Studio Sex aka Studio 69 / Exposed

something like that?'

'Was it the same for you, Martin Berg-Larsson?'

'Larsson-Berg,' the deputy principal corrected him. 'Well, on the whole. I wasn't a close friend of the girl, of course, but I am close to the family. Her brother is a very gifted student. He graduated last spring and will be going to the USA to study this fall. We are always very pleased at Tibble High School when our students go on to a higher education abroad.'

'So how did you feel being confronted with these questions in the middle of the night?'

'Well, I was shocked, naturally. At first I thought something had happened to my wife, who was out sailing-'

'How did you react?'

'It's all a bit muddled…'

'Was this the same reporter who thrust herself on Charlotta, Annika Bengtzon?'

'Yes, that's right.'

The studio reporter made a rustling noise with a newspaper. 'Let's hear what Annika Bengtzon wrote. Listen to this…'

In a mocking tone, the man began reading from Annika's articles about Josefin, her dreams and hopes, the quotes from Charlotta and finally the grief-stricken youth of Taby.

'So what do you think of this?' he said in a lugubrious voice.

'It's terrible that people can't leave you alone in your grief,' Charlotta whimpered. 'The media never shows respect for people in times of crisis. And then today, at our demonstration against violence, she intruded again!'

Martin Larsson-Berg cleared his throat. 'Yes, but from the point of view of the media, we do have a very good crisis management team in Taby. We like to see ourselves as an inspiring example-'

The studio reporter cut him off. 'But Kvallspressen and Annika Bengtzon haven't stopped at that. The tabloid has actively tried to clear the cabinet minister Christer Lundgren of suspicion. Dancing unquestioningly to the Social Democratic tune, she has thrown the blame on the person who was closest of all to Josefin, her boyfriend. Our reporter met him for an interview.'

'I loved Josefin. She was the most important person in my life,' said a high-pitched male voice that sounded young and vulnerable.

'What did it feel like to be practically accused of being a murderer in the newspaper?' the reporter asked cautiously.

The man sighed. 'It's impossible to describe the feeling. What can you say? To read that you've… No, it's beyond comprehension.' There was a catch in his voice.

'Have you considered suing the paper?'

Another catch. 'No, everybody knows it's pointless. Giants like that can put up any amount of money to crush a person. I'd never win a case against the press. Besides, it would bring back too many memories.'

The studio reporter returned, now with another reporter in the studio who seemed to play the part of some kind of expert.

'This is a problem, isn't it?' the studio reporter said.

'It certainly is,' the commentator said in a concerned voice. 'A young man is branded a murderer by a summer temp who's put on her Sunday best to do a piece of investigative journalism, and a lie is established as truth. Justice will rarely be done in a case like this. It would cost an enormous sum of money to pursue a libel case against a newspaper. However, we'd like to point out to anybody who feels used or abused by the media that you can receive legal aid to get at journalists who tell lies.'

'Could this be something for Joachim to think about?'

'Yes, it could. One just has to hope he has the energy to take the matter to court. It would be very interesting to see what would be the outcome of a case like this.'

The studio reporter rustled his papers. 'But why would a young journalist do a thing like this?'

'One explanation might be that she would stop at nothing to get a permanent job with a tabloid. Kvallspressen lives off its newsstand circulation. The juicier the front page, the more copies they sell and the more money they make. Unfortunately, the reporters that stoop to this kind of work can benefit financially from their sordid activities.'

'So the more salacious the front page, the higher the salary for the reporter?'

'Yes, you could say that.'

'But do you think it's that simple, that she's sold herself to the highest bidder?'

'No, regrettably, the underlying motives may be even more dubious.'

'And what might they be, do you think?'

The commentator cleared his throat. 'The fact is, that there are up to ten thousand lobbyists in Stockholm. And these lobbyists are only after one thing: to get the decision makers and the media to do their employers' bidding. They influence the media by 'planting' news. You dupe or buy a journalist with a planted piece of news and the reporter becomes your tool.'

'Do you think that has happened in this case?'

'Yes, I'm absolutely convinced it has,' the commentator said authoritatively. 'It's obvious to someone with any kind of knowledge of this trade that Annika Bengtzon's pieces about Christer Lundgren constitute a case of planting.'

'How do you know?' the studio reporter asked, sounding impressed.

'I'd like to play you a tape that proves my case. It's a clip from this morning outside Rosenbad,' the commentator said triumphantly.

The voice of the prime minister filled the air: 'Naturally, I feel for Christer at a time like this. This kind of unwarranted media attention is always a trial. But I assure you, for the government- and the party- this business is of no consequence whatever. I suppose you've all seen Kvallspressen today. They've realized why the police have been interviewing Christer. He happens to have an overnight apartment next to Kronoberg Park. Even cabinet ministers have to have somewhere to live.'

Back in the studio. 'There we heard it plainly,' the commentator said. 'The prime minister refers directly to the statements in a newspaper, clearly wanting other media to follow suit.'

'What exactly is the responsibility of the government in a case like this?'

'Well, they should obviously be censured for taking advantage of such a young and inexperienced journalist. It is unfortunately a lot easier to manipulate the summer freelancers.'

The studio reporter took over again. 'We tried to get hold of the editor in chief to offer him the chance to comment on our report, but were told that he wasn't available…'

Annika got up and walked toward the ladies' room; the floor under her feet was rolling. It got worse when she entered the corridor behind the newsroom. She had to support herself against the wall. I'm going to break, she thought. I can't do it. I won't make it. I'll throw up right here on the floor.

She made it to the bathroom and threw up in the disabled toilet, causing a blockage in the drain when she tried to flush it. She looked at her face in the mirror and was surprised to find that she was still in one piece, that she looked the same. She was still breathing and her heart was still working.

I can never show my face again, she thought. I'm disgraced. I'll never get another job. They won't even want me back at Katrineholms-Kuriren; I'm going to get fired. She couldn't think if what they had said had any validity. She had been skewered on national radio.

She started to cry.

Christ, where am I going to live? If I can't pay the rent, then where do I go?

She sank down on the floor, sobbing into her skirt.

Lyckebo, she thought suddenly and stopped crying. I'll move to Grandma's. No one will find me there. Grandma will move into her apartment in Halleforsnas in October and I could just stay in the cottage.

She blew her nose on some toilet paper and wiped away the tears.

Yes- of course that's what she'd do! Grandma had promised to stand by her; she wouldn't let her down. And Annika was a union member, so she'd get unemployment benefits at least for a year and then she could see. She could go abroad, a lot of people before her had done that. Pick oranges in Israel or grapes in France- or New Zealand?