本片大部分场景拍摄于克利夫兰,笔者作为一个在克利夫兰生活了一年半并且经常开车晃悠的人,观影过程中不时能发现眼熟的地方,在此稍微记录一下。欢迎各位友邻补充!
实景截图来自Google Map.
本片大部分场景拍摄于克利夫兰,笔者作为一个在克利夫兰生活了一年半并且经常开车晃悠的人,观影过程中不时能发现眼熟的地方,在此稍微记录一下。欢迎各位友邻补充!
实景截图来自Google Map.
我最喜欢看的是恐怖片,因为会让人肾上腺飙升,画面也能抢人眼球。所以一开始看到这个片子,我做好了睡觉的打算。但是我居然从这部简单的电影里面看到了一些亮点,比如简单,纯粹,欢快,温暖。那句话怎么说的?大鱼大肉吃多了,偶尔吃吃清粥小菜也会很好。
导演把我心中的内蒙拍出了另外一种感觉,就像是在绿色的大草原上面看到一片小花(很小很小)
我最喜欢看的是恐怖片,因为会让人肾上腺飙升,画面也能抢人眼球。所以一开始看到这个片子,我做好了睡觉的打算。但是我居然从这部简单的电影里面看到了一些亮点,比如简单,纯粹,欢快,温暖。那句话怎么说的?大鱼大肉吃多了,偶尔吃吃清粥小菜也会很好。
导演把我心中的内蒙拍出了另外一种感觉,就像是在绿色的大草原上面看到一片小花(很小很小)的那种感觉,会有淡淡的惊喜在里面。旁边有个人说电影有些地方要拍得更细一点,不过我觉得如果这样时间上可能会有点把控不住,除非导演舍弃其中一些情节。就现在来看,导演应该传递出了自己想要表达的每个观点。
故事非常简单,就是一个小伙子和一个蒙古妹子谈恋爱和开超市的故事。之所以愿意给五分,首先是因为配乐,其次是感觉。挺干净有时候会给人一点可爱的感觉。内蒙的天空好蓝呀,感觉去那里后每一口呼吸都会是纯净的,眼睛也会受到洗涤,再配上简单的剧情,不需要紧张接下来的剧情,也不需要接受那种大喜大悲的感情,还是觉得挺美好的。
对万合这部算比较大的制作期待值比较高,所以挺失望,有脑洞有创意有万合特点,剧本框架和设定不错,但没有玩好,跟之前几部剧有同样毛病,而且玩的有点低幼像给小朋友看的。造型不伦不类不好看减分,特效和动作刚看起来比起同期同类型作品还算不错,但到了后面水准下降,40集的剧本硬要拍成五十多集是最大的败笔,万合居然也学了拖戏注水的毛病,这点最让人失望。白客依旧搞笑,但缺个捧哏,张亮不擅长搞笑捧不起来,几个
对万合这部算比较大的制作期待值比较高,所以挺失望,有脑洞有创意有万合特点,剧本框架和设定不错,但没有玩好,跟之前几部剧有同样毛病,而且玩的有点低幼像给小朋友看的。造型不伦不类不好看减分,特效和动作刚看起来比起同期同类型作品还算不错,但到了后面水准下降,40集的剧本硬要拍成五十多集是最大的败笔,万合居然也学了拖戏注水的毛病,这点最让人失望。白客依旧搞笑,但缺个捧哏,张亮不擅长搞笑捧不起来,几个小弟也不行,只有公主还有些效果,还是需要有个孔连顺这样的角色,包大人倒是有不少笑点不过跟白客的角色不在一条线上。女主是复杂的人设苍白的刻画,陈都灵演技还嫩也无法给苍白角色添色比较花瓶。另外两个女性角色倒是稍微丰满些。道具挺用心,服装化妆浮夸不伦不类还不好看,质感也差有种景点里租来拍照的衣服的感觉非常减分。最后强行用设定把女主写死,煽情太刻意,逻辑问题也比较多,想煽情首先得减少逻辑问题才能让人入戏,要么就别煽情得那么用力过猛,减少一下苦情戏篇幅。三星支持原创和创意,如果不是注水其实可以加一星鼓励,还是希望能看到更多万合的创意作品。
看到短评居然很多人说男主脑残校长对,哇我真的气到了。
直接从结尾写起,还没有看完剧的不要往下看了。
故事的结尾,男主paeng和wave的计划失败了,paeng被校长抓住,校长问了所有特长班的学生一个问题:如果消除你的异能变回普通人,我就会实现一个平等的校园环境
看到短评居然很多人说男主脑残校长对,哇我真的气到了。
直接从结尾写起,还没有看完剧的不要往下看了。
故事的结尾,男主paeng和wave的计划失败了,paeng被校长抓住,校长问了所有特长班的学生一个问题:如果消除你的异能变回普通人,我就会实现一个平等的校园环境,你们有谁愿意吗?没有一个特长生站出来。bom老师在校长的控制下消除了paeng的记忆,男主又变回了普通的八班生。在第二学期的某一天,男主在特长生的提示下看到了之前的录像恢复了记忆,推开特长班的大门,发现班上的所有人都在等待着他和大家并肩战斗。
其实说白了就是一个平权的问题。小到优等生与差等生,天才和普通人,甚至脑洞到如x战警一般的变异人和没有进化的麻瓜。这个问题其实可以分很多角度去解答。
一】其他特长生-既得利益者
其实在校长没有提出消除个人异能的前提之前,同学们都是没有太大意见的,能看到ohm站出来。至于校长附加的条件,首先我就认为是校长一看大家有所动摇马上追加的无赖条款,其次公平的校园环境和异能之间没有直接关系。何况异能是天赋,不是校长赋予孩子们的,学生们不必在两者之间二选一。并且大家都还不知道校长拿普通人做实验做到脑瘫,把他死伪造成自杀,如果知道了这些内幕,我相信他们会毫不犹豫的同意。
其他特长生为什么没站出来,后来又为什么愿意和男主一起并肩作战?
