看完这部剧的第一个反应就是,“王大花”这个角色,除了闫妮,谁都不合适。
从《武林外传》认识闫妮,之后每次看闫妮的专访,她给人印象最深刻的地方就是永远在笑,给人很轻松很舒服的感觉。她真实,阳光,洒脱,但她也很坚强,勇敢,通透,而我想这一点是和王大花很像的地方。
王大花的命运其实是很悲苦的
看完这部剧的第一个反应就是,“王大花”这个角色,除了闫妮,谁都不合适。
从《武林外传》认识闫妮,之后每次看闫妮的专访,她给人印象最深刻的地方就是永远在笑,给人很轻松很舒服的感觉。她真实,阳光,洒脱,但她也很坚强,勇敢,通透,而我想这一点是和王大花很像的地方。
王大花的命运其实是很悲苦的。新婚当日新郎逃婚,她差点自尽,后来被救,丈夫又不幸被杀,还是叛徒,两个妹妹先后死于非命。当她终于以为完成了最后一个任务,可以和虾爬子白头到老的时候,虾爬子为了保护她和日本人同归于尽。她失去了终生挚爱,最后一集,当她看着别人完完整整来拍全家福的时候,那个时候的笑,是最沉重的。
这部剧的底色是悲剧的,但是却因为张博和闫妮的演技,让人觉得波云诡谲中也有甜蜜的爱情,危险丛生中也有轻松时刻,让人看起来不那么沉重,反而有一些浪漫和温馨,这也是这部剧和别的谍战最不一样的地方。这是王大花的个人成长史。
一开始的她,是一个大字不识只会做鱼锅饼子的彪悍河东狮,是夏家河带着她一步一步从一个家庭妇女蜕变为一个成熟的革命工作者。她看似庸俗,土气,既不温柔也不浪漫,和江桂芬天壤之别。但其实,她聪明,勇敢,善良。她本无心加入革命,目睹了一个革命战士在眼前惨死之后,她不仅没有退缩反而真正认识到日本人的残忍,然后立志加入革命,保卫国家。她一次次凭借着胆大心细出色地完成了许多成熟的地下党都无法完成的任务。她活得真实,虾爬子伤害她极深,可是她的心里一直是深爱着虾爬子的。她敢于和江桂芬去争,大胆地追求自己的爱情。幸好,他们是双向奔赴,他们的爱情美好温馨,他其实一直在守护者她。
最后虾爬子赴死的一瞬间赚足了观众的眼泪。她为了追随夏家河,执意要加入共产党,而他在教导她成为一个优秀的共产党员后,等待的却是两人阴阳相隔。我想,作为一个立志为国献身的共产党员从来都是不怕牺牲的,可却害怕爱人受到一丝一毫的伤害。最后一集的王大花早已和第一集有天壤之别。她变得深沉,稳重,成熟,可只有她自己知道,凤凰涅槃的过程有多么痛苦。她经历了人世间最深刻的苦难,但她却依然选择热爱着生活,我想这就是王大花最动人的地方。
如果你喜欢谍战剧,这部剧的情节绝对紧凑生动;如果你喜欢爱情剧,这部剧双向奔赴的爱情也让人向往;如果你不喜欢太过沉重,那么剧中的情节也有许多逗你一笑的地方;如果你喜欢闫妮和张博,那么这也是两人合作的很好的一部剧。
没有明星,敢用新人,业界清流,本人吃男主顏值,演技也過關,跟女主的互動有火花主要配角演技自然,尤其喜歡公爺跟阿冇,出場自帶喜感,為這戲加分很多服化道跟配樂以小成本網劇算製作用心天才少女画师熊熙若拥有过目不忘的绘画能力,因画云瑶李氏贵族的秘闻连环画而被抓捕。逃亡中接下报酬丰厚的订单,化身小厮潜入李府,画一张神秘的“四大罗汉图”。熊熙若被安排到传说中的残暴大公
没有明星,敢用新人,业界清流,本人吃男主顏值,演技也過關,跟女主的互動有火花主要配角演技自然,尤其喜歡公爺跟阿冇,出場自帶喜感,為這戲加分很多服化道跟配樂以小成本網劇算製作用心天才少女画师熊熙若拥有过目不忘的绘画能力,因画云瑶李氏贵族的秘闻连环画而被抓捕。逃亡中接下报酬丰厚的订单,化身小厮潜入李府,画一张神秘的“四大罗汉图”。熊熙若被安排到传说中的残暴大公子李弘彬身边,并阴差阳错和他共度一夜。熊熙若试图逃离却被逮个正着,情急下谎称自己怀了李弘彬的孩子。恰逢其时李弘彬为逃避和宋家千金联姻,借此与熊熙若开始了假夫妻的婚姻,这对欢喜冤家在朝夕相处中逐渐真心相爱。李府几方势力各怀鬼胎,都试图拆穿熊熙若身份,同时京城宋氏对云瑶云铁虎视眈眈,李府面临内忧外患。熊熙若从作画任务中发现秘密,与李弘彬携手破除族内叛徒阴谋,化解了云瑶危机,两人终成眷属。
《天龙八部之乔峰传》。1分。
甄子丹自导、自演、制片作品。和当年赵文卓先生自导自演的电影《反击》不同,赵先生当年还是这部片子的文学总监。
看来大家都缺钱,甄子丹都缺钱。
香港电影人在王晶先生的号召下,纷纷拿着金庸先生的作品,在绿棚里明目张胆随心所
《天龙八部之乔峰传》。1分。
甄子丹自导、自演、制片作品。和当年赵文卓先生自导自演的电影《反击》不同,赵先生当年还是这部片子的文学总监。
看来大家都缺钱,甄子丹都缺钱。
香港电影人在王晶先生的号召下,纷纷拿着金庸先生的作品,在绿棚里明目张胆随心所欲的炮制各种烂片,底线肯定是没有的,底裤都不要了。
他们一部又一部不遗余力的向大陆的网络视频市场输送这类垃圾,端上了一杯又一杯四十年前的可乐,你除了能认得出那是可乐之外,这杯里的东西已经跟可乐无关了。
不知廉耻。
特别要吐槽一下那位饰演阿紫的女演员,你是有五十大寿了吗?
克隆,创生组织,军队,跨国生物企业,警察,科学家,杀手,贩毒者,同性恋等等,在我们的生活中都是不常见,所以我们很容易享受剧情的刺激,却不容易对自己的生活有反思。
只有Alison这条线是最接近现实的,是黑色孤儿的对照面,她在阳光下,绿茵上,穿着艳丽的背心马甲,吹着响亮的哨声,招呼成群结队的小孩。
美国家庭主妇的形象,我们从desperate housewife就知道了
克隆,创生组织,军队,跨国生物企业,警察,科学家,杀手,贩毒者,同性恋等等,在我们的生活中都是不常见,所以我们很容易享受剧情的刺激,却不容易对自己的生活有反思。
只有Alison这条线是最接近现实的,是黑色孤儿的对照面,她在阳光下,绿茵上,穿着艳丽的背心马甲,吹着响亮的哨声,招呼成群结队的小孩。
美国家庭主妇的形象,我们从desperate housewife就知道了,最好的描述便是精明能干,还意外的富有政治和商业头脑,所以这一切Alison都有。
我们来看Alison的日常生活,健身(不止一次的看到Alison在家跑步或跳健身操),属于她私人空间的手工房,安排满满当当的日程,举办孩子的睡衣派对,参加音乐剧,去教堂,在戒毒所组织family day,在车库做手工肥皂,插画,做贺卡等。当然,知道自己的克隆身份后,在beth的引导下,她开始学习使用枪支。在经历了很多事情之后,她学会了做调查,制造假的id,给sarah他们提供她的分析报告,虽然脑图的样子很像家庭聚会的彩纸。
Alison是女主塑造的几个角色中我最喜欢的一个,不想Helena性格中的反差萌那么可爱,也不像Cosima那么聪明,不像Sarah那么酷,但是她是在努力生活的,在生活中这么多狗血的事情,她磕药酗酒过,但是坚持过来了,为了孩子,她要竞选学校理事,为了家庭,她要维护丈夫,为了生活,她大胆经营。她对自己有要求,对生活中物品的摆放,对人际关系的相处,她都有要求。
从第一季她为了自己的小家庭,排斥sarah他们,到第四季她们所有人一起聚餐,庆祝Alison竞选成功,像一个大的家庭。Alison将她的生活过的有声有色,有时候在剧中,其他人在生死关头,她却在为音乐剧的表演紧张时,会有格格不入的感觉,但是大家都理解她,她的生活是大家的希望和向往,这个大的家庭需要Alison一家。
我不知道中国的家庭主妇普遍是什么生活状态,他们有大量自己控制的时间,对他们来说,家庭的经济程度,和自身的价值观就是他们分配时间的最好指南。
比如我阿姨和嫂子都是家庭主妇,阿姨小学水平,家庭生活忙碌在打扫房间,做饭和催促小孩学习上,有空就去老公店里帮忙,自己没有什么兴趣爱好。嫂子是大学本科,生了孩子,就辞职在家,悉心照顾小孩,从读绘本,到教钢琴,把小孩培养的非常好,自己找朋友前后开了服装店,瑜伽店。
其实想起来,大姑六婆的大多是家庭主妇,对他们来说,日子悠长,且不知有多少时光是在小区树荫下打盹,楼牌屋里打麻将,广场上跳舞度过的,而大家族里该鸡飞狗跳的,该一地鸡毛的,都该如此,与这些家庭背后的女人们没啥关系,他们掌握不了。更不用说,他们思考自身的生命价值了。
大噶好,我是条姐,我隔壁的剧主疯了。
从昨天早上开始她就神志不清、精神恍惚,不仅如此嘴巴里还一直念念叨叨!%……¥&*#(省略一万字骂人的话和我听不懂的话)。
吓的我感觉问身旁“上能深入明星敌区探寻八卦,下不能融入时 大噶好,我是条姐,我隔壁的剧主疯了。 从昨天早上开始她就神志不清、精神恍惚,不仅如此嘴巴里还一直念念叨叨!%……¥&*#(省略一万字骂人的话和我听不懂的话)。 吓的我感觉问身旁“上能深入明星敌区探寻八卦,下不能融入时尚集团分辨口红”的神级大佬勇哥,剧主这是怎么了,她说的我怎么一句都听不懂,什么柔晰暮色妆,什么三原色搭配组合等等。 只见勇哥神经兮兮的凑近我说,“剧主有这种反应那是相当的正常,这都是一部新网剧闹的,我只看了几个片段就开始怀疑自己是不是直男了。” 一部网剧? 究竟是什么网剧能让久经沙场的剧主都甘拜下风,沦为它的阶下囚;能让以钢铁直男著称的勇哥开始怀疑自己,更怀疑周围所有女同事。 就是它——《玛丽学院》(剧主虚弱无力的讲) 剧主我回来了... 遥想一天前,我还是那个活蹦乱跳的剧主。 虽然看了《青春斗》、《推手》这样的4分剧,但对于看遍烂剧的我来说,这些早已不算什么。 直到几天前我看到了它,这是一个看上去就是烂剧既视感的片名,再打开演员表,竟然没一个我认识的。 加上还是部小成本网剧,直接忽略忽略。 可谁成想,就是这么一部完全没有爆火潜质的网剧居然在短短几天内就火出了圈。 不仅微博、B站因它而沦陷,就连我中午点的外卖竟然都已经出了同款联名套餐 【本人非黑,客观评价一下这部我之前比较期待的剧,讲一下心理落差而已。】 这部剧没播很早之前,我就有关注,因为剧情很吸引我:重生类的题材,能有这么大咖位也不多见,很嗑窦骁的颜,也很想看唐嫣打破傻白甜人设。 但看了几集真的感觉崩了,这编剧的脑回路太奇怪了,我可不信小说会是这样的。 刚开始的时候,唐嫣无论是造型,还是性格,感觉都是挺满意的,可一旦剧情 【本人非黑,客观评价一下这部我之前比较期待的剧,讲一下心理落差而已。】 这部剧没播很早之前,我就有关注,因为剧情很吸引我:重生类的题材,能有这么大咖位也不多见,很嗑窦骁的颜,也很想看唐嫣打破傻白甜人设。 但看了几集真的感觉崩了,这编剧的脑回路太奇怪了,我可不信小说会是这样的。 刚开始的时候,唐嫣无论是造型,还是性格,感觉都是挺满意的,可一旦剧情步入正轨,重生以后的时简仿佛变了个人。 我可以理解她失去孩子以后,想找到珈成的心情,但知道珈成有女朋友以后,还去接近他女朋友,以此接近珈成确实过分了吧。无论以后会发生什么,但她重生后的所作所为,的确就是一个介入者啊。 更夸张的是她白莲花的人设,为什么回去了后,连自己的事情都忙不过来,还要去管别人事情。仿佛把自己当成了上帝,无论哪一个都要去掺一脚,简直圣母。 1.非要帮前男友,私自潜入他家中窃取商业资料给男二,还主动送上门告诉他说:我是为你好!果不其然,前男友一个大嘴巴子赏给她,唉,糟心。 2.非要阻止俏俏和程子松一起,又没什么好的办法,语言苍白无力惹人烦,其中俏俏有几句话说得特别对: 一口气刷完,最多两颗星,一颗星给阵容和演员,演技都在线,如果演技不在线这片没法看;还有一颗星给那颗棒球,全片唯一出彩且有深意前后贯穿的一条线。如今港片没落的香港来拍这个剧本都要强几倍,全片不合常理,在毒枭房子里,花园里,后院里,肆无忌惮的讨论行动计划沟通最新信息,给对手打电话,都知道查自己手下的通话记录不知道查他的,明目张胆站在窗口偷拍都不怕发现,全片没有 一口气刷完,最多两颗星,一颗星给阵容和演员,演技都在线,如果演技不在线这片没法看;还有一颗星给那颗棒球,全片唯一出彩且有深意前后贯穿的一条线。如今港片没落的香港来拍这个剧本都要强几倍,全片不合常理,在毒枭房子里,花园里,后院里,肆无忌惮的讨论行动计划沟通最新信息,给对手打电话,都知道查自己手下的通话记录不知道查他的,明目张胆站在窗口偷拍都不怕发现,全片没有营造一点紧张的气氛,因为不合逻辑,你知道主角肯定没事,换个小学生来当这个毒枭,他们的卧底行动以及所作所为活不过两集,特别是结局河正宇独自追车的桥段,堪称垃圾中的战斗机,第一个镜头给到的时候,近距离追车驾着机枪都不攻击他,第二个镜头才开始打,还不如不打,拍出了抗日神剧风,两轮近距离扫射,瞎子来打打不中人车都打废了吧,你好歹胳膊中一枪,或者车胎打爆两个,都算用心来拍了,完全失望,换个阵容这个水准都算了,沦为无数烂片的其中一部,网飞加投入再加这个主演阵容,完全不该 在朋友的推荐下我满怀期待的看了号称国漫之光的《一人之下》第一季看了十集如同被按头吃屎之后突然感觉稍微好点了似乎屎已经吃完了接下来混入一些巧克力了如果继续吃应该会是更多的巧克力吧我想于是我降低了期待继续坚持看了下去最终我花了一小周坚持看完我必须诚实的说看这个动漫的整体感觉是从被人按着头吃屎变成低着头或仰着头自己吃屎如果按照所谓的国漫之光的说法其实我想给这个动漫零分甚至负分来着但突然想到之前和朋 在朋友的推荐下我满怀期待的看了号称国漫之光的《一人之下》第一季看了十集如同被按头吃屎之后突然感觉稍微好点了似乎屎已经吃完了接下来混入一些巧克力了如果继续吃应该会是更多的巧克力吧我想于是我降低了期待继续坚持看了下去最终我花了一小周坚持看完我必须诚实的说看这个动漫的整体感觉是从被人按着头吃屎变成低着头或仰着头自己吃屎如果按照所谓的国漫之光的说法其实我想给这个动漫零分甚至负分来着但突然想到之前和朋友讨论交朋友和看作品的话题朋友告诉我她看作品如同交朋友最重要的是看对方有没有诚意有无诚意是她评价作品的一切基础和重要标准而我说我不一样作为一个创作者我一向把作品和朋友区分的很清对朋友我相信努力和真诚甚至是对现实中的爱情也可以在对现实中的人我始终都把真诚和努力放在第一位因为在我眼中作品是死而人则是活的我明白也确信现实不比歌谣总有一天,你会大失所望做人可以理想化看作品更是要理想但对人就不要要求那么理想化了因此无论是友谊还是爱情我都相信真诚的力量因为那是人活生生的变化的复杂的矛盾的有血有肉的人因此除了真诚和努力别的都可以忽视但我眼中作品就是理想化的东西它就是死的理念本身我看作品一向基本从来不看诚意我只看有没感觉,即频道对不对我始终认为任何非科学的人文类作品的欣赏都是非常私人化和主观的东西文艺如同理想中的爱情喜欢就是喜欢不喜欢就是不喜欢频道不对再努力再有诚意都没用而我觉得作为非现实的伪科学的虚构的文艺或者说想象是人类仅有的绝对虚拟自由了有些创作者是天才尽管可能他是人渣中的人渣现实中碰到这种人我绝对是绕道走或直接想办法将其杀死有些这类天才的作品你明明是看的出来他就是随便写写糊弄人粗制滥造的应付赶工期但他们有的作品就是比那些用心几万倍有诚意去创造的人才或庸才都要好上几万倍影史上和艺术史上乃至创作史甚至科学史上都有太多这种偶然或非偶然的例子而纵使有的人不是天才有的电影或作品得不到大家的公认或者甚至其是被公认的烂片俗作我知道它庸俗不堪普通不堪可我就是喜欢爱的喜欢的一度不行不行的我就不会在乎别人的眼光我就要说它好而有的所谓公认好作品在我眼中屎都不如比如红楼梦我真觉得它很烂烂到家了四大名著甚至那些给挤出去的比如金瓶梅之流我都能欣赏得了也都真觉得好但红楼梦我从来都只觉得恶臭像屎我努力很多次看了很多次真的欣赏不来曹雪芹的故作姿态的贫穷感糟糕做作的文笔以及差到让我呕吐的诗词水平对我而言红楼梦里面的诗歌一言难尽一言难尽就不说比李白杜甫王唯李商隐什么鬼的连现在有些流行歌词都不如别人怎么看我不知道或者我知道四大名著之首呗可就我个人感觉我真的觉得作为小说和文学的红楼梦是世界上最屎的屎连我曾一度很讨厌的日本文学的源氏物语都是不如,可能比小时代还差点因为我从里边感受到的真的除了做作就只有做作除了贫穷只有贫穷以及极端男性和权力主义的恶臭这一点简直如同抛开科幻之外的三体因为我知道我曾经或骨子就是这么恶臭的人这种厌恶来自于我对同类的感受回到一人之下这部动漫如果是我小时候看可能会觉得很爽甚至可能觉得是神作小时候谁不喜欢龙傲天爽文华夏传统文化和装逼范儿可是我老了频道对不上了我无法回到近20年前初中那个整天意淫撸管以及怀揣着对世界和异性和自我的空无的膨胀和想象这就是最重要的我跟朋友讨论的时候忘记说或漏掉了的一个东西那就是Timing时机尽管我不相信时间的存在我们所认为的时间也是一种人类大脑感官和文艺的想象虚构但是只要作为人类一天就始终无法摆脱这个幻觉因此用魔法对魔法有时也很重要有一句俗话说在错误的时间遇上了再对的人也是错误的我不相信这句话当然这句话经常成真但我更相信的这句话指的不是人不是作品不是客体而是一种主观的感觉错误的不是人也不是作品甚至不是我而是我的幻觉在幻觉中产生的感觉即所谓的Timing时间是种幻觉这在我的认识和世界中是最简单和基础不过的常识是人类的感官世界产生的种种谬误构成了所谓的流逝的时间是人类把自己转瞬即逝的错误感觉或幻觉世界称之为时间或时机罢了因此一人之下或者红楼梦这种我看来滥芋充数之流可能从别人或者多数人或者文化主流来看其不仅不是部糟糕的作品甚至可能还很受欢迎或者说是青史留名的伟大作品但其绝对不是客观的有云:自古文无第一武无第二这讲的就是非物理世界的非客观性或虚构世界的非真实性科学技术医学拳击武术格斗运动总能分出真假优劣但文化思想中医传武宗教哲学就分不出来了因为那是想象世界虚拟世界的错觉虚构但生而为人既然没有客观标准每个人便都有自己相信和选择自己错觉的权力如同你在心里真的喜欢谁爱谁相信谁你不用说出来也不用非要跟她/他/它/祂在一起这便被称为虚构的自由意志哪怕你喜欢一坨屎亦没有人能不通过修改和干涉你的物理大脑就改变你的选择和倾向人类社会运行的基础构建在虚构的自由意志上如果没有或不相信这一点人类一切法律规则都将毫无作用任何现代国家都不例外如果没有或不相信自由意志一个人犯罪便可以被认为是物理规则自然法则、社会环境的决定便无法信服地惩罚他自身因为人们可以辩护说这不是他干的人没有自由意志啊于是所有人都相信或假装相信因此要求作为一个宇宙傀儡的个体去承担全部的责任尽管我本人是一点都不相信但也要假装如此因为这是一个从虚拟辐射到了现实或者虚拟改变了现实的游戏人类的世界发展至今它就是这个样子人类文明在很多领域它就是这样的一个无聊的虚拟游戏但既然参与了还无法退出那就只能作为一个玩家玩下去既然大家或多数人都选择相信或假装相信那么我也就陪着假装到底用大家都能接受的话语自由意志、时间时机、巴拉巴拉等一堆无意义的话语来一次又一次地玩这个无聊又有趣的文字游戏因此只要不用物理刺激法这就改变不了我对一人之下或红楼梦之类的感觉错误的我只是在错误的时机错误的遇到了错误的存在因此产生了错误的感如是而已最后一人之下有几季的片头片尾国风民俗音乐很棒音乐我给一分朋友的推荐以及这位朋友对我的重要性让我又给一分一人之下中有些对中国传统宗教和文化的理解(误解)和想象力以及偶尔有某个抽风的经验画面我给一分而对一人之下作为一个动漫或作品我给零分总分三分我耐心看完了也仁至义尽了希望国漫之光都不要只这个水平或者说希望我也不要这么狭隘看不到背后之人创作者的努力但我也不会胆怯我不会隐藏我不喜欢这个作品真的毫无感觉无论是情节风格剧情还是上面的任何一个人物我毫无感觉甚至经常想吐我不能说它没诚意更不能说完全频道不对一丁点感觉都没有毕竟偶尔音乐不错以及看十个小时偶尔也有几秒钟有点感觉就像我连吃了几吨的屎偶尔吃到了一块巧克力我便不能说它全是屎而不没有巧克力不是更何况吃这屎是我的选择我吃的心甘情愿不是吃完了甚至还如释重负还挺开心一种略带受虐和释放痛苦消除的开心因此 因此我只能责怪于该死那不存在的时间 不是Timing Timing错误的Timing不存在的Timing作为我和诸多人类固执幻觉的一种——Timing都怪你!哼希望时间不要又让我失去一个好朋友否则~人家会真的感到气气和桑心!!!——《Timing Timing Timing: Time is a illusion》宇宙44生命428 剧情很二C。开场绑架大巴人质,匪徒们戴着《V字仇杀队》的经典面具,简直是对电影和英国革命英雄盖·福克斯的侮辱,导演编剧还有道具都是脑残吧?你去弄个《尖声惊叫》的鬼脸面具或者小丑面具不行吗? 制作粗制滥造,仿佛野战俱乐部业余拍摄的私人定制视频。 片名是《中国警花》,其实女演员并不出彩,都被男人抢戏和不知所谓虚假的枪战和爆炸掩盖了。胡慧中或者《赤裸特工》们过来,秒秒钟吊 剧情很二C。开场绑架大巴人质,匪徒们戴着《V字仇杀队》的经典面具,简直是对电影和英国革命英雄盖·福克斯的侮辱,导演编剧还有道具都是脑残吧?你去弄个《尖声惊叫》的鬼脸面具或者小丑面具不行吗? 制作粗制滥造,仿佛野战俱乐部业余拍摄的私人定制视频。 片名是《中国警花》,其实女演员并不出彩,都被男人抢戏和不知所谓虚假的枪战和爆炸掩盖了。胡慧中或者《赤裸特工》们过来,秒秒钟吊打。 演技很尴尬。那个胖子指挥,连句话都说不利索,广东话叫“食螺丝”,听着真是难受,就不能换个人来演?要不换个配音也行。很多演员台词都背不好,更别说要演出来了,能说完就不错。 导演很自恋,自己姓胥,然后女主也给改了个胥姓。 《妻子的秘密》不仅仅是向我们展示一部电视剧,更是将生活中的故事写入,人物背后的闪光点非常值得我们去学习,故事背后的人生道理也值得我们去思考,剧中发生的事件也向我们展示了人性黑暗的一面,让我们提高警惕,为以后自身的安全添了份保障。《妻子的秘密》将生活中平凡的事情演出不平凡的感觉,人性的阴暗一面在剧中被完全地暴露出来引起了观众的深思,带给观众不一样的体会,演员们娴熟,精彩的演技也使得该剧大受欢迎 《妻子的秘密》不仅仅是向我们展示一部电视剧,更是将生活中的故事写入,人物背后的闪光点非常值得我们去学习,故事背后的人生道理也值得我们去思考,剧中发生的事件也向我们展示了人性黑暗的一面,让我们提高警惕,为以后自身的安全添了份保障。《妻子的秘密》将生活中平凡的事情演出不平凡的感觉,人性的阴暗一面在剧中被完全地暴露出来引起了观众的深思,带给观众不一样的体会,演员们娴熟,精彩的演技也使得该剧大受欢迎 抖音上看到几十秒的剪辑,就过来找这部剧看,哪知道那几十秒就是全剧的精华了。编剧是个没脑子的吗,写的什么女主人设,可别侮辱了人民警察好吗,女主没有一点做警察的觉悟和机警,又蠢又笨,还自以为是的以为什么都需要她帮忙,净添乱,不听指挥,好像是反派派来的卧底,专门祸害男主的,真是绝了,还优秀毕业生代表,编剧你可别为难观众了,除了会打架,关键打架也没派上用场啊?连她闺蜜都比她聪明。说着不喜欢麻烦人,结 抖音上看到几十秒的剪辑,就过来找这部剧看,哪知道那几十秒就是全剧的精华了。编剧是个没脑子的吗,写的什么女主人设,可别侮辱了人民警察好吗,女主没有一点做警察的觉悟和机警,又蠢又笨,还自以为是的以为什么都需要她帮忙,净添乱,不听指挥,好像是反派派来的卧底,专门祸害男主的,真是绝了,还优秀毕业生代表,编剧你可别为难观众了,除了会打架,关键打架也没派上用场啊?连她闺蜜都比她聪明。说着不喜欢麻烦人,结果还不是转身就去麻烦大学室友了?警局想去就去,想走就走,真是厉害。还有就是男女主的感情线,到底怎么就突然就要求婚了?我不李姐。总而言之,这是部烂片,除了男主有点帅,和小朱警官人设还不错,真的毫无亮点。并且我是第一次这么讨厌一个女主的人设(只针对剧情不针对演员) FEBRUARY 1997 MARIE BRENNERDAN WINTERSThe search warrant was short and succinct, dated August 3, 9:41 A.M. F.B.I. special agent Diader Rosario was instructed to produce "hair samples (twenty-five pulled and twenty-five combed hairs from the head)" of Richard Allensworth Jewell. That Saturday, Atlanta was humid; the temperature would rise to 85 degrees. There were 34 Olympic events scheduled, including women's team handball, but Richard Jewell was in his mother's apartment playing Defender on a computer set up in the spare bedroom. Jewell hadn't slept at all the night before, or the night before that. He could hear the noise from the throng of reporters massed on the hill outside the small apartment in the suburbs. All morning long, he had been focused on the screen, trying to score off "the little guy who goes back and forth shooting the aliens," but at 12:30 the sound of the telephone disturbed his concentration. Very few people had his new number, by necessity unlisted. Since the F.B.I. had singled him out as the Olympic Park bombing suspect three days earlier, Jewell had received approximately 1,000 calls a day—someone had posted his mother's home number on the Internet."I'll be right over," his lawyer Watson Bryant told him. "They want your hair, they want your palm prints, and they want something called a voice exemplar—the goddamn bastards." The curtains were drawn in the pastel apartment filled with his mother's crafts and samplers; A HOME WITHOUT A DOG IS JUST A HOUSE, one read. By this time Bryant had a system. He would call Jewell from his car phone so that the door could be unlatched and Bryant could avoid the questions from the phalanx of reporters on the hill.Turning into the parking lot in a white Explorer, Bryant could see sound trucks parked up and down Buford Highway. The middle-class neighborhood of apartment complexes and shopping centers was near the DeKalb Peachtree Airport, where local millionaires kept their private planes. The moment Bryant got out of his car, the reporters began to shout: "Hey, Watson, do they have the murderer?" "Are they arresting Jewell?" Bryant moved quickly toward the staircase to the Jewells' apartment. He wore a baseball cap, khaki shorts, and a frayed Brooks Brothers polo shirt. He was 45 years old, with strong features and thinning hair, a southern preppy from a country-club family. Bryant had a stern demeanor lightened by a contrarian's sense of the absurd. He was often distracted—from time to time he would miss his exits on the highway—and he had the regional tendency of defining himself by explaining what he was not. "I am not a Democrat, because they want your money. I am not a Republican, because they take your rights away," he told me soon after I met him. Bryant can talk your ear off about the Bill of Rights, ending with a flourish: "I think everyone ought to have the right to be stupid. I am a Libertarian."At the time Richard Jewell was named as a suspect by the F.B.I., Watson Bryant made a modest living by doing real-estate closings in the suburbs, but Jewell and his lawyer had formed an unusual friendship a decade earlier, when Jewell worked as a mailroom clerk at a federal disaster-relief agency where Bryant practiced law. Jewell was then a stocky kid without a father, who had trained as an auto mechanic but dreamed of being a policeman; Bryant had always had a soft spot for oddballs and strays, a personality quirk which annoyed his then wife no end.The serendipity of this friendship, an alliance particularly southern in its eccentricity, would bring Watson Bryant to the immense task of attempting to save Richard Jewell from the murky quagmire of a national terrorism case. The simple fact was that Bryant had no qualifications for the job. He had no legal staff except for his assistant, Nadya Light, no contacts in the press, and no history in Washington. He was the opposite of media-savvy; he rarely read the papers and never watched the nightly news, preferring the Discovery Channel's shows on dog psychology. Now that Richard Jewell was his client, he had entered a zone of worldwide media hysteria fraught with potential peril. Jewell suspected that his pickup truck had been flown in a C-130 transport plane to the F.B.I. unit at Quantico in Virginia, and Bryant worried that his friend would be arrested any minute. Worse, Bryant knew that he had nothing going for him, no levers anywhere. His only asset was his personality; he had the bravado and profane hyperbole of a southern rich boy, but he was in way over his head.For hours that Saturday, Bryant and Jewell sat and waited for the F.B.I. From time to time Jewell would put binoculars under the drawn curtain in his mother's bedroom to peer at the reporters on the hill. Bryant was nervous that Jewell's mother, Bobi, would return from baby-sitting and see her son having hairs pulled out of his head. Bryant stalked around the apartment complaining about the F.B.I. "The sons of bitches did not show up until three P.M.," he later recalled, and when they did, there were five of them. The F.B.I. medic was tall and muscular and wore rubber gloves. He asked Jewell to sit at a small round table in the living room, where his mother puts her holiday-theme displays. Bryant stood by the sofa next to a portrait of Jewell in his Habersham County deputy's uniform. He watched the F.B.I. procedure carefully. The medic, who had huge hands, used tiny drugstore tweezers. "He eyeballed his scalp and took his hair in sections. First he ran a comb through it, and then he took these hairs and plucked them out one by one."Jewell "went stone-cold," but Bryant could not contain his temper. "I am his lawyer. I know you can have this, I know you have a search warrant, but I tell you this: If you were doing this to me, you would have to fight me. You would have to beat the shit out of me," Bryant recalled telling the case agent Ed Bazar. Bazar, Bryant later said, was apologetic. "He seemed almost embarrassed to be there." As he counted out the hairs, he placed them in an envelope. The irony of the situation was not lost on Bryant. He was a lawyer, an officer of the court, but he had a disdain for authority, and he was representing a former deputy who read the Georgia law code for fun in his spare time.It took 10 minutes to pluck Jewell's thick auburn hair. Then the F.B.I. agents led him into the kitchen and took his palm prints on the table. "That took 30 minutes, and they got ink all over the table," Bryant said. Then Bazar told Bryant they wanted Jewell to sit on the sofa and say into the telephone, "There is a bomb in Centennial Park. You have 30 minutes." That was the message given by the 911 caller on the night of the bombing. He was to repeat the message 12 times. Bryant saw the possibility of phony evidence and of his client's going to jail. "I said, 'I am not sure about this. Maybe you can do this, maybe you can't, but you are not doing this today.'"All afternoon, Jewell was strangely quiet. He had a sophisticated knowledge of police work and believed, he later said, "they must have had some evidence if they wanted my hair. ... I knew their game was intimidation. That