EDITOR’S NOTE Sex, lies and videotapes: behind the story

“True crime” has been the purview of the media since the early 1900s, but it has become, unfortunately, the fast food of ’90s television. I suspect the American public is headed for burnout and I sometimes worry that there will be a ripple effect, that the written crime story will also be spumed.

I have no such concerns about this month’s feature story by senior writer Glenna Whitley.

Many deadlines ago, Glenna first mentioned Wendy McKee-the young woman whose haunting photograph appears on page 48 of this issue and whose amazing story first made news in 1991.

Glenna, who has been at D for the past five years and a journalist for 14 years, has a knack for bonding with strange characters. This was just one more, so I didn’t pay close attention at first. The instincts of D’s writers are excellent, so I try not to get in the way of early research. Wendy took shape in my mind one piece at a time as Glenna returned from another interview or a trip to the police station.

In this case, we had a crime victim who was talking to us as much as we would listen. Unfortunately, Wendy herself couldn’t seem to stay out of the Dallas city jail, and that’s what I first remember about her; Glenna had to conduct the interviews 15 minutes at a time because that was the limit on collect phone calls from the jail.

For Glenna it was particularly frustrating because, as you will see, Wendy McKee’s story begged not to be interrupted.

In spite of such obstacles, Glenna and Wendy talked for months, developing a fragile bond as Glenna also interviewed Wendy’s mother and brother and the Mes-quite policemen who have played a significant role in this woman’s life.

From there came more interviews; the more we knew the more we wanted to know. And we realized this story was so unbelieveable-and some will call it salacious-that it could not be told only through Wendy’s eyes and recollections, even if the police had confirmed much of what she said.

Glenna needed to reveal and understand the other key characters in this stranger-than-fiction saga-even it the antagonist had vanished.

Finally, after a yearlong investment, Glenna was ready to tell a story that you won’t soon forget.

As I read the final draft and saw the ironies unfold, 1 was reminded why the written word can never be fully displaced by glitzy “re-enactrnents” in which TV puts its own spin on real life.

Yes, these shows require less time and commitment; you can load the dishwasher, pay your bills or clip the dog’s toenails while being served bite-sized nuggets of high drama. But does it seem real, really? And is it the whole story, complete with nuance?

Of course, both television and print are currently battling the believability issue, and some critics say we never tell the whole story.

The media, in general, is in a down cycle as far as the general public is concerned. And that is not something most journalists take lightly.

Particularly in print, our credibility is our lifeblood, whether the topic is sensational or sober. But we also know that many people, given the choice of reading or watching television, will choose the latter. We cannot ignore this reality.

What happened to Wendy McKee on the streets of Dallas may be distasteful, it may be ugly, but it happened. As foreign as it may seem in the context of our own lives, it is a provocative reminder that appearances are everything-and nothing.

And, most importantly, it has all the ele ments of a good story.