这世界上有一种情绪:恐惧。并不是身为超能力者的他们就真的无所畏惧,普通人怕他们,他们也怕普通人。当校长提出苛刻的交换条件时,十多岁的少年如他们是懵的,他们也害怕被人知道了自己的特殊。何况当场站出来校长就会真的履行所说的吗,根本不会,只会落得和男主一样被消除记忆的下场。
特长生身为既得利益者,犹豫是肯定有的,但不代表他们会因为现在的特权而罔顾普通人的平等。相反,正是因为他们有这种天赋,天赋给他们更宽阔的心胸眼界去追求他们认为对的事情。
二】校长和官员-统治者
我是真的不懂为什么会有人站在校长那一边,不管你预设自己是特长生还是普通人。
因为不管你是特长生还是普通人,在校长的眼里只有一个身份:工具。他栽培特长生难道是为了特长生个人的德智体美全面发展吗?最终目的只有一个,就是为他所用。
校长是聪明的,他不会直接和特长生们说,你们必须要听我的按我说的做。他先给这些人一个好听的称号:特长生;然后给他们能彰显他们身份的象征:班徽;又给他们一些能让他们感受到自己与众不同但没啥决定性作用的小权利:早吃午饭,可以打扮染发等等。然后你就会发现,明明是他制定的阶级壁垒,矛盾却只在普通人和特长生之间产生,从没有人向他开炮。在这种潜移默化之下,普通人认为校长和特长生是一伙的,特长生也糊里糊涂的被普罗大众的恶意推到校长一边。如果这时候再没有一颗清醒的头脑,那就真的只有校长指哪打哪的特长生和校长用完就扔的普通人了。
三】男主-既得利益者兼改革者
在男主这种从八班生逆风翻盘到特长生的经历里,男主追求的不仅是天赋与平庸之间的矛盾调和,他追求的平等其实是去打破校长阶级化的教育制度,是捍卫普通学生的生命是和特长生一样珍贵。
我看短评里有人觉得男主站在高人一等的位置去思考问题不切实际,说白了就是怀疑既得利益者可不可能成为改革者。大家有质疑的可以看下这篇文章里举的一些例子——《理念的力量》:既得利益者能否成为改革者?启蒙运动、废除黑奴运动等等,细的我就不具体说了。
校长说男主是空想主义,可我觉得只是理想主义。人是可以为了理想振臂高呼的。
男主追求的平等无外乎三部分:天赋平权,教育平权,生命平权。天赋平权确实有点过于美好,天赋与平庸之间的矛盾不是把一切秘密开诚布公就可以调和的。但是教育平权和生命平权是应当的,即使它们永远无法达到真正的平等,我们也应该一直争取。
教育平权。剧一开始就说了,这个学校哪怕除开特长班以外,也有一套阶级制度。一班先吃饭,可以挑舍友,被老师宠爱;八班吃残羹剩饭,被老师鄙夷,被其他同学瞧不起。总之就是,成绩决定一切。每个学生都不是人了,是一个分数而已,分数高就被善待,分数低就被蔑视,没人关心你的情绪价值、心理健康。这样的阶级制度看似是正常的竞争机制,实则是一种懒政,更是对心智未成熟的少年的一种可怕的心理暗示。在这套教育制度里,忽略了一个重要的角色,教育者,而把一切压力都推给了受教育者。且这套体系更是隐隐的向学生们灌输一种可怕的观念,你的一切个人特质不重要,你不是你,你只是一个分数。这套体系下的“教育”,只是让人得到更高分数的打怪攻略。
生命平权。这没有什么好讨论的。
四】我们-吃瓜群众
关于异能嘛...其实挺魔幻,但也没有魔幻的那么遥远。现在的基因编辑婴儿就很魔幻现实主义,这个实验毋庸置疑僭越了底线,但这件事像一棵树生长出很多枝桠:有钱人是不是能改造后代基因为所欲为、婴儿会不会基因突变变成x战警、要不要把婴儿安乐死......其实这些猜想正好印证了一种情绪:恐惧,就像特长生和普通学生之间的那种相互的恐惧。可是即使在这种情绪之下,我们去看这些猜想下的评论,也有在恐惧中保持着善良的人,也有仍然在追求生命的平等的人。我和很多人一样并不信人性本善,但我相信世界一定存在善良,而且存在很多很多的善良。
