打火机这个剧,咋说呢,女主能喜欢上男主就像当初的《梦华录》以及《亲爱的热爱的》的感情戏一样让我觉得不可思议。
这个女主明显是有傲气和强自尊的,能喜欢上一个早期明显没怎么表达过尊重还处处给自己难堪的男的,就算拿“慕强”都无法自圆其说。
慕强不是傻慕强,如果我是女主
打火机这个剧,咋说呢,女主能喜欢上男主就像当初的《梦华录》以及《亲爱的热爱的》的感情戏一样让我觉得不可思议。
这个女主明显是有傲气和强自尊的,能喜欢上一个早期明显没怎么表达过尊重还处处给自己难堪的男的,就算拿“慕强”都无法自圆其说。
慕强不是傻慕强,如果我是女主,一个人就算能力再拔尖外表再出色,他只要展现出一点对我的轻视和不尊重,我就得在心里把它骂死并永久拉入“不愿过多交集”的黑名单,他再优秀关我鸟事?慕的这个“强”不会只体现在能力和外表的,性格和处事方式也非常重要,也就是人格魅力,显然这个作者对慕强的定义太过幼稚,男主在我这里除了能力强以外并没有足够的人格魅力能让人义无反顾地爱上他,早期感情线的发展让人看了极其难受。
【老表你好hea】一直都习惯了看一部说说一部的,但是这个真的不知道说什么好了,很慨叹,昔日香港的喜剧已经没落了,王祖蓝确实是很正的去搞笑,不像低俗杜那样。周星星的影片又上了 【老表你好hea】一直都习惯了看一部说说一部的,但是这个真的不知道说什么好了,很慨叹,昔日香港的喜剧已经没落了,王祖蓝确实是很正的去搞笑,不像低俗杜那样。周星星的影片又上了,这是不是也说明了现在的喜剧已经不值得再映?这部和上一部都展露了香港的几个方面,土豆和优酷的国语党和粤语党每日争论不休,骂来骂去,你爱看哪个语言看哪个语言,你听得懂粤语那就是原汁原味,你多会一门语言,你就看配音的也没啥丢人的,配音组相当有诚意,翻译得当,诙谐搞乐,这部和名门暗战都是把语言有特色人加工了一下,两党人天天吵天天撕逼,消停的看会戏不得个么!#我的第22个剧评
这边放些追剧感受吧,微博炸号,lof逆流可真不好。
先放在前面解释一下吧,我是从这部剧出来的时候就开始追了,大概前20集的时候我是狂热粉,觉得吹的再很也不为过,人设剧情一流,服化道在我看来还挺好的,至少我能接受,很适合轻喜风悬疑剧,觉着比一般仙侠剧动不动就白衣飘飘黑衣飘飘和一水儿的淡蓝色长袍与齐肩束发甚至假的不行的白发头套和某欢瑞那统一色调的大红蓝紫配校服好到不知道哪里去了。当时
这边放些追剧感受吧,微博炸号,lof逆流可真不好。
先放在前面解释一下吧,我是从这部剧出来的时候就开始追了,大概前20集的时候我是狂热粉,觉得吹的再很也不为过,人设剧情一流,服化道在我看来还挺好的,至少我能接受,很适合轻喜风悬疑剧,觉着比一般仙侠剧动不动就白衣飘飘黑衣飘飘和一水儿的淡蓝色长袍与齐肩束发甚至假的不行的白发头套和某欢瑞那统一色调的大红蓝紫配校服好到不知道哪里去了。当时觉得如果后期不水的话绝对是年度,不,近几年国产电视剧顶峰了(详情可以看我最早的短评)。但是!从20集往后,越来越有水的嫌疑,以及烂尾的趋势,让我心痛惋惜又焦虑,又随时想给倦一个机会想让他后期打我脸,看看本人追的极少的剧,从《天空之城》到《权力的游戏》,比烂剧更可怕的是烂尾,这年头,一部剧不烂尾就这么难吗?
