The core insight in Emily Bazelon’s thought-provoking investigative article seems to be that, because “nobody, rightly, wants to blame the girl who died,” the community cast about for people to blame for Phoebe Prince’s suicide, finally resting on the hot button but retaliation-ready concept of school bullies. Bazelon points out that there is much more to the story than what was initially reported and then infers to the readers of Slate that she intends to get down to the truth of the matter. Her goal is ambitious, but one that I believe she fails to reach as a result of misleading and incomplete reporting, and a complete (and completely astounding) disregard for one of the most troubling aspects of this case: the media’s involvement.
From the very first sentence of Bazelon’s three-part series, she positions the supposed bullies as the focus of her investigation. Rather than beginning with Phoebe Prince’s suicide or bullying experiences, as many other journalists have, the author seems to turn upside down readers’ preconceived notions about this highly discussed case by personalizing the defendants and calling into question the assumption that they are just bad eggs. This a bold and intriguing tactic, but I became less intrigued by this positioning and more troubled the more I read. What I first found dubious were the illustrations of the six accused, which appeared in the order in which the students were introduced in the article. For a news article, one that is supposedly based in fact rather than subjective interpretation, I find it concerning that primary sources such as photos were reinterpreted into illustrated portraits. With a caricature-like look to them, these illustrations are potentially deceiving: who knows what features the artist chose to soften, accentuate or alter in some way? Now, I’m not so conspiracy minded to think that Bazelon is purposefully trying to mislead us regarding these kids, but the presence of these illustrations certainly called to my attention that this article may indeed be slanted in a similar—though reversed—way that other articles concentrating solely on the victimhood of Prince are slanted. It made me question the motives behind the choice to include illustrations rather than the readily available photos and made me wonder what I could be missing from the photographic portraits themselves.
My concerns regarding the objectivity of this article continued as I read on to find that Bazelon chooses to include irrelevant, though humanizing information on the accused. I’m specifically thinking of sentences in Part 1 that detail the parental deaths experienced by some of Prince’s accused bullies. I really can’t help but wonder at the decision process behind including these bits of information that seem to be completely irrelevant to the matter at hand and the rest of Bazelon’s reporting. While reading this article, I couldn’t help but make many marginal notes along the lines of “Why are we being told this information?” I suspect that the author was attempting to humanize these students or inspire sympathy for them from her readers—but why couldn’t she do this by sticking to the facts of the case, which alone seem to offer strong enough humanizing factors? Why does she feel the need to fall back on these odd pieces of personal information that lead nowhere but beyond the subject at hand? These inclusions have me questioning the objectivity of this article and the reporting choices made by its author.
I’m not trying to argue that reporting should be—or even could be—fully objective. What I am arguing is that good reporting should be transparent—relayed in a way that allows readers to understand the purpose of that which is being reported and when reporting switches from fact gathering to subjective interpretation or appropriation of the facts. It seems to me that while Bazelon might not be purposefully attempting to obscure the facts of this case, some questionable choices on her part make this piece less than transparent.
Speaking of questionable choices, I also find the author’s choice in sources to be troubling. I sympathize with Bazelon for the clearly difficult job she had obtaining reputable sources that would or could actually talk to her regarding this story. Yet, while I am aware that she had very limited interview outlets, I wonder how much credible information was offered by her continual use of “a source” or, much more concerning, “one adult at the school.” (Part 1) These inclusions bring up the oft-considered dilemma of many journalists—include a nameless source and hope that the article can survive with the questionable implications inherent in a context-less, consequence-less quote, or stick to the safety of designated sources. I believe that the “right” choice in this quandary is always dependent on the circumstances of the topic reported upon and the strength of the article itself, but in this case, I think that these anonymous sources offered more questions of credibility than valuable information. Here is an article about teenage politics—a world—as the author herself points out—that changes on an hourly basis and is shrouded in gossip and lies. With this in mind, what value can we find in the information about these teenage politics relayed by an “adult at the school”? How did these adults even receive information about these kids’ romantic relationships and what made Bazelon think that this info was reliable? It would be one thing if the author acknowledged the potential issues of the information she was relaying, but it seemed to me that Bazelon was so desperate for primary sources that she completely neglected these conflicts. In my mind, this neglect shows a serious lack of judgment in her reporting, therefore compromising the integrity of the article altogether.
Finally, I arrive at what I believe to be the largest oversight in “What Happened to Phoebe Prince.” This is an article that supposedly evaluates the factors that caused a complicated situation to be simplified, misjudged and spun out of control. To explain this result, Bazelon looks at school district politics, problems of the justice system, conflicts of discipline in the digital age and improper counseling. She writes about how the case blew up overnight and how incorrect information began being taken as truth—yet she never turns her attention to what I believe to be one of the largest factors in the evolution of the Phoebe Prince controversy: media involvement. In part 3, Bazelon writes:
The Prince family hasn’t spoke publically since Phoebe’s death. Nor, with the exception of Sharon’s mother, have the families of the kids who were charged. That left the field to the bullies’ accusers and to the school district, which was restricted by confidentiality laws and was ill-prepared to handle the press. The result was a spring of recrimination and stonewalling, not healing.”
Here, the author asserts that because people wouldn’t speak about the specifics of the case, the result was “recrimination and stonewalling” but she fails to look at where the connection lies between this result and the silence of those involved. Instead and without comment, she goes on to explain the back and forth between the accusers and the accused that occurred on the Today show with Matt Lauer, Anderson Copper and the Boston Globe. How is it that Bazelon never turns her search inward, looking at what role the media (aka newspapers, magazines, news shows) had in turning the silence into speculation, which then turned into misinterpretation which then created “a spring of recrimination and stonewalling.” This case got a massive amount of media attention, and (as far as I know) until this piece all attention was put on Prince as the victim and the need to find those responsible. Furthermore, a DA who is potentially using the media attention she receives as a platform for reelection is perpetrating the legal cases against the accused. With these elements so obviously apparent, I am shocked that the author of this article never evaluates them in depth and instead localizes her inquiry, basically blaming the people in the town for letting the truth be swept under the rug. In my mind, this oversight is a damning one for the author. It stands to me as further evidence of incomplete or unreliable reporting and causes me to question the overall legitimacy of the article and its journalist.
In a nutshell, it seems to me that “What Happened to Phoebe Prince” missed the mark. Yes, it exposed some of the nuances of the case that had previously been overlooked, but it failed to do so in a reputable, convincing manner and insufficiently evaluated why the case evolved as it did.
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