When Ethan arrived on the set of Life and Death, the entire crew was lined up and waiting for him. What he couldn’t understand was why, to a person, they were all smiling.
In the center of the gathering stood the third-shift director, who’d called the police, and James, the PA, who was first on the scene when they saw Sherman Kingsborough outside Jared’s office door. The rest were gathered around them like a proud extended family at a high school graduation.
Holy fuck, Ethan thought. Do they think I’m here to give them some sort of medal?
“Holy fuck,” he said, looking around the room, making eye contact with as many of his hired hands as he could muster. “Do you guys think I’m here to give you some sort of medal?” He could feel the air go out of their collective sails.
He spent the next thirty minutes taking them to task, talking about the unprecedented lapse in security, the lack of attention to detail. He talked about the trauma to the Stone family, how America was counting on Life and Death to help heal wounds, and how they, the crew, let America down, how they let the network down, how they let him down.
By the end of it, at least two staff members were openly sobbing. Not because their feelings were hurt, but because they had let Ethan Overbee, deputy executive in charge of programming for the American Television Network, down. He was that good.
When he was done with the crew, Ethan asked the Stone family to assemble in the living room. He had thought about how to handle this conversation all the way up on the flight from L A. He needed them to buy into what would come next.
“Deirdre. Jared. Jackie. Megan.” He said each name slowly, looking at each one in turn, burning a hole in their souls with the intensity of his gaze. “I am so sorry about Trebuchet. Everyone at the network is just sick over this. Roger Stern has asked me to personally convey his deepest condolences.”
The Stone family was the breathing embodiment of its motionless, wordless name. Somewhere nearby a cricket chirped. Ethan pressed on.
“Of course, we’re going to pull the show off the air for a couple of days. Give everyone a chance to catch their breath and regroup. Allow you to grieve in private. We’ll do a few interviews with the four of you during the downtime, but the schedule will be very light.”
“Ethan?”
“Yes, Deirdre?”
“What if we don’t want to continue the show?”
Ethan had worried about this and planned for it. He didn’t miss a beat. “If that’s what you really want, we can talk about it. But think about it, Deirdre, imagine if your family was on the other side of that TV, if you and your girls were viewers of Life and Death. Wouldn’t you want them, wouldn’t you need them, to have some closure, some resolution after this episode?”
Deirdre didn’t answer. She just stared at Ethan. Jackie stared at her hands, and Jared stared out the window, his attention drifting. It was Megan who whispered “yes.” It was sotto voce, but emphatic.
Ethan smiled. Not the smile of a victor, but the smile of a paternalistic older brother. Deirdre managed a small nod, indicating that her question had been withdrawn.
“I also want to assure you,” Ethan continued, knowing that he was just getting to the tricky part, “that we will never let anything like this happen again.” He waited a beat before he continued, like he’d rehearsed in the back of the town car on the way from the airport. “We’re going to tighten security.”
Jared and Megan each breathed a sigh of relief, literally exhaling the tension from their bodies.
“That’s great, Ethan,” Jared offered. “Thanks.”
Deirdre sat still. She blinked a few times. She looked lost.
“What do you mean by security?” Jackie asked.
No one expected Jackie to talk, so everyone turned to face her. This made her cheeks flush and her brow furrow. “I mean, I’m just wondering is all.”
“No, no, Jackie,” Ethan continued. “It’s a great question. All the cast and crew will be searched each day before entering the house.”
“But aren’t we the cast?” Jackie asked, her voice cautious and tentative.
“Yes, yes, you are. We need to make sure nothing harmful to the show, to your family, gets slipped into a backpack or purse. This is as much for your protection as anyone else’s.”
“But the man who broke in, Kingsborough, he wasn’t a member of the cast or crew,” Deirdre offered.
“Good observation, Deirdre. Yes, to protect against another Mr. Kingsborough”—here Ethan made quote signs with his hands—“we’re building a perimeter around the house.”
“Perimeter?” Deirdre asked.
“Yes, a seven-foot fence completely surrounding the property. Without proper identification, no one will be able to get in.”
“Or out,” Jackie muttered, her head down, her chin practically touching her chest.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Ethan asked.