影片以50年代末,60年代初大跃进为时代背景,讲述了周恩来到革命老区调研四个昼夜的故事,当时的新中国正面临旱灾和饥荒,连续三年的自然灾害,前苏联的连续逼债以及大跃进的失误,使国民经济濒临崩溃的边缘,全国发生了空前绝后的大饥荒。毛主席委派各级领导奔赴各地考察,周总理在其夫人邓颖超的陪同下来到武安县的革命老区伯延进行全面的,深入的调查,以便调整解决方案。
影片中公社的领导为了不给国家
影片以50年代末,60年代初大跃进为时代背景,讲述了周恩来到革命老区调研四个昼夜的故事,当时的新中国正面临旱灾和饥荒,连续三年的自然灾害,前苏联的连续逼债以及大跃进的失误,使国民经济濒临崩溃的边缘,全国发生了空前绝后的大饥荒。毛主席委派各级领导奔赴各地考察,周总理在其夫人邓颖超的陪同下来到武安县的革命老区伯延进行全面的,深入的调查,以便调整解决方案。
影片中公社的领导为了不给国家添麻烦,不给毛主席添堵,自作主张隐瞒人民饥荒的情况,并把一些好发表意见的人关了起来,营造出一种很和谐氛围,但是村前村后树上的叶子寥剩无几,以及深入的了解到人民的餐食之后,周总理就更加坚信事情没有这么简单,在调查的过程中,周总理与人民同吃同住,亲身体会人民的生活
就三星给剧,一星给演员以及服化道吧。能看出来导演野心很大,但是能力不够,苦情,武侠,悬疑,宅斗,商战,官场,恋爱能塞的元素全塞进来了,但是由于能力不足,每个部分都发挥的不尽人意。而且男女主感情身为主线却发展过慢,拖拖拉拉,在背景剧情推动速度下显得格外拖拉,使得有一种剧情过水的感觉。然后本剧智商在线的就真一男一女两个反派再加个脑子好了的男主呗,其他人的智商简直是摆设。服道非常棒,服装基本贴合历
就三星给剧,一星给演员以及服化道吧。能看出来导演野心很大,但是能力不够,苦情,武侠,悬疑,宅斗,商战,官场,恋爱能塞的元素全塞进来了,但是由于能力不足,每个部分都发挥的不尽人意。而且男女主感情身为主线却发展过慢,拖拖拉拉,在背景剧情推动速度下显得格外拖拉,使得有一种剧情过水的感觉。然后本剧智商在线的就真一男一女两个反派再加个脑子好了的男主呗,其他人的智商简直是摆设。服道非常棒,服装基本贴合历史,然后会根据人设的不同进行细化,江湖儿女就会加上绑手,公子哥就是琵琶袖,普通老百姓就是直袖。化妆的话,除去辣眼睛的配色也还不错,不同的人物完全可以从妆面上看出性格,绝对没有现在大部分国产剧那种千人一面,全部韩式平眉的化法。这剧看完最喜欢的角色就真傻子柏南和小皇帝了,不知道最近怎么回事突然特别喜欢小男孩了,可能bbff磕多了吧,基本上看前半段全靠柏南,柏南失忆之后又全靠看小皇帝,他俩可爱的我想捶床!!!他俩那软软肉肉的脸,我太太太想捏了!!!
唐荳荳的角色后期有点不讨喜,智商全丢了,甚至还有点恋爱脑和作,跟前期人设特别特别不符合,然后看剧前我是李沁颜粉,看完后我觉得稍微有点审美疲劳了,不知道为啥。
再说说金世佳,这是我看他的第一部剧,别说了,傻子演的是真的好,前期让我觉得演技绝了,后期就还行吧,说的过去,不过没前期好,他怕不是真就只会演傻子吧,不过这傻子演的也太过分可爱了,看的我也想要个小傻子柏南天天跟着我
最后在吐槽一下剧,这剧打着爱情喜剧的标签,你告诉我男主经常掉线,存在感极低,花了二十三集才治好脑子,而且治好脑子前有十五集是被女主嫌弃,甜了一集半就失忆,然后花了十集才找回记忆,最后一集还要给我搞个女主失踪+装失忆的剧情,总共男女主谈恋爱不超过四集,这是个恋爱喜剧???敢问导演您自己信不信,为了看男主和女主甜甜恋爱的我,感觉自己被骗的厉害
很多人给的分数很低,我不是很能理解。
故事结局虽在意料之中,但整个片子也并非无聊至极。
从一开始就抛出悬念,这群人为什么变得这么奇怪。到慢慢一点点找到发生了什么事。
有几个很有趣的点不妨深思一下:
1. 只有记忆而没有感情的克隆人,拥有生物的本能但没有智慧。
2. 片子里,首先被沦陷的是牧师,然后是警察局局长。总是成年人先被沦陷……
很多人给的分数很低,我不是很能理解。
故事结局虽在意料之中,但整个片子也并非无聊至极。
从一开始就抛出悬念,这群人为什么变得这么奇怪。到慢慢一点点找到发生了什么事。
有几个很有趣的点不妨深思一下:
1. 只有记忆而没有感情的克隆人,拥有生物的本能但没有智慧。
2. 片子里,首先被沦陷的是牧师,然后是警察局局长。总是成年人先被沦陷……
3. 只要表现得和他们一样,他们就不会发现你
4. 原体先被咬,黑色生物会复制DNA,克隆人一开始就在一个茧里,然后拿走原体的记忆,然后原体死去。
5. 他们会烧掉原体,然后自己代替原体活着
5. 全世界沦陷
所以,其实有某种感觉,我觉得整部片子在暗指现在社会的人,变得麻木,变得一样,变得没有感情。而且这还有种全球化的趋势。想象一下,这不是和我们每天在地铁公交里,看到人们玩手机的时候,不是和沦陷的人一模一样吗?
