By Laurie Black
The phrase “Truth will out” is as old as William Shakespeare’s 16th-century masterpiece The Merchant of Venice. It means that no matter the extent of cover up or obfuscation of fact, Truth (here with capital “T” to personify it as a relentlessly idealistic superhero) will inevitably produce the big reveal.
I firmly believe Truth will out—if not just for karma’s sake, but also due to the modern-day omnipresence of weapons of mass dissemination, i.e., cellphone cameras, live mics and the slow-burned-now-fully-ignited fury of all women scorned, groped, sexually harassed, harangued to be a surrogate, or preyed upon as a child.
It was a battle to the end, but Truth outed Judge Roy Moore in the Alabama Senate race. We can handle the Truth, and we will—whether it originates from the ranks of the Silence Breakers, special counsel Bob Mueller, or any corner of our personal and professional lives.
Truth has been on my mind while I’ve been submerged in the process of writing a personal memoir. Coming up for air, I discovered this country had unleashed a sexual harassment reckoning that went from zero to warp speed in a mega-second. Yes, my life story includes instances of unwanted male attention. It’s a serious issue and I applaud women for bravely coming forward about it to begin a much-needed national discussion. And while my San Diego-centric memoir delves into many topics that affect the integrity of our lives—including homelessness, the perils of cancer and the spiral of depression—one chapter in my book focuses on a family member’s act of dishonesty that dovetails with today’s headlines in that shared tenet: Truth will out.
Exactly 20 years ago, before the smartphone takeover, I saw firsthand how Truth can and will out. I’ve run political campaigns, was chief of staff to a Congresswoman, appointed to the San Diego Port Commission and ran the Downtown San Diego Partnership. Like they say in the Farmers Insurance ads, I’ve seen a thing or two.
My late father-in-law was the larger-than-life M. Larry Lawrence, former owner of the Hotel del Coronado. Forbes once pegged his personal worth at $315 million. President Bill Clinton benefited mightily from Larry’s political fundraising, and after Clinton was elected in 1992 he named Larry as the U.S. ambassador to Switzerland. Owing to cursory evidence of bravery while serving in the merchant marine during World War II, when Larry died in 1996 he was buried in Arlington National Cemetery.
But the reality was that my father-in-law lied about his military record. He wasn’t wounded in a German torpedo attack; instead, in 1945 he was a full-time student at a Chicago college. Two years after he was buried in the country’s final resting place for our military elite, then-columnist Arianna Huffington got the scoop from one of Larry’s ex-wives and published an expose. In a necessary move that was nonetheless a national humiliation for the entire Lawrence family, Larry was disinterred from Arlington in 1997.
Of course, some people get away with deception, adultery, murder and other high and low crimes. On a near-daily basis, however, we’ve watched the truth catch up to high-powered Hollywood masturbators and gropers such as movie mogul Harvey Weinstein, comedian Louis C.K., actor Kevin Spacey, media icons Charlie Rose and Matt Lauer and not-so-funny photo opportunist Senator Al Franken. And the list continues.
This category of misconduct and cover up is at center stage, but Truth isn’t exclusively outing sexual predators. Recall how earlier this year Montana congressional candidate Greg Gianforte accused a Guardian reporter of a violent personal attack, then had to recant and plead guilty to misdemeanor assault after eyewitnesses and an audio recording showed it was Gianforte who was the guilty party. (Gianforte nonetheless won office days after the incident.)
And maybe you heard about the prosecutor in the Dallas County District Attorney’s Office who cursed at and verbally threatened her Uber driver over the route he took to her house after she spent a night out drinking. The driver pulled over and asked her to get out. “You’re so stupid. I want the cops to come so that they can f*ck you up,” Jody Warner told the driver, who reported that Warner kept asserting that she was an assistant DA, and asked, “Who are they going to believe, you or me?” The Uber driver recorded the exchange, and despite a very teary quasi apology, Warner was henceforth fired.
And so on. We could cherry pick a bipartisan potpourri of public lies. Truth continues to out, and I’m counting on that. Let the President of the United States claim the Access Hollywood tape on which he bragged about his instinct to grab women “by the pussy,” and later apologized for the comments, is fake. Go ahead, Mr. Putin, and insist Russia has been wrongly banned from the 2018 Olympics for state-organized doping.
I’m relying on Truth to circle the world and to zoom in on the White House to fly as wingman for the special prosecutor. Superman was immune to krypton; a Teflon president will eventually melt under the weight of Truth.
In my book, in one chapter I write about fighting for the life of my husband, the father of my four children, and then losing him to cancer. A subsequent depression engulfed me, and for three years it essentially nullified my existence. I’ve managed to get off the sidelines now and get my life moving forward again (though there are still moments when sadness takes over and the tears flow). But I’ve got my fight back. Like millions of women in America, I am once again strong enough to be pissed as hell at the piggish behavior of some men who want to hold office in politics, media and Hollywood. And I’m ready to stand side-by-side with Truth as the outings continue, on all fronts.
Laurie Black’s memoir, tentatively titled “Unburied,” is due to be released in 2018.