When I was a newspaper reporter at The Courier-Journal in Louisville my editor sent me to one of those fake abortion centers with a hidden wire. He asked me if I was pregnant, which I wasn’t. He said, “Could you be, possibly?” I said, “I guess so?” He said not to lie, but to tell them I was afraid I was pregnant and see what happened. Come on. That was a shitty and probably inappropriate thing to require me to do. But off I went. I was nervous, since I’m a terrible liar, and was worried they’d figure out I was a reporter. Which probably came off as being worried I was pregnant. They put me alone in a small room and made me watch a horrific, graphic, entirely misleading film about how abortion is murder. Then I left.
When I was a newspaper reporter at The Courier-Journal in Louisville my editor sent me to one of those fake abortion centers with a hidden wire. He asked me if I was pregnant, which I wasn’t. He said, “Could you be, possibly?” I said, “I guess so?” He said not to lie, but to tell them I was afraid I was pregnant and see what happened. Come on. That was a shitty and probably inappropriate thing to require me to do. But off I went. I was nervous, since I’m a terrible liar, and was worried they’d figure out I was a reporter. Which probably came off as being worried I was pregnant. They put me alone in a small room and made me watch a horrific, graphic, entirely misleading film about how abortion is murder. Then I left.