这个故事还有更多地方开始伸展开来,期待续集。
演技加分,设定加分,主观对男女主的好感加分。男主配音减分,剧情减分,节奏减分。不得不说人类爱上机器人的设定很戳我。但是看这种题材要的就是机器人永远不会爱上人类,而人类独自在情感中挣扎的酸爽感。个人认为星期五的结局不应该是剧里那样,如果设定她会高明地模仿人类的情感,但其实永远也不可能拥有感情会更有看点一点。另外“星期五就是杨善善,杨善善就是星期五”这句话可以挖掘出很多有意思的点,而不仅仅是杨善
演技加分,设定加分,主观对男女主的好感加分。男主配音减分,剧情减分,节奏减分。不得不说人类爱上机器人的设定很戳我。但是看这种题材要的就是机器人永远不会爱上人类,而人类独自在情感中挣扎的酸爽感。个人认为星期五的结局不应该是剧里那样,如果设定她会高明地模仿人类的情感,但其实永远也不可能拥有感情会更有看点一点。另外“星期五就是杨善善,杨善善就是星期五”这句话可以挖掘出很多有意思的点,而不仅仅是杨善善是星期五的原型。其实关于剧中科技的发达先进可以有更多的展示与刻画,可以大胆地想象未来世界。男主和科研团队做情感陪伴型的初衷是随着科技的进步,人类的情感交流减少,人类需要情感,需要温暖。可是在剧中我没有看到任何一个除了男主以外的人有这种需求。星期五出现在街上的那段剧情也略显浮夸,在一个人情淡薄的世界里,路人不会如此在意一个街边偶遇的人。希望可以更加注重背景的刻画。
1.骗贷犯罪题材。环环相扣,颜值加持。
喜欢这种题材,用一点脑子,又不太压抑。
2.剧情。可以设置更多悬念的。主角和张科长的合谋,如果能先抑一下。但是最后20min,从咖啡泼身上的换装开始,好像进入了
3.主角是《未生》里面的男孩。未生里面的主角。第一眼是柔弱的花美男,很少阳刚气。但哭的时候,抿嘴晓笑的时候,有演技的。这部里面更成熟,处理的
1.骗贷犯罪题材。环环相扣,颜值加持。
喜欢这种题材,用一点脑子,又不太压抑。
2.剧情。可以设置更多悬念的。主角和张科长的合谋,如果能先抑一下。但是最后20min,从咖啡泼身上的换装开始,好像进入了
3.主角是《未生》里面的男孩。未生里面的主角。第一眼是柔弱的花美男,很少阳刚气。但哭的时候,抿嘴晓笑的时候,有演技的。这部里面更成熟,处理的比年长的男二更有层次感。男二是大热韩剧的男二,优点是,大眼双眼皮的睫毛精。缺点是,一直在笑,但并不是游刃有余,好吧,跑路时的面无表情没有笑,帅的。男一,天生少年脸,蒙骗时的单纯脸,只认钱的冷漠脸,最后和大流氓对峙时,小得意,大结局。写不出来了,困了。
女二,《请回答1988》里面善宇的妈,这里面竟然有一丢丢的时尚感啊。
4.阿迪达斯冠名的方式很奇特啊里面的大小流氓装钱都用阿迪达斯的纸袋哈哈哈哈哈哈哈这是多少年的执念啊。
看了许多集的熊兔子贝贝,今天终于来写长评了。我也算看了许多少儿动画,熊兔子贝贝却在众多作品中,无疑是最优秀的一部。可以从作品中看到制作团队的用心,不过感受到,前几集制作团队的画面稍微没有后面更加精美,可能制作团队也是在慢慢成长的吧,但是故事很用心。
每一集的时间都不长,但是可以将故事讲清楚,让孩子可以看清楚是个很棒的作品。<
看了许多集的熊兔子贝贝,今天终于来写长评了。我也算看了许多少儿动画,熊兔子贝贝却在众多作品中,无疑是最优秀的一部。可以从作品中看到制作团队的用心,不过感受到,前几集制作团队的画面稍微没有后面更加精美,可能制作团队也是在慢慢成长的吧,但是故事很用心。
每一集的时间都不长,但是可以将故事讲清楚,让孩子可以看清楚是个很棒的作品。
下面说一下我觉得印象比较深刻的几个部分,可能会有一些剧透。
给绵羊阿姨送衣服
一开始妈妈没有办法去送修改的衣服,贝贝和弟弟淘淘决定帮忙,妈妈说明了送衣服的时间,路上二个人孩子却被美食和游戏所吸引,耽误了时间,等到地方的时候服装店关门了。二个孩子互相埋怨彼此,好在绵阳阿姨来了,二个孩子也在阿姨面前承认了错误,在回去的路上,也说明了彼此的埋怨是不对的,开心的回了家。其实就如同剧中的表演,孩子那里有隔夜仇,都会当时就承认批次的错误,而现在有些孩子却会一直坚持自己的错误观点,反正家长不会正确引导,导致孩子长大后会无法认知到自己的错误,当然这也只是少数孩子会如此。不过这集最后看到了熊爸兔妈,哈哈哈,原本还以为他们不会跟着的,这么一看确实不错,想的周到,比较孩子单独出去还是需要家长看护的。
朝夕相处的那个人和朝思暮想的那个人,他们手中都握有我身体的地图,但我想要的,不是城里稳定安逸的灯光,而是空中绚烂骤逝的烟火。
朝夕相处的那个人和朝思暮想的那个人,他们手中都握有我身体的地图,但我想要的,不是城里稳定安逸的灯光,而是空中绚烂骤逝的烟火。
你喜欢吃火锅吗?
