Paul Vercammen

Michael W.C. backed out of the interview. The ex-marine told someone, who told me, that he was too freaked out to talk about his demons and the war.

This story idea started when I heard that a trickle of soldiers who served in Iraq and Afghanistan started showing up at New Directions. That’s the center in West L.A., where they help addicted, traumatized and homeless vets.

The talk was that a lot of these vets were suffering from a wicked, edgy form of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) because of the constant threat from homemade bombs and other evils in Iraq. I wanted someone like Michael W.C., who had been to Iraq and was now at New Directions, to tell his side of the story.

Michael agreed to be interviewed, then suddenly got too stressed. So we went ahead and shot other parts of the story.

Val Zavala, my boss here at Life and Times, agreed to wait to air this piece. Good thing.

Some other news outlets might have just shoved the story on the air to fill a slot. I worked for a place, once, that would put a half-eaten Nilla wafer on TV if it could fill one minute and 30 seconds.

A couple weeks passed, and I was put in touch with Michael W.C.’s psychiatrist. Dr. Beverly Rivera was protecting her patient.

But she thought that Michael could help others by talking on television, to the viewers of KCET, about Iraq, PTSD and more. I told Dr. Rivera that the last thing I wanted was to cause Michael to relapse or flashback during an interview.

I saw Ray, one of my favorite cameramen in my days at CNN in New York, flashback. He was a Vietnam War Vet.

So Beverly, Michael and I made a deal. We would hide Michael’s face during the interview, and we could stop anytime.

Weeks after backing out, Michael answered almost every question I asked. He’d like to find a job in law enforcement after he gets out of New Directions.

Michael will serve the public well. He defines courage and compassion.