By Kodi Barth

This week’s great stories betrayed a touch of class prejudice by the State, and how hard it is to pin down newsroom errors on anyone. Let’s start from the bottom.

The media began the week with Cabinet minister Raila Odinga’s denial that he was the politician the President told off last week. That story was precipitated by the Nation’s story on Saturday last week headlined, "Kibaki warns Raila: Stop fooling yourself." Such a categorical headline; yet, the very first sentence denied the headline. "President Kibaki yesterday handed out some straight talking advice to a politician he did not name…"

Sometimes, newspeople pull readers’ legs quite a stretch. It’s a sure bet that many knowledgeable readers dropped the newspaper, or at least the story, after that opening sentence. Isn’t it betrayal? Isn’t it a con job to run such a headline, lure people into buying the newspaper, only to find out that the gist of the story is mere opinion?

But wait. That opening sentence had a qualifying clause. The politician the President did not name, the Nation said, "was widely understood to be one of his own Cabinet ministers, Mr Raila Odinga." And an already distraught reader would ask, widely understood by whom? The reporter? The editors? The public?

Of course, the subject would deny such a story, as indeed he did. And there’s nothing anyone could do about it. After that, the only way to save face would be to go put the question to the President, "Who were you talking about?" Yet, even that would be going out on a limb. The President, if he chose to answer, may actually name somebody else, validating Mr Odinga. And that would leave newspeople looking really bad.

But how could this have happened, to begin with?

The answer is found in an analysis of hierarchy in the newsroom. The public may not realise this, but no news story is produced by one reporter alone. A story’s writer is subject to the whims of sub editors, rewrite people, headline writers and managing editors. A reporter may be so careful, so well informed, yet his work may be utterly undermined by an insensitive headline writer – or one hell-bent on squeezing a sensational headline out of the dullest story. Or, the managing editor may be so singularly focused on selling the newspaper that he’ll demand a grabby headline, no matter what. Journalism Professor Hellen Benedict outlined the repercussions of these intricacies in her book, Virgin or Vamp, how the Press Covers Sex Crimes. On the one hand, she wrote, this group endeavour in the newsroom means that not all the flaws in a newspaper story are one person’s fault. On the other hand, it allows everyone to pass the buck.

Most of these spins can be resisted by individual reporters. It’s hard to totally skew a soundly reported story. But, blame could also be found in the priorities of a newspaper.

The Raila story could have been victim to any one of these hierarchy twists. This is the reason this column is not pointing a critical finger at any part of the hierarchy. It would be handsomely rewarding, however, if the newspeople took these factors into consideration and looked at whether imbalanced coverage occurred. If it did, where did the imbalance originate? In the sources? In the reporters and editors? Or in the newspaper system?

And now to the biggest story of the week, the Wednesday release of murder suspect Tom Cholmondley, a grandson of Lord Delamere. It was a story that literally spilled into the streets, complete with public demonstrations and running battles with the police.

This followed record-speed investigations, charging and subsequent ending of a case in which Kenya Wildlife Service Officer Samson Ole Sisina was shot dead on the suspect’s Naivasha farm last month. There was no sufficient evidence to subject the suspect to a murder trial, Director of Public Prosecutions Philip Murgor told the country.

And people began to wonder if Ole Sisina had perhaps died of a heart attack. But, no. The Standard led on Friday with Cholmondley’s confession. "I shot the man in the firm belief that he was a robber," the paper quoted him. Why were authorities afraid to let the courts decide if there was a crime, and if someone was answerable?

There’s a better way, said government spokesman Alfred Mutua. We’re headed for an inquest. But, going by past experiences, Mutua probably meant that we are headed for endless twists and turns.

The facts point to unusual happenings. The defence had no job. The prosecution was already happily doing that — never mind that taxpayers pay them to investigate crime and bring culprits to book. Attorney General Amos Wako entered a nolle prosequi, legal jargon for, "The State is unwilling to prosecute this case." That alone was a startling reminder to the unacceptable constitutional provision that the AG can wake up in the morning and unilaterally decide that he doesn’t like a case, and simply dismiss it.

What’s the way to go for the media? The facts stink. It’s the media’s job to find out the origin of the stench. There is smoke. It’s the media’s job to trace the fire. The public expects nothing less.