To an average person, bomb threats at universities are pretty shitty. But when you work for a student newspaper, bomb threats at universities are absolutely awesome — especially when it’s your university.
Being able to cover Monday’s faux threat was, by far, the most fun I’ve had this semester.
It started in Middleton Library with a sea of blinking bomb threat alerts on the first floor computer screens, and the girl sitting next to me saying, “Oh shit. I’m outta here.”
My first thought: The library sounds like a good target for bomberman. Anxiety rose as I packed my things to leave the building.
Then the adrenaline set in.
Instead of going home, I met up with a photographer and a few other student journalists and scoured the campus for news, interviews, photos, bombs, etc.
Though the threat wasn’t real, the excitement was, and I was sad, but satisfied when I went to bed Monday night.
Little did I know, the excitement would return Wednesday.
Just a side note, being on the street tracking down relatives and neighbors of a suspected bomber is the best thing in the world. I did once before at an internship over the summer in Palm Springs in 120-degree desert heat. I was wearing jeans and boots and had a hangover, and there was never a dull moment. It’s so much fun. Try it. Seriously.
Anyway, I walked into the newsroom around 2:30 p.m., and Reveille Editor-in-Chief Andrea Gallo and New Editor Brian Sibille told me to drop my stories for the day to head out near Southern University to find the ex-wife of William Bouvay, LSU’s suspected bomber.
We recruited Ben Wallace (the news writer, not the basketball player) to tag along for security and Morgan Searles to take photos.
The trip first involved an accidental arrival in Port Allen. There is nothing else to say about that experience.
Then we wound up at EBR Parish Prison, requesting an interview with Bouvay. Just one question: Why’d you do it?
Unfortunately we were turned away. It would be about a week until he had visitation privileges.
From there we headed toward the ex’s house. Of course, she wouldn’t be home. And of course, she had a broken doorbell, and she had planted a live wasp nest above the door to attack knocking journalists. So we went next door.
There, we found a really sweet technology-deprived older woman who flipped through pages and pages of phone numbers in a phone book before giving us the ex’s number.
We also made a quick attempted to locate the ex’s parents a few streets over but really just wound up startling people in their driveways.
Back to the newsroom — but not before Ben gave the ex a call. The call went fine. She seemed nice. Then Ben said Bouvay’s name, and the call suddenly disconnected. Weird, right?
He called back. No answer. But that’s just how it is when your ex-husband calls in bomb threats I guess.
Moral of the story: Be a student journalist.
“It’s the most fun you can have with your clothes on,” a wise old editor once told The Daily Reveille.
