Related story: Day-and-night search for suspect in attack on wife spans 3 states

By Amanda Milkovits
Journal Staff Writer

God bless the sources who know how to tell a good story.

Not all of them do. Some are reluctant to talk, some don't understand that the beauty of a tale can be in the details, and some get irritated with what may seem like niggling questions. Those are the sources who leave reporters feeling frustrated and wondering desperately, "What if I asked if the car was blue? Would he have told me more?"

In this case, a question about an odd assault in the police log led me to Providence police Sgt. William Merandi. And, boy, did he have a story to tell.

I'd dug out a police report about a woman getting whacked in the head with a hammer, somewhat unusual in Providence. I was curious. The city has plenty of strange crimes, even hammer attacks, and I wasn't sure whether this one would be elevated beyond a simple police log item.

Covering the Providence cops for three years has taught me some techniques in getting a story. The police hate "baby-sitting" reporters and feeding us information we can find on our own. But when I do my homework, such as getting the reports and doing my own knocking-on-doors for information, I can ask them better questions and be rewarded with better answers.

They've also taught me about paying attention to what I see -- and what I hear. Whenever I interview then, I listen for inflections in their voices and how they answer my questions; sometimes, it's as if they're waiting for me to pick up on their hints.

If the police sergeant had dryly given me the simple facts -- yeah, we caught the guy after nearly two weeks -- this would have ended up in the police log. But there was excitement in Merandi's voice. The adrenaline was still pumping from chasing this guy.

"I'm so proud of my officers," he told me, leading to the natural question of "how come," which was all the opening he needed.

I was rewarded with a tale of weird Providence crime: a Foxy Lady dancer, a hammer attack, a middle-aged sex offender with a teenage bride AND a girlfriend who allegedly tries to help him get away, plus the dogged search that sounded like something out of a crime novel, including the showdown during the Red Sox-Yankees playoffs.

I'd started my interview about the assault, but I realized quickly that wasn't the real story. The story was about the nail-biter of a search for a dangerous man.

I took my cue from Merandi's excitement and jumped. I wanted to know everything: How they searched for him, why they were so worried, what leads didn't pan out, what were they up against. I met every detail with a sincere "Wow, no way!" enthusiasm that kept him talking.

To me, the details make the story more concrete and interesting. For example, it wasn't just that the police got a tip at 10 p.m., it was a tip that came during the Red Sox-Yankees game (which one cop had to abandon so he could join the pursuit).

As a reader, I can picture a scene better if I am guided by description. And, as a reporter, I've learned that it's sometimes the simplest questions -- what was he wearing? did he say anything? -- that can also take the interview in a different direction.

Even during the interview, I knew I was going to write this story as a timeline of the search, starting with the assault. I had the facts of the arrests and court records of Dennis Isom's past, but I kept asking the sergeant questions that helped me visualize the scenes.

The ending was critical. Merandi told me about the cruisers surrounding Isom and his girlfriend. That was good, but not enough. I wanted to know if Isom or the police had said anything to each other. He seemed a little surprised that I asked, but he rewarded me with the answer.

And what's a better ending to a chase story than "I got ya"?