is why they brought five agents instead of two." He felt "violated and humiliated," he told me, but he was passive, even docile, through Bryant's outburst. He thought of the bombing victims— Alice Hawthorne, the 44-year-old mother from Albany, Georgia, at the park with her stepdaughter; Melih Uzunyol, the Turkish cameraman who died of a heart attack; the more than 100 people taken to area hospitals, some of whom were his friends. "I kept thinking, These guys think I did this. These guys were accusing me of murder. This was the biggest case in the nation and the world. If they could pin it on me, they were going to put me in the electric chair."I met Richard Jewell three months later, on October 28, a few hours before a press conference called by his lawyers to allow Jewell to speak publicly for the first time since the F.B.I. had cleared him. Jewell's lawyers also intended to announce that they would file damage suits against NBC and The Atlanta Journal-Constitution. It was a Monday, and that weekend the local U.S. attorney had delivered a letter to one of the lawyers stating Jewell was no longer a suspect. "Goddamn it," Bryant had told me on the phone, "the sons of bitches did not even have the decency to address it to Richard Jewell."I had been instructed to come early to the offices of Wood & Grant, the flashy plaintiff lawyers Bryant had pulled in to help him with Jewell's civil suits. When I arrived, I was alone in the office with Sharon Anderson, the redheaded assistant answering the phones. "Wood & Grant . . . Wood & Grant . . . Wood & Grant"—the calls overwhelmed her. Lin Wood and Wayne Grant were rushing from CNN to the local NBC and ABC affiliates, working the shows. "Everyone has theories of who the real bomber is," Sharon said. "I just write it all down and give it to the boys."When Lin Wood arrived, he was still in full makeup. Movie-star handsome with green eyes and styled hair, Wood has the heated oratory of a trial lawyer. "It's a war! Why in this bevy of stories does not anyone point out the fact that Richard was a hero one day and a demon the next? They have destroyed this man's life!"Watson Bryant had worked with Wood and Grant years before in a local law firm. He admired Wayne Grant for his methodical sense of detail; Grant, a New Yorker, had once forced the city of Atlanta to pay large damages to a man injured while illegally digging for antique bottles in a park. But Lin Wood's suppressed rage was a marvel to Bryant. "He is so tough he could make people cry in depositions when we were kids," Bryant told me. Wood possessed the smooth style of a member of the Atlanta establishment, but he had a hardscrabble past. He was a boy from "the wrong side of the tracks" in Macon who at age 17 discovered his mother's body after his father had murdered her. His father went to jail, and Wood wound up as a lawyer. He went through college and law school on scholarships and with part-time jobs. I could hear Wood on Sharon's telephone: "He's more than innocent. He's a goddamn hero. . . . Everyone is going to pay who wronged Richard Jewell. Besides NBC and The A.J.C., we are going to look into suing CNN and Jay Leno."Through the large picture window, I had a clear view of the remains of the Centennial Olympic Park, where the bomb had exploded on the night of July 26. Where the sound-and-light tower had once been, there was now a flattened dirt field. It was possible to see the Greek commemorative sculpture that Richard Jewell used to describe for tourists at the AT&T pavilion, where he worked as a security guard.Suddenly, Jewell was in the room. "Hi. I'm Richard. I'm a little late. I don't want you to think I am rude. I am not like that." He had an open face, a bland pleasantness, an eagerness to please. "Can I get you a Coke?" he asked me. "How about some coffee?" Jewell wore a blue-and-white striped shirt and chinos. He occupied physical space like a teenager; he sprawled, he lumbered, he pawed through Sharon's candy bowl. On TV his face had a porcine blankness; he appeared suspicious. In person, Jewell has a hard time disguising his emotions.We were alone in the conference room; I noticed that Jewell avoided looking out the window toward the park. He shifted his glance nervously away from the view. He often awakens in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, thinking of the events in the park in the early morning hours of July 27. "It took me days before I could even come in here," he said anxiously.The newsroom atmosphere resembled that at F.B.I. headquarters; there was a frenzy to be first.When Jewell noticed a local ABC reporter outside near Sharon's desk, his face darkened. "I don't want to be around reporters right now. I guess I am a little nervous. What is he doing here?" The atmosphere was now filled with tension; the reporter was escorted out.Moments later, we gathered in the hallway. Wood was steely: "We are going in two cars. Richard, you drive with me. Your mother will go with Wayne. As we walk down the hall right now, if the ABC people are outside, I will tap you on the shoulder and I will say, 'How are you doing?' You will say, 'Fine.' Is that understood?" "O.K., Lin. I understand," Jewell said quietly, head bowed.As Jewell walked down the hall, an ABC cameraman photographed him looking grim. Seconds after the elevator doors closed, Jewell exploded: "What are they doing here, Lin? Did you invite them? They are animals. Why didn't you get them out of here?""ABC has been good to you. How do I get them out of the office on the day of your press conference?""That is what security is for!" Jewell said, quivering with rage. "Where is Watson?" he asked in the garage. "I told you: he's at a real-estate closing. He will meet you at the press conference," Wood said. Jewell moved to his mother's side, as solicitous as a child. "Are you all right, Mother?" he asked. "It is all I am going to be able to do not to do something!" she said angrily.When we arrived at the Marriott hotel on 1-75, there was another discussion in the parking lot, about who would walk with whom in front of the cameras. Jewell turned to his close friend Dave Dutchess: "Are you all right, man?" Dutchess, a truckdriver who worked with Jewell years ago, has long hair and a tattoo of a panther on his forearm. "Richard and I are like brothers," he told me. "I would die for him." As the cameras closed in on them, the group fled to a private room in the Marriott. The auditorium was filled with reporters. "Showtime! Showtime!" the cameramen yelled when Jewell, his mother, and all the lawyers took the stage."I hope and pray that no one else is ever subjected to the pain and the ordeal that I have gone through," Jewell said, his voice breaking. "The authorities should keep in mind the rights of the citizens. I thank God it is ended and that you now know what I have known all along: I am an innocent man."After the press conference, Bobi and Richard Jewell remained in a private room. The bookers from Good Morning America and the Today show pressed Jewell to step before their cameras, and when Watson Bryant told them no, Monica, the G.M.A. booker, began to cry, "I'll lose my job." Then Yael, the Today-show booker, cornered Nadya Light: "Is Richard doing something with G.M.A.?'Upstairs, Jewell and his mother were being filmed by a CBS camera crew for a 60 Minutes news update. "Well, Bobi, did you get your Tupperware back?" Mike Wallace asked by phone from New York. "Richard, you need to lose some more weight." Despite Wallace's festive spirit, the atmosphere was curiously flat. Bryant urged Jewell to talk to a USA Today reporter. Jewell balked: "They can all go suck wind."In the car on the way back to Wood & Grant, Bobi was angry. All of her possessions had come back from the F.B.I. marked up with ink. "Every piece of Tupperware I own is ruined, thank you very much. They wrote numbers all over it, and I have tried everything to clean it—Comet and Brillo—but nothing works."Back at the office, she sat on the sofa and listened as Bryant negotiated with Yael for a flight to New York— Delta, first-class, 9:30 P.M. Jewell was scheduled to appear on three shows in New York, visit the American Museum of Natural History, and then fly to Washington, D.C., for Larry King Live. "I would like to go home, put on my outfit, and walk in the woods," Bobi said. "Richard, we are leaving.""Yes, ma'am," Richard said.One hour later, a telephone call came in to the offices of Wood & Grant. The lawyers had the call on speaker, and it blared through the room. "Goddamn it, Lin. When will this be over?" In the background, you could hear Bobi sobbing. "What in the world?" Wood asked. Jewell explained that a sound truck from ABC had been waiting in the parking lot when the Jewells got home. There had been words and threats, and Dave Dutchess had taken his stun gun off his motorcycle and waved it at the ABC van. The cameraman yelled: Stop harassing us! Dave yelled back: You are harassing us! Now get your ass out of here!Wood shouted into the speakerphone: "Do not meddle! You cannot jeopardize where you have gotten to and what you want to do! All you have to do is put up with this for one more day and the damn thing is over. Bobi, there is nothing you can do about it; you have to stay cool." Bobi cried back, "They are going to destroy me!"The moment they hung up, Wood turned to Bryant. "New York is canceled. No Katie Couric. No Good Morning America. They are losing it. You better call Yael." "No," Bryant said, "they have lost it. All of the above: their patience, their temper and heart."That evening a very testy Katie Couric tracked Bryant down at Nadya Light's apartment, where we had gone to watch the news. "I want you to know that I canceled interviewing Barbra Streisand in L.A. for Richard Jewell. Don't think he is always going to be a news story. No one will care about him in three days," she said, according to Bryant. "Look, Katie, I am sorry. But Richard is in no condition to talk to the press. He is worn out," Bryant told her.Later, Jewell would tell me that that day, which should have been one of his most satisfying, was actually his worst. His notoriety had tainted the triumph; everything positive had become negative. "I was in despair," he said. As he had for most of the previous 88 days, he spent the night confined in the Buford Highway apartment, a prisoner of his circumstances, with his mother, Dave Dutchess, and Dave's fiancee, Beatty, eating Domino's Pizza and watching himself lead the newscasts on NBC, CBS, and ABC."This case has everything—the F.B.I., the press, the violation of the Bill of Rights from the First to the Sixth Amendment."'This case has everything— the F.B.I., the press, the violation of the Bill of Rights, from the First to the Sixth Amendment," Watson Bryant told me in one of our first conversations. It has become common to characterize the F.B.I.'s investigation of Richard Jewell as the epitome of false accusation. The phrase "the Jewell syndrome," a rush to judgment, has entered the language of newsrooms and First Amendment forums. On the night of Jewell's press conference, a commentator on CNN's Crossfire compared Jewell's situation to "Kafka in Prague." The case became an investigative catastrophe, which laid bare long-simmering resentments of many F.B.I. career professionals regarding the micromanagement style and imperious attitude of Louis Freeh and his inner circle of former New York prosecutors, who have worked together since their days at the U.S. Attorney's Office in the Southern District. Within the bureau, the beleaguered director now has a new nickname: J. Edgar Hoover with children. Like Freeh, those near him have also acquired a nickname: Louie's yes-men. Two of Freeh's closest associates, F.B.I. general counsel Howard Shapiro and former deputy director Larry Potts, have been severely criticized, respectively, for advising the White House of confidential F.B.I. material and for an alleged cover-up of the mishandling of the 1992 standoff at Ruby Ridge, where F.B.I. agents killed the wife and son of Randy Weaver, a white supremacist.In November and December, the Office of Professional Responsibility conducted an exhaustive investigation into the Jewell affair. Responding to an attempt by headquarters and certain officials to distance themselves, according to F.B.I. sources, several agents, including a senior F.B.I. supervisor in Atlanta, have provided the O.P.R. with signed statements insisting that Freeh himself was responsible for "oversight" during the crisis. These agents "shocked the investigators" because they reiterated, when asked who was in charge of the overall command of the investigation, that it was the director himself.What happened to Richard Jewell raises an important question central to Freeh's future tenure: in the midst of a media frenzy, does the F.B.I. have any responsibility to protect the privacy of an innocent man? Over the last year, this concept was broached with Bob Bucknam, Louis Freeh's chief of staff. During the long Pizza Connection trial in the 1980s, it was Bucknam who handed Freeh files at the prosecutor's table. According to highly placed sources in the bureau, Bucknam's answer was immediate: the F.B.I. has no responsibility to correct information in the public domain.Richard Jewell had a reverence for authority that blinded him to the paradox of his situation. He idealized the investigative skills of the F.B.I. and could not understand that he had become ensnared in a web fraught with the weaknesses of a self-protective bureaucracy. Pennsylvania senator Arlen Specter has invited Jewell to Washington to testify at congressional hearings on the F.B.I.'s conduct in the Atlanta bombing. Ironically, the bungling of the investigation might lead to the reshuffling of personalities at the top of the bureau and threaten Freeh's reputation. In October, according to The Washington Post, Freeh sent an unusual memo to all 25,000 F.B.I. personnel: He would not be abandoning his post amid reports of problems with the Jewell case and Filegate, and of a growing dissatisfaction inside the bureau. "I am proud to be the F.B.I. director," Freeh wrote.From the beginning, Jewell was perceived in the public imagination as a hapless dummy, a plodding misfit, a Forrest Gump. On one of the first days he worked as a security guard at the AT&T pavilion, he noticed that his co-workers were covering the steps inside the sound tower with graffiti. On one step Jewell scrawled with a flourish two bromides: IF YOU DIDN'T GO PAST ME, YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE and LIFE IS TOUGH. TOUGHER WHEN YOU ARE STUPID. Soon after he was targeted as a suspect in the Olympics bombing, the F.B.I. confiscated the step. Analysts appeared to believe that the graffiti contained a clue to his character. "They told the lawyers the statement was an obvious taunt," Jewell said. In fact, the second line was an expression he had cribbed from one of his favorite actors, John Wayne.Within the F.B.I., the beleaguered director has a new nickname: J. Edgar Hoover with children."To understand Richard Jewell, you have to be aware that he is a cop. He talks like a cop and thinks like a cop," his criminal lawyer, Jack Martin, told me. The tone of Jewell's voice drops noticeably when he says the word "officer," and his conversation is filled with observations about traffic patterns, security devices, and car wrecks. Even the vocabulary he uses to describe the 88 days he was a suspect is out of the lexicon of police work, and he continues to talk about his situation then in the present tense: "This is an out-and-out ambush, and I am a hostage."Jewell has a need to accommodate. He can be startlingly opaque. On the afternoon of July 30, Jewell answered the door of his mother's apartment to Don Johnson and Diader Rosario from the F.B.I. "We need your help making a training film," they told him. "I never questioned it," he told me. The next day Rosario appeared again with a search warrant. "The weird thing was that when they were searching my apartment I was, like, 'Take everything. Take the carpet. I am law enforcement. I am just like you. Guys, take whatever you are going to take, because it is going to prove that I didn't do anything.' And a couple of them were looking at me like I was crazy."Leaving the apartment on one occasion, he told the agents, "I am wearing a bright shirt so y'all can see me easier." He recalled feeling anger when he read descriptions of himself as a child-man, a mama's boy, and "a wannabe policeman," but he said, "If I was in the place of everybody else and I saw a 34-year-old guy living with his mother, I would have reservations about that, too. I would think, Why is he doing that?"The December issue of Atlanta magazine reported that there was no record of a Jewell