喜欢的话那你一定要看下这部纪录片,它色香味俱全,包含满满的人情味。
以前总是不理解火锅有什么好吃的,满大街的串串店,牛肉火锅店,四川火锅,重庆火锅,在我看来麻辣火锅都一个味道,和麻辣烫没有区别。
这部纪录片却从呈现了不同种类不同地域的特色火锅,着实让我打开眼界。朝鲜的无水火锅,台湾的泰山牛肉火锅,云南的菌底火锅,北京的羊肉火锅,还有广州的
你喜欢吃火锅吗?
喜欢的话那你一定要看下这部纪录片,它色香味俱全,包含满满的人情味。
以前总是不理解火锅有什么好吃的,满大街的串串店,牛肉火锅店,四川火锅,重庆火锅,在我看来麻辣火锅都一个味道,和麻辣烫没有区别。
这部纪录片却从呈现了不同种类不同地域的特色火锅,着实让我打开眼界。朝鲜的无水火锅,台湾的泰山牛肉火锅,云南的菌底火锅,北京的羊肉火锅,还有广州的盆菜。只要你想得到的都有,你想不到的也能给你惊喜。
每个火锅都有着它的特点,也有火锅人的故事。就这样,火锅与人,沸腾的汤汁之间,是食客的感情升温,杯酒下肚,舒畅开怀,畅谈人生,也与人生如沸相呼应。
片尾还是挺惊艳的,摇滚火锅,是二手玫瑰的主唱庞龙来的。忽然觉得火锅又多了几分摇滚气息。那种朋克丰,自由奔放不羁的感觉,也体现在火锅中,潇潇洒洒。
所以你喜欢吃火锅吗?能告诉我原因吗!
坚持到25集实在受不了了。演员演技不太可,都挺流于表面的,但是还可以忍受,毕竟比古偶好。秦明与逝者的交流是新设定,我觉得还行,这样可以避免案件结束后的反思或升华过于说教。破案全靠法医这情节也可以忍,但是非得塞感情线就太受不了啦。前面还好,大不了就暗恋线,后面嘿,来一个王警官,行吧,男主怎么可以只有一个人喜欢,感情戏也不多,继续忍呗,类型剧太少没办法啊。后面外甥女出场那里可就太恶心了,硬塞感情
坚持到25集实在受不了了。演员演技不太可,都挺流于表面的,但是还可以忍受,毕竟比古偶好。秦明与逝者的交流是新设定,我觉得还行,这样可以避免案件结束后的反思或升华过于说教。破案全靠法医这情节也可以忍,但是非得塞感情线就太受不了啦。前面还好,大不了就暗恋线,后面嘿,来一个王警官,行吧,男主怎么可以只有一个人喜欢,感情戏也不多,继续忍呗,类型剧太少没办法啊。后面外甥女出场那里可就太恶心了,硬塞感情进度呗。突然队长也喜欢小羽毛了,这前面还真没看出来!四个人感情线,行吧!国产编剧就好这一口我也没办法!尼玛的小羽毛撮合珂老和铃铛是什么迷一般的设定!!!感情戏和非感情戏的角色是两个人设是吧?看到25集,秦明咆哮讨论会“我相信他”不准监视凌阳,队长要求秦明回避,小羽毛冲到办公室对队长一顿输出,哎呀妈呀忍不了了,拳头硬了。秦明冷面讲原则人设崩妈不认,队长无能人设倒是贯彻到底所以这么年轻的刑警队长是因为他有一个好爸爸吗?还有,平时小羽毛无脑硬怼队长我都视为打情骂俏,队长受虐狂嘛,一个愿打一个愿挨呗,但是当着所有同事对上级一顿咆哮,上级注意点还是“在你心中我就是个心胸狭窄之人?”rnm恋爱脑受不了了!这又不是偶像剧!受众是喜欢看破案看故事的!编剧脑壳进水非得加这些shi一般的恋爱情节干嘛!!!热爱恋爱戏去拍脑残剧啊!!!气死我了!
写作文还讲究个主次分明呢。这么大的电视剧,结果主角不像主角的样子,主角写的让人讨厌反感,配角写的讨喜。追到三十多集,越看越心塞,犹如鸡肋,食之无味,弃之可惜。每次看完更新都要被气到半死。大家记住这个剧的导演和编剧,特别是编剧,以后看到赶紧绕道。
记得上次因为配角戏份多被骂的还是《香蜜》,可是人家剧情好啊,结构严谨啊,演员演技在线啊。特别是台词,我居然没找到一个错别字,还有很多平时
写作文还讲究个主次分明呢。这么大的电视剧,结果主角不像主角的样子,主角写的让人讨厌反感,配角写的讨喜。追到三十多集,越看越心塞,犹如鸡肋,食之无味,弃之可惜。每次看完更新都要被气到半死。大家记住这个剧的导演和编剧,特别是编剧,以后看到赶紧绕道。
记得上次因为配角戏份多被骂的还是《香蜜》,可是人家剧情好啊,结构严谨啊,演员演技在线啊。特别是台词,我居然没找到一个错别字,还有很多平时容易读错的台词,在《香蜜》的剧里都是对的。我决定再去三刷《香蜜》了。再见了您嘞!
