like you're a danger to yourself,

you can sit down for a few minutes until you feel calm enough to go,

but I am not going anywhere with you.

But... I...

I'm afraid that I'm gonna do something, okay?

Did... you hear what I said?

Yeah.

It's a hell of a story.

Chuck, please.

Stop pitching, Steve.

It's over.

Okay.

"Spring Breakdown,"

"The Jungle,"

"A Fine Mess,"

"After the Fall,"

"Peddling Poppy,"

"Cheap Suits,"

"Kicked Out,"

"No Free Launch,"

"Ratted Out," "State of Nature,"

"Clutch Situation," "All Wet,"

"Plotters,"

"Praised Be Greenspan,"

"Monica Sells,"

"Hack Heaven."

What the hell did you do to Steve?

He just called me from his car hysterical,

and I asked him what was wrong, and he said "Ask Chuck."

I fired him, okay!

He's not suspended. Fired.

Because this wasn't an isolated incident, Caitlin.

He cooked a dozen of 'em, maybe more.

And we're gonna have to go through them, you and I.

We're gonna have to go through all of them now.

No, the only one was "Hack Heaven."

- He told me that himself. - If he were a stranger to you...

...if he was a guy you were doing a piece about,

pretend that guy told you he'd only done it once.

Would you take his word for it?

Of course not. You'd dig, and you'd bury him.

And you'd be offended if anybody told you not to.

Every one of those pieces was fact-checked. They were all...

So was "Hack Heaven"!

You're a good reporter.

You've always been such a smart, thorough reporter.

Why can't you be one now?

Because what you're telling me is impossible, Chuck.

Go upstairs.

Read 'em again.

This is bullshit!

Make sure you go all the way back

because half of them ran when Mike was still here.

That's what this is. Of course.

I mean, what are you gonna do, Chuck?

Pick us off one by one? Everybody that was loyal to Mike?

So you have a staff that belongs to you?

Is that the kind of magazine you want to run?

Caitlin, when this thing blows,

there isn't gonna be a magazine anymore.

Now, if you want to make this about Mike, make it about Mike.

I don't give a shit. You can resent me.

You can hate me. But come Monday morning,

we're all gonna have to answer for what we let happen here.

We're all gonna have an apology to make.

Jesus Christ!

Don't you have any idea how much shit we're about to eat?

Every competitor we ever took a shot at,

they're gonna pounce, and they should.

Because we blew it, Caitlin.

He handed us fiction after fiction,

and we printed them all as fact.

Just because...

we found him entertaining.

It's indefensible.

Don't you know that?

Is everyone in the conference room?

You know what could have prevented all this, don't you?

No. What?

Pictures.

How could you make up characters

if everyone you wrote about had to be photographed?

You know, Stephen... if you wanted to,

you could do these kids a giant favor.

- Yeah? - Yeah.

You could write something boring one of these days.

Give them a little less to live up to.

I suppose I could.

I mean, we don't want a bunch of teenagers getting ulcers,

do we?

Good morning.

It's funny.

I thought I was gonna have to explain all this to you.

Well... What do we think of this guy?

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thanks. Thank you.

Steve...

Stephen.

We've read through all the pieces now.

The entire staff.

And we've come up with a list

of those whose facts and sources

we couldn't verify independently.

I know you can't admit guilt of any kind,

but I want you to confirm a few titles for me.

We're not prepared to confirm or deny anything at this time.

What I'm gonna do is this...

I am going to read to you a list of suspicious titles one by one.

If you raise an objection to a particular title,

we'll fact-check it again in the hope of removing it from the list.

If you remain silent,

we'll assume that piece is fabricated,

either partially or entirely.

And it will stay on.

Is that clear to everyone?

Okay.

"Hazardous to Your Mental Health."

That means it stays on the list of suspicious pieces.

Fabricated pieces.

We understand. Can we move along?

"Holy Trinity."

"Probable Claus."

"Don't You Dare."

"Spring Breakdown."

"State of Nature."

"Rock the Morons."

"After the Fall."

You have to know who you're writing for.

And you have to know what you're good at.

I record what people do.

I find out what moves them, what scares them,

and I write that down.

That way, they're the ones telling the story.

And you know what?

Those kind of pieces can win Pulitzers, too.

Steve?