family in Danville, Virginia, where Richard Jewell was born. Atlanta referred to an article in the Danville Register & Bee which asked, "Did Richard Jewell ever sleep here?" "This is a part of my life Richard and I do not like to speak about," Bobi Jewell told me one night at dinner. Richard was born in Danville, but his name was Richard White; his father was Bobi's first husband, Robert Earl White, who worked for Chevrolet. According to Bobi, Richard's father, who died recently, was "irresponsible and a ladies' man." When Richard was four, the marriage broke up. Bobi found work as an insurance-agency claims coordinator and soon met John Jewell, an executive in the same business. Shortly after John Jewell married Bobi, he adopted Richard.From the time Richard was a child, he and his mother were a unit. Bobi, a woman of intelligence and disciplined work habits, is both tender and tough on the subject of her son. She still calls Richard "my boy," but she has a peppery disposition. Richard was brought up in a strict Baptist home. "If I didn't say 'Yes, ma'am' or 'No, ma'am' and get it out quick enough, I would be on the ground," he said. When he was six, the family moved to Atlanta. Richard was the boy who helped the teachers and worked as a school crossing guard, but he had few friends in high school. "I was a wannabe athlete, but I wasn't good enough," he said. He ran the movie projector in the library. A military-history buff, he liked to talk about Napoleon and the Vietnam War and read books on both World Wars.Jewell's ambition was to work on cars, so he enrolled in a technical school in southern Georgia. On his third day there, Bobi discovered that her husband had packed a suitcase. "He left a note saying that he was a failure and no good for us," Jewell said. Almost immediately, Richard moved back home and took a job repairing cars. "My mom and I tried to take care of each other," he said. "I think I handled it pretty much better than she did." Richard took the brunt of his father's abandonment; Bobi pulled even closer to her son. "She hated all men for about three years after that, and she became overly protective of me. She looked at it that I was going to do the same thing that my dad did. I was 18 or 19. I was working. She never liked my dates, but I never held that against her. We have always been able to lean on each other."Richard managed a local TCBY yogurt shop and once stopped a burglary in progress. At the age of 22, he was hired as a clerk at the Small Business Administration, and he impressed Watson Bryant and the other lawyers in the office with his personable nature. They called him Radar because of his efficiency. "You could say, 'I'm hungry,' and suddenly this kid would be by your side with a Snickers bar," Bryant recalled. When Jewell's contract with the S.B.A. ran out, he moved on to be a Marriott house detective. In 1990 he was hired as a jailer in the Habersham County Sheriff's Office, and in 1991 he became a deputy. As part of his training, he was sent to the Northeast Georgia Police Academy, where he finished in the upper 25 percent of his class. He finally had an identity; he was a law-enforcement officer.Jewell was unlucky in love. He presented one woman with an engagement ring, and later, in Habersham County, he would give another a large wooden key with a sign that read, THIS IS THE KEY TO UNLOCK YOUR HEART, but both relationships came apart. In northern Georgia, Jewell worked nights and became wedded to his job. By his own description, he was methodical. "I am the kind of person who plans everything. I like to go from A to B to C to D. This going from A to D and arguing over everything—I say no." Habersham County, a scenic part of the piney woods in Georgia's Bible Belt, was for Jewell like "leaving the 1990s and going into the 1970s in terms of law enforcement." Many rich Atlantans have country houses in the mountains, but the small towns of Demorest and Charlottesville are relatively undeveloped, reminding one of Jewell's lawyers of the scenery in the movie Deliverance. "If you get lost up there, you might find a guy with a bow and arrow," the lawyer said.Recently, Jewell and I took the 90-minute drive from Atlanta to Habersham County, which has acres of apple orchards. The leaves were turning, and the roads were mostly deserted. In the towns, however, were stores, apple stands, and even a good Chinese restaurant. As Jewell's blue pickup truck turned into the parking lot of a shopping center, several people came out to greet him.Jewell had lived in a small yellow house up a steep rocky driveway. On the day we visited, the current resident's Halloween decorations were still up, as were faded white satin ribbons hanging from many trees, remnants of a campaign to clear Richard Jewell organized by area friends. Jewell had lived 50 yards from the Chattahoochee River near a kayak-and-canoe tourist concession on a main road—not in a "cabin in the woods," as several reports stated after the bombing. He worked the night shift, and when he would arrive home at dawn, he told me, he could look up and "see a sky filled with stars."He was not a loner; he made friends with several local families. He would often leave a box of Dunkin' Donuts on friends' porches at four A.M. During the O. J. Simpson trial, he and the other deputies would meet in the turnaround on Highway 985 in the middle of the night and review the day's events and the bungling by the Los Angeles Police Department. Jewell would later be annoyed that the F.B.I. confiscated his copy of former prosecutor Vincent Bugliosi's account of the trial. Jewell dated a local girl, Sheree Chastain, and had a close relationship with her family.Jewell had a complex history working at the Habersham County Sheriff's Office. When he was still a jailer, he arrested a couple making too much noise in a hot tub at an apartment building where he did part-time security work. He was arrested for impersonating an officer and, after pleading guilty to a lesser charge, was placed on probation on the condition that he seek psychological counseling.By his own estimation, Jewell's strength as a cop was "working car wrecks." He had his mother's diligence; he worked 14 hours a day and organized a safety fair. Later in 1995 he wrecked his patrol car and was demoted to working in the jail. Rick Moore, a local deputy, advised him to accept the job, but Jewell despised the jailhouse atmosphere. He told me, "It was a small room filled with cigarette smoke. I couldn't take it." He resigned, and in a short time he moved to a police job at Piedmont College, a liberal-arts school with approximately 1,000 students on the main road in Demorest. The college police had jurisdiction only on campus and in an area extending out 500 feet. Jewell chased cars speeding down the highway and had arguments over turf with other officers. He was instrumental in several arrests, including that of a suspected burglar he discovered hiding at the top of a tree. For his work on a volunteer rescue squad, he was named a citizen of the year.According to Brad Mattear, a former resident director, Piedmont was a school of "P.K.'s"—preachers' kids. It was 80 percent Baptist with a strict no-drinking rule. The college had many rebellious students, according to Mattear, kids who were "away from home for the first time and wanted to party and drink." Mattear knew Jewell well and recalled his good manners and playful nature. "It was always 'Yes, sir' and 'Yes, ma'am.'" Jewell would tell students, "I know y'all are going to drink. Don't do it on campus."Jewell felt confined by his boundaries and could be heavy-handed when it came to writing out reports on minor infractions. Once when we were driving by the campus, he pointed to a small brick dormitory. "That was where all the partying would go on," he told me. Jewell would raid dorm rooms and report drinking violations. "I did not hesitate to tell the parents—in no uncertain terms—what their kids were up to," he said.He soon made enemies at the school. "Three or four times a week," Mattear said, Piedmont students were in the office of Ray Cleere, the president of the college, complaining about Jewell and other Piedmont police. After Jewell was admonished for a number of controversial arrests, he resigned.Jewell had an out: his mother was going to have an operation on her foot. He would go home to Atlanta for the Olympics and look for a new job. He called his mother: "Is it all right with you if I stay with you while you have your surgery?" He hoped he might get a job with the Atlanta police or, failing that, work security at the Olympics. "I thought, Working at the Centennial Olympic Park will look really good on my resume."At the age of 33, back in his mother's apartment, he was at first treated like a wayward teenager. Bobi was sharp with him about his slovenly habits, his weight, and his driving. Bobi had carved out a life for herself; she arrived at work by eight A.M. each morning and had many friends. Trim, with short-cropped hair, Bobi Jewell is the kind of woman who labels her clothes and spices and spends much of her spare time baking cakes and babysitting for extra money. She carries on telephone friendships with claim adjusters at other companies. It was somewhat unsettling for her, she told me, to have Richard at home after she had grown used to living with only her dog, Brandi, and her cat, Boots. Bobi was annoyed that he had wrecked a patrol car, and worried about his safety. "Every time he leaves the apartment, I'll say, 'Richard . . . ' And he'll say, 'Yes, ma'am. I know. The person that I am going to see will be there when I get there,'" she said. On one occasion Bobi talked about Richard's return to Atlanta. "What is wrong with trying to revamp your life?" she asked me. Her eyes filled with tears. "Why does everyone in the media think it is so strange?"On Friday, July 26, Bobi Jewell was home waiting for her niece to arrive from Virginia for the Olympic softball competition the following week. In preparation, she had stocked her apartment with food. It was a clear Georgia evening, not as hot as had been expected. As usual, Richard left for the park at 4:45 P.M. and arrived at the AT&T pavilion about 5:30. His stomach was bothering him; he was convinced that he had eaten a bad hamburger the day before. Lin Wood and Wayne Grant had arranged to take their children to Centennial Park that night. The park, in downtown Atlanta, stretches over 21 acres. There were air-conditioned tents, concerts on the stage, and hot-dog and souvenir stands. Downtown Atlanta was usually deserted in the oppressively hot, humid summer, but this year thousands of tourists filled the sidewalks, or sat on benches in the shade of some crape-myrtle trees, or cooled off by a fountain. Tour buses clogged the main arteries, and everyone complained that it took hours to get anywhere; stories were traded about athletes' getting to their competitions late because of the poor planning of the Atlanta Committee for the Olympic Games.As always, Jewell was working the 12-hour night shift near the sound-and-light tower by the stage. He was pleased because one of his favorite groups—Jack Mack and the Heart Attack—was going to perform at 12:45. Jewell had a routine: he would check in and fill the ice chest he kept by a bench at his station. Jewell liked to offer water and Cokes to pregnant women or policemen who stopped to rest.After he arrived at the park, his stomach cramps grew worse and he had a bout of diarrhea. At approximately 10 P.M. he took a break to go to the bathroom. The closest one was by the stage, but the security staff was not allowed to use it. "I really have to go," Jewell says he told the stage manager. "And he said, 'Well, O.K. this time.'"When Jewell came out, he noticed that it was "real calm" and there wasn't much wind blowing. At that time of night, the crowd from Bud World became a little more raucous. Jewell was annoyed when he saw a group of drunks near his bench and beer cans littering the area beside the fence nearby. As he went to report the trash and the group that was carousing, he spotted a large olive-green military-style backpack, known as an Alice pack, under the bench. There had been a similar bag found the week before. Jewell later told an F.B.I. agent that he was annoyed that one of the drunks had tried to get into the lens of a camera crew. Jewell had told them to cut it out. "They were running off at the mouth," Jewell would later tell Larry Landers of the Georgia Bureau of Investigation (G.B.I.)."I was light about the package at first," he told me, "kidding around with Tom Davis from the G.B.I.: 'Well, are you going to open it?' At that point, it was not a concern. I was thinking to myself, Well, I am sure one of these people left it on the ground. When Davis came back and said, 'Nobody said it was theirs,' that is when the little hairs on the back of my head began to stand up. I thought, Uh-oh. This is not good."I never really had time to be frightened. My law-enforcement background paid off here. What went through my head was like a computer screen of this list I had to do. I had to call my supervisor. I have to tell people in the tower that something was going on. I have to be firm with them, stay calm, and be professional."Almost immediately, Jewell and Tom Davis cleared a 25-foot-square area around the backpack; Jewell made two trips into the tower to warn the technicians. "I want y'all out now. This is serious."Two blocks away on Marietta Street, approximately 300 editors, copywriters, and reporters from Cox newspapers around the country had taken over the extra desks in the new eighth-floor newsroom at The Atlanta Journal-Constitution to prepare the special Olympics edition they put out each afternoon. The paper had gone "Olympics-crazy," according to one reporter. The editor, Ron Martin, and the managing editor, John Walter—"WalMart," as they were called—had let it be known that no expense would be spared. Ann Hardie, who normally covers science, had been sent around the world to master the fine points of beach volleyball; Bill Rankin, officially on the federal-court beat, was assigned table tennis. The paper intended to set new standards in its hometown during the games, but in addition there was a hint of redemption in the air.Since Cox newspaper executives had forced the resignation of the distinguished editor Bill Kovach in 1988, the paper had suffered a severe loss of reputation. "We all felt just kind of beaten down," one reporter said. Kovach had been brought to Atlanta from The New York Times to elevate The A.J.C. into being the definitive paper of the New South, but eventually he irritated the local powers. Atlanta was inbred, a city of deals, and he resigned in a blaze of press outrage. Kovach now ran the Nieman journalism-fellowship program at Harvard, and the movie rights to his turbulent years in Atlanta—reported in these pages by Peter J. Boyer—had been sold to Warner Bros.Within the profession, The A.J.C. had become something of a joke. More and more, its emphasis was on what John Walter called "chunklets"—short bits in a soft-news style known as eye-candy. The paper published features on couples massage and how mushrooms grow in the rain. Walter had fired off several terse memos to ensure that there would be no more jumps of news stories to back pages and no more unsourced news stories, except on rare occasions. "I don't see any reason why you can't report hard news in a short form," one editor told me.The A.J. C. style of reporting in declarative sentences had a name, too: the voice of God. It was omniscient, because it allowed no references to unattributed sources. Subjects such as AIDS, which often required confidentiality, could not be covered properly in the paper, in the opinion of several reporters. The A.J.C. picked up news stories with unnamed sources from The New York Times, however, and reporters groused about the hypocrisy of the double standard.On Saturday morning, July 27, Bob Johnson, the night metro editor, left the newsroom at one A.M. The sidewalks were still crowded; Johnson sat on a wall outside waiting for an A.J.C. shuttle bus to pick him up. About 1:25 he heard a strange noise. "It sounded like an aerial bomb at a fireworks show," he said. He recalled thinking, Damn, that is sort of foolish. Then he heard screams and saw people running. Johnson rushed back upstairs to the almost deserted sixth-floor newsroom. Lyda Longa, a night police reporter, was still there. Johnson sent her down to the park and turned on the news, but nothing had moved across the wires. Just after two A.M., Longa called from the park. She told Johnson that one person had been killed and dozens were down—it was absolute chaos. Johnson could hear the sirens and the screams through the telephone; he