追求公平这个事儿其实挺有意思,就是其实我们都知道世界不可能完全公平,但是我们永远会为了争取公平而振臂高呼。跟“完美”一个意思,总有人追求完美,其实这些人也知道不存在完美。没有完全公平,有相对公平,有“比以前公平一点”。从以前的黑人运动,到现在的同性婚姻提案,等等很多很多,一直在路上,一直在慢慢推进,他们还没达到终点,有些事儿可能永远也达不到终点,可是这些都是非常有意义的。
当一部电视剧,无时无刻宣传它的美术设计如何到位,色彩调性如何追求极致,摄影构图如何讲究黄金比例。服装如何吻合朝代,场景如何还原历史。
这部电视剧可看的,也许真的只有这些了。
国内电视剧最恐怖的是,把真正需要打磨的,比如剧本的打磨,演员演技的打磨完全忽视。这是十分恐怖的事情。
虽然说摄影灯光服饰美术等等都很重要。但是,人物的出场,性格的塑造,矛盾冲突的合理,
当一部电视剧,无时无刻宣传它的美术设计如何到位,色彩调性如何追求极致,摄影构图如何讲究黄金比例。服装如何吻合朝代,场景如何还原历史。
这部电视剧可看的,也许真的只有这些了。
国内电视剧最恐怖的是,把真正需要打磨的,比如剧本的打磨,演员演技的打磨完全忽视。这是十分恐怖的事情。
虽然说摄影灯光服饰美术等等都很重要。但是,人物的出场,性格的塑造,矛盾冲突的合理,剧情的延展和深入都一锅粥的话,这样的飘在皮面上的美有什么意义呢?
电影看起来很荒诞 吃救济粮的村子 保长把自己的女儿嫁给县长的傻儿子以求粮食和金钱 因谐音礼义廉耻堂和李忆莲祠堂造成了把活生生的人烧/死的惨剧 保长和族长都是贪财敛财之人 为了钱拆散了一对勇于追求新生活的新人 救济粮接收后存储在仓库再贩卖 军棉也贩卖 镜头一直捕捉每个人的穿着 都露着棉花 打着补丁 占人房产 而这样荒诞的行径却是在全村人的眼下进行的 村民冷眼
电影看起来很荒诞 吃救济粮的村子 保长把自己的女儿嫁给县长的傻儿子以求粮食和金钱 因谐音礼义廉耻堂和李忆莲祠堂造成了把活生生的人烧/死的惨剧 保长和族长都是贪财敛财之人 为了钱拆散了一对勇于追求新生活的新人 救济粮接收后存储在仓库再贩卖 军棉也贩卖 镜头一直捕捉每个人的穿着 都露着棉花 打着补丁 占人房产 而这样荒诞的行径却是在全村人的眼下进行的 村民冷眼旁观 甚至打趣 参与 实在荒唐 荒诞
终于把【阳光之下】这部剧看完了,这一个月来好像自己一直都没有把这部作品放下过,清醒的时候,睡着的时候,都会有一个声音在我心底存在。每到这时,我心里就觉得能写出这样小说的人,该有多幸福。看着自己一字一字敲下的文字被无数人在深夜阅读,在深夜思考或悲伤或欣喜,所有情绪都被这些文字牵引着。此刻,我觉得能参与这部剧的创作的人也好幸福,全身心成为另一个人,穿他穿的衣服,说他说的话,感受他的灵魂,走完他的
终于把【阳光之下】这部剧看完了,这一个月来好像自己一直都没有把这部作品放下过,清醒的时候,睡着的时候,都会有一个声音在我心底存在。每到这时,我心里就觉得能写出这样小说的人,该有多幸福。看着自己一字一字敲下的文字被无数人在深夜阅读,在深夜思考或悲伤或欣喜,所有情绪都被这些文字牵引着。此刻,我觉得能参与这部剧的创作的人也好幸福,全身心成为另一个人,穿他穿的衣服,说他说的话,感受他的灵魂,走完他的一生历尽他的劫数。历时几个月的成果,虽然辛苦但是遇到它的每个人都在认真对待这部作品,不管是好的声音还是不好的声音,都是对这部作品的关注和喜爱。因为世界太快,有人热衷享乐有人忙于事业,遇见这部作品并全身心投入去欣赏它,这何尝不是一种缘分。我自己是有这样一个习惯,遇到非常钟爱的作品时,就会在深夜一个人把它看完,然后记下自己内心在当下的所有感受。所以,这些文字,都是我自己对这部作品的喜爱和理解。如果某个角落里的你,也看到了这篇文章,并且很喜欢,那我会非常开心。如果不喜欢,也不要紧。某一天微博热搜上出现掌中之物这四个字,我愣了一下但没点进去看,后来接着几天掌中之物这四个字又赫然出现了。