EDITOR’S NOTE What We See and What We Don’t

One evening in late August, associate editor Eric Celeste and I have one more conversation about this month’s cover story. Most of the details remain the same as the piece is read and re-read, but what at first seems a straightforward story becomes more complex each time we talk. The same is true during discussions with art director Jim Darilek as the magazine cover evolves-the words and image change several times before we agree on a final concept. What never changes is the picture of this curly haired infant who, until Celeste’s story is printed, is merely one more anonymous statistic.

The story of 9-month-old Eric Sheppard and his babysitter. Evelyn Lankford, takes place in Balch Springs. Many of us have never been there and could’t find it without a MAPSCO. Let’s face it: Most of us don’t care about Balch Springs.

Plus, the details of this particular story aren’t as obviously dramatic as those of other recent murders, so the news coverage was minimal.

That said, let the cynics speak: What’s one more dead-baby story going to accomplish? People know children are dying of abuse. People know that the courts are overwhelmed with difficult cases. People know that all too often children who are being abused aren’t reported to the agencies designed to protect them.

All are legitimate points, but this is not just another dead-baby story. The story of Eric Sheppard’s death is about how hard it can be to find the truth, even when you hold an autopsy photograph of that child’s bruised skull in your hands. It’s about how quickly lives can change once accusations are made. It’s about people-jurors, churchgoers, lawyers-taking a stand for what they believe is right. It’s about what we know vs. what we believe vs. what we can never know.

In my mind, we can never know enough about these real-life experiences. And. if we stop telling our readers these stories, that means we’ve given up.

Though the editorial dilemmas vary monthly, our exercise is always the same: A certain amount of hand-wringing and second-guessing goes into every headline, every photograph, every cover. Often we bring in a group of readers-never the same faces twice-to tell us what cover image and words appeal to them. We use them as guides, not decision makers, but we listen carefully. Two weeks from now the magazine will be a permanent record; now is the time to ask questions, to understand what the readers see-and what they care about.

The same goes for the writers, and not just with cover stories. Again, the process is as evolutionary as it is broad.

With some stories, by their very nature, the discussions happen long before the writing even begins. An idea is spawned-such as this year’s issues on Native Dallas (May) and The New Cafe Society (August)-and the rest falls into place. Usually.

With other stories, such as contributing editor Ellise Pierce’s disturbing look at Dallas’ problem-plagued “war on gangs” (page 54), reporting eventually takes us someplace we hadn’t expected. Early last spring Pierce heard about what seemed to be an aggressive, no-nonsense, anti-gang program that worked. When the program shut down, one bit of information led to another, and now, the program is only one small part of a bigger, ugly picture.

Not unimportantly, some of our best stories start with a concerned reader-someone who knows something and thinks we should know it, too. That was the case with the Eric Sheppard story.

As the city magazine, we’ll continue to keep you informed of the stories behind the headlines, with an emphasis on strong writing and reporting. We want you to know the real Dallas. Because only if we keep talking about it can there be the possibility of change.