began to type into his computer. "We were trying to get a bullet into the street edition," Johnson recalled. In the crisis, it took only minutes for reporters to return to the newsroom; several had been at the park when the bomb went off. Rochelle Bozman, an Olympics editor, appeared and took over for Johnson. Soon John Walter was there, as was Bert Roughton, who would assist him in supervising the A.J.C. coverage of the bombing.At the park, Jewell spoke with the first F.B.I. agents to arrive on the scene. The smell and the noise, he remembered, were overwhelming, and sensations blurred together. "It was hard to describe the sound," he said. "It was like what you hear in the movies. It was, like, KABOOM. I had seen an explosion in police training. We had ear protection when it went off. It smelled like a flash-bang grenade. The sky was not filled with black smoke, but grayish-white. All the shrapnel that was inside the package kept flying around, and some of the people got hit from the bench and some with metal."Bobi Jewell had just gone to sleep when the telephone rang. It was Richard. "Mom, they had a bomb go off down here, but I am O.K. regardless of what the TV says." He could hardly speak; he seemed paralyzed. Jewell did not mention to his mother that he had found the backpack and alerted Tom Davis. Bobi was perplexed. "I thought, What does he mean?"All night long she stayed on the foldout sofa watching the news reports. She was frightened by the ambulances, the noise, the bodies in the park.Soon veteran homicide detectives in the Atlanta police arrived at the bomb site. One sergeant was trying to make his way through the crowd when an Olympics official stopped him. "Tell these cops to get the hell out of here," he said, according to a captain in the homicide division. "Well, you get the fuck out of here. Who are you?" the sergeant demanded. Agents from the Atlanta F.B.I. office and the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms were in a shouting match over jurisdiction. "We are handling this!" one said. "No, this is ours!" an F.B.I. agent snapped.In the command center at F.B.I. headquarters in northeastern Atlanta, there was complete pandemonium. The Olympics were a national convention for law enforcement. Some 30,000 security personnel were on hand. Over the next few days, there would be an internal debate: Who was going to be in charge of the bombing investigation? In Atlanta at that time were three veteran investigators with executive experience: Tom Fuentes, who is credited with helping to bring John Gotti to heel; Barry Mawn, who has worked extensively in organized-crime probes; and Robin Montgomery, the head of the critical-incident unit at Quantico, who at Ruby Ridge in 1992 questioned the disastrous "rules of engagement" which led to tragedy.In the early-morning hours, F.B.I. agents picked up several suspects, including one referred to as "the drunk in the bar." According to F.B.I. sources, Louis Freeh himself got on the telephone to Barry Mawn. Freeh, a former F.B.I. agent, was personally monitoring the initial investigation by means of a series of conference calls from the command post at F.B.I. headquarters. He focused on "the drunk in the bar," who had been making threats the night before, and within hours the information was leaked that the F.B.I. had a suspect. From Atlanta, Barry Mawn contacted his superiors in Washington. "This suspect is not the bomber," he reportedly said, according to a former highlevel F.B.I. executive. Freeh allegedly lost his temper and belittled Mawn's professional abilities. He is said to have told Mawn that he "had handled this all wrong." The words one hears characterizing Freeh's telephone calls to the agents on duty in Atlanta are "abusive," "condescending," and "dismissive." A story went around the command center that Freeh was already saying, "We have our man," according to a source in the bureau.Watson Bryant was thinking, I cannot believe that I know anyone who throws pipe bombs into gopher holes.Freeh made a decision: however experienced Montgomery, Fuentes, and Mawn were, this investigation would be run by Division 5 of the F.B.I., the National Security Division, a former counterintelligence unit that has been looking for a purpose since the Cold War ended. Trained in observation, division members rarely made a criminal case—their strength was intimidation and manipulation rather than the deliberate gathering of evidence to be presented in court. The F.B.I. promptly declared the bombing a terrorism case and placed it under the authority of Bob Bryant, head of the division. David Tubbs of Division 5 was sent to Atlanta to be the spokesman and to augment Woody Johnson, the Atlanta special agent in charge (S.A.C.), who had been trained in hostage rescue and who was awkward in press briefings. Tubbs was not as experienced in criminal cases as Mawn or Montgomery, who returned to Newark and Quantico, respectively, "to get out of the line of fire," according to numerous F.B.I. sources. But Bryant and Freeh were reportedly micromanaging the S.A.C.'s and, later, the case agents Don Johnson and Diader Rosario.106107 VIEW ARTICLE PAGESOn the morning of the bombing, Watson Bryant's alarm went off at six A.M. He was going to the Olympic kayak competition on the Ocoee River with Andy Currie, a friend from his Vanderbilt University days. He learned of the bombing on the radio as he was getting ready to go to Currie's house. "Whoever has done this should be skinned alive," he told Currie. He spent the day in the country, and on Sunday he went out to run errands. When he got home, there was a message on his answering machine: "Watson, this is Richard Jewell. You may have heard that I found the bomb and people are calling me a hero. Somebody told me I might get a book contract." It had been years since Bryant had spoken to Jewell, but he did not immediately return the call; he was busy finishing up some contracts so that he could take a few days off to enjoy the Olympics.In addition, Bryant was annoyed with Jewell. After Bryant had befriended him in their days at the Small Business Administration, Jewell had borrowed his new, $250 radar detector and never returned it. He had promised to pay him $100 for it, but he never had. In the meantime, Bryant's life had changed; he had set up an office as a solo practitioner. Bryant despised corporate politics and had no gift for them. His penchant for taking on pro-bono work for friends annoyed his wife, however. Bryant believed that Richard Jewell had attached himself to him years earlier because he lacked a father, but nevertheless Jewell could get on his nerves. By the summer of 1996, Bryant was preoccupied; his marriage had come apart two years earlier, and he was trying to sort out his life.When he finally returned Jewell's phone call, he said, "Well, damn it, where's my $100?" Jewell laughed uneasily and told him about discovering the green backpack that contained the bomb. "Didn't you see me on the news?" Bryant reminded him that he rarely watched TV. "I am proud of you, Richard," he said. "About this book contract, I think it's far-fetched, but don't sign anything unless I see it first."In the Newsweek cover story detailing the bombing, published Monday, July 29, there was no mention of Richard Jewell. It said only that "a security guard" had alerted Tom Davis of the G.B.I. that no one had claimed the backpack under his bench. By the time Newsweek was on the stands, however, Jewell had been interviewed on CNN. The AT&T publicity department had booked him on TV and told him to wear the shirt with the AT&T logo. Jewell reluctantly agreed. "The idea of going on TV made me nervous," he told me. "I was not the hero. There were so many others who saved lives."In Demorest, Ray Cleere, the president of Piedmont College, was home on Saturday, July 27, watching CNN. Cleere had at one time been Mississippi's commissioner of higher education, but he was now posted at the rural Baptist mountain school. He was said to feel that he had suffered a loss of status in the boondocks, where he was out of the academic mainstream. He called Dick Martin, his chief of campus police. Shouldn't they call the F.B.I. and tell them about Richard Jewell? he asked. Cleere had had a strong disagreement with Jewell when one of the students was caught smoking pot. Jewell wanted to arrest him; Cleere said no. Cleere, Brad Mattear recalled, "worried constantly about the image of the college." According to Mattear, "Cleere loved the limelight. He wanted public attention"—the very trait he reportedly ascribed to Richard Jewell.Dick Martin, who was fond of Jewell, suggested a compromise, according to Lin Wood: he would call a friend in the G.B.I. Cleere then called the F.B.I. hot line in Washington himself. Wood says Cleere later complained that no one had seemed to want to listen to what he had to say about Richard Jewell. But his telephone call would trigger a complex set of circumstances in Habersham County, where F.B.I. investigators fanned out over the hills, attempting to uncover evidence that could lead to Jewell's arrest. "The F.B.I. took his word, and what it actually did was get them both in a bunch of trouble," Mattear said. (Cleere has declined to comment.)For Richard Jewell, Tuesday, July 30, would become a haze in which his life was turned upside down. "The hours of the day ran so fast it is hard to remember what all happened," he told me. He started the day early at the Atlanta studio of the Today show. He was tired; the evening before he had had his friend Tim Attaway, a G.B.I. agent, for dinner. He had made lasagna and had drawn Attaway a diagram of the sound-and-light tower. Jewell had talked into the night about the bombing; only later would he learn that Attaway was wearing a wire.Despite the late evening, Jewell was excited at the thought of meeting Katie Couric and being interviewed about finding the Alice pack in the park. His mother asked him to try to get Tom Brokaw's autograph. "He was a man my mom respected a great deal," he said.When he got back to the apartment, he was surprised to see a cluster of reporters in the parking lot. "Do you think you are a suspect?" one asked. Jewell laughed. "I know they'll investigate anyone who was at the park that night," he said. "That includes you-all too." Jewell did not turn on the TV, but he noticed that the group outside the door continued to grow. At four that afternoon, Jewell received a phone call from Anthony Davis, the head of the security company Jewell worked for at AT&T. "Have you seen the news?" Davis asked. "They are saying you are a suspect." Jewell said, "They are talking to everybody." According to Jewell, Davis said, "They are zeroing in on you. To keep the publicity down, don't go to work."Within minutes, Don Johnson and Diader Rosario knocked on Jewell's door. They exuded sincerity, Jewell recalled. "They told me they wanted me to come with them to headquarters to help them make a training film to be used at Quantico," he said. Johnson played to Jewell's pride. Despite the reporters in the parking lot and the call from Anthony Davis, Jewell had no doubt that they were telling the truth. He drove the short distance to F.B.I. headquarters in Buckhead in his own truck, but he noticed that four cars were following him. "The press is on us," Jewell told Johnson when they arrived. "No, those are our guys," Johnson told him. This tactic would continue through the next 88 days and be severely criticized: Why would you have an armada of surveillance vehicles stacked up on a suspected bomber?It was then that Jewell started to wonder why he was at the F.B.I., but he followed Johnson and Rosario inside. Rosario was known for his skills as a negotiator; he had once helped calm a riot of Cuban prisoners in Atlanta. Johnson, however, had a reputation for overreaching. In Albany, New York, in 1987, he had pursued an investigation of then mayor Thomas Whalen. According to Whalen, the local U.S. attorney found no evidence to support Johnson's assertions and issued a letter to Whalen exonerating him completely, but Whalen believed it cost him an appointment as a federal judge.As Jewell sat in a small office, he wondered why the cameraman recording the interview was staring at him so intently. After an hour, Johnson was called out of the room. When he returned, he said to Jewell, "Let's pretend that none of this happened. You are going to come in and start over, and by the way, we want you to fill out this waiver of rights.""At that moment a million things were going through my head," Jewell told me. "You don't give anyone a waiver of rights unless they are being investigated. I said, 'I need to contact my attorney,' and then all of a sudden it was an instant change. 'What do you need to contact your attorney for? You didn't do anything. We thought you were a hero. Is there something you want to tell us about?'" Jewell grew increasingly apprehensive and later recalled thinking, These guys think I did this.When the agents took a break, Jewell asked to use the phone. "I called Watson four times. I called his brother. I told his parents that I had to get hold of Watson—it was urgent. I was, like, 'I have to speak to him right now.' What was going on was that Washington was on the phone with Atlanta. The people in Washington were giving them questions." Jewell said he knew this because the videotapes in the cameras were two hours long and "Johnson and Rosario would leave every 30 minutes, like they had to speak on the phone." The O.RR. report, however, would assert that no one at headquarters knew about the videotaping or the training-film ruse. Lying to get a statement out of a suspect is, in fact, not illegal, but clearly Johnson and Rosario were not making decisions on their own. Even the procedure of having a fleet of cars follow a suspect was an intimidation tactic used by the F.B.I. Later, according to Jewell, Johnson and Rosario would both tell him privately that they believed he was innocent, but that the investigation was being run by the "highest levels in Washington."Within the bureau, the belief is that during one of the telephone calls Freeh instructed Johnson and Rosario to read Jewell his Miranda rights. Freeh is said to have learned of Johnson's history from a member of his security detail, who had worked in Atlanta. He told Freeh that "Johnson had a reputation for being obnoxious and a problem." In addition, a week after Jewell's interview, Freeh reportedly received a call from Janet Reno, who had learned about the ruse from Kent Alexander, the local U.S. attorney, and Deputy Attorney General Jamie Gorelick. Freeh wondered aloud how it was that, of all the agents in Atlanta, Johnson had been selected to work on the Jewell case. Like Jewell, Johnson had wound up in Atlanta because of his overzealous behavior—according to an F.B.I. source, the Whalen episode had resulted in a "loss-of-effectiveness transfer," an F.B.I. euphemism. (Johnson declined to respond.)On that same Tuesday, Watson Bryant and Nadya Light closed the office early and went to Centennial Park. Light, 35, a pretty Russian immigrant, had never met Radar, Bryant's old friend, and wanted to buy him a celebratory meal. Killing time until Jewell came on duty, they went into the House of Blues and then bought some hot sauce. Walking toward his car, Bryant saw newsboys hawking the afternoon edition of The Atlanta Journal-Constitution. "It was like out of a cartoon. They were all yelling!" he recalled. "I caught the headline out of the corner of my eye." The headline read: FBI SUSPECTS 'HERO' GUARD MAY HAVE PLANTED BOMB.Bryant borrowed 50 cents from Light to buy the paper and began to read: '"Richard Jewell, 33 . . . fits the profile of the lone bomber.' I could not believe it."At that moment, Bryant's brother, Bruce, who was on his way to the diving competition, got a call from Jewell. "Where is Watson?" As Bruce Bryant walked past a Speedo billboard with a TV screen, he saw Richard Jewell's face filling the screen. "Oh, my God," he said to his wife. At the same moment, Watson was in his car a block away on Northside Drive when he too noticed the Speedo screen. He could not get back to his house—the streets were blocked off for the cycling competition. From his car he called F.B.I. headquarters and demanded to speak to Jewell. "He is not here," the operator said. From his home phone, he picked up his messages and heard Jewell's low, urgent tones. "He didn't leave a number," Bryant told Light. "Call Star 69," she said. The number came back: 679-9000, the number for F.B.I. headquarters, which he had just dialed. Within minutes, Bryant had Jewell on the phone. Jewell told him he was making a training film. "You idiot! You are a suspect. Get your ass out of there now!" Bryant told him.Before