同样是以老年人的家庭生活为主题,《贤妻》很容易让人想到前两年的《45周年》,跟45周年一致的是,片中的女主都是在家庭生活中隐忍的女性角色,对比之下,男主都显得有些幼稚。这部电影里一个让我印象深刻的情节,是老两口吵架,女主对男主发泄自己一直以来在公众面前伪装自己不写作的积怨,男主无奈质问女主,“那你为什么会嫁给我?”女主强忍泪水,不知所措,只能说“我不知道。”
经过了这么多年为丈夫
同样是以老年人的家庭生活为主题,《贤妻》很容易让人想到前两年的《45周年》,跟45周年一致的是,片中的女主都是在家庭生活中隐忍的女性角色,对比之下,男主都显得有些幼稚。这部电影里一个让我印象深刻的情节,是老两口吵架,女主对男主发泄自己一直以来在公众面前伪装自己不写作的积怨,男主无奈质问女主,“那你为什么会嫁给我?”女主强忍泪水,不知所措,只能说“我不知道。”
经过了这么多年为丈夫代笔,也历经了生活琐碎,女主从来保持着理性得体,充当那个丈夫背后的女人,在这个过程中,她一定早已把自己说服了,说服自己是一个不想出名的人,甚至说服自己写的所有就是丈夫写的,就像丈夫试图说服她的那样,“我们是合作者”。妻子太明白,每个人命运中都会有一个自己注定要扮演的角色,虽然那种不甘心还会隐隐若现,但也不会成为生活的主流。
而她为什么要嫁给男主呢?通过女主的回忆,我们能够体会到,虽然女主有写作的天资,却没有受到社会的青睐,也许因为性别,也许因为立场,然而男主作为她曾经的导师,却是真正发现她的才华并且真正欣赏她、珍惜她才能的人,何况这个男人本身也有魅力,像女主这样的知识女性,爱上他也很正常。这引申出一个问题,就是当我们以旁观者的角度审视一对伴侣的关系时,有时我们会苛责为什么一个比较优秀的女性,会选择一个平庸的男性,这种差异在男女主人公身上也体现了。女性,尤其是知识女性,在社会上所追求的,究竟是什么样的一种权益和内心体验?这个话题在今天的社会中变的更加复杂,然而在女主身上,我们看到的是她为自己所爱的男人放弃了名声,甚至终生说服自己承受这种莫默默无闻,因为她把成就爱人变成了自己的梦想,然而, 她心中不曾忘记,写作,曾经也是她心中的梦想啊!
在诺贝尔文学奖的颁奖礼上,我们能感受到男女主人公,他们的价值观都被撕裂了,男主用尽了最后一丝勇敢,也没说出事情真相,而男主的懦弱是女主不愿看到的,却也许是他们用尽一生来期待的结果。
影片的结局我很喜欢,男主去世后女主带着儿子在回程的飞机上又遇到了意欲爆料的传记作家,如果女主在这时候选择将这一切公之于众,她和丈夫都没有遗憾了,然而,她却淡然对那个野心勃勃的作家说,如果你敢曝光这一切,我会把你告上法庭。礼貌微笑,没有指责与谩骂,留下作家错愕的表情,事与愿违的失落,然而,在这一刻,女主终于将自己说服了:她的丈夫是举世闻名的作家,诺贝尔文学奖获得者,而她是他的妻子,以前是,现在是,以后也是。
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【详细】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.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
我很喜欢「故事」,听别人的故事、演别人的故事、写别人的故事?? 这些都是我从香港演艺学院毕业后一直很努力做的事。忽然一天,我脑海里浮现一个意念:如果有机会,我会怎样编写自己的故事? 就是十年前忽然浮现的这一个念头,让我开始执笔编写一个关于我与自己失明父母之间的故事。
我很喜欢「故事」,听别人的故事、演别人的故事、写别人的故事?? 这些都是我从香港演艺学院毕业后一直很努力做的事。忽然一天,我脑海里浮现一个意念:如果有机会,我会怎样编写自己的故事? 就是十年前忽然浮现的这一个念头,让我开始执笔编写一个关于我与自己失明父母之间的故事。
2018年,喜剧恐怖电影《织物 | In Fabric》
?? 喜剧分类? 我有没有看错,这个应该是在魔性分类里。
好吧,好吧 还真是有点欣赏不来,最近接连看了几部不明所以的电影,让我有点难受。
抛开那种对于消费的魔化,电影的配乐和感
2018年,喜剧恐怖电影《织物 | In Fabric》
?? 喜剧分类? 我有没有看错,这个应该是在魔性分类里。
好吧,好吧 还真是有点欣赏不来,最近接连看了几部不明所以的电影,让我有点难受。
