Wes Skiles

a dark year for sea turtles...

Click on the picture below to watch my story...

One Day

This is the intro to a 15-minute video I produced for Mike Clark. Two months ago, his 19-year-old son Philip was killed while on foot patrol in Marjah, Afghanistan.

Something compelled me to stay in the studio after work last night and finish the video. As soon as I was done, around 10 PM, I drove the dvd over to Mr. Clark. 

I would soon find out that Philip's brothers of the 1/6 Marines, (Alpha Company) were on their way home, arriving back on base at Camp Lejeune, NC early this morning. 

With the arrival of the 1/6, a family is reminded of their great loss, but I hope this helps them remember a hero- whose life is an illustration of the most perfect love.

"Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends" ~John 15:13

the 911 call

I was on call last week.

At TV20 when you're, "on-call," that means in addition to your normal slave- I mean, work-week, you have to respond to any "breaking news" that happens before or after your shift.

Last Tuesday, I got a call from my assignment desk around 8:30 in the morning.

I was told there had been a shooting inside a Gainesville neighborhood, deputies were on scene, and to "get there fast."

I ran out the door, threw my camera and tripod in the trunk of the TV20 chevy I had been rocking since my on-call shift started that Friday, and raced to the address, (I guess the good thing about being on call is, you get to drive a Home Team wagon for a week- and TV20 fills up the tank).

When I got to the neighborhood, Alachua County Sheriffs Deputies were blocking the "no outlet" street that led to the location of the shooting. I was told a 16-year-old male had been shot to death inside his home, and deputies had no suspect.

I set up my tripod and camera.

Just as I was asking deputies if I could get closer to the scene, I saw a medical examiners truck coming my way. I ran to my camera and hit record.

When the truck reached the stop sign behind me, I kept rolling and stepped away from my camera. At that moment, a ray of sunlight hit the back window of the medical examiner's truck... I saw a covered body.

The truck pulled away, and for a few seconds, I stood still. My thoughts were paralyzing.

After speaking with the P.I.O on scene, I learned that 16-year-old Sebastian Ochsenius was inside his home, playing video games with a friend. Around 3:30 AM, he got up and walked to the kitchen. According to Sebastian's friend, (who stayed behind in the game room) moments later- multiple gun shots were fired.

Sebastian's parents were awakened, only to find their son bleeding to death on the kitchen floor.

Last night, deputies released the 911 call made by Sebastian's dad, Boris.

My news director had it in his hands by 7PM.

He asked that we all stick around and listen to it, and make a group decision whether or not we should broadcast the call on the 11:00 news that night.

It took only about 2 minutes for me to make my decision.

When I felt my eyes welling up with tears, I walked away from the newsroom. I didn't want my emotions affecting how my co-workers reacted to the call.

Inside the break room, I closed my eyes and began to sob. For me, the 911 call added details to a horrifying portrait I had already painted in my mind. Three days after Sebastian's murder, the Ochsenius family welcomed me inside their home. Sebastian's dad Boris described how his son died in his arms. He was holding Sebastian with one hand-and talking to a 911 operator with the other.

Speaking to Sebastian's father, Boris Ochsenius

Candlelight Vigil July 2, 2010

The 911 call had absolutely no news value. After the 5-minute call ended, I composed myself and walked back into the newsroom. My co-workers and I talked for 20 minutes- each of us expressing our opinions on whether the call should be broadcast.

I expressed my strong feelings against airing the call- saying it would do more harm than good.

One of my co-workers asked if my decision was based on the fact that I knew the family- and had developed a relationship with them.

As a human being with a heart, I knew it was unethical to broadcast the call. My decision would have been the same whether or not I had developed a relationship with the family. In no way would airing the call on the 11:00 news have helped detectives find Sebastian's killer, (who is still on the loose), nor would it have benefited the community- particularly Sebastian's family and friends.

I'm a journalist... but I'm a person first, and I'm not above anyone. When it comes down to it, viewers are no different than I...and if Sebastian was my brother, I wouldn't want my father's 911 call broadcast to the world.

Sebastian's sister Carolina, painting Gainesville's 34th Street Wall

June 30, 2010

Yea there's good news and bad news, but in the end- the ultimate goal of what we broadcast is to reveal truth- in hopes that will bring us all toward a greater good-whatever that might be.

Journalists are messengers- we bear a great power, one we mustn't keep but pass on to the people; whose best interest should always be at heart, especially when we're tested in covering life's most challenging stories.

Sebastian Ochsenius

December 3, 1993 - June 29, 2010

...and in the end, TV20 didn't air the 911 call.

I'm not afraid

My last post was on May 18th.
I didn't know it at the time, but on that day, a story had begun; one that would touch my heart and life forever...