这几个字眼太特别了,我实在忍不住就点进去看,才知道原来这是一部小说。已经翻拍成电视剧了,里面是书粉和剧粉对它的讨论,我粗略看完,被它的题材和剧情吸引到了。因为这是我未曾看过的小说题材,文章扉页上的简介太吸引人了,一个心狠手辣的男人,一个不屈不挠的灵魂。我实在太好奇,就去找了这本书的小说资源,开始一章一章看,这中间所有的情绪现在想来已经不是很确切了。但好像从遇见它开始,自己就一直在熬夜,每到深夜,总是忍不住再细细品读一下,生怕自己错过哪一个情节哪一句对白,就漏掉了小说人物的情感。后来,在殷殷期待中,剧终于开播了,掌中女孩们终于等到了,真的好开心。我就这样一集一集地期待着一集一集地看着,看到今天看到此刻终于完结。内心五味杂陈就用这些文字来当做对它的告别。因为看过小说 所以还是想用何妍和傅慎行沈知节来称呼他们 希望大家不要介意可能会有一些小说中的情节 也希望大家不要介意我想先谈谈沈知节。第一次见他是在夜晚,一个亡命天涯的街头小混混,对于何妍的求救他一脸冷漠,那一刻就知道他根本没有觉得欺辱一个女孩是什么不正常的事情或者说是什么他不能做的事情。他默许自己的手下凌辱了这个对他根本无害的女孩,只是他没有料到这不是一个普通的女子也没想到自己会栽在这样一个看似柔弱的女子手里。他受了重伤被警察追捕最后坠崖,这一切看起来都是顺理成章的结局。但戏剧艺术的真正魅力就是它的不可预料之处。七个月后,他再次归来从一个已经被宣判为死刑的匪徒变成坐拥千亿身家的傅氏总裁。重获新生之后原本可以选择重新活过。从社会底层爬到金字塔的顶端这不是他一直想要的吗,可他不会安稳地开始新的人生,因为他是沈知节,他的世界里只有背叛报复仇恨这些阴冷的字眼 因为他一直都是这么活过来的,他无法接受自己毁于一个女人手里。 于是他重回何妍的世界对她展开了疯狂的报复他也不屑于在她面前坦露真实的自己,告知自己的身份让她恐惧害怕以及顺从屈服。何谓疯狂的报复呢,把光洁的她一步步扯入他的地狱之中。他是眦睚必报的人也是极其聪明冷静的人 ,他知道对于这样一个女人,折磨她最好的方式就是让她一步步走入自己的世界之中 经历那些她从未见过的冷血与狠厉没有什么再比这样的伤害更能让人痛不欲生了。他的确得逞了,面对他的威胁 他的逼迫她都没有反抗相反她就一直咬牙坚持着。他原本以为她会先疯掉却没想到这是一个如此坚韧的女孩她不求饶也不反抗。只有一个信念就是要保护自己的家人让他们都好好活下去 。两人就在这样的游戏中一步步靠近彼此 她越来越熟悉他他的性格他的脾性他的残忍他越来越在意她 连自己都难以置信自己竟然也会在意别人 后来他爱得彻骨又卑微不惜把自己的命也给了她。可直到生命最后一刻 他仍然没有得到她的爱情沈知节,他这一生,无父无母,无依无靠,整夜行走在黑夜之中,战战兢兢如履薄冰,生怕行差踏错一步,朝夕殒命。除了没有一个良好的出身和优质的教育其实他的人生并没有那么不堪,或者说倘若他有像梁远泽那样的出身和教育 或许他会成为一个更好的人 也能干干净净地站在何妍面前说一句你好。 当然我知道一定会有人说 这世上比他更惨的人还有好多他们都没有像他一样作恶多端 譬如小武就是一个最好的例子 当然这点我也很清楚 他的原生家庭他的成长环境都不是他草菅人命滥杀无辜的借口和理由 只是我们必须明白造物主创造出的灵魂千奇百怪各有特色 除了那些温暖美好的灵魂 人性中的阴暗面我们一样需要去探索去了解这世界也许正因为这数不清的特质才如此迷人他从未遇见过像何妍这样的女孩冷静聪明机智勇敢 他在她身上像看到了另一个自己 可她就像太阳一样耀眼而自己就只能一直活在黑暗中苟且 她有清白的出身良好的教育受人尊敬的职业忠贞的爱人和疼爱她的父母。