The Atlanta Journal-Constitution broke the story of Richard Jewell, there had been a debate in the newsroom over whether or not to name him. One block away, CNN's Art Harris and Henry Schuster had alerted the network's president that Jewell was targeted, but they held the story, because they understood its potential magnitude. At The A.J.C., Kathy Scruggs, a police reporter, who had allegedly gotten a tip from a close friend in the F.B.I., got a confirmation from someone in the Atlanta police. According to the managing editor, John Walter, the first edition of the paper that Tuesday had a brief profile of Jewell. It was dropped in later editions as Walter questioned whether the paper had enough facts to support the scoop. Because of the voice-of-God style, the paper ended up making a flat-out statement: "Richard Jewell . . . fits the profile of the lone bomber."When I asked John Walter about the lone-bomber sentence, he said, "I ultimately edited it. . . . One of the tests we put to the material is, is it a verifiable fact?" One editor added, "The whole story is voice-of-God. . . . Because we see this event taking place, the need to attribute it to sources—F.B.I. or law enforcement—is less than if there is no public acknowledgment." John Walter indicated that he had not seen a lone-bomber profile. I asked him, "Whose profile of a lone bomber does Richard Jewell fit? Where is the 'says who' in this sentence?" Walter said that he felt comfortable with the assertion.The page-one story had a double byline: Kathy Scruggs and Ron Martz. Walter had told these two early on that they would be the reporters assigned to any Olympic catastrophe. Martz, who had covered the Gulf War, had been assigned the security beat for the Olympics; Scruggs routinely covered local crime. Scruggs had good contacts in the Atlanta police, and she was tough. She was characterized as "a police groupie" by one former staff member. "Kathy has a hard edge that some people find offensive," one of her editors told me, but he praised her skills. Police reporters are often "dictation pads" for local law enforcement; recently the American Journalism Review sharply criticized The A.J. C. for the scanty confirmation and lack of skepticism in its coverage of Jewell.The newsroom atmosphere resembled that at F.B.I. headquarters; there was a frenzy to be first. Kent Walker, a newsroom intern, published a story in the same edition, with a glaring mistake in the headline: BOMB SUSPECT HAD SOUGHT LIMELIGHT, PRESS INTERVIEWS. Since Ray Cleere's tip to the F.B.I., the "hero bomber" theory had been circulating among Atlanta law enforcement officers. Maria Elena Fernandez, a reporter, was sent to Habersham County on July 29. By coincidence, William Rathburn, the head of security for the Olympics, had been at the Los Angeles Olympics in 1984 when a fake bomb was found on a bus—left by a policeman who sought attention.On the surface, the story had an irresistible newsroom logic: Jewell was clearly looking for recognition. Bert Roughton, the city editor, had answered the telephone when a representative from AT&T called to ask if the paper would like a Jewell interview. According to Walter, Roughton himself typed a sentence in the Scruggs-and-Martz piece: "He [Jewell] also has approached newspapers, including The Atlanta JournalConstitution, seeking publicity for his actions." But he hadn't. Walter explained, "There was nothing wrong with that sentence. That's journalistically proper. It is not common practice, to my knowledge, to ask someone you are interviewing . . . 'Are you here of your own free will?'" Jewell had not contacted the paper—a fact which would have been easy enough to check. Walter became snappish when I described the sentence as "a mistake." "It was not a mistake," he said angrily. Scruggs and Martz quoted Piedmont College president Ray Cleere as backup. According to Cleere, Jewell had been "a little erratic" and "almost too excitable."There was no doubt raised by The A.J.C. about the value of Cleere's information or the fragility of the F.B.I.'s potential case. On Tuesday morning, July 30, Christina Headrick, a young intern on the paper, was sent to Buford Highway to stake out Richard Jewell's apartment. She phoned in that there were men doing surveillance. By deadline, John Walter had made a decision: he would tear up the afternoon Olympics edition and lead with Jewell.Several states away, Colonel Robert Ressler was watching CNN when the A.J.C. extra edition was shown. Ressler, who was retired from the behavioral-science unit of the F.B.I., had, along with John Douglas, developed the concept of criminal-personality profiling. He was the co-author of the Crime Classification Manual, which is used by the F.B.I. He had interviewed Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer, and John Wayne Gacy, and as he watched the TV report, he was mystified. "They were talking about an F.B.I. profile of a hero bomber, and I thought, What F.B.I. profile? It rather surprised me." According to Ressler, the definition of "hero homicide"—a person looking for recognition without an intent to kill— perhaps emerged as "hero bomber." "There is no such classification as the hero bomber," he told me recently. "This was a myth." Later he said, "It occurred to me that there was no database of any bomber who lived with his mother, was a security guard and unmarried. How many hero bombers had we ever encountered? Only one that I know of, in Los Angeles, and his bomb did not go off." Ressler knew that something was off; profiles are developed from a complex set of evidence and facts derived only in part from a crime scene. The bomb had been deadly, which was not consistent with the "hero complex." Furthermore, he wondered, where did they get the information to put the profile together that fast? He asked himself, What came first here, the chicken or the egg? Was the so-called profile actually developed from the circumstances, or was it invented for Richard Jewell?When Jewell returned home from F.B.I. headquarters just before eight P.M., NBC was showing special Olympic coverage. He sat on the sofa and watched Tom Brokaw say, "They probably have enough to arrest him right now, probably enough to prosecute him, but you always want to have enough to convict him as well. There are still holes in this case."Jewell knew that Brokaw was his mother's favorite newsman; he looked at her and noticed "the color and the blood flow out of her face when she heard that." Bobi turned to him and asked, "What is he talking about?" Jewell later recalled, "Brokaw was talking about her son as a murderer. . . . She started crying, and what am I going to say to her? 'Mom, Watson is going to fix this'? What do you say? She doesn't hear anything anyway—she was in hysterics." At that point, Jewell said, he broke down as well.The day Watson Bryant inadvertently became the lead lawyer for Richard Jewell, he was an attorney whom almost no one in the Atlanta legal establishment had ever heard of. "Who the hell is Watson Bryant?" a caption in the daily legal sheet, the Fulton County Daily Report, would read after he had appeared on the Today show. Bryant understood Jewell's vulnerability and decided on a strategy: he would treat him as a member of his own family. In Atlanta, the Bryants were a clan: Watson's father, Goble Bryant, had been a West Point tackle, on the 1949 college all-star team; his grandfather had invented a process for putting handles on paper bags. Watson had partied through Vanderbilt University and had barely gotten accepted to law school at the University of South Carolina. He had a close relationship with his brother, Bruce, and their sister, Barbara Ann, and if he lacked staff at his office, he knew he could count on his family to pick up the slack. Bruce enlisted Jewell to help coach his junior football team; Watson had a picnic for Richard and Bobi at his parents' house at the Atlanta Country Club.When Bryant arrived at the Jewells' apartment that night, he pushed his way through the crowd standing outside in the spongy Atlanta humidity. Microphones were shoved in his face. "What is happening, Watson?" Bobi asked him. Bryant asked Jewell to speak to him alone. "I want to know if you can tell me, without any hesitation at all, if you had anything to do with the bombing," he said. "I didn't," Jewell told him. "I said, 'I am going to ask you again.' He would not look me in the eye. I said, 'Don't give me this "sir" shit.' I said, 'Richard, these people want to kill you. I cannot help you unless you tell me the absolute, unequivocal truth.' I was in his face. He said he did not have anything to do with it." Jewell was bewildered and numb, said Bryant, who left at 10:30 P.M. At midnight, Jewell called him to say, "They are massing outside the apartment, Watson."The next morning, Bryant went from talk show to talk show, starting with NBC. With the notable exception of The New York Times, virtually every newspaper in the country had picked up the A.J.C. story and run it as front-page news. There were 10,000 reporters in Atlanta; the Los Angeles Times would later call the squad bearing down on the Jewells "a massive strike force . . . Tora! Tora! Tora!" Bryant was in a daze, but he held his own. "Is it true that Jewell was at some time ordered to seek psychological counseling?" Bryant Gumbel asked him. "I know a lot of people that ought to have psychological counseling," Watson Bryant replied.By 10 A.M. he was back at the Jewells' apartment, studying a search warrant that had been delivered that day. The F.B.I., Jewell recalled, said that he could not be inside the apartment during the search. Bryant called F.B.I. headquarters: "What the hell is this? Why can't he be there?" Within an hour, at least 40 members of the F.B.I. had arrived, with dogs. "There was a physical-evidence team. There was a scientific team. There was a team for the bomb-squad people, and then the A.T.F. . . . They all had different-color shirts. Light blue for bombs, dark blue for evidence protection, red and yellow." Bryant could not believe what he was seeing. "This is like damn Six Flags over Georgia," he told them."I kept saying to Watson, 'I didn't do this.' And he said, 'Hey, kid, I believe you—we are doing what we can.'" Jewell was a gun collector. Bryant was sharp with him: "You get all those guns out of your closets and put them on your bed. We don't want any trouble."For seven hours, Jewell sat outside on the staircase in what has become one of the most famous images of last summer. Bryant had to take his daughter, Meredith, to the Olympic equestrian competition, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for her. As he left, he said, "Don't do anything stupid. Just shut up and let them do what they have to do." Hours passed as Jewell sat in the heat. "Finally I decided I would ask them if I could go in and use the rest room. They said, 'We got the order a couple of hours ago you could come in; you just can't get in our way.'" Jewell was told he had to wear rubber socks and gloves in order not to contaminate the site. The Jewell apartment is small—two bedrooms with a bathroom in between, a living room, an alcove dining room that has been turned into a den. As Jewell sat on the sofa, he thought he heard a crash in his bedroom. "I thought my CD player was on the floor, and I said, 'What are you-all tearing up?' and they said, 'You can't go in there right now; we are searching.' I said, 'I want to know what you-all just broke.'" One search warrant listed some 200 items the F.B.I. could confiscate, including "magazines, books . . . and photographs which would include descriptive information such as telephone numbers, addresses, affiliations and contact points of individuals involved in a conspiracy to manufacture, transport and . . . detonate . . . the explosive device used in the bombing at the Olympic Centennial Park on July 27, 1996.""They had all my pictures, all the stuff that was in the drawers. My personal things. How would you like to know that 12 different guys had been in your underwear, laid it out on the floor, probably walked on it and then folded it back up like nothing ever happened and put it in your drawer? So then Mom got to go and watch it on TV: 'Live from the Jewell house, the search continues. . . . We are expecting an arrest any minute.'"When Bobi Jewell returned home, the apartment appeared neat, until she walked into her kitchen. She looked down at her counters, where all her condiments, dog biscuits, spices, and crackers had been taken out of their Tupperware containers and placed in Ziploc bags. She began to cry. And then she went into the bedroom and "immediately started washing clothes," Jewell said.Driving home from the equestrian events, Bryant heard the live coverage of the search on the radio. "Why are you helping this guy if he's guilty?" Meredith asked.The next morning, Bryant received a copy of the F.B.I. inventory of articles confiscated in the apartment. On the list he was stunned to see "one hollowed-out hand grenade, ball-shaped" and "one hollowed-out hand grenade, pinecone-shaped." "What the hell is this?" he asked Jewell. "They were paperweights," Jewell said. "I bought them at a military store." "Oh, shit," Bryant said.For the first few days, the Jewells lived on ham omelettes; a neighbor had brought them half a ham from the Honey Baked Ham Company on Buford Highway. Bobi Jewell had a vacation scheduled, so she remained at home, lying on the bed and "listening to the ball game if it was on." For two weeks, she cleaned out her bureau drawers. Richard would spend the day watching CNN or movies such as Backdraft and Midnight Run. "I would look out the window and see about 150 to 200 press people. Then it would drop to five or six on the hill. They had one person sitting up there at all times with their binoculars." Richard believed they were being monitored. "They heard everything that was going on. They were over there with high-intensity zoom lenses. They had people over there who could read lips. They had a sound dish. They could hear everything that we said. They had a person writing down everything we said. I saw them."When Bobi walked out the door, Jewell said, they would holler obscenities and yell, 'You should both die'Once, Bobi's cat jumped on the window ledge under the curtain and the photographers began frenetically shooting pictures, believing that one of the Jewells was in the window. Sound trucks and boom microphones prevented the neighbors from getting near the apartment. Three F.B.I. agents were usually sitting near the tiny swimming pool; each time Jewell or his mother left the house, a cavalcade of unmarked cars would follow. Richard soon began to write a speech describing the horror he felt at being falsely accused. He ate grilled-cheese sandwiches, huge pans of lasagna, and can after can of Campbell's tomato soup."If my mom and I had something we wanted to talk about that we didn't want anyone to hear, we wrote it on pieces of paper. When she left to go to work the next day, she would take it with her, tear it up, and put it in the trash! That is how I kept my mother informed about what was going on with the case." The notes were specific: "What the Justice Department was saying, what my attorneys were hearing through the grapevine that I could tell my mom that was not privileged. It was mainly stuff like 'Keep the faith' and 'Can I borrow $10 for gas in the truck?' "Jewell described how, when his mother would walk out the door, "they would holler obscenities at her. They would yell, 'Did he do it? Did he blow those people up?' They would yell, 'You should both die.'" According to Jewell, "The cameramen were just trying to get us aggravated so they could get it on camera. You don't know how hard it is when they are saying stuff about my mother and me. . . . All she was trying to do was walk her dog. And she cannot do that without hearing that yelling. When someone did that to my mother, I would want to be up on the hill calling the police, because I would want them arrested. I was going to say, 'Mom, tell me which one said that!' And I was going to walk up to that person and introduce myself and say, 'Hi, my name is Richard Jewell. What is yours? Who do you work for? Who is your supervisor?' And I was going to go home and call 911 to get a warrant."By disposition, Jewell is a night person, but he would get up early when his mother went back to work and make her breakfast. By 11 A.M. he would be playing Mortal Kombat II and listening to 96 Rock on the radio, where one of his friends is a disc jockey. Four days into his period of captivity, he called the DeKalb County police. He recalled telling a Mr. Brown, "'This is Richard Jewell. I am sure you are aware of my situation over on Buford Highway.' He said, 