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The bloodhound wears a tie

As we slumber peacefully in the dark, the early-early news reporter is on the scent, tracking a story we can watch with our morning coffee.

By John Barry
Published March 15, 2007

Rob Spicker, a reporter for ABC Action News in Tampa, waits for his signal to report on a shooting with his videographer, Frank Barrera, across the water from Tampa General Hospital just after 5 a.m. Spicker's day usually begins at 2:30 a.m. and wraps after his report for the noon broadcast.
	[Times photo: Carrie Pratt]

Rob Spicker is out there in the cold and dark at 4 a.m. with the usual problem. He has a name and a blurry snippet of video. The name is for a guy shot the night before, who may or may not be dead. The blurry video shows yellow police tape from a deserted crime scene.

WFTS-TV early-early reporter Rob Spicker starts almost every bleary morn with a blurry video and the name of some woeful dead or injured soul. He isn't the only one in the dark. Morning news is big. Live broadcasts start at 5. Other luckless hounds of the graveyard shift are out there trying to carry the day for their stations, too.

While Rob freezes on a pirate dock, WTVT and WTSP are combing the cold ashes of a towing-company fire in Pinellas Park. WFLA is chasing the crash of a Polk County deputy. And Bay News 9 must be somewhere.

But Rob will get his story. No doubt about it. He's Rob Spicker, early-early man for WFTS ABC Action News. He goes to bed when his 5-year-old twins do; he rises at 2:30 a.m., is out the door by 3, no food, no coffee. He doesn't do it for nothing.

Lose no sleep worrying about Rob Spicker.

*   *   *

Rob's cold, dark spot happens to be the concrete dock for the Gasparilla pirate boat. It's on the Hillsborough River, directly across from Tampa General Hospital. Spicker is with his cameraman, Frank Barrera. Frank also has two kids asleep at home, ages 2 and 5.

Across the river lies Tedric Dewayne Maynard. He's presumably fighting for his life. He was shot the night before in the Port Tampa neighborhood near MacDill Air Force Base. Found beside a ball field in a bloody heap. Rushed to surgery.

Frank, sleepy in jeans and sweat shirt, has hoisted a 50-foot transmission pole and pointed his camera toward the hospital. Joggers pass in the dark, hardly glancing at the truck. There's usually a news truck here. TV crews prefer the hospital as a backdrop rather than setting up lights and cameras in sleeping neighborhoods.

It's now 5. Rob is wearing a crisp blue shirt, yellow tie and new J Crew pea coat bought at half-price, he points out. He looks great. Through his ear piece, he hears anchor Dan Shaffer say, "But first this morning, Tampa police are investigating a shooting near MacDill Air Force Base. Reporter Rob Spicker is at Tampa General Hospital. Good morning, Rob."

On the edge of the dock, the hospital behind him, Rob speaks briskly: Shooting last night at a Port Tampa ball field. Twenty-six-year-old man found with multiple gunshot wounds. Rushed into surgery. Police investigating.

The report takes about 10 seconds.

Rob and Frank go back in the truck. It's 40 degrees out. They have the heat on. All they can do is the same thing every 30 minutes - live updates at 5:30, 6, 6:30 and 7. Until Good Morning America takes over. He wishes he could find out if Maynard is still alive, but the hospital can't find his name in the computer. Rob finds Maynard's criminal record on his own laptop. It's long. He just got out of prison last Christmas after doing four years for drug and weapons convictions. The day before he was shot, he was arrested for driving drunk.

Rob figures this story isn't going to last past 7 a.m. Luckily, the other early-early reporter, Susan Casper, is working a more promising story. She's covering the Hiccup Girl. That's Jennifer Mee, the kid who hiccuped for 37 days. She's supposed to be going back to school later this morning.

Can't ask for a better Plan B than the Hiccup Girl.

*   *   *

By 8, Rob and Frank have left the dock and are sipping coffee at a Chick-fil-A on Dale Mabry. Rob gets a call from the mother ship: Disaster has struck. Hiccup Girl didn't show up for school. Hiccup Girl story is dead.

"Stay on the shooting," Rob is told. It's now the lead for the noon broadcast.

He and Frank rush over to the Port Tampa neighborhood, hoping to find witnesses. They park at the ball field. It's empty. Even the police tape is gone. A car goes by, a gray Ford Taurus, with two men inside. They're big, beefy. They have ties on. They have military haircuts, slightly overgrown. They just have to be detectives. But they don't even slow down.

Rob knocks on doors. He goes all the way up the block. No one answers.

He and Frank race to the Tampa Police Department. He finds Andrea Davis, spokeswoman. Maynard is dead, she says. He died just after midnight. He was dead during all of Rob's live reports.

But that's all she knows. Except that he was shot six times.

Rob looks discouraged. She promises to find him a better story. She riffles through press releases. How about this? Vandalism of a portable classroom? Nah. Hey, how about this? Burglary of jewelry at International Plaza?

Rob perks up. Then he hears Andrea speak the words all TV reporters yearn for: "I think we have video."

Andrea goes running off to find out.

Jewel thieves! Video! Now that's a story.

Andrea comes back. "I have good news and bad news," she says.

He wants the good news.

"There's video.

"But the bad news is the detective took it home with him. And he has the day off."

*   *   *

Just then, Bay News 9 reporter Chuck Johnson shows up. He's on the shooting story, too. Andrea dutifully goes on camera for both of them, repeating that police have few clues. She gives both reporters the only other lead she has: a phone number for someone from the neighborhood who had heard shots and called 911.

Rob and Frank jump back in the truck. Rob dials the number. It's busy. Rob cries, "Bay News 9 dialed first!"

As they speed along, a woman finally answers. Yes, she was just talking to Chuck from Bay News 9. He's coming over for an interview. But Rob has a head start; he already has her on camera when Chuck arrives.

Chuck doesn't mind waiting. He used to start work at 3 a.m., too. Did that for five years. Now he gets to start work at 8:30.

The 911 caller is Tea Esser. She tells Rob the neighborhood has come a long way in the last few years. New homes have been built. Nice people have moved in. Bad folks have moved out. In the old days, she heard a lot of gunshots. Now she never hears them. Except for the night before.

Then Tea puts it all together for Rob.

"These weren't shots in celebration," says the gunfire expert. "I heard one gunshot, a pause, then another gunshot, and a pause. They were hesitant, you know?

"Then I heard three more gunshots. Fast. Three gunshots. One right after another."

Tea looks straight into the camera.

"There was no hesitation. They were resolute."

*   *   *

Resolute. The dream sound bite. Rob has 25 minutes to go before noon. He and Frank scramble into the truck. Frank slices and splices video of the police tape, of Andrea, and of Tea.

Rob scribbles notes on a yellow pad. In minutes he has a script. He gets on his laptop. He e-mails the cues for his video to techies waiting at the station.

A minute to go: He's out of the truck, in front of the camera.

Thousands of lunchtime viewers see Tea Esser describe her struggling neighborhood and its hard-won peace. She tells how it now must think about the murder of a criminal named Tedric Dewayne Maynard. Right there by the ball field, where kids play. She doesn't know what he was doing or why he was killed. She just knows it was resolute.

And that's the story from early-early Rob Spicker, reporting live for ABC Action News.

John Barry can be reached at (727) 892-2258 or jbarry@sptimes.com.

[Last modified March 14, 2007, 11:08:34]