抛开那种对于消费的魔化,电影的配乐和感觉颇有70年代欧美电影的感觉,甚至和当时的一些魔性作品有些类似,不排除致敬的方面。
------涉及剧透了--------------
幽默的方式也是接受不了。衣服杀人还是有些牵强和搞笑,恐怖的点只能说往魔性那边靠,剧情上并没有什么特点,也没有什么前因后果,反正穿上就倒霉,倒霉到死掉。。我算不算剧透了。。。
果然是欣赏不来,就连短评的评论都感觉如此的高深。。真是甘拜下风。
有点怀念的燃气热水器。。
----------我是导购的分界线-------------------
推荐指数:★★(4/10分),欣赏不来,欣赏不来。
编剧完全靠胡编乱造出来的投资公司人物形象,做的事乱七八糟,和各种行业都搭那么一点边,不懂装懂,糊弄国内非金融圈的观众,唉,还说男主演技好,都瞎眼了吧,公司里那些大老爷们做人真有劲,都敢明目张胆用下三滥手段对付同事,对付女新人,真是绝了,恰好说明编剧太能想象了,编剧能不能真正去私募投资公司体验体验真实的投资人的工作环境呢
编剧完全靠胡编乱造出来的投资公司人物形象,做的事乱七八糟,和各种行业都搭那么一点边,不懂装懂,糊弄国内非金融圈的观众,唉,还说男主演技好,都瞎眼了吧,公司里那些大老爷们做人真有劲,都敢明目张胆用下三滥手段对付同事,对付女新人,真是绝了,恰好说明编剧太能想象了,编剧能不能真正去私募投资公司体验体验真实的投资人的工作环境呢
从参演到现在不觉已时隔两年了,两年时间做了很多事情,回想起来也是在不断找到自己的路上。
很奇怪观影时不可抑制的发笑,看完却沉默良久。很佩服导演的勇气,拿着两页纸的大纲就敢踏上拍摄的路程,其中苦乐也只有参与者能品味。拍摄过程中很多时候还是不懂为什么要这样安排,而今两年过去看到片子很有共鸣。
陆文博逃避着家庭带来的控制最后终于有勇气面对父亲说出自己的看法,也才明白父亲的感
从参演到现在不觉已时隔两年了,两年时间做了很多事情,回想起来也是在不断找到自己的路上。
很奇怪观影时不可抑制的发笑,看完却沉默良久。很佩服导演的勇气,拿着两页纸的大纲就敢踏上拍摄的路程,其中苦乐也只有参与者能品味。拍摄过程中很多时候还是不懂为什么要这样安排,而今两年过去看到片子很有共鸣。
陆文博逃避着家庭带来的控制最后终于有勇气面对父亲说出自己的看法,也才明白父亲的感受和想法。高飞沉溺在股票市场和金钱当中,历经风雨也深刻体会什么是友谊,什么是两肋插刀。耿汉一直掩饰着自己的失误甚至祸水它处引,最后也有了担当。佩佩作为监视保护陆文博的存在,戏剧性的进入到几个人的生活当中,慢慢发现任何事情都不能先入为主。在几个“流亡”大学生身上认识到了自己。很有意思的一个过程。
导演虽说不是中国人,却抓到了现如今中国九零后的孩子们初出茅庐时和家长之间最突出的矛盾,一方想要自由飞翔一方拼命想为对方遮风挡雨,毕竟在爸爸妈妈眼里我们一直都是小孩子。我想最让我动容的是陆文博对父亲说:您不让我去摔跤,我如何才能长大。
我是空知英秋银魂忠实粉丝,看了真人二的剧照,和故事选材,对真人版电影本来挺期待,看了之后还是有和第一部一样的毛病,其中最受不了的就是瞎改剧情,还改的一点不合理的,破坏了原著的流畅感,非得在真选组动乱篇加将军夜店,后面衔接迎接伊东就让人感觉很跳,硬塞个和剧情无关的理发篇完全把剧情割断了啊,后面还让河上万齐去刺杀将军银时再跑去保护,就为了给将军个热度把主角当龙套使啊,导致原作银时为了抓紧时间保护
我是空知英秋银魂忠实粉丝,看了真人二的剧照,和故事选材,对真人版电影本来挺期待,看了之后还是有和第一部一样的毛病,其中最受不了的就是瞎改剧情,还改的一点不合理的,破坏了原著的流畅感,非得在真选组动乱篇加将军夜店,后面衔接迎接伊东就让人感觉很跳,硬塞个和剧情无关的理发篇完全把剧情割断了啊,后面还让河上万齐去刺杀将军银时再跑去保护,就为了给将军个热度把主角当龙套使啊,导致原作银时为了抓紧时间保护神新八用身体拉断钢线的情节变得不合理不感人了,主线剧情完全被搞得乱七八糟了!细节更别提了,桂竟然在将军和警察局长面前唱攘夷rap,后面还去帮真选组打鬼兵队的飞机,我真有点想骂编剧看没看过原著带没带脑子!还有很多细节处理不好的也不想说了,福田雄一拍真人版本身是给银魂带来很多关注度吸引新粉路人粉的一件好事,但真心希望好好用心拍,不要只靠堆积搞笑梗和颜艺来低级逗笑,把空知老师忍着鼻孔拔西瓜的痛苦编的精妙故事好好讲好!让原作粉能不感受到毁原作的痛苦!最后希望银魂相关的事都能越办越好!