她这样的人如果不是因为那次该死的偶然 怎会闯进他的世界 他在报复的过程中一步步慌乱他臣服于她的勇敢坚强 她像另一个自己 美好得不像话 他一生中第一次遇见一个这么懂他的人 能够看穿他的冷漠与脆弱 他要紧紧和她靠在一起 汲取着养分憧憬着光明 好让自己不再那么流浪亡命之徒最忌温情,可他就是这么爱上了她,寻不到理由找不到根源他爱上了她可是他生平第一次碰到这类情况他手足无措 他只会禁锢掌控她把她留在身边宁愿看着她一天天枯萎也不愿放她离开他以为这就是爱他只能想到这样的方式去表达他的爱情 其实没有错 谁不想和自己爱的人相守在一起 可是他错过太多了 二十年的时光他全部错过了 何妍的人生里面是从未有他这样的人的存在可能的 他不懂她为什么读一本《乱世佳人》会流泪 他不懂她为什么喜欢堂·吉诃德他不懂她的世界她的三观他全部不懂可他又极其聪明他知道她不过是虚与委蛇罢了 她并未动心也没有喜欢上他 她只是惧怕只是想逃离 只是想利用他的爱放过她 这些 他全都知道 可是爱情是没有理智可言的在爱情这场博弈里面 他先动了心她便占得先机他迷恋她的身体想通过身体的亲近来赢得她的心他们赤裸相对日夜厮磨地度过一天又一天他会把手自然地搭在她的腰间她会对他嗔恨地撒娇恍若热恋中的情侣日日夜夜 情根深种每当看着那些美好片段时候我会觉得沈知节应该是满足的 对于他曾经拥有过的那些欢愉那些爱意那个有温度的自己那个会卸下心防的自己 他是满足且幸福的 拥有了那些时光那些记忆 已经能让他在面对死亡时少很多遗憾 多一份从容与解脱因为 与得到本身相比 曾经拥有过已经非常美好且值得了。他有重新来过的机会他遇到了自己爱的人 有了自己的孩子 那些小时候未曾得到过的幸福时刻 不论真假 他在何妍身上都领悟到了 想到这里 我为他感到高兴。我也会想他为什么偏偏爱上何妍这样的女孩但凡他爱上一个傻傻的笨笨的女孩 他都不会有这样的下场 但 他是沈知节啊 他怎么会爱上那种姑娘呢他虽然是小混混但并不纵欲于男女之情 他看不上她们的讨好与无知 也不会接受和自己一样挣扎的灵魂 人永远只会被自己的渴望所吸引。何妍就是他的渴望他的救赎。他会仰视她 想要与她并肩站在一起成为人人艳羡的金童玉女 他爱上的本身就是何妍的那份特别 所以他的宿命也逃不过荒凉。狄金森的那首诗,好像是为他而做的一样:“我本可以忍受黑暗,如果我不曾见过太阳。可如今,太阳把我的寂寞,照耀得更加荒凉”。彭冠英的演技 让我落泪那么真那么痛他哭红了双眼,流着眼泪,一言不发,隐忍着问了一句:“如果我之前没做过那些伤害你的事情,你是会喜欢我的,对吧”。他就像一个卑微乞求爱的孩子,他的模样我心疼。他一生最恨欺骗和背叛,可在亲眼目睹了何妍的背叛之后,还是一心想要带她走,渴望得到她的一丝丝愧疚,可他等来的是何妍亲口说出的从未爱过他,一切不过是他一个人的美梦罢了。可他却会为了一个吻就原谅她,内心还是期冀着这个女孩心里能有自己的一点点位置,哪怕她是虚情假意哪怕一切都是她的伪装,他也愿意自欺欺人地活在那片刻真切属于他的温存。我想,他在慢慢学会爱。两个人把一切都说开了的时候,他说自己不是生下来就是人渣,何妍说这个世界上有很多人比你经历过更多的痛苦和磨难,这些都不是他做完坏事之后的开脱。他眼睛直直看着她,不作任何辩解,那一刻我想他知道阿妍说的话没错,他知道阿妍一直都是这样想的,她说的没错,可他也知道,自己没有必要去和她解释自己的选择,她是比任何人都要了解他的,自然对他过往的遭遇是有同情的,可她是个三观极其正直的女孩,是非对错分得清清楚楚明明白白,他的出身成为了他的原罪,这在阿妍的世界中是不可接受的。即使他们曾有过那些日日夜夜在一起的时光,即使她有一具早已和他熟识的身体,即使她的身体里有着联结他生命的种子,阿妍始终没有一刻想过要忘记一切,和他缱绻一生。在阿妍的世界中,从一开始就注定,他们两个人永远都会是平行线,平行线即使在无限接近,也永远不会相交。平行线,真是一个决绝的词。