'Yes, Richard, I know.' I said, 'I just want to tell you my situation. Number one: I did not do this. Number two: I am here and I am not leaving the apartment for any reason at all.' I said that all the press was doing right now was aggravating my mother and disturbing my neighbors, and I would really appreciate it if the neighbors could return to a normal life."On Saturday, August 3, as Bryant stared at the F.B.I. agent plucking Jewell's hair, he had already made a decision. "It was, like, screw it. I had had it." The next day was the closing ceremony of the Olympics; Bryant imagined that that would be the day the government might choose to arrest Jewell. "Who is the best criminal lawyer in Georgia?" he asked a state lawyers' association. Within a day, he had brought in Jack Martin, an expert on the federal death penalty and a Harvard law school graduate with close ties to the local U.S. attorney, Kent Alexander. "Let me tell you something about myself," Jewell told him in their first meeting. "I hate criminal lawyers." "Well, Richard," Martin said, "I don't much like cops, but sometimes I need one, and this is a time you sure need a criminal lawyer."That weekend, watching the Olympic basketball finals, Bryant had an idea: he wanted to be prepared with his own polygraph test of Jewell if the F.B.I. arrested him. From the game, Bryant called a close friend who was a former federal prosecutor. "Try Richard Rackleff," he said. "We worked together on the Walter Moody bombing case." Rackleff had recently set up a private practice, and he agreed to test Jewell the next day. On Sunday morning, Bryant was up early, unable to sleep. He drove around town, making calls from his cell phone. He dialed 679-9000—the F.B.I. "This is Watson Bryant. I am going to pick up Richard Jewell. I just want you to know that. I don't have a white Bronco. I don't have a wig, and I don't have cash in my car. We are just going to my office."Watson had coordinated an elaborate plan with his brother to dodge reporters; he would use a decoy and snake through a parking garage. Rackleff had been instructed to park blocks from Bryant's office, because his car could be identified easily, since he was well known in Atlanta law enforcement.When Rackleff sat down with Richard Jewell in the conference room, he later told me, he sensed almost immediately that Jewell was innocent. Rackleff had tested many bombers before, including Walter Moody, who was convicted of killing a federal judge. "They are strange ducks—they leave their attorneys cold," Rackleff said. Although no one knew Rackleff was in the building, more than 100 reporters gathered outside to get a look at Jewell. Inside, Jack Martin, Bryant, Nadya Light, and Jewell spent 12 hours in Bryant's office. Rackleff asked Jewell a series of questions, but the test was inconclusive. "Richard is tormented. He is exploding on the inside," Rackleff said. While he was testing him, CNN's Art Harris was visible through the window of Bryant's office, but he could not see inside. Bryant was thoroughly deflated, close to despair. "You have got to try to buck Richard up," Rackleff told him. "Who is going to buck me up?" Bryant asked.'We are not in missile range of arresting Richard Jewell, but we want him to take our own polygraph," Kent Alexander told Bryant and Jack Martin in their first meeting on the case. In the meantime, Rackleff had tested Jewell again, and he had passed with "no deception," the highest rating. By this time, it was clear that there was no damning evidence against Jewell discovered at the apartment or in his old house in Habersham County.Alexander was only 38, but he had been groomed for politics in a fancy local family. His father was a senior partner in a good Atlanta law firm, and he had worked as an intern for Senator Sam Nunn. Bryant worried about Alexander's lack of experience, but Alexander told colleagues that he was disturbed by the lack of substantial evidence against Jewell. He was trying to operate with decency, but he was cautious and had to check every detail with Washington.Bryant, however, didn't trust Alexander; he had had a bad experience with Alexander's predecessor. In 1990, Bryant had almost been put out of business in a tussle with the then U.S. attorney. The local Small Business Administration accused a bank Bryant represented of improper use of funds; the bank blamed Bryant, who was brought before a grand jury and over the next two years almost lost his practice. He spent $50,000 defending himself, and Nadya Light had to take another job, but eventually the case was settled with Bryant's agreeing not to do business with the S.B.A. for 18 months. Bryant had always felt that he had been manhandled by the office. "I learned everything I needed to know about dealing with this office in 1990," Bryant recalled telling Alexander. "No polygraph for Richard."At the meeting, Alexander told Bryant and Martin, "This is all off-the-record. This is a request that is strictly confidential." Weeks later, Louis Freeh came to town to address a breakfast of former F.B.I. agents. Almost immediately, the polygraph request was reported on CNN. "Kent, I thought we had an agreement," Bryant told him. "I cannot control Washington," Alexander said.When two of the bomb-blast victims sued Richard Jewell, Bryant brought in Wood and Grant to handle the civil litigation. Martin opposed the move. He believed in the cone of silence: "Circle the wagons and don't speak." He said that Wood and Grant had a different perspective: Attack, attack, and if you give any quarter, it is a sign of weakness. Martin had been reassured in private by Kent Alexander that Jewell was not in any immediate danger of being arrested, but the team disagreed about press tactics. Martin worked through the Atlanta-establishment back channels; Lin Wood was a rhetoric man. He favored "one big newsbreak a week." "You know who wrote the book Masters of Deceit? J. Edgar Hoover! And that was about the Communist Party in America. So now they have gone from masters of investigation to masters of deceit!" he would routinely tell reporters who called.Three days after Wood and Grant surfaced as the two new civil lawyers, a Ford van with a tinted bubble-shaped window appeared on the top level of the Macy's parking garage which faced the conference-room windows of their offices. According to Wood, the van did not move for 10 days. "We used to sit there and wave at it." Then the lawyers placed a camera in the window, and the next day the vehicle was gone. "For sure that van had laser sound-detecting equipment," Wood said.Jewell was annoyed that press descriptions of him always emphasized his "overzealousness"; he considers himself a man of details. Often, when he's watching movies at home, he freeze-frames in order to study props in scenes. The second weekend he was considered a suspect, he told me, "I walked in and I noticed white powder all over the telephone table in the conference room." It was a Saturday morning, and Jewell had been with his lawyers until late the night before. He told me he was convinced that the F.B.I. "had lifted a ceiling tile," and that the white powder was "dust that came down." Bryant and Jewell made light of it and did not sweep their phones, believing that any tap the F.B.I. would use would be of a laser or satellite variety and impossible to trace. "In the beginning of every conversation, Watson would curse for about a minute and tell them what lowlives they were. And then he would say, 'By the way, this is Richard's lawyer. Y'all can cut your tape players off,"' Jewell said. "I would call them dirty scumbags," said Bryant. But the local U.S. attorney, Kent Alexander, insisted that their phones were not tapped. "There are no wiretap warrants," he said.The F.B.I. did turn up one bit of potentially troublesome evidence in the Jewells' apartment—fragments of a fence that had been blown up in the explosion. After a telephone conversation with Watson Bryant, Kathy Scruggs quoted him saying, "Yes, he did have a sample of the blown-up bomb." Bryant accused her of egregiously misquoting him. He remembered saying to her, "Yes, Richard had souvenirs of the bombing." Scruggs had not taped their conversation. "She cut the 'ing' off of 'bomb,'" Bryant later told me, but Scruggs strongly denies this. The day the story broke, Bryant criticized Scruggs on local radio. That afternoon she appeared at his office to attempt to clear up the misunderstanding. "I don't like your reporting," Bryant recalled telling her. "I'm human, too," she said. The next day, Ron Martz inserted a quote from Bryant in an unrelated news story: "Oh, man, it's not even a scrap of the bomb—it's a piece of damned fence, for God's sake." But the quote would have little impact. Scruggs's version had been picked up; gathering force, it was eventually related by Bill Press on Crossfire on the evening of October 28: "The guy was seen with a homemade bomb at his home a few days before." (The next day CNN would be forced to apologize for the mistake.)By this time Bryant had grown enraged by the media coverage. The New York Post had called Jewell "a Village Rambo" and "a fat, failed former sheriff's deputy." Jay Leno had said that Jewell "had a scary resemblance to the guy who whacked Nancy Kerrigan," and asked, "What is it about the Olympic Games that brings out big fat stupid guys?" The A.J. C. s star columnist, Dave Kindred, had compared Jewell to serial murderer Wayne Williams: "Like this one, that suspect was drawn to the blue lights and sirens of police work. Like this one, he became famous in the aftermath of murder."Television journalism was also a revelation to Bryant; he felt he had "landed on Mars," and spent hours channel-surfing. On CNN, one criminologist said "it was possible" that Jewell had a hero complex. Bryant told his brother, Bruce, "I know I am going to sue someone. I just don't know who." Bruce Bryant searched for Jewell's name on the Internet three weeks into his ordeal and found 10,000 stories. The tone many of the journalists took was accusatory and pre-determined, with a few rare exceptions, such as that of CBS correspondent Jim Stewart. "Don't jump to any conclusion yet," he said sharply in a broadcast at the height of the frenzy.In his first week as Jewell's lawyer, Bryant went to the CNN studio to be interviewed by Larry King. After the broadcast, he was asked to stop in at the office of CNN president Tom Johnson. "They wanted to know what I thought of their reporting so far." Art Harris was in the room. "I turned around and I said to Art Harris, 'Who the hell are you and the rest of the media to make fun of how Richard Jewell and his mother live? Who are you to make fun of working people who live in a $470-a-month apartment? Is there something wrong with that? Who are you to say that he is a weirdo because he lives with his mother?' "According to Jack Martin, the F.B.I. spent weeks on one erroneous early theory—that Richard Jewell was an enraged homosexual cop-hater who had been aided in the bombing by his lover. Jewell had purportedly planted the bomb; the lover then made the 911 phone call warning that it would go off in Centennial Park. The rationale behind this idea was that Jewell was "mad at the cops and wanted to kill other cops," Martin told me.The rumor began at Piedmont College, perhaps invented by several of the students Jewell had turned in for smoking pot, but it had a chilling consequence. In mid-August, three agents appeared at the Curtis Mathes video store in Cornelia, where Chris Simmons, a senior at Piedmont, worked part-time. Simmons, a friend of Jewell's, who was engaged to be married, was a B student, but he displayed the same porcine blankness as Jewell and spoke in a slow drawl. He had a deep distrust of the government and carried a card in his pocket that read: CHRISTOPHER DWAYNE SIMMONS-CAMPAIGN SUPPORT FOR CONSERVATIVE CANDIDATES.The agents questioned Simmons in the store for one and a half hours. "They asked me if I was a homosexual. They asked me if I had accessed the Internet. . . . They later wanted to wire me. They said, 'If he is really a hero, we will find out, and if not, he has killed someone and injured a lot of people.' " Simmons was short with the agents and denied everything. They accused him of lying and said they could take him to Atlanta. The agents told someone Simmons had once worked with that Simmons might be involved in the bombing. "They kept wording questions differently. They kept saying: Do you think Richard Jewell could have done this if he believed that he could get people out in time and nobody would get hurt?" Simmons later called one of the F.B.I. agents and said, "I hear you don't believe my story." He recalled their conversation: " 'I think you are sugarcoating your answers,' he said. I said, 'Next time I talk with you, it will be with a lawyer.' And he asked me if I was threatening him. Then he hung up on me." Ultimately, Simmons volunteered to take a polygraph, which he says he passed. "I was a nervous wreck," he said. "I had only seen this on TV."What was not known outside a small circle of investigators was how deadly the Centennial Park bomb really was. It was well constructed, with a piece of metal shaped like a V, and inside, it had canisters filled with nails and screws. Jack Martin, who had spent time in Vietnam, compared its construction to that of a claymore mine, a sophisticated and lethal device. The bomb weighed more than 40 pounds. It was "a shaped charge," F.B.I. deputy director Weldon Kennedy would announce in December. It could blast out fragments from three separate canisters, but only one of the canisters exploded on July 27. Someone had moved the Alice pack slightly before the bomb detonated, causing most of the shrapnel to shoot into the sky. The composition of the bomb did not suggest the work of an amateur, Kathy Scruggs would ironically later report, after interviewing an A.T.F. chemist.As the weeks went by, Richard Jewell withdrew into a state of psychological limbo; he began to try to analyze what the agents might think of his behavior within the small apartment. "I would be watching a spy show on TV or something like a John Wayne movie. Someone would be talking about blowing something up, and I would think to myself, My God, that is going to sound really bad if they think I am listening to that." He worried that "they would think I was some kind of a nut," and often, when he could not sleep, he would find himself consciously switching to exercise videos and soap operas.Over Labor Day weekend, he drove up to Habersham County for a picnic with his ex-girlfriend's family, the Chastains. As usual, three F.B.I. cars followed him, but he had gotten adept at picking out the unmarked vehicles. As Jewell drove into town, he noticed that white ribbons hung from hundreds of trees; the Chastains had organized a campaign in his behalf. On the way home, Jewell drove with his friend Dave Dutchess. For the first time, he did not see an F.B.I. car following him, but he noticed an airplane flying low overhead. He drove another 20 miles, and the plane was still on him. "I said, 'Dave, do you think the F.B.I. would be following us in an airplane? It wouldn't be that hard to do, if they put some kind of beeper on the car.'" The plane followed them through Gainesville all the way to Atlanta—an hour's drive. "Just to make sure, we got off on an exit ramp and went about five miles back north. And I got out and took a picture. They followed us all the way back to the apartment! And they circled the apartment for about 15 minutes, until the F.B.I. car showed back up. I got very emotional. My cheeks got beet red. And Mom came home and said, 'What is going on? What is the matter?' It just destroyed the whole day."On September 2, Dave Dutchess and his fiancee, Beatty, were driving to their house in Tennessee. It was raining hard, and they noticed they were being followed by several F.B.I. cars. The storm grew worse, and they stopped at a hotel for the night. The next day, while getting coffee at a McDonald's, they were surrounded by F.B.I. agents. "We just want to talk to you. We are trying to be discreet." One agent, Dutchess recalled, spoke into his radio: "We have the suspect in hand." As they walked back toward their car, Dutchess said to Beatty, "They think I am his accomplice. I heard on the news they were looking for his accomplice!"After the interview, which lasted several hours, Dutchess spoke to Watson Bryant. "What did they ask you that concerns you?" Bryant asked him. "Well, I decided that I had to tell them the truth. Me and one of my friends used to set off pipe bombs for fun," Dutchess told him. "What?" Bryant exclaimed, incredulous. "Yeah, I told them we liked to throw pipe bombs down gopher holes when we lived out in West Virginia.""Did