My Previous Work

Everyday people doing extraordinary things, the simple act of riding a bicycle, and the arrest of a schools superintendent who for years refused to answer my calls. These are few of my fav-or-ite things.

This is an investigation a talented colleague and I undertook after the U.S. Army announced it would close Fort Monmouth, a nearly 100-year-old post in our coverage area. The closure promised widespread economic and cultural upheaval in the entire region, with reverberations throughout the state. Publicly, the Army said it would cost $780 million to shutter the post. We found their accounting was off. Substantially. Closing Fort Monmouth was going to cost in the neighborhood of $1.5 billion.

Double. We had kicked over a hornet’s nest. And kept kicking it for months.

Congressmen pounced. Federal investigations ensued. Legislation was introduced. Documents leaked. More federal legislaton was introduced. The Government Accountability Office backed up our numbers, casting doubt on the Army’s premise of cost savings. Congress called a hearing. It also got our ugly mugs on television.

We wrote dozens and dozens stories over five months, almost daily, about the Army’s plans. We forced Army brass, who are quite unaccustomed to answering questions, to explain, often through gritted teeth, exactly why the numbers were so, so off.

For two years, I worked as a police reporter in Trenton, N.J. Like many capital cities, unemployment was high. Naturally, so was crime. When I wasn’t buried under the daily crunch of cop briefs, I tried to tell some stories that mattered.

I’ve written several in my role at the largest animal liberation group in the world. These are the good ones. Written to captivate, but mainly to motivate.

For Edward James Olmos.

For Bill Maher.

Written on-the-fly as news happens, generally in a few minutes a piece, condensing and translating scientific concepts and bureaucratic jargon into easily understood prose with a punch.

Written for journalists, who have the least amount of time of any of us. Get to the point, without losing the big picture.

Ghostwritten for science types who are unaccustomed to conveying their thoughts to a non-scientific audience.

When the organization wants something hammered home in clear language that leaves no room for interpretation, I often get the call to put together one of these longer pieces.

Presenting months or years of undercover findings cogently is never easy. Making all that information understandable to a general audience is more difficult still. That’s where I come in.