他把礼服上的腰带系在何妍身上时候,那样的小心翼翼,他拼尽全力要把她绑在身边,他又哪里舍得伤她一分一毫,他紧紧拥着她低下头闭眼吻着她的额头,环手抱着她说要和她一起生活,他最后冲开那扇门想要看她最后一眼时望着她的眼神他眼中的爱意,不甘,猜忌,挣扎,困惑,绝望,我全部都感受到了。他冲破门想要看她最后一眼,想要死在她的面前,其实是因为自己的一切已经崩塌了,他最爱的人从未爱过他,他看做兄弟的人背叛他,他一起长大的真兄弟被炸死,到此,他的人性世界已经全部崩塌了。世界上再没有人关心他了,世界只剩下和他无关的人和恨他的人。死亡不是肉身的毁灭,而是一个人从人们的记忆里遗忘,才是真正的死亡。他不在乎肉身如何泯灭,只想在这个既定结局到来之前,最后看一眼还活着的、他心里最牵挂爱着的人。他给了她贪婪又虔诚的爱情。那个异国夏天挂在树上电风扇吹着的婚纱是他短暂的一生中离爱最近的时候。彭冠英,有幸遇见过这个角色,而我,有幸因为这个角色让你住进了心里。爱上何妍这样的女孩 应该是人之常情 美貌与智慧并存的女子很多 可像她这样有胆量与心机待在他身边的人实在是罕见她会在面对歹徒凌辱的时候心里坚持要活下去的念头 光是这份勇气和理智就很难得她会在面对傅慎行的威胁恐吓时委曲求全因为她最爱的就是她的家人啊她有太多需要顾及的地方 她是那么善良的人她会在自己学生因为帮自己的忙而被傅慎行的手下打个半死的时候内心愧疚无比 她是那么赤城的人她会在即使自己都身处黑暗之中还是对身边的人对周围的人都温声细语 好似一切如常的模样 从未故意坦露自己的不幸反而还会去保护那些无辜的人 她有着一个那么温柔又美好的灵魂这样的女孩 他怎会不心动呢我想大概所有人都会很爱很爱何妍吧 但对于她的情感大家都有自己的美好幻想 我也一样无数个深夜思考 站在她的立场上切身思考她对沈知节的情感到底是什么 除了那些憎恨厌恶 一定也是有别的什么吧。作者说:“我笔下的何妍从未爱过傅慎行”,庆幸的是她从未爱过他,遗憾的是她从未爱过他。我曾在好多日夜里反复思考纠结阿妍对沈知节的情感,即使她那么冷静理智,明了平行线永远不会相交的道理,可她终究都是个女子,和他在一起的那些日子会成为她漫长人生中一道刺青般的存在,渗入骨髓侵入血脉。她一定忘不了曾被他禁锢着的憎恨,也一定忘不了他疯狂爱恋时候的悸动。小说中让我觉得其实可以不必那么纠结的一点是,她最后把那个孩子生下来了。那个他摸着肚子说这是他最后的一点人性让她别伤害的孩子,那个他愿意用自己的死亡换来的生命,那个在彩超室里看到的长手长脚的婴儿,那个日日夜夜将会躺在她身边陪她经历所有的骨肉至亲,那个成为她生命中无比珍贵的存在的孩子,那个眉目中将会有他影子的孩子,那个和她的血液联结在一起的孩子,那个时刻提醒她沈知节曾存在于她生命中的孩子。看到这一段,我内心竟然会有一丝庆幸,庆幸她有了这个生命,这个旺盛的美好的崭新的生命,他会在阿妍的精心爱护之下长大,会长成一个正直善良的人,得到他的父亲未曾得到过的爱,成为他的父亲未曾成为的人。这对于沈知节来说,是圆满的。这对于阿妍来说,(我不敢妄加揣测)只希望对于阿妍来说,她是不后悔这个决定的。她那么善良,对于自己子宫中孕育的这个健康完整的生命,该有多么不忍。微博中看到了蔡文静小姐姐看直播大结局,哭得崩溃的样子,我突然就释然了。这世间有些情感,不能诉说无法表达,只能在深夜一个人辗转反侧妥善安放。那些未曾宣之于口的感情是那么清明。演员真是一个好幸福的职业。蔡文静,永远会记得这个女孩给我的这份难以言说的感动。
这都拍的啥玩意儿啊,听说还要拍续集,这是借机在洗钱吧!
全剧一口台湾腔就算了,地点好歹是设定在福州,离着台湾岛不远,这个就忍了吧。那个什么贝勒爷的是什么鬼?一个满清遗少居然剪了辫子留着短发,这是嫌自己命长吗?还有那个后脑勺的印记是什么鬼?随手一挥烫一下都能清晰可见了?就算专门去纹身的,过了十几年也没那么清晰了吧。那些做菜的桥段也是醉了,看那
这都拍的啥玩意儿啊,听说还要拍续集,这是借机在洗钱吧!
