Chapter 13
chapter
thirteen
The Savannah Convention Center sprawled along the riverfront, glass walls reflecting morning sunlight across the water. Crowds moved through the main entrance, many wearing lanyards with the True Crime Collective logo—a microphone wrapped in crime scene tape.
Lawson parked three blocks away. The email announcing Blackwell's appearance had arrived late last night. An ethics panel titled "Truth at Any Cost?" Perfect platform for a podcaster building her career on Monica's murder.
Inside, the convention bustled with activity. Vendor booths lined the main hall—equipment suppliers, podcast networks, merchandise sellers. Enthusiastic twenty-somethings clustered around popular hosts, phones raised for selfies. Murder as entertainment.
The program guide directed her to Ballroom C. She slipped through the doors ten minutes before the panel began and found the room already filled to three-quarters capacity. Six hundred seats facing a raised stage with five chairs and table microphones.
Lawson claimed a spot in the back row. Perfect vantage point for watching without being watched. The audience skewed female, mid-twenties to forties. Many typed notes on tablets or laptops. Future podcasters studying the masters.
Four panelists entered from a side door. Three men in business casual attire. Then Blackwell, black blazer over a crimson blouse. Professional but camera-ready. Her hair caught the stage lights, gleaming under the spots.
The moderator introduced each speaker. Credentials flashed on the screen behind them. Blackwell's listed Columbia Law degree alongside podcast download statistics that dwarfed her fellow panelists.
"Today we examine the ethical considerations in true crime reporting," the moderator began. "Where does the pursuit of truth become exploitation? What responsibilities do creators bear toward victims, families, and the accused?"
Lawson tuned out the introductory remarks. Her focus remained on Blackwell, who sat with perfect posture, attentive but relaxed. A natural performer aware of every eye in the room.
Someone slid into the empty seat beside her. Fiona Stevens, press badge hanging around her neck. Navy pantsuit. Hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. She smelled of Miss Dior and ambition.
"Didn't expect to see you here," Fiona whispered.
Lawson kept her gaze forward. "Professional interest."
"Aren't we all professionally interested?" Fiona positioned her recorder on her knee. "Though some more personally than others."
On stage, the discussion turned to victim privacy. A male panelist argued for restraint when discussing graphic details. Another countered that sanitizing truth undermined journalistic integrity.
Blackwell leaned toward her microphone. "Balance exists between exploitation and education. Our responsibility lies in determining which details serve the public interest versus personal curiosity."
The audience nodded along. Professional ethics delivered with practiced sincerity.
"She's good," Fiona murmured. "Columbia debate team champion before law school. Never loses an argument."
The moderator directed a question to Blackwell. "Your current season investigates an unsolved police shooting. How do you balance pursuing justice with respecting ongoing investigations?"
"Justice requires transparency." Blackwell's voice carried authority without arrogance. "When official channels fail victims, independent investigation becomes necessary. Five years without answers suggests institutional failure."
Lawson's fingers dug into her thigh. Monica reduced to a professional steppingstone. Her death repackaged as content.
"Law enforcement serves communities through accountability." Blackwell continued. "My work supplements rather than undermines their mission."
"Supplements." Lawson scoffed under her breath. "Like a bulldozer supplements a shovel."
A question from the audience. A young woman with purple-streaked hair. "How do you handle resistance from authorities when investigating cold cases?"
"Persistence." Blackwell smiled. "Truth exists whether institutions acknowledge it or not. Victims' families deserve answers regardless of who feels uncomfortable."
There. The micro-expression Lawson had been watching for. Satisfaction flickered across Blackwell's features. The slight curl of her lip. Momentary breaking of the professional mask to reveal something harder beneath. Not compassion but triumph.
"She believes her own mythology," Fiona whispered. "Crusader for justice rather than ratings chaser."
Another question. From an older man near the front. "Where's the line between investigation and interference?"
"No line exists when justice hangs in the balance." Blackwell leaned forward. "Cold cases require disruption. Comfortable narratives must be challenged. Institutional inertia broken."
The crowd absorbed her words with appreciative murmurs. True believers receiving gospel from their prophet.
"Notice anything?" Fiona nodded toward the third row.
Lawson scanned the audience. "What?"
"Man with the leather messenger bag. Recording everything. Not press. No badge."
Middle-aged man. Gray suit. Close-cropped hair. Focused intensity as he documented the panel with a professional camera.
"Private investigator hired by Dunwood Media," Fiona explained. "They're negotiating Netflix rights for Dead Air."
Lawson's jaw ticked in irritation. Beyond podcasts. Beyond Savannah. Monica's death—and by extension, Lawson's life—packaged for global streaming.
On stage, Blackwell fielded another question. "How do you respond to criticism that true crime exploits tragedy?"
"I pursue truth, not sensation." Her gaze swept the room with practiced sincerity. "Victims deserve voices. Families deserve closure. Communities deserve accountability. If my platform amplifies silenced stories, I accept that responsibility."
"God, she practices these lines in mirrors," Lawson muttered. "Polished but hollow."
The moderator announced the final question from a young man standing at the microphone. "Does success create pressure to find dramatic conclusions even when evidence might be inconclusive?"
Perfect question. Lawson leaned forward.
"Evidence speaks for itself." Blackwell's answer came without hesitation. "My responsibility lies in presenting facts without filtering them through predetermined narratives. If conclusions remain ambiguous, audiences deserve that honesty."
"Bullshit," Fiona whispered. "Her entire brand relies on satisfying conclusions. Open endings don't sell Netflix deals."
Lawson glanced sideways at Fiona. The journalist's cynicism struck a chord.
Fiona recognized the performance behind Blackwell's polished answers.
Maybe Lawson had misjudged her, categorizing her as just another reporter hunting for headline material.
The woman beside her understood the business machinery beneath true crime's veneer of justice.
Perhaps they shared more common ground than Lawson had admitted.
"You've studied her," Lawson murmured.
"Know your competition." Fiona tapped her pen against her notepad. "Blackwell frames herself as justice's champion while building a media empire on other people's tragedies. The righteousness is just marketing."
The panel concluded with polite applause. Audience members surged forward, seeking selfies and autographs. Networking opportunities with podcast royalty.
Blackwell stood to leave but paused. Her gaze traveled across the room, finding Lawson in the back row. Recognition flashed across her features, followed by something unreadable. She held eye contact for three seconds before mouthing words clearly enough for Lawson to read her lips.
Episode Four tomorrow.
The message delivered, Blackwell turned away, disappearing into the crowd of admirers.
"Well, that was pointed," Fiona said. "Wonder what bombshell drops next."
Lawson remained seated while the room emptied. Fiona gathered her recorder and notepad but lingered.
"You know she's creating a narrative, not reporting one." Fiona's voice lost its casual edge. "Blackwell built her reputation finding monsters lurking inside official stories. Every season needs its villain."
"You think I'm cast as the villain." The possibility had occurred to Lawson already.
"Or tragic hero. Depends on what serves her story better. I think that's why she's baiting you. Waiting to see how you write your own story." Fiona stood. "Either way, objectivity isn't her priority."
"What's yours?"
"Professional curiosity." Fiona adjusted her bag strap. "And maybe personal interest in watching a colleague face what I did last year."
Lawson recalled the Dolores Bates case. Fiona's reporting scrutinized by outside media. Her methods questioned. Her motives analyzed.
"The Chronicle runs my story on this convention tomorrow. Call if you want your perspective included."
The ballroom emptied completely. Lawson remained alone with the empty stage and lingering questions. Blackwell's silent message replayed in her mind.
Episode Four tomorrow.