《白雪公主杀人事件》,一个标准的日式推理故事片名。果不其然,影片内容也是直奔主题,开头就用极剧视觉和心理冲击力的黑暗又凄美的"白雪公主之死"场景预示着这又是一场对人性与真相的残酷拷问和艰难求索,而从第一刻开始就贯穿屏幕始终的社交网络信息的可视化表现手法,也揭示了本片的另一个主题:三人成虎现象在互联网时代是如何进化成网络暴力和信息过度消费的。有一种人格分类方法,将人分为内向
《白雪公主杀人事件》,一个标准的日式推理故事片名。果不其然,影片内容也是直奔主题,开头就用极剧视觉和心理冲击力的黑暗又凄美的"白雪公主之死"场景预示着这又是一场对人性与真相的残酷拷问和艰难求索,而从第一刻开始就贯穿屏幕始终的社交网络信息的可视化表现手法,也揭示了本片的另一个主题:三人成虎现象在互联网时代是如何进化成网络暴力和信息过度消费的。有一种人格分类方法,将人分为内向型人格和外向型人格。首先想说的是,这是两种没有优劣之分的平等人格类型。区分二者的方法是获得精力的方法,而不只是人际交往的风格。内向者需要通过在相对平静安定的环境中做自己喜欢的事情来恢复精力,他们的精力是向内求取的,而外向者喜欢通过与人交往来获取精力,他们的精力是向外求取的。这里说的精力,其实很大程度上是心理情感层面的需求,具体地来说是一种满足感与愉悦感。因此,内向者并不是世俗眼光中所谓的性格孤僻甚至人格缺陷,它与心理障碍和反社会是两码事。扯得有些远。之所以要在此班门弄斧地科普一番,并非装腔作势,而是因为这对于理解片中多位女主人公至关重要。先说城野美姬和她的好姐妹谷村夕子,两人都是典型的内向型人格,性格恬静温婉,喜欢在一起看书、幻想、琢磨一些特别的事情,玩用蜡烛发电报的游戏。内向型人格本来是没有什么问题的,而他们却有个要命的缺陷,就是不习惯以直接的方式抒发情感和表达观点。这在群居的人类的潜意识里,简直是反物种的存在,加之人类社会中,外向者出色的表达和交际能力使他们总是处于优势地位,于是常年由外向者主导话语权的社会意识倾向于把内向者与心理障碍和人格缺陷联系起来。美姬和夕子由于文静低调,容易给人留下不太合群的印象,而群体中总有过于活跃的人热衷于窥探甚至粗暴地闯入内向者的内心,加之不明真相的围观群众的泼水撒盐,冷嘲热讽,使得她们产生一种与全世界为敌的孤独和悲壮感,更加抗拒与外界交流。这可以在她俩互相安慰时爱说的那句:"即使要与全世界为敌,我也是你的好伙伴"中得到印证。其实又哪有那么严重呢,大部分人也就抱着猎奇的心态来凑凑热闹,而在当事人心中却分量千钧。于是从这时开始,内向者开始出现了分化,我将这其中仍然我行我素不为所困的一部分人叫做典型性内向者,内向型的人格使他们拥有超于常人的专注力和思考能力,他们能专注于自己的智慧与热情所在的领域,并往往取得伟大成就,人类历史上的大思想家和大科学家往往在早年有被视作异类的经历。而其中情感和心理受到创伤的另一部分人我称之为非典型性内向者。后者败就败在内向得不够彻底,没能像一个真正的内向者一样不为外界纷扰乱了阵脚,而是在外部与内部世界犹疑徘徊,开始怀疑自己是否真的有人格缺陷,又难以忍受身居群体中的不自在,当内外部的冲突在他们的内心愈演愈烈时,他们就患上了神经症。这是有据可依的,弗洛姆在他的《逃避自由》一书中就阐述了这种外部环境与内在世界的冲突产生神经症的理论,他甚至将这种原理上升到由于社会飞速发展所带来的时代病问题的分析中,这证明人或多或少会有些神经症,因为人的内外差异是永远无法彻底抹平的。不小心又扯远了。片中美姬和夕子在与人交往中都有着神经症的表现,对外界环境极为敏感,夕子还有赤面恐惧(神经症的一种),这很大程度上是有着高度群体性的社会环境强行施加给她们的,这进一步阻碍了她们的社交能力,使得一个成天呆在家里打游戏,一个在公司上班处处自卑甚至有被害妄想,总觉得身边那个优秀的"白雪公主"三木典子要把她逼到绝路。按照这样的成长路径,美姬在万众瞩目下成为杀人女魔,似乎比较符合社会常识,然而剧情出现了大反转,毕竟作为推理悬疑片,悬念和转折少不了。这让人们意识到,患上心理障碍,还只是内向者第二失败的转型,更坏的结果,就是发展成为反社会人格。这决不是把内向与反社会人格直接挂钩,它只是内向型人格在极端的外部环境下容易陷入的一种危险境地。我们无从得知在此之前凶手到底经历过什么,但通过对前两位主人公的儿时经历的描写,观众大多也能往更坏的方向自行想象,这是限于影片类型与篇幅没法完整交代的部分。本片的另一主题,就是通过网络暴力与信息过度消费问题来集中展现的社会环境对个体人格的影响。