全剧一口台湾腔就算了,地点好歹是设定在福州,离着台湾岛不远,这个就忍了吧。那个什么贝勒爷的是什么鬼?一个满清遗少居然剪了辫子留着短发,这是嫌自己命长吗?还有那个后脑勺的印记是什么鬼?随手一挥烫一下都能清晰可见了?就算专门去纹身的,过了十几年也没那么清晰了吧。那些做菜的桥段也是醉了,看那刀功和做出来的菜品,怕是连一般家庭煮出来的菜都不如!最后还整出一个佛跳墙来,编剧导演不怕佛祖找你们麻烦?就这菜品还值得佛跳墙?佛难道是饿死鬼投胎的吗?编剧导演真的是煮的一锅乱炖,又是情景喜剧又是爱情喜剧又是侦探片又要武侠片的,没一样表达清楚没一样演出彩没一样有看点,拍这样的电影看这样的电影,简直是在浪费青春浪费时间浪费生命!
还有一点奇葩的地方,就是那个贝勒爷和一朵云,这两个货会吃会品会评不会做就算了,可连一些最基本的菜都不认识,这个怎么样都说不通吧。他们又不是智障,还不至于傻缺到这种地步!
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
最辣鸡的电视剧 没有之一 导演是个脑残 危害社会 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣
最辣鸡的电视剧 没有之一 导演是个脑残 危害社会 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了 辣鸡得不得了
在变化中寻找不变
第三期说贝壳的管理,第五期说猿辅导,第七期说宠物治疗
第四期的便利蜂和第二期的美年大健康的未来可以随便看看??
第六期说天虹,第八期说美的的数据化战略,有启发?
在变化中寻找不变
第三期说贝壳的管理,第五期说猿辅导,第七期说宠物治疗
第四期的便利蜂和第二期的美年大健康的未来可以随便看看??
第六期说天虹,第八期说美的的数据化战略,有启发?
青藤20年未来峰会:?1今天的世界和二十年前最大的变化是什么??2企业的数据化如何切入?
洞察1数据化是战略。2本质是转型,挑战是组织转型。3数据化是?法,如何链接客户喜好行为与产品开发?
大半夜看完这三个故事,第一幕和第三幕有小高能,差点被吓到。
光妹的造型太好看了,无可挑剔。
看完以后重新找到了这三篇原文,江户川的文笔确实很不错,建议刷完剧再细细品读一遍。
大半夜看完这三个故事,第一幕和第三幕有小高能,差点被吓到。
光妹的造型太好看了,无可挑剔。
看完以后重新找到了这三篇原文,江户川的文笔确实很不错,建议刷完剧再细细品读一遍。
虽然名字有点俗但是 女人不哭 好好看!小女主演的好好哭!大女主好有干劲,专心搞事业!情窦初开风华正茂的年纪,别人都在上学,玩耍,她却为了生存不得不收垃圾。贫穷的自卑,让她不敢在收垃圾时见喜欢的男生,躲了过去。她羡慕男生有这么慈爱的爸爸,羡慕他有这么多书可以读,但她也常常读书。她做的最勇敢的一个决定,大概是嫁给一个可以当自己爷爷的人,不顾所有人的劝阻。可事实是爷爷在
虽然名字有点俗但是 女人不哭 好好看!小女主演的好好哭!大女主好有干劲,专心搞事业!情窦初开风华正茂的年纪,别人都在上学,玩耍,她却为了生存不得不收垃圾。贫穷的自卑,让她不敢在收垃圾时见喜欢的男生,躲了过去。她羡慕男生有这么慈爱的爸爸,羡慕他有这么多书可以读,但她也常常读书。她做的最勇敢的一个决定,大概是嫁给一个可以当自己爷爷的人,不顾所有人的劝阻。可事实是爷爷在临终之际嘱托她将菜馆发扬光大,照顾年幼的孙子。她为了报恩也为了生存。爱情对她来说一点用也没有。她喜欢那个人,那个人对她也是特别的,可那又怎么样呢。他们是不可能的,她这样想。更何况,他身边还有另一个女生,更需要被照顾,他们也更般配。可她自己也还是个孩子呀,谁来心疼她照顾她呢[泪][泪][泪]她专心过自己的生活。她每日操劳,认真经营从爷爷那里继承下来的菜馆,日子过得红红火火,还上了电视台。她知道那两个人在一起了。看在往日朋友情份上,她答应女生来店里帮忙,她会特别给男生留一份饭,让女生带回去。可她从来没表达过自己的情谊。尽管不知怎么回事,男生误解了她,跟她吵架,她没有解释。打不倒搞不垮她的事业越来越好,开了大酒店。可总有竞争对手想找麻烦,也有小人在背地里使坏。她还是一日日在酒店工作,解决各种各样的麻烦,顾不上照看两个弟弟。其实除了这两个人,她还有一群弟弟。弟弟们都没有家,年纪还小,她帮忙找了合适的工作。她习惯了女强人的生活,但也有累的时候。她还跟男生有联系,偶尔聊聊天,女生已经因病去世了,但他们好像仅仅是朋友。后来,她终于想起自己终身大事,有了合适的对象,马上要结婚了。可没想到,对象竟然是孤儿小弟弟的爸爸。小弟弟阻止了婚事。她还是一个人。后来的后来,她终于跟年少喜欢的男生在一起了。呜呜呜[悲伤][悲伤][悲伤]
这才是理想的大女主。田海蓉太有气质了!