Let the beat build

Ms. Shankman's Science Class 5-18-10

Beat reporting: the craft of reporting on an issue or particular sector, organization or institution over time (Wikipedia).

In the reporting world, there's the court beat, the cop/crime beat, the hospital, education, and entertainment beats, etc.

In her article, "Beat reporting brought you Dorn story" Karen Peterson of The News Tribune describes the difference between beat reporters and general assignment reporters.

Beat reporters, "develop their expertise and sources over time. Thus, their stories often come from the ground level, not from assignment editors. Their best stories aren’t initiated by a news release or a breaking news event. They are cultivated."

General assignment reporters, "typically cover whatever story is breaking that day as determined by editors."

At WCJB TV20 (market 160), we're general assignment reporters with beats.

I have the education beat.

Today my story brought me to Loften High School in East Gainesville, where I got to hang out with Ms. Shankman's science class.

I'm 21 years old, no fossil, but I must say, there's something about young people that lifts my spirits. Even under their 9th grade, too-cool-for-school exteriors, I saw warm, beautiful hearts; curious minds not yet fully hardened by the outside world.

I have to give a special thank you to Jalen Sheppard, the young man who held up my busted camera light as I recorded my standup, (which as usual, took several takes).

These kids are awesome, and meeting them today made me realize there's no such thing as a "good beat," only "good reporters" that know how to let the beat build.

Click here to watch "9th graders on oil spill"

I graduated!

My brother Peter and I

Future Bull Gator?

Pete's got the better chance...

My beautiful mother

Yea, I love her

Cosmo, the coolest dad
(yes my dad's name is Cosmo)

So grateful for them



The top of my cap
The flowers are for Giulia Lewis, Bobby Duncan, and Jonathan Monis; the three friends I've lost, but will never forget.

Until we meet again...

Jonathan and I, Homecoming 2004

Since I was a little girl, my dream was to change the world for the better. Over the years, I saw how journalism had the power to bring me closer to my dream. I understood how one story could change a life, reveal truth, and motivate someone to act.

My philosophy on life is simple- live it to the fullest. For so long I assumed "the fullest" meant never settling for mediocrity. In everything, from school and work, to my relationships with others, I never accepted "ordinary" or "average." I challenged myself and those close to me, because I refused to be like everyone else; I wouldn't be happy with the usual. I was realistic in my understanding that perfection was not attainable, but I wouldn't stop until I was damn near close to it.

Specifically during my college years, I saw my relentless and aggressive attitude toward life result in a positive outcome; well, most of the time. I'd reach for the stars, achieve a goal, then be off to conquer yet another nearly impossible endeavor.

With three days until graduation, I finally learned...I got it all wrong.

Living life to the fullest doesn't mean refusing to accept the unexceptional. For so long I believed that overcoming the impossible was the only way to fulfill my zest for life. It took the unexpected death of my first love and dear friend, Jonathan Monis, to realize I was wrong. Each day brings with it a new experience, a new person , a new challenge. I've learned to embrace what life throws at you, instead of chasing after what it didn't.

I can't help but be reminded of a TV commercial where a little girl is walking along a beach, throwing washed-up star fish back into the ocean. The message is simple; never doubt that one person can make a difference.

I know I can change the world for the better, one starfish at a time, enjoying the many blessings of life along the way...especially the fascinating people I'm lucky to know.

Jonathan Monis: Whoever said pimpin' aint easy never had a starfish. hah.

Hope in Hartman

Nadeen, Steve Hartman and I

3-30-10

After work I drove over to campus, FOUND A SPOT next to the Florida gym, and sprinted straight to the Weimer basement, where inside the spiffy "NEW 21st century CMIR Newsroom" was Steve Hartman.

I felt like I was standing in front of the meat department at Publix. Minus the chill (21st century newsroom, no air conditioning) the place was filled with fresh meat; raw, graduating-in-thirty-days-journalists, glued to the seasoned network correspondent thinking, "he's so lucky he has a job."

Hartman began his career in what my classmates and I call the "good ol' days" of broadcast journalism, when working your butt off as an intern got you more than valuable experience. Hartman was a news intern at WTOL TV in Toledo, Ohio (market 73) then got hired as a general assignment reporter. I couldn't help but look around the room and think, as we enter the world of $19,000 non-negotiable two year contract, sign here one-man-band industry of television news broadcasting, oh what I'd give for a time machine! I'd take that puppy straight back to 1983, land an internship at WTOL, and be Katie Couric faster than Hartman could say "everybody has a story."

Okay that's a joke. Hartman is amazing- his storytelling has won him the highest accolades in journalism, from Emmys to Murrows, this man is THE master. However, the leg up I'd have on 1983-Hartman is the knowledge of the profession's dismal future, reality for 2010-Giannas.