Richard know this friend?" Bryant asked apprehensively. "Hell, no. He never met him," Dutchess said, but Bryant knew that this could prolong the F.B.I.'s investigation perhaps by months. "I hung up and I was thinking, I cannot believe that I even know anyone who throws pipe bombs into gopher holes."As part of their strategy, Wood and Grant decided to mount a strong counterattack against the government. Wayne Grant had come up with the idea: Bobi Jewell should hold a press conference during the Democratic convention and make a direct plea to Bill Clinton. The day before she was to appear, Grant rehearsed her. It was difficult to work with Bobi; she was exhausted and could not stop crying. Confined under siege for almost a month, she could not see an end to it, since every day brought a new humiliation. The resident manager had threatened to take away their lease, and the manager's son was out selling pictures he took of them. A close friend from church was dying, Bobi said, and Richard could not go to see him, because of the swarm of F.B.I. agents and reporters who followed him everywhere. All of it came out in a rush in the conference room with Wayne Grant: Bobi had even had to give Bryant and Nadya Light the Olympic-basketball tickets she had won as colleague of the year, and every night she and her son were stuck together, staring at each other across the kitchen table. They were often irritable, and Richard sometimes lost his temper. "Mother, just shut up," he would tell her when she nagged him about the case. Then, Bobi later recalled, she would go into her bedroom and lie on the four-poster bed hoping that the photographers who rented an apartment across the way for $1,000 a day had no way of knowing what was going on.Grant kept careful notes on the session. Bobi was terrified about appearing in front of cameras. She sobbed and told him, "If I go on TV Monday, I'll be embarrassed. It will be, like, whenever I go anywhere, people will be looking at me: 'Did he do it or didn't he do it?' ""If you talked to the person who is in charge of the investigation, what would you say?" Grant asked her calmly. Bobi's voice was halting, but she was firm: "He is innocent. Clear his name and let us get back to a life that is normal."A few weeks later, Wayne Grant went to a party for a Bar Mitzvah, and a guest cornered him. She asked him if he had told Bobi Jewell to cry at the end of her press conference, and then added coldly, "Nice touch."The lawyers' strategy worked: after Bobi's press conference, the Jewells were deluged with interview requests. Bryant often received 100 phone calls a day. Bobi soon developed a system: letters from Oprah Winfrey, Sally Jessy Raphael, and TV producers were stacked on the console in the living room; flowers and baskets of Godiva chocolates and cheese and crackers from the networks were sent to the offices of Wood & Grant and then on to a children's hospital.At the U.S. Attorney's Office, it had become increasingly clear to Kent Alexander that something had to be done about Richard Jewell. Janet Reno had seen Bobi Jewell on TV and was moved by her sincerity. Privately, Reno and Deputy Attorney General Jamie Gorelick were said to be concerned about the heavy-handed tactics of the F.B.I. "The case had become a total embarrassment," a Justice Department official told me, but Alexander was in a complicated situation. He was working closely with the F.B.I., and there was no sign that the bureau was ready to let go, despite growing consternation among the local agents that the Washington command center had mishandled the case. And there was another problem: Alexander did not trust Lin Wood.By late September, there was a tremendous strain within the team Bryant had hastily assembled. The other lawyers accused Jack Martin of cutting private deals with his friend Kent Alexander, pulling focus, and not being tough enough. For his part, Alexander, according to Martin, admired Bryant even though he believed he was a loose cannon, but he was fed up with Lin Wood."Alexander would say something fairly candid to me, and I would report it to the attorneys, and the next day he would see it on TV," said Jack Martin. "Alexander had checked out Lin, and he knew that he was a take-no-prisoners guy." The lawyers often argued among themselves. Wood insisted on a full-blowout press-attack strategy. Bryant had mastered his sound bite: "The F.B.I. is a 500-pound gorilla who will kick the shit out of anyone." Martin wanted the lawyers to ease up on the hyperbole: "I would say, 'We do not need to do this.' And Lin would say, 'Let's go public with this.' He was manic about it." In one argument, Wood told him, "Goddamn it, Martin, you're like my ex-wives. There isn't anything you can say I won't object to."There was an atmosphere of extreme apprehension between Bryant and Jewell as they drove to F.B.I. headquarters on the afternoon of October 6. They were on their way to what would seemingly be a session with conclusional overtones, but Jewell was worried: What if this meeting was a trick? It was difficult to believe that the bureau was really ending its two-month-long investigation into his life. For weeks, Jack Martin and Bryant had been going back and forth with Kent Alexander. Finally, Jewell had agreed to an unusual suggestion: if he submitted to a lengthy voluntary interview with the bureau, and if Division 5 was satisfied, then perhaps the Justice Department could issue a letter publicly stating that he was no longer a suspect. Jewell tried to imagine the questions he would be asked. "I wanted to look at everything from their angle," he told me, "trying to assess it and reassess it in my head."On the day of Jewell's exoneration, Jay Leno apologized for having called him a Unadoofus.Kent Alexander had set a firm ground rule: Only one lawyer representing Jewell could be in the room. It had been agreed that Jack Martin, the criminal specialist, would be the man, which enraged Lin Wood. "You could really see how these guys did not like each other," Jewell said."I am not comfortable with the one-lawyer agreement," Wood told John Davis, Kent Alexander's second-in-command, when they were assembled. "We have an agreement. If you attempt to renegotiate it, I will have egg on my face," Davis said, adding, "You are not a man of your word." With that, Wood recalled, he rose from his chair and started screaming, "You are not going to say that to me, you son of a bitch!" Kent Alexander interrupted, saying, "This is deteriorating. We aim to stop this. Let's just regroup."When Jewell, Davis, and Martin finally sat down for the interview, Larry Landers, a special agent with the G.B.I., and F.B.I. special agent Bill Lewis had lists of questions with blank space for answers in front of them. On the wall of the windowless room, there were extensive aerial photographs of the park and, as a prop, an actual park bench was later brought in. Martin believed that the agents intended to resolve areas in the affidavits and other questions: Had Richard ever accessed Candyman's Candyland for information on the Anarchists' Cookbook? Had Richard picked up any pieces of pipe when the park was under construction? Had he told anyone, "Take my picture now, because I am going to be famous"? None of this had happened, Jewell said. All he could remember telling someone was that he was off to Atlanta and "going to be in that mess down there," meaning the traffic jams. They pressed him about seemingly inconsistent statements he had made on the morning of the bombing: Why had he told Agent Poor everything was normal when he checked the perimeter of the fence? Jewell explained that he had been walking the "inside of the fence." He once again explained that he had wanted to work the sound-and-light tower so that he could watch the entertainment; he had arranged for his mother to hear Kenny Rogers four days before the explosion.The area, he told Landers, was "a sweet site" and a great place to look at girls. During a break, Martin asked about all his references to women. Jewell said he wanted them to know he wasn't gay. On several occasions, Landers became annoyed: Why couldn't Jewell pin down the times? Had he seen the drunks on the bench between 10:30 and 11 or between 11 and 11:30? Why hadn't he looked at his watch? Jewell later recalled, "I said, 'I don't go through my life looking at my watch. I don't care about time. When the bomb went off, I did not look at my watch.' They were wanting to know what time I went to the bathroom and stuff like that. When you have the runs, you are not really concerned about what time it is. You are concerned with getting to the bathroom."On the day after the F.B.I. meeting, Jack Martin dictated a 27-page account of everything that had been said during the six-hour interview. In the last moments, Davis said, "he wanted to give Richard the opportunity once and for all to say that he didn't do it." Jewell, Martin wrote, "unequivocally and fortunately said that he had nothing to do with the bomb and didn't know anything about the bomb and if he did he would be the first to deliver the bastard to their door." When Martin walked out, he thought to himself, This really was a formality. They had nothing.In November a rumor swept through the newsroom of The A.J.C. that Cox newspaper executives were rethinking their news policies. According to one reporter, "The sloppiness of the Jewell reporting and the lack of sources was the last straw." A reporter named Carrie Teegardin was assigned to write a piece examining how the media spotlight was turned on Richard Jewell. In large part, her article wound up being an examination of the role of The A.J.C. After Wood and Grant threatened to sue, the article was killed. "We didn't get through the editing of it," John Walter said. "The Jewells' attorney began saying, 'We're thinking lawsuit' . . . and that made us more cautious." Meanwhile, Lin Wood and Wayne Grant were busy holding meetings with lawyers from NBC and Piedmont College. At NBC, Tom Brokaw's carelessness reportedly cost the network more than $500,000 to settle Jewell's claims, although Jewell's lawyers would not confirm a figure, BROKAW GOOFED AND NBC PAID, the New York Daily News would later headline. In talks with Ray Cleere, the figure of $450,000 by way of settlement was first suggested, then withdrawn when Piedmont College learned that it had insurance. "This will cost them millions now," Lin Wood believes.On one occasion I asked Richard Jewell if he had any theories about who might have placed the bomb. Jewell said he had popped "two or three theories off the top of my head" on the night he was interviewed by the F.B.I. "I have gone over that night hundreds of times in my head. You try to think, What type of person would do that? I know it is someone who wanted to hurt people. It is someone who is sick. I hope they find him so he can get the help he needs. Because I am totally torn up about what happened. Every day I think about it, and I will think about it for the rest of my life."Jewell often speaks with Bryant three times a day. As Jewell searches for a new job, he hangs around Bryant's office, and he recently studied handwriting analysis at the police academy. He has been offered several security jobs with Georgia companies, but he is hoping he will be hired as a Cobb County deputy. In the meantime, Bryant, Wood, and Grant have become sought-after speakers on the First Amendment.At F.B.I. headquarters in late October, Bobi Jewell broke down and cried as she identified their possessions—the Disney tapes, the Tupperware, Richard's AT&T uniforms, address books. It was a tableau of ordinary middle-class life, laid out on brown paper on a long conference-room table. "I just don't fucking believe this," Watson Bryant said angrily as he packed Bobi's videos into packing crates. "The agents tried to shake my hand," Bobi told me. "I wouldn't touch them." It took 10 hours to remove their possessions, Bobi recalled, and four minutes to return them.The F.B.I. is working on a new and elaborate theory of who did place the bomb in Centennial Park. There is an informed opinion that the backpack discovered a week earlier had in fact been a test run to check F.B.I. procedures, and that the bomber—perhaps a member of a militia group—was quite experienced and had struck before. After a torrent of criticism in the press, Louis Freeh announced that the F.B.I. had arrested Harold Nicholson, an alleged spy for Russia, and he used the opportunity to appear on the Today show and Good Morning America, hyping his role in what was a minor arrest, according to one former F.B.I. agent.In Australia in November, Bill Clinton was asked about his campaign contributions from Indonesia. "One of the things I would urge you to do, remembering what happened to Mr. Jewell in Atlanta, remembering what has happened to so many of the accusations . . . that have been made against me that turned out to be totally baseless, I just think that we ought to . . . get the facts out." When Jewell learned of his comment, he pulled up the transcript from the Internet and became angry: "The president is just using me, like everyone else."What rights does a private citizen have against the government? The legal precedent for suing the F.B.I., Bivens v. Six Unknown Agents, focuses on the behavior of individual agents. Wood believes that Jewell has a strong case against Johnson and Rosario. When Wood learned of Colonel Ressler, he hired him as a possible trial expert. In December, the F.B.I. announced that it would pay up to $500,000 to anyone who could lead it to the Olympic Park bomber.As Jewell and I drove back from Habersham County in November, he went over the early-morning hours of July 27: "I remember all of the people who were my responsibility. I remember the guys' faces who were flying through the air. I remember people screaming. The sirens going off. I don't think I will ever forget any of that. You just kind of wish sometimes. You think, Could I have done something else? . . . What if we only had five more minutes? Then maybe nobody would have been hurt. But you are what-if-ing. I have been over it a thousand times. I think we could not have done it any better. I think that is something I will always be wondering."He said he was not sure if he would ever get a job in law enforcement again, particularly since he had been held up as a cartoon figure. On the day of Jewell's exoneration, Jay Leno apologized for having called him a Unadoofus, and said, "If Jewell wins his lawsuit with NBC, he will be my new boss." He later said that this was "the greatest week in trailer-park history." The Atlanta radio station 96 Rock had put billboards of Jewell all over town; "Freebird," they said, a reference to the Lynyrd Skynyrd song. Jewell would later file suit against the station, but the billboard's message was clear. Jewell knows that for many people in America there will perhaps always be a subtle doubt: What if, after all, Richard Jewell really did do it? What if the government let him go simply because it could not make its case? Then he becomes not the innocent Richard Jewell, but the Richard Jewell who may be innocent. "You don't get back what you were originally," he told me. "I don't think I will ever get that back. The first three days, I was supposedly their hero—the person who saves lives. They don't refer to me that way anymore. Now I am the Olympic Park bombing suspect. That's the guy they thought did it. "February 1997 | Vanity Fair 重复了医院救护情节,基本突出不了火神山的震撼。 以下转载内容: 原作者:偶脚得偶还可以抢救一下 原出处:新浪微博 【 重复了医院救护情节,基本突出不了火神山的震撼。 以下转载内容: 原作者:偶脚得偶还可以抢救一下 原出处:新浪微博 【火神山建设不完全手册】 首先,你需要一个紧急命令:由中建三局牵头,武汉建工、武汉市政、汉阳市政等企业参建,在武汉知音湖畔5万平方米的滩涂坡地上,指挥7500名建设者和近千台机械设备,向全体国人和倍受煎熬的武汉市民立下军立状——“十天,建成一所可容纳1000张床位的救命医院”。 紧接着你需要北京中元国际工程设计研究院在78分钟内,将17年前小汤山医院的设计和施工图纸全部整理完善完毕。然后毫无保留的提交给武汉中信建筑设计院,并由全国勘察设计大师黄锡璆博士反复叮嘱经验得失。 你需要中信建筑设计院在1小时内召集60名设计人员,同时设立公益项目,联络全国数百名BIM设计师共同参与,全力以赴投入战斗:24小时内拿出设计方案,60个小时内与施工单位协商敲定施工图纸。 你需要武汉航发集团,迅速进场开始场地平整、道路以及排水工程施工;同时由两家上市公司高能环境和东方雨虹组成紧急工程建设团队,负责防渗工程、污水处理和医疗垃圾转运设施建设;还要在最困难的时候召唤中铁工业旗下中铁重工,火速增援追赶工期。 你需要国家电网,260多名电力职工不眠不休24小时连续施工。在1月31日前完成两条10千伏线路迁改、24台箱式变压器落位工作、8000米电力电缆铺设,并按时开始送电。 你需要亿纬锂能,在电力电缆铺设完成前,紧急提供静音发电车,以解决通讯基站等关键设备的应急供电问题 你需要华为、中国移动、中国电信、中国联通、中国铁塔、中国电子、中国信科等前后方企业紧密配合、协同作战,在36小时迅速完成5G信号覆盖后,还交付了云资源、核心系统的计算与存储设备,并建成与解放军总医院的远程会诊系统。
如果天天都能看到你,已经是今世最好的福气了。
田丹,我只能在纸上写我爱你。
面对面,说不出来。
如果你问为什么,我只能说很多细碎的事情。
四川北路第一次碰到,你不会相信;
陪你一起租房,你也不会相信;
回来就看到你在家里的阁楼上,你也不信。
可是每一次,我都知道我爱上你了。
如果天天都能看到你,已经是今世最好的福气了。
田丹,我只能在纸上写我爱你。
面对面,说不出来。
如果你问为什么,我只能说很多细碎的事情。
四川北路第一次碰到,你不会相信;
陪你一起租房,你也不会相信;
回来就看到你在家里的阁楼上,你也不信。
可是每一次,我都知道我爱上你了。
你回同福里的时候,我觉得同福里才像我今世的家。
和你一起走在马路上,上海的冬天也暖和一些。
如果你要笑,觉得太阳会照到我心里。
你那么聪明漂亮,我只是普通的菜场小会计。
我每天都觉得亏欠你,想为你做任何的事情,浑身会充满了力气。
以前是埋头过日子,现在,希望岁月静好、现世安稳。
仗什么时候才能停啊!
你竟然就住在我的头顶,住在我的家里。
如果哪天,我能娶到你,反而害怕起来,因为我不确定自己有那种福气。
万一你突然走了,再也听不到你上楼下楼的声音。
田丹,我有娶你的福气吗?
