It seemed as if the words printed on the mountain of paperwork were starting to run together. Snatching my glasses off, I had to take a break from the stacks and stacks of reports and data, sprawled out in front of me upon the desk. Behind me, a state government worker caught herself yawning.
I was a young reporter, fresh out of college, and it was the first time I had filed a public record request from a state agency at the newspaper I was working for at the time. They granted me access to a dimly lit room with thousands of public records. A state employee had to sit in the room with me while I searched through reports, data, documents and other sheets. I was there going on for four hours.
“What are you even looking for,” the state employee asked.
“Just looking,” I replied. “Just checking up on some things that mean, or could, mean something.”
The employee brought me a cup of coffee, and we took a few minutes to move around the room. She asked me why I enjoyed being a journalist, what the perks were, what challenges there were, was the pay good.
“Well, I have always liked writing and telling people’s stories,” I said. “But I really like finding material that my readers need to know. You get an adrenaline rush when you can help someone find something that affects them; something others want to keep secret sometimes.”
“Who would want to keep things secret,” she asked, with a slight grin coming across her face.
“The government…you I guess,” I said, smiling back.
We both laughed out loud together, with her adding “good point” before I went back to my mountain of paperwork.
I was a green, nervous but dangerously curious reporter at that time. It was before marriage, before children, before life really set itself in motion for me. Close to 20 years later, I am here at The Herald with a husband, three children and a community that I work for on a daily basis. I have filed numerous public record requests, citing the Freedom of Information Act. Many of those requests have exposed some important issues right here in Yazoo City. Some of those requests led to dead ends. I have been recognized by the Mississippi Press Association, earning several state awards for such watchdog coverage. It is an honor I am extremely proud of, but better than an award on the wall, I can see those results in the faces of my readers, my community, when the hours of investigation lead to victory.
I share this to celebrate this week’s occasion. It is Sunshine Week. It is a time when the foundation of our democracy is celebrated: open government and the press.
The Freedom of Information Act allows access to records of government activities. Sure, it ends up costing money. Yes, it certainly requires a lot of time. But that is why newspapers and journalists are critical within our communities. We dive into these requests, to inform the public about their government. From spending to policies to dealings behind closed doors, public record requests ensure everyone is informed.
But it is not always about exposing some wrongful doing. I have had a few requests that uncovered those in government power were doing the right thing. And the records proved it.
It has been close to 20 years since I sat inside that state agency in downtown Jackson. At first, the mood in the room was tense. All eyes were upon me as employees watched me shift through files and paperwork. They were critical of my presence, and some of their questions made me nervous.
But by the end of the day, the female employee who spent most of the day with me was on good speaking terms with me. We cracked a few jokes, had way too much coffee and left the building together, on good terms, heading into the adjacent parking lot.
“I have to say, you are a good researcher,” she said, approaching her car. “If you ever get out of the newspaper business and need a job, come talk to me.”
“I don’t think I will leave the newspaper business,” I replied, looking for my car keys.
“Like stirring the pot, huh,” she asked.
“Somebody has to,” I replied, with a grin.
“Goodbye, pot stirrer,” she laughed as she drove out of the parking lot.
About 15 years later, I won a state press award for investigative journalism right here in Yazoo City. The following week, upon returning to my office, I received a random email from that same state employee. She had moved onto working in a regional office in Texas, far from that Mississippi building in downtown Jackson. I had no idea how she knew about my recent award. I presumed she saw it on social media.
“Congratulations, pot stirrer,” she wrote. “Keep up the good work.”
I couldn’t help but grin as I responded to her email. I even made a joke about government email accounts were subject to public record requests. After she sent a laughing face emoji, I never heard from her again.