Tonight Hartman gave me hope. When a student asked one of the most basic questions, "how do you do what you do," Hartman's response is what will keep me going, all the way to the top, with or without a time machine. He said it's all about genuinely caring, listening to someone's story and telling it from the heart.

It was at that moment I felt an amazing calm roll over me. I smiled, thinking the man with Murrows and Emmys, whose work has touched countless lives around the world, had inside him the same fire I was born with, a passion for people. Something you can't get at Publix.

"No THE BAG!"

Upon seeing the toy airplane I had worked so hard to get my photog Patrick and I aboard this morning, I immediately regretted my story pitch.

Imagine this: you're driving down I-75, and you see a cluster of state troopers a few miles up. You reduce your speed to 60mph, ten miles under the posted speed limit. You softly pass the state troopers, even contemplating a friendly wave. Just when you think you've made it past the hot zone, flashing lights in your rearview. You pull over, extremely confused at your alleged crime. The trooper hits you with a $250 speeding ticket, saying an AIRPLANE clocked you going 15 over.

Florida Highway Patrol uses airplanes to catch speeders on the road.

Basically an FHP pilot flies over a major state road like I-75, uses a stopwatch to clock drivers as they cross a series of lines, (determining their speed), then radios to troopers on the ground, who finish the job.

I thought it would be cool to get the pilot's perspective. So I made some calls and got Patrick and I aboard HP267.

"It's very windy up there," said our pilot, Sgt. Andy Foote as he was giving us the pre-flight briefing.

(Over spring break I went parasailing, so I figured parasailing, small plane, same thing.)

Foote had Patrick sitting in front, and me in the back.

"Here, take this, even though you probably wont need it," said Sergeant Foote, as he handed Patrick a small barf bag.

For the next thirty minutes, Patrick and I took turns filming. Sergeant Foote kept reminding us not to stare into the view finder for too long, saying we'd start feeling sick.

Foote had a good point, but I needed a shot of a car getting pulled over- a rather difficult task that required several takes.

After giving up on my money shot, I passed the camera up to Patrick. Nausea hit me like a mac truck. The feeling intensified. I started sweating profusely. HP267 started closing in!

I hit Patrick's arm, pointing toward his barf bag.

Patrick turns around and hands me the camera.

"No! THE BAG!" my sudden dramatic screech frightened both Patrick and Foote.

After coming back down to earth, I not only realized that I'll never make it as a pilot, but through Sergeant Foote's story, I saw how an extra set of eyes above the road, (and a barf bag) can be good things.

Click here to watch my story

Goodbye UF!

Yesterday I was sitting in ethics, and the lecture topic was: "final exam review"

Aside from the uncomfortable stomach pain associated with the realization that I'm months behind in my reading, something else dawned on me...THE END IS NEAR! I graduate on April 30th, (and all along I thought I was graduating in May).

I must say, it's been an AMAZING ride. I'm so grateful for every experience, person, and story I've encountered during my years at UF. From meeting people like Robbie Lumpkins, and producing a documentary for Tim Tebow, to reporting on Destin's "Sand Wars," and producing a UF version of Michael Jackson's Thriller, I'll cherish every adventure for the rest of my life. I'm truly blessed. Go Gators!

Kickball

When I was little, I wasn't allowed to do sports. My mother was convinced that I wasn't a "sports girl." So for years my mission was to prove her wrong. It wasn't long before I realized what so many can't stand to confess; mama was right.

Katie, her dad Joe, and I

Father Daughter Dance, 4th grade

I wasn't like the rest of the girls. I was an extremely under-developed pipsqueak, a liability for any team. In sixth grade, when my friends started shopping in juniors, fitting into double-zero's, I was still in kids. When the girls started wearing bras, I was waiting for "breast buds." You can imagine how hard it was for an awkward middle schooler growing up in Queens, going to school with kids not afraid to "tell it like it is." Thanks to my older brother, I was fortunate enough to have nicknames like cardboard, big head, (my head was the only thing that seemed to grow), and the infamous, "zoop-zoop," which, with the hand motions, meant flat on either side.

My sports career officially ended when I decided to try out for the softball team in seventh grade. Coming home with a missing tooth and black eye brought my mother close to a nervous breakdown, and me, closer to tap dancing and ballet.

Fast forward to 2010, I was asked by my coworker if I'd like to join TV20's team in the annual

company kickball game. You can imagine my excitement-it's been years since the seventh grade, when I hung my bat and retired from the sports world! I'm taller, stronger, and well, way COOLER, and the best part- someone wants me on their TEAM?!?

Here's the video I produced, highlighting the experience as a member of TV20's kickball team:

Eating brownies on the sidelines, (I told everyone they were protein brownies)