刚看到第四集,成年包拯跟女主的戏基本跳过,只看偷运皇子出宫,看小包黑子的童年,看小皇子跟周怀仁在乡下一家四口的生活看的津津有味,真是意趣盎然。回宫后的生活就不可爱了。最难忘的是那位了却君王托付事,功成身死的周侍卫,在看到他引颈就戮时我的泪腺全面决堤了。忠诚,伟岸,君子,还有那份温情,不多的戏份却闪烁出不少的光彩。至于那个瞪眼包黑子,借王祖蓝的声音讲一句“我真系接受吾到啰”。
刚看到第四集,成年包拯跟女主的戏基本跳过,只看偷运皇子出宫,看小包黑子的童年,看小皇子跟周怀仁在乡下一家四口的生活看的津津有味,真是意趣盎然。回宫后的生活就不可爱了。最难忘的是那位了却君王托付事,功成身死的周侍卫,在看到他引颈就戮时我的泪腺全面决堤了。忠诚,伟岸,君子,还有那份温情,不多的戏份却闪烁出不少的光彩。至于那个瞪眼包黑子,借王祖蓝的声音讲一句“我真系接受吾到啰”。
与醉拳第一集相比,醉拳2的劣势有:
1、主角成长不明显。《醉拳》主角从玩世不恭到日渐成熟稳重,是经过一次次不同类型的闯祸后,吸取教训成长的,而《醉拳2》则不断从主角父亲或后母嘴中强调不要闯祸凸显主角的顽劣,但问题主角一开始抱打不平,有民族情结,对其他武师的挑衅用体面的办法解决,均比1的小男孩起点高出不少,属于
与醉拳第一集相比,醉拳2的劣势有:
1、主角成长不明显。《醉拳》主角从玩世不恭到日渐成熟稳重,是经过一次次不同类型的闯祸后,吸取教训成长的,而《醉拳2》则不断从主角父亲或后母嘴中强调不要闯祸凸显主角的顽劣,但问题主角一开始抱打不平,有民族情结,对其他武师的挑衅用体面的办法解决,均比1的小男孩起点高出不少,属于强行提升。
2、帮助主角成长的角色没有起到很好的桥梁作用。1里面主角的成长都有伤害帮助他的配角,但2的刘家良单纯被奸人害死,主角老爸是出手太重激起主角作为一个正常人的本能反抗反应,没有1那种层层推进的感觉。
3、工具人太多。出场角色例如刘德华、刘家良,其实删除也可以把故事圆上,跟上面第二点提到的缺点类似,虽然刘德华的角色在醉拳3是主角,但后续铺垫没有交带,刘家良的背景也是一句说话带过,虽然都是为主角成长服务,但相比1对配角的刻画,也是逊色不少,虽然1除袁小田的刻画外也好不了多了。
4、打斗功夫吃老本。醉拳1的功夫为袁和平精心设计,其中最精彩、最吸引、最有创意的属因主角没学成醉八仙而自创的何仙姑拳,到了醉拳2,亮点以及逆境逆转的关键依然放在何仙姑拳,最后取胜居然是单纯的酒精对主角的痛感麻醉后的蛮干,唯一比1出色就是成龙已经成熟的杂耍式动作还有搏命的特技演出。
其实和警察故事系列一样,我从小都是先接触第二部,印象也十分好,但现在了解越来越多电影背后的事以及重温第一部后,发现续集通常难以超越第一集这句话真不假,因为有巨大成功的第一集,必然开创很多经典点子,续集照搬来对一路过来的观众来说缺乏新鲜感,但对新时代初接触的人却是在前面基础上修补加强,观感更好,可以醉拳2在某些方面做得还没有第一部好,也是遗憾。
挺喜欢看关于风水、术士、法力这类的片子。现在没有什么好的片子,回头来看这部,还是很不错的。
里面的人物造型挺符合另类术士的印象。那个蛇的扮演者,白粉有时没有涂到位,可以看到耳朵前面的肤色,有点出戏,其他人物的造型都不错。
那个大BOSS手下被消灭时,他都没有出手救,最后成为光杆司令,这个有点不能理解,只有这二个手下,却看
挺喜欢看关于风水、术士、法力这类的片子。现在没有什么好的片子,回头来看这部,还是很不错的。
里面的人物造型挺符合另类术士的印象。那个蛇的扮演者,白粉有时没有涂到位,可以看到耳朵前面的肤色,有点出戏,其他人物的造型都不错。
那个大BOSS手下被消灭时,他都没有出手救,最后成为光杆司令,这个有点不能理解,只有这二个手下,却看着他们被干掉。
主角家被陷害,还是挺符合官场争斗的情节。似乎每一部主角从平凡走向人生巅峰,必定要先遭遇身边人的生离死别,尤其是直系亲属的遇害,才能由仇恨来激发潜力,有所成就。也许这样主角突然顿悟更能让人理解,也消灭了主角的弱点。