Petra Kovach is covering stories for the Boston Clarion. Then she’s told that the newspaper is losing money and can do without her. To save her job, Petra spontaneously invents a KILLER STORY. A young Harvard student called Olivia Anderson, or Livvy, had made herself into a YouTube influencer and controversial vlogger. Petra was her camp counselor during a previous summer. When Livvy was killed in a dorm room assault, her stepfather Professor Reynolds was tried but acquitted. That was two years ago, and Petra declares she has new evidence.
Longform stories are losing popularity so the Clarion editor, Dave Rollins, agrees Petra can host a True Crime podcast over several episodes, as well as the written version. They can sell advertising after the first episode. Now, Petra has to become the muck-raking reporter she’s always despised. Sensationalist claims bring in listeners, and the more suspects Petra accuses, the better for her. There’s a step-brother Eric Anderson, Livvy’s boyfriend Brandon, who’s a football player, and even a woman friend. Detective O’Keefe who handled the case ignores all suggestions.
Petra swivels from her ingrained ethics to become an antiheroine, someone making bad decisions and losing sight of how many other people get hurt. This is a hard character to write about, and the author Matt Witten keeps making Petra take a look at herself and question her deeds. She’s even lying to her live-in boyfriend Jonah, who seems like a sound guy. In order not to make this young woman the villain, and because we don’t have a good sense of who the killer may be, Matt Witten provides antagonists. Dave the editor is pushing and not acting responsibly, opening the paper up to massive lawsuits. His job is likely on the line if he doesn’t reverse the losses. Another perky young reporter, Natalie Blair, is covering crime stories so she keeps tugging to get a chunk of the suspects and podcast episodes. She’s similarly unprincipled, and she never even knew Livvy. The two women keep smiling at their colleagues while not trusting them for a second.
As well as an intriguing crime tale, KILLER STORY shows us how modern journalism may be affected by instant feedback from readers and listeners, and how much content can be gleaned from people’s social media posts, even if they post anonymously. The pressure on reporters to write and perform podcasts and vlogs, as well as tweeting while crafting a written story, is triple the work and exhausting. Then a hit story takes on a life of its own, as other news media want to interview the reporter, who’s simultaneously getting hate mail. KILLER STORY by Matt Witten is a timely look at where the instant gratification age is leading the news and leaves us wondering who really benefits.
How far will she go to catch the killer—and make her podcast a hit?
Talented and idealistic young reporter Petra Kovach is on the brink of being laid off from her third failing newspaper in a row. To save her job, she pitches the launch of a true crime podcast about a sensational, unsolved murder.
Years earlier, an alt-right YouTuber was killed in her Harvard dorm room, and the case went cold. Petra knew the victim—she was once her camp counselor and loved her like a little sister, despite their political differences.
Petra's investigation gets off to a rocky start, as her promising leads quickly shrivel up. In her passionate quest for justice—and clicks—Petra burns sources and breaks laws, ultimately putting her own life on the line. Even as her star rises, she worries it could all come crashing down at any moment if her actions are exposed.
When her machinations start to backfire, there's only one way to fix everything and solve the murder—even though it may cost her everything she loves.
Excerpt
PROLOGUE
I like to think of you the way you were the summer night we first met, before you became the most loved and hated teenage girl in America. Long before the Murder of the Century changed both our lives forever.
Your mom didn’t want you taking an Uber, so I picked you up at the airport with my “Olivia Anderson” sign. Your big blue eyes lit up when you saw me. You were pudgy then, and so earnest! In the vertical lines creasing your forehead whenever you asked a question, in the slight quavering at the end of your sentences, I always felt you were searching for something, some truth just out of your reach. As if life confused you.
Of course it did—you were fourteen!
We put your purple suitcases plastered with Taylor Swift stickers in the back of the UCLA van, and I drove you to campus. I asked, “So what would you like to work on at journalism boot camp?”
You answered, “I want to write an article about what to do when you find a wounded bird or animal.”
When I think of you, that’s the girl I remember.
Before you changed.
I was a college senior then, majoring in journalism and working as a camp counselor to pay the bills. I tried to treat all the kids the same, but let’s face it, you were my favorite. During morning workshops, you would sit in the front row with those wide open eyes tracking my every move. After class, you’d follow me to the cafeteria like a puppy, asking heartfelt questions along the way.
Then came that day in mid-August. We were walking from the cafeteria back to class. “Whether you write for the Washington Post or your high school newspaper,” I was saying, “you’re an ambassador for the truth. It’s a sacred duty.”
As we cut through the sculpture garden, you gazed up at me and asked, “So what kind of like, career, does a journalist have?”
I couldn’t help smiling at how serious you looked. “Well, I’m only twenty-one. I don’t really know yet.”
Then I gave you a longer answer. “Most people start at a small-town paper for a year or two. Then you go to a bigger city, and hopefully one day you go on to a major market. My dream is to be an investigative crime reporter for the New York Times.”
You clapped your hand to your mouth. “Oh my God, Petra, I can totally see you on CNN.”
I smiled again. “Me too.” As we walked up the steps to the classroom building, I launched into The Talk. “Of course, most reporters never make it to the Times. The business is crazy now, with so many newspapers laying people off.” I always felt it was my responsibility to warn campers about the obstacles they’d face. It was a fine line, because I didn’t want to discourage you guys too much either.
With you, I didn’t have to worry. You said, “Basically, I want to do good in the world, and also be famous.”
I laughed. Your eyes grew round with embarrassment. “Did that sound dumb?”
“No, it’s perfect. It’s what we all want.”
You brightened up, and then your phone rang. “I should get that. It’s my stepdad,” you said apologetically. You had told me about him; he was the consul general from Sweden. Into the phone you said, “Hi, Dad.”
I was about to head inside, but then you said, “Is she okay?”
You started taking quick, shallow breaths. By the time you got off the phone, your whole body was shaking. I took you in my arms and held you, your tears landing on my shoulders.
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