美姬从小就受到包括老师在内的人对她施加的校园冷暴力,长大在公司也受到类似待遇,由于不够漂亮精明,总是只能默默奉献成就他人,在"白雪公主"面前衬托她的光彩。甚至在被怀疑为凶手时也遭到从网民到媒体的肆意揣测与口诛笔伐,专家记者站在道德与智慧的高地对他们眼中的弱势群体进行种种简单粗暴的分析,以为杀人犯就是按照他们的分析套路产生的,而缺乏对人性的全面认知与基本尊重;各路网民也纷纷充当神探,按照自己那点有限的认知也要对案件评头论足一番,殊不知是被传媒牵着鼻子走。他们共同自导自演了一场网络暴力与全民狂欢,却给当事者留下了难以磨灭的伤害。而等到真相水落石出,舆论制造者便涌向立场的另一边早早地占个位子,等着再次享受身在群体中的良好感觉。片尾那段网民对爆料记者纷纷倒戈进行的谩骂,无疑是对这场网络暴力的绝佳讽刺,在这个时代,人人都有可能成为其牺牲品。比起由特定事件在特定时间行成的舆论场,现实生活中由人与人组成的社会环境对个体的影响更为长久和深远的。光是外向者与内向者的差异,就使得他们的相处需要不少的磨合,更不用说由各种先天禀赋和后天环境差异造成的隔阂,这些都是摩擦与冲突的导火索。而在这场无法避免的"人格战争"中,内向者又是特别容易吃亏的类型,虽然他们的专注力使他们拥有更强的思维和实践能力,但人际交往方面的低兴趣使得他们在公众面前大多不起眼。相比之下,外向者往往雷厉风行且自我感觉良好,殊不知这些行为在内向者眼中就是处处强势,急功近利,都是内向者所不擅长与不齿的。于是人格本身的差异加上相处过程中形成的隔阂,人们心理的不平衡愈发严重,外向者有许多途径可以发泄这种压力,而内向者,特别是不够坚定的内向者,就只能试图强迫自己融入群体,或是彻底地与群体为敌。可以说,内向者在很多方面,特别是高思维水平领域拥有着外向者难以企及的优势,而他们的弱势使得他们中的一部分在与社会环境的摩擦中陷入自我贬低甚至走向极端的风险远大于外向者。在这个意义上,可以说,内向型人格者是天使恶魔一线间,全看如何驾驭和引导自己的超人禀赋。影片总体来说是一部出色的推理悬疑片,出彩的情节和深刻的人性刻画主要归功于以优秀的原著为剧本。而单就影片拍摄来说,只能算是中规中矩。两段明显多余的新闻片段重复叙述,使得影片中段节奏较为拖沓,而真相揭示的高潮部分又显得有些仓促,这是叙事节奏的问题。而对叙事手法的灵活运用倒是将影片的温情、伦理和悬疑色彩整合得很好。演员方面,井上真央不惜形象的卖力出演最让我刮目相看,惊叹于她在偶像魅力之下的精湛演技。尽管影片最后将故事引向了较为积极的方向,然而可见,人与人的隔阂还是永恒存在的,群氓依旧是看热闹不嫌事儿大的,出来混迟早是要还的,所以还是俗话说得好啊:万事留一线,日后好相见。
看到网友总结:
男主和男主弟弟为了国家炼金术师考试借住在一个炼金术师的家里,和他的女儿妮娜成为了朋友。
三个人相处得很融洽很愉快,男主也顺顺利利地考上了国家炼金术师。
因为这种国家级考试肯定是一个萝卜一个坑(虽然我到现在也没看出来这点),考上就
看到网友总结:
男主和男主弟弟为了国家炼金术师考试借住在一个炼金术师的家里,和他的女儿妮娜成为了朋友。
三个人相处得很融洽很愉快,男主也顺顺利利地考上了国家炼金术师。
因为这种国家级考试肯定是一个萝卜一个坑(虽然我到现在也没看出来这点),考上就整的还挺光荣,然后男主就给自己的青梅竹马写信吹嘘自己是怎么在半空中用拍立得变出了个大花圈。
小姑娘妮娜在旁边看到了就说要给妈妈写一封信,然后带出了妮娜妈妈两年前离开了这个家的事情。
但是妮娜还是非常想念妈妈的 ,所以趴在地上画得很认真。这个时候炼金术师妮娜爸爸走进来,说妮娜妈妈是因为他太穷了所以才跟别人跑了的,然后就把妮娜抱去睡觉。
然后第二天早上,男主在烟灰缸里看到妮娜画得很精美的信被烧成灰了。
男主这个时候开始觉得事情有点不对劲了。
妮娜爸爸的上司跑到他家里来督促他赶快进行新一轮的合成兽开发(也就是所谓的生物炼金术,这个是在本作里被严格禁止的),要不然他这前年带着合成兽考上炼金术师,去年kpi不达标,今年如果再不行就该滚回家吃自己的了。
末了,上司顺手把男主赶了出去,让妮娜爸爸专心研究。
男主越想越觉得不对劲,在查了资料+走访了人民群众之后,又偷偷潜回了妮娜的家。妮娜爸爸并不意外,甚至骄傲地向他们展示了自己最新的合成兽。
就是妮娜和妮娜原来养的狗狗合成的。
而且两年前之所以妮娜爸爸能考上炼金术师,也是因为把他老婆做成了合成兽。
所以从始至终都没有什么老婆跟人跑了的事,就是一个丧心病狂的炼金术师对自己的妻女敲骨吸髓的故事。
谢谢,我真的有被恶心到。