原来爱奴讲的竟是这样一个故事。这是我看完电影后的第一感觉。虽然这部片子名声赫赫,但总觉得名字过于香艳,提不起看的兴致。Kiss 是为i(爱)加上点。Hoho~多美妙的说法。
到底是有更多共同点的人比较容易互相吸引还是截然相反的人生会有更多火花?我要是卡门就选择太太平平地做幸福的新娘,一个陌生人的吻怎敌得过安稳平静的后半生!还好我
原来爱奴讲的竟是这样一个故事。这是我看完电影后的第一感觉。虽然这部片子名声赫赫,但总觉得名字过于香艳,提不起看的兴致。Kiss 是为i(爱)加上点。Hoho~多美妙的说法。
到底是有更多共同点的人比较容易互相吸引还是截然相反的人生会有更多火花?我要是卡门就选择太太平平地做幸福的新娘,一个陌生人的吻怎敌得过安稳平静的后半生!还好我不是卡门。
原来两个相似的人反而像不同的磁极,这种引力与生俱来无法抵抗。
我第一次看王家卫的电影时,在县高上学。我和很多挤录像厅的人一样烦透了那拖沓不堪的情节。然而不管怎样,欧阳锋,黄药师,
我第一次看王家卫的电影时,在县高上学。我和很多挤录像厅的人一样烦透了那拖沓不堪的情节。然而不管怎样,欧阳锋,黄药师,盲剑客,我在那个时候认识了他们。到大学之后沉迷于香港电影,然后对他进行了教科书似的电影阅读。有时候我总觉得王家卫镜头下的男女像玩偶一样,快乐难过悲伤颓废,每一种感情的扩张到最后却能把他们的人物的性格包装的精致。
江湖。庄子的阐释,让那里在刀光剑影下,始终流淌着温润的儿女情长。未来英雄们的故事发生在干燥的沙漠,这个足够魔幻的隐喻,却是人心中的另一个江湖。欧阳锋死去的恋人,慕容嫣兄妹的黄药师,以及黄药师的白驼山,盲剑客心中惦念的远方的“桃花”。被伤害的人心如同荒漠,寸草不生,失去的爱情就如荒漠上枯萎的绿洲,最终要化于时间的灰烬。那些烟波浩淼的深情,宛如白驼山和武士故乡里让人寄念的桃花。他们因为失却的爱情隐匿于沙漠,却无法逃脱折磨。沙漠,那其实是一个爱情罹难者的江湖,即使你强如独孤求败,东邪西毒,也无不会陶醉,迷失,一场场的“醉生梦死”。
出道的二十年来,王家卫的电影摄取过很多城市的生态,香港,台北,上海,新加坡,纽约,布宜诺斯艾利斯,却唯一只去过一次沙漠;从1962到2046,电影年轮是如此的遥远与深刻,然而却也只有《东邪西毒》里这样的一个绝世却落俗的江湖。其他那些被模糊的城市,抽象到往往只有霓虹的色泽,钝化的灯红酒绿,轮廓却逐渐清晰的男女,冷漠或者拥抱,极端的表演无以复加。《花样年华》里的留声机,昏黄的路灯和船票,那给人强烈古典东方之美的旗袍;《重庆森林》里凤梨罐头对于速食爱情的讽刺;《堕落天使》里无情的杀手对于真情和温暖的沦落;《春光乍泄》里埋葬于世界尽头的录音,以及《蓝莓之夜》里用来打开每个人心房的钥匙。镜头,台词,道具,所有的这些,都是王家卫的城市里爱情罹难者的痛苦表达。让那些在爱情,时间和记忆的城市里如候鸟一般迁徙的人群,引起强烈的共鸣。
得不到,躲不开,忘不了,逃不掉。王家卫的江湖中充满了饮食男女们不安的错肩与重逢,充满了罐装爱情的保鲜与过期,充满了颓唐而鲜艳的荒漠,公路与街道,这一切不尽然是伤者疼痛的幻觉,有时那就是关于爱情和生命背后隐匿的真相。
影片中的黄药师曾说:“人最大的烦恼,就是记性太好。如果什么都可以忘掉,以后的每一天将会是一个新的开始,那你说这有多开心。”
十四年前,青年导演王家卫的《东邪西毒》结束于欧阳锋的一场大火。大火燃起如柱般的滚滚浓烟。他们决定忘掉。
导演的曾经,记忆里的热情,以及王家卫电影里的江湖,终究结束于一场时光焚烧过后的灰烬。遗失者仍旧如阿飞和伊丽莎白般寻找,如黎耀辉和周慕云般流浪,流浪于那个爱情罹难者的江湖。
http://vincentzhangyue.blogbus.com/logs/21072246.html
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去汶川需要你的帮助小组:http://www.douban.com/group/HelpWenChuan/
向逝世的28881人默哀。On July 30, 1996, the media identified Richard Jewell as the F.B.I.'s prime suspect in the Olympic Park bombing. For the first time, the 34-year-old security guard tells his extraordi
On July 30, 1996, the media identified Richard Jewell as the F.B.I.'s prime suspect in the Olympic Park bombing. For the first time, the 34-year-old security guard tells his extraordinary story, to MARIE BRENNER: his brief moment as a national hero, his hounding by the Feds and the press, and his eccentric friendship with the unknown southern lawyer who helped him through his public torment.
上一部冰雪奇缘突出了个姐妹情深,不需要男人,这一部似乎依然是这样,国王作大死,直逼得女巫反复说这世上没有真爱,真的,哪怕是里面的主仆之情,和女巫对公主的关爱,都比爱情来得真实。所以我是要夸迪士尼已经变得现实了吗?反正我已经过了会被童话欺骗的年纪了。
上一部冰雪奇缘突出了个姐妹情深,不需要男人,这一部似乎依然是这样,国王作大死,直逼得女巫反复说这世上没有真爱,真的,哪怕是里面的主仆之情,和女巫对公主的关爱,都比爱情来得真实。所以我是要夸迪士尼已经变得现实了吗?反正我已经过了会被童话欺骗的年纪了。
这个故事的改编是这样子的,魔境和人界相邻,进入魔境偷宝石的小男孩被小仙子玛丽菲森发现,但是仙子并没有惩罚小男孩,反而和他成为了朋友,然后相爱了。但是小男孩长大后效忠于人界的国王,在一场战争之后,背叛了玛丽菲森。在找她叙旧之后偷偷割掉了她的翅膀,也因此当了新的国王,娶了公主,生了个女儿。而玛丽菲森变得心灰意冷,变成了魔界的女王,开始了复仇之路,在公主受洗那天诅咒等她在十六岁的那一天手指被纺锤上的针刺破,陷入沉睡,只有真爱之吻可以唤醒她。后面的发展似乎和原作没什么两样,但是如果你认为会有王子唤醒公主那就错了——我说过什么来着,最近迪士尼不相信真爱……
但只看预告,也猜得到,明明黑魔后和小公主才是一对么……果然不出所料。
买票的时候其实在2D和3D之间犹豫了一小下,不过后来非常庆幸自己买了3D的票,画面太美了,嗯,原谅我这个大理科生没啥别的形容词,仙境就是仙境,魔境就是魔境,战争场面也看起来很恢弘,所以要看就要看3D.
这片子我自己一个人去刷的,结果从中间开始就泪崩了,一直崩到后面公主醒来,不得不说这部片子对感情的刻画部分是在太棒。
在整个片子大泪点出现之前,简直是虐点不断。
第一个虐点其实出现在乌鸦替魔后打探情报,说国王王后生了个女儿,虽然魔后表现得满不在意,但是第一反应,眼里是带着泪光的。泛完泪光之后马上装做无所谓,那一瞬间简直被虐死,尼玛那可是背叛了自己的旧情人啊……朱莉的演技真是太棒,完全真实。但这里只是小虐。
第二个虐点就是三个仙女把小baby带到农庄抚养,虽然魔后一直嫌弃公主是个小怪物,但是一直默默关注她成长。小公主不小心跑到她面前来,天真无邪地要抱抱,她虽然嫌弃着,但还是把小公主抱了起来。虽然预测得到这个发展,但是却一点不觉得狗血,只是心里怪难受的。
一路不断的虐点过后,终于到了把我击垮的桥段。
第一个泪点就是长成少女的公主第一次见到魔后,她说你出来,我知道你在那里。魔后问她不怕被吓到吗,她说不会,然后她认出了魔后。
玛丽菲森问她,你认得我?
她说,你是我的Fairy Godmother吗?
Fairy Godmother,仙女教母,这个词一出来我就泪目了。孩子是最敏锐的,他们知道谁真心对自己好。是的魔后,虽然你给了这小公主诅咒,但是这些日子你一直默默在她身边,不知不觉中呵护她成长,她怎么会感觉不到?
公主说,她知道魔后一直在关注着自己,虽然有时候看不见人,但是影子也在。
其实这就是爱了不是吗。
接着就是公主问魔后,所有仙子都有翅膀吗?魔后说,大部分都有。然后公主又问她的翅膀是什么样子的。
我不能原文复述魔后的回答,印象里她说,翅膀很大,拖曳在她身后,感觉可以完全信赖它。
我是见不得这种场景的,回忆总是最戳的点,尤其是对往日那般意气风发的回想。
嗯,想当年……
当公主再问下去的时候,魔后施法让她睡了,不是不愿意说,或许只是因为内心负荷不住。
公主慢慢长大,魔后的心或许是被她渐渐暖了起来,她想用自己的能力撤销诅咒,看到这里,我以为就要皆大欢喜了,可是谁想到她的魔力失效了。
那一瞬间,她回忆起自己诅咒的时候,说的是,没有任何能力可以将诅咒解除。这是多么可怕的咒语,就连自己都束手无策。
我看到了她的后悔与颓然,是啊,没有后悔药可以吃……
后来的公主说长大后要留在魔境,和魔后作伴,魔后说,不用等到她长大。她没再多说什么,真相总是太残忍,又怎能让一个天真的少女背负那么多。
在公主返回小屋,要和三位仙子告别的路上,她遇见了临国的王子。在告别的时候,王子问她还会在这里吗。这个场景,这些话,就像当年那个小男孩和小玛丽菲森说得一样。乌鸦说他或许可以拯救公主,可是魔后说,这世上是没有真爱的。
魔后大人,你是不是也想到了当年的自己。
公主还是得知了真相,知道了自己有父亲,知道了自己被诅咒,在她向魔后求证的时候,她犹豫着不敢说出那个名字。
在魔后说出玛丽菲森的时候,我仿佛听见了她心碎的声音。
再后来就是去唤醒公主的故事,节奏终于换掉,不再是步步紧逼让人飙泪的戏码。
王子没有唤醒公主,因为那只是第一眼的好感,那并不是真爱。魔后眼里泛着泪花,对沉睡的公主说,我会陪伴你,不会让你受到任何伤害,那一瞬间,心里又被击中。好在公主在魔后吻了她的额头之后清醒,否则我真的无法相信真爱了。
是的,这真爱其实并不是蕾丝之爱,这种说法只是调侃罢了。这种爱近似于母爱,但也不是母爱,是隐隐的有一种大爱与大关怀的感觉。你毕竟是看着她长大,你爱她,这个“小怪物”。
最后一个戳人的点其实在国王与魔后的厮杀,在公主的帮助下,魔后的翅膀又回到了她身上。在城堡顶楼,只剩国王与魔后交手,魔后本来可以杀了国王的,但她看了看国王的眼睛,说“that's all”。她是想放过他的,或许是想起了曾经相爱的日子,又或者是本来就没有置他于死地的心。可是国王依旧是不作死不会死的代表,他在魔后转过身后又从身后偷袭,两人摔了出去,可是魔后有翅膀啊,她会飞,而国王只能摔死在地上。
她看着死去的他,画面持续了数秒,而我隐隐松了口气的时候,却又有了几分怅然。
抛开沉重的主体不说,其实这部电影还是挺好玩的,笑点萌点不断。三个笨手笨脚的仙子总是因为小事开始吵架,我特别喜欢看魔后变小戏法捉弄她们的场景。魔后救了一只乌鸦(魔后对他说的,我要你做我的翅膀,真的是我非常喜欢的主仆关系),她让它可以变成人变成各种动物,然后每次他回来和魔后说话的时候,一不开心,魔后就把他变回乌鸦不让他说话了。魔后让他变成狼,他说是狗,还嫌弃,反正这真的是特别好玩的点。
至于萌点,就是小公主啊,那个小baby真的太可爱了!!!完全灵也完全漂亮!!!尤其是和乌鸦的互动~~我超喜欢小baby啊,简直是萌死了,我旁边的阿姨怀里抱了个孩子,那孩子也伸出小手抓我胳膊来着,但是我这次完全没有烦躁啊,因为我自动联想到片子里那个软萌的宝贝了。还有就是刚长大一点的那个小公主,那个小女孩也好萌的,尤其是向魔后要抱抱那里,心都要化了。
嗯,槽点还用说吗?没见过那么渣的男人,背叛旧爱就算了,尼玛,女儿被下了诅咒之后还不自省,反而要搞复仇那一套东西……渣男啊渣男……
就怎么说呢,这种不要脸的人永远都不会觉得自己是错的。
还有那三个小仙子,蠢是其一,另外本来三个人是魔境的人,怎么小公主一出生就去人界帮忙了呢?投敌速度未免太快……
看完之后呢,关注点还有俩,朱莉的脸太瘦了啊……演技太棒了啊……
最后裙子披风什么的都没了,穿着紧身衣裤打斗那里,帅到爆!
其实我说这个电影很棒,就是它能把普通的主题表达得很好,因为这个主题并不算深刻,但里面满满的都是人性纠葛,和各种让人思索的点。其实整个故事并没有突出说明它的中心,可是看的时候完全能感觉得到它想传达什么,这便是妙处。
不得不提前一阵子看的催眠大师,非常好的电影,但最后说的那句,要自己原谅自己之类的话,一下子就显得太白太直接,一点味道都没了。
结尾的话,一定要大大的安利它!如果内地上了,一定不要大意地去看吧!
马泽仁糊涂,懒惰,不思进取,事事顺人,觉悟低,英国人谈论要往上海
马泽仁糊涂,懒惰,不思进取,事事顺人,觉悟低,英国人谈论要往上海派兵,他说欢迎英国兵,英国人拍电影,少一个被抓的中国奸商,他为了五英镑就接下这门就连一向老谋深算处处牟利的中国理事长都不愿意干的活,但是你又不能说他不爱国,当伊牧师的妻子歧视中国人的时候,他又会愤然抵抗,怒发力争,他觉得自己怀才不遇,但又不想做点小买卖谋生,在中国式的大家庭里成天混日子还自命清高,觉得自己是块混官场的料,科考失败以后,他隐瞒真相,死不承认是自己才学不够,自欺欺人的阿Q式生活在自己圈起来的天地里,出了事情就迁怒于别人,反正全世界都错了都不会是自己的错,自己永远都是正确的,即使认错了,也是一些细节问题上犯了些小错,无伤大雅,如果说这个人身上还有那么一丝丝进去的地方,那就是在爱情上仍能屡败屡战,在中国被骗子骗婚以至骗财以后,到了英国,他仍然败不馁,对续弦的事念念不忘,对女主人房东太太产生了情愫,而且发展过程是在挫折中前进,至于最后的失败,我觉得这不能归咎于性格,或者民族,而是当时的时势,中国在当时是一个弱国,在这种大环境之下,在海外的中国人的地位是不可能有改善的,处处被人贬低排斥,就连婚姻交友这种正常的人际交往都不可能有正常的眼光。尽管他做了种种努力,可还是在最后一步败下阵来,周围的眼光和议论压力实在是太强大了,不得不让房东太太低下头来。儿子马威的感情生活就没那么幸运了,一直对玛丽处于单相思的状态,就算是到了最后离家出走前,也只能用一封信,及让玛丽从马泽仁口中才能听到表白。
马威的出走,大概可算是一种抵抗。在这里,我们只能在马威和古玩铺的李子荣伙计身上看到一丝丝希望。李子荣信守对老马大哥的承诺,同时也为了想在中国人的谱子为中国人做出点事情,跟马威一起合计兴旺商铺的事情,不为金钱所诱惑,能看穿对门英国奸商和商会理事长的奸计,他同情中国去的劳工, 关心他们的生活状态,虽然自己省吃俭用,但对别人尽量给予自己的善良和同情,他能看清局势,对马威忠告再三,对老马的老爷架子能忍辱负重,在商铺将要得到发展的关键时刻,尽管没能挽回老马的糊涂带来的后果,也尽量把伤害降到最低,他是在那个年代在海外生活的中国人的非常优秀的人的代表。
我们看二马,只能对马泽仁差劲表现的人格报以怒其不争哀其不幸的概叹,就只能转向看道明叔的演技了,爱情虽然是永恒的题材,但两段失败的爱情,只能让我们在感到惋惜之余,看清了在那个时势影响之下,清楚明白一件事,尊严不是别人给的,而是靠自己的努力赢来的。
--Nov 08 星期日 《二马》
我叫车教授,我的职业是一名犯罪心理专家,有一天我得了肝癌,结果医生把将军的肝给了我,结果我就发现我超喜欢暴力的,我不仅要陷害一个跟我无冤无仇警察杀人,而且还要绑架他老婆。除此之外,我还要炸死一个外表做慈善,但是在东南亚害死很多人的富商。什么?我炸楼还会炸死十万人?I don't care!
同时我还是一个超厉害的人,我几次都跟马进说了“择日重赛!”“择日重赛!”“择日重赛!”“择日重赛!”但他还是猜不到密码,愚蠢,密码是1231啊!
我叫啥我忘记了,我是将军的女朋友,我老公去杀人被人打死了,我老公的弟弟去杀人把手雷塞人家嘴里,结果一起也被炸死了。我不管我不管,都是你们害的,我要拿刀把自己捅死好陷害你们。
我叫马进,我最大的爱好就是把手塞兜里,这部电影里除了我掏枪出来之外,你能看到我的手就算你厉害。至于别的经历,上面三个人已经帮我说了。
我叫导演和编剧,我下象棋超NICE的,所以我在电影中安排了很多隐喻,比如人物的名字:将军、车教授、马进、最后要杀的什么帅。看出来了吗?YES!全是象棋里面的耶!不仅如此,我还安排了一招象棋里面的“七星聚会”,但有没有什么卵用我不管,反正你们看完电影知道我下象棋超NICE的就可以了。至于为什么我在电影里安排杀手专杀做慈善的人,因为我对他们有偏见啊哇哈哈哈。