I told John I would do a single press conference, but it would be by our rules. He was to bring in one print reporter from the Baltimore Sun, and one local television reporter from either WBAL, WJZ, or WMAR. They could share coverage or go without. In return, I would make a statement, and then answer questions, as long as they were polite and didn’t misbehave. Under no circumstances would we allow them to see inside our house.
John made some phone calls, and the best we could do was a counteroffer, one print reporter, one shared camera, but a reporter from all three television stations. He agreed and Thursday morning a camera was set up in a conference room downstairs at the Hyatt. That way everyone could make the 6 PM news. Wednesday afternoon he and I sat down and made copies of the various police and psychiatric reports, and wrote out my initial statement. We also ginned up a short biography for me, but left Marilyn out of it.
The next morning, I dressed in a conservative suit in order to do the press conference. Surprisingly, Marilyn dressed in a nice blue knee length wrap dress and a pair of heels. “Where are you going?” I asked her.
“I’m going with you,” she told me.
“Marilyn, this is not a good idea. Just because I have to swim in a cesspool does not mean it has to be a group swim!”
She came over to stand in front of me, a hard look to her face. “Carl Buckman, if you don’t know me better than that by now, I really will be disappointed. I married you, warts and all, and if this is the worst of your warts, I’m not impressed. I am going to stand beside you, just like I always will, so get over it.”
I felt like crying, but big boys don’t cry, so I shrugged and said, “You’re going to be sorry!” I shrugged my suit coat on, grabbed my cane, and took her hand. Somebody from the hotel was watching Charlie, and Marilyn and I left the room and headed downstairs to the conference room.
John stopped me outside the room. “Are you sure about this? Last chance!”
“Too late to stop now,” I told him.
He turned to my wife. “You?”
Marilyn gripped my hand hard enough to tell me how scared she actually was. “Yes.”
“Give me thirty seconds, and then follow me in.” He slipped inside the door, and I mentally counted to thirty. Then I opened the door and went inside, with Marilyn behind me. At a podium in front of the conference room, John was standing. “Let me introduce Carl and Marilyn Buckman.”
Almost immediately a young man started yelling out, “Mister Buckman, how does it feel to have murdered your brother?!” He kept yelling questions at me as I approached the podium. John’s face was red with fury, and he was yelling back for the reporter to be quiet. I just gave John a quiet smile and waved a hand at him to get him to calm down. The reporter kept badgering me, and I noticed he was the only one of the four to be doing so. I simply smiled and put my right elbow on the podium and leaned forward, resting my chin in my cupped palm. I just stood there, chin resting on my palm and smiling, until the guy ran down.
When he stopped, I stood upright and said, “Does everyone understand the format of this press conference? First I am going to make a statement and then I will take questions. All right?”
Big Mouth immediately cried out again, “How does it feel to have murdered your brother?!”
I waited for him to run down again, and the asked, “Excuse me, who are you?”
“Bob Turcos, WJZ-TV. Answer my question!”
“Mr. Turcos, did you or did you not agree to the format of this press conference when you agreed to participate?”
“Journalism cannot be suppressed in this fashion…” he began, pompously.
“Agree or leave. You will no longer be part of this press conference if you do not agree to simple courtesy.”
“You can’t do that!”
“Mister Turcos, I can do whatever I want. You all want to talk to me, not the other way around. Now, we are acting like adults,” I said, pointing to my wife and John, still seething to the side. “And your counterparts are acting like adults,” I added, pointing at the other reporters. “You, on the other hand, are acting like a four year old who wants more candy. Now grow up or leave.”
The asshole immediately started protesting, so I left the podium, took Marilyn’s hand, and left the room. John stayed behind. I stopped in the hallway outside the room and Marilyn said, “So much for that.”
I smiled. “Give it five minutes.”
“What?”
I just smiled and patted her hand, and waited two minutes. Then John came out of the room, giving me a surprised look when he saw us standing there. He came over, and I asked him, “Are they going to behave?”
“How did you know?”
“The others want this too much, and that jackass is the junior in the bunch. You think they all don’t know each other, and each other’s bosses? Is he going to behave now?”
“They chewed his ass ragged and I told them I would try to get you back.”
“Go back in and tell them we’ll be back down in two minutes.” John laughed and I shooed him back down the hallway.
Marilyn looked at me. “You think you’re so smart!” I just laughed at her.
Two minutes later we went back into the room, and the asshole kept quiet. His face was red, however, and I knew he would have the rudest questions at the end. I strode up to the podium and pulled my statement out, and then waited for the camera operator to give me a signal.
“Thank you for coming. My name is Carl Buckman and this is my wife, Marilyn. As you know, last Saturday I found it necessary to defend my life with deadly force during an attack by my brother, Hamilton Buckman, at our home. It is our intention today to detail the events that led up to Saturday’s fateful events.”
For the next fifteen minutes I detailed the increasing harassment, from the stalking to the vandalism and burning of Marilyn’s car to the firebombing attempt at the house. Then I segued into Hamilton’s past history, including his psychiatric diagnosis and the police report from when he tried to sabotage my first car. I also detailed the forensic evidence, specifically the fingerprints left on everything, which all matched up to the prints taken from his body. Summing it all up, I finished with:
“Finally, I would like to comment on all this in general. I understand the public interest nature of this tragedy. Brother kills brother, Cain and Abel, that sort of thing. Keep in mind that it was my family that was harassed, my home that was invaded, my life that was threatened. If it hadn’t been for the fact the criminal was related to me, none of you would care about this, and the whole thing would be buried on Page 17. I have committed no crime and the police and district attorney have acknowledged this. Thank you.”
At the end of this, John came to the podium again, and said, “We have copies of each of these reports. Now, I will hand these out, and Carl and Marilyn will give you all fifteen minutes to review this documentation. After that, we will begin the question and answer portion of the press conference. All right?”
“That wasn’t part of the deal!” argued Turcos.
I stepped back in front of the podium. “Then you don’t want any supporting documentation or a chance to review them?” I asked in my most incredulous tone.
One of the other television reporters, the guy from WBAL, told Turcos to shut up. I nodded to John and left the room with Marilyn. Behind us I saw John passing out clipped stacks of documentation.
We waited out in the hallway almost twenty minutes, until John came out and signaled us to return. I went back to the podium, and this time I brought Marilyn up to stand next to me. Almost immediately Turcos started yelling out questions again. I sighed and turned to him. “Please, for once in your life, try to act like one of the big kids! I am going to start on the left and work my way to the right. Everybody gets a question, and then we move to the next, alright?”