By Kimberly Krautter
Special to the Atlanta Journal-Constitution
My dad called me the other day. He said, “I was thinking about you when I heard the news.” We’re both news junkies, so such an oblique statement usually has to do with one of my clients. This time, I couldn’t think of a relevant headline. He told me he had just heard the announcement that Richard Jewell died.
If it weren’t for Richard, I might not be here today. Or at least not as intact. Richard saved my life and those of many others that night in the park. I never got a chance to thank him.
That summer, I was living a dream. The Olympic Games were in my backyard. Like so many native Atlantans, I was proud that my hometown was playing host. I had passed up an opportunity to move to Los Angeles years earlier, preferring to stay here to work for the Games. I had no plan, no idea what I would be doing, I just knew I had to be a part of it.
My part was not at all big, but it became so much bigger that fateful night. I was the chief publicist for the Global Olympic Village, the venue where the world of spectators and athletes gathered in peaceful communion to enjoy spectacular entertainment and to share in the sheer fun of the gathering.
That night, I had booked a photo shoot with the architect of the amazing centerpiece attraction. The best views were from the top deck of the sound tower where Richard was assigned as the security guard. Richard was quiet, always polite, not tremendously chatty but a very sweet person. He always did his job politely rather than with the gruff nature of a typical bouncer. I thought he was a credit to the spirit of the venue.
When Richard made the announcement that everyone in the tower needed to evacuate, he was calm and appropriately authoritative. Obviously with the concert in full swing, the sound techs were reluctant to leave. He said something about a security alert, so we all took him seriously. My photographer and I were already wrapping our shoot, so when we left the tower, we went our separate ways. I met up with a visiting friend and continued to the parking deck. We heard the explosion, but it sounded like fireworks. Then we realized that was not at all the case.
Suddenly we were cast in the middle of the chaos. My job immediately changed. First I had to locate my crew and make sure they were all accounted for and OK. Then I had to call my client. We had to protect the venue sponsor’s reputation so their good name would not be forever linked with this shameful event. We succeeded.
Looking back I feel a sense of irony. My job was, as it is now, to protect my client’s good name. It’s too bad that Richard didn’t have someone looking out for him.
In a few short hours his reputation went from hero to villain and there it remained for two long years. While he was finally vindicated, his reputation was never fully restored.
All any of us ever own in this life is our reputations. It’s up to us to build a good one, yet it is so very easy for others to tear it apart. Today as we live our lives at Internet speed and in a tabloid culture, it is even easier to cause injury based on gossip and loose allegations.
Innocent until proven guilty is the basic tenet of fairness on which this great nation was founded. It is the inalienable right for every person to live with their good character unbroken until they are judged otherwise in a court of law.
We all owe a debt of gratitude to Richard Jewell for reminding us of this. Perhaps we’ll be kinder to each other and more careful of how we speak. I know I will.
Thank you, Richard.
Kimberly Krautter is the vice president of public relations and strategic planning at Virtual Magic, a technology and marketing agency based in Atlanta.
Copyright 2007 The Atlanta Journal-Constitution