Days ago, while working very hard on a strategy retreat in the Maldives, I checked my phone, and what I saw terrified me. A news report from home, from this fine city. A report that a local hero had been awarded $50,000 for his heroic acts.
Now, this alone is not troubling in the slightest. In fact, acts to heroism should not go unrewarded as the often (unfortunately) do. I myself have handed out handsome rewards to a great many heroes I have been fortunate enough to meet in my time as a highly successful businessman. One such was an enterprising young chap (who would later come into my employ) who, bravely and with no thought to his own safety, was able to provide crucial information to myself that helped prevent the collapse of my business to a nefarious cabal of swimwear-laden crooks. A truly selfless act was committed that day, not just by our story’s hero, but by the brave man who parted with hard earned cash in a difficult financial climate to assure that this good deed did not go unrewarded.
No, my concern did not lie with the concept of heroics being honoured. What brought a chill to my normally warm heart were the 4 words that proceeded ‘lauded as local hero, rewarded $50k’.
‘News Reporter Jay Walker’.
Words are a funny thing. So simple, a collection of letters or sounds that convey a concept when used together. And yet, so great is their power that it can bring a man to his knees. My first encounter with Jay Walker was through his words – a cheap, baseless smear piece insinuating that I was bribing local police, using my taxi company as a cover from unspecified ‘crime’ and generally calling my reputation and character into question. All of this before he shared a single word with me, just photographs taken from the drivers’ seat of an Asbo. In the coming weeks he would seek out and encourage a violent truck driver with a ridiculous nickname in his campaign of organised violence against myself and the drivers in my employ, would baselessly accuse me and them of more vague ‘crime’, and even attempt to goad me into a physical altercation at a local racing event.
Jay Walker. The hero.
Despite this, despite his campaign of slander and lies (and his strange propensity for trespassing on my property), I have never been a man t hold a grudge. And when Jay Walker came to me, in fear of his life, begging for protection from a local crime syndicate (The same speedo-wearing degenerates mentioned above), Patterson provided. In fact, I went one further and offered, as an olive branch, to help fund a headquarters for Mr Walker’s media empire. Truth be told, I was hoping that showing him this kindness would deter him away from his vicious campaign of hate against me in future. I’m not proud to admit it, but the small, rodent-like man had me scared. Such is the power of words that I, a man old enough to be Mr Walker’s father, a businessman and philanthropist, felt that I had to provide some service (and financial recompense) purely to buy myself the space to breathe easily.
Jay Walker. The hero.
In the wake of several incidents, myself and my employees left for pastures new, and hot on ur heels was Mr Walker. And in a new city, where we had no friends nor alliances, not a pot to piss in nr a window to throw it out of – once again, we took Mr Walker in to keep him safe. Even as he, against our wishes, began publishing a fresh smear campaign on the city’s pre-existing cab company and attracting the ire of local drug barons towards us after an incident at a funeral, we took him in as one of our own. Facing down the trauma of seeing what Mr Walker had once done to me play out again, but this time with a look into his psyche, was terrifying. With every day, his obsession with concocting more allegations grew, more venomous lies across magazine covers. Accusations from drug peddling to selling discounted perfumes door-to-door, and he revelled in it. It gave him life, tearing down the honest reputations of good men.
Jay Walker. The Hero.
Such was the anguish of enabling this, I was forced to take time away from my business for the good of my health. A sabbatical in the woods, back to nature, living the quiet life. When my employees (loyal, good folk) helped drag me from my stupor and set up a new firm, right here in our fair city, I felt like finally, things were looking up. Jay Walker was nowhere to be seen.
Right up until I saw his face on the side of a building.
Dear readers, the attacks began again, if smaller in scale. Jibes on twitter, staged photographs, smear pieces. Little needles, testing the waters to try and ruin me again. Even after I gave him shelter and protection – even after I hid his nasty schemes and, shamefully, allowed him to tarnish the good name of others under my watch. Despite everything, Jay Walker still wanted blood.
Jay Walker. The Hero.
The headline was like a blow to the head. The article, equally concerning. Jay Walker had, allegedly, saved a local police officer and was rewarded for the same. While I do not doubt the content of his actions, the context is concerning. A man like Walker is only ever present where he can exploit a story out of people – and those he touches are never left whole. His presence is a fel taint that infects the hearts of men, his smug grin a constant reminder that no matter how much good you can do – one headline can undo it.
I wept that day. I wept for the death of the hero, for the death of those who would do good to those around them. I wept for the children that would see Jay Walker’s face on a billboard and believe him to be an aspirational figure. For the dark, dark paths they would go down to become just like him. For the standard set by rewarding those that would ruin the lives of others to line their pockets.
San Andreas deserves a better class of hero. You all deserve better than Jay Walker. I will make it my goal, my mission, to find those in this city WORTHY of your adoration, of your praise and blessings. Dear reader – If you never listen to another thing Patterson says, then heed these words before all else – Jay Walker is Bad News.
