I have never actually been to Fergus Falls, Minnesota, although it’s only an hour north of here, and I’ve driven by/through it many times on my way to Fargo and points north and west. It’s a good-sized city as those things go in this region — about 13,000 people — and I’ve had students from Fergus in my classes. Recently, though, Fergus Falls was libeled by a perfidious German reporter.

I blame Der Spiegel. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, there’s a bad trope where some big city newspaper decides to send a reporter to flyover country to figure out how the yokels could have elected an idiot like Trump, and they come in with expectations: they’re going to find a bunch of inbred hicks with no education, no teeth, and a meth or oxycontin addiction, who are slavishly following the orders of their preacher in some benighted Protestant cult (if you’re from the New York Times, you’re also expected to find anything but racism as the cause; foreign papers don’t feel that need). It’s true that if you look you’ll find people who meet your preconceptions, and that you can find them even in the big cities, but the reality is always more complex than that — we have college towns, we have public radio (not just Rush Limbaugh), we have atheists and liberals, and historically, the upper midwest used to be a major center of socialist political activity, and some of those old Democratic-Farmer-Labor people are still around. So don’t show up in our neighborhoods expecting a wash of Republican Red, you’re going to find a much messier story here.

Claas Relotious was not prepared for that. He was assigned to spend a month in Fergus Falls, getting to know the orcs and trolls who lived there, and write a substantial expose for Der Spiegel that would reveal the truth about the Mordor of the Midwest. Because he’s an incompetent journalist, when he didn’t find the facts that fit the story he wanted to write, he made up the facts. So he told readers in Germany that next to the “Welcome to Fergus Falls” sign, there was a second sign that said “Mexicans Keep Out”. He wrote up an interview with a local coal miner…there are no coal mines in Fergus Falls, or anywhere in the state: “There is no history of coal mining in Minnesota, as the state has little or no coal reserves.”

His article was one giant collection of transparent lies, unbelievable garbage that had no connection to reality. He won awards for his “journalism”. Then people complained. Someone at Der Spiegel noticed. Relotious was recently fired.

But Der Spiegel still makes money off of it.

Too late now, of course. Relotius is out of a job and his reputation is shot all the way to Pelican Rapids.

The article, however, lies and all, is still online.

Der Spiegel says it has added notes to Relotius’ articles, indicating they will not be changed until its investigation is completed. If there’s one attached to the Fergus Falls article, one only sees it after one pays a buck-and-a-half to read it.

Der Spiegel now says they were hoodwinked by a con artist. They really do have fact checkers, they insist, who just didn’t catch his lies. It wasn’t the editors’ fault, they say.

Already, every text printed in DER SPIEGEL goes through a thorough fact-checking and vetting process to review the accuracy of every fact stated in an article. When Claas Relotius wrote in his first major feature for DER SPIEGEL, “At Home in Hell,” that the city of Marianna is located “an hour by car west of Tallahassee” in northern Florida, a DER SPIEGEL fact-checker reviewed whether that detail was accurate.

Great. But then they have to reveal that this guy has done all these major stories in the US, in Mexico, in Syria, etc., that he got these amazing interviews with people like Colin Kaepernick’s parents, that he’d published 55 articles in their magazine over 14 years, and had simply made shit up. It wasn’t the editors fault, though, because they wouldn’t have reprimanded him if he’d failed to find a story, oh no. It’s only one bad reporter, and no one else.

When asked about the Fergus Falls story, he admitted that he knew perfectly well that the editors wouldn’t have reprimanded him if he had dropped the whole thing. “I think,” Relotius said last week, “a normal person would have said: ‘Listen, this just isn’t working. I’m stuck and we can’t do the story.'” But Relotius is evidently no normal person. “I tend to want to have control,” he said, “and I have this compulsion, this drive, to somehow make it happen. Of course, you don’t make it happen. You make a fabrication.” When he says “you” here, he can only mean himself and no one else.

Their whole revelation of the scandal reads like a desperate attempt to deflect all blame away from themselves. Relotious was a bad guy, no doubt, but when your fact checkers are so thorough that they double-check the reported distance between two Florida cities, but they can’t figure out that the central figures in his stories do not exist, there is a big problem at the top. They should be embarrassed.

I’ve been off in a cramped little room yesterday and this morning — I got picked for jury duty! I’ve already been asked how a godless liberal college professor survived the screening to end up on a jury, and it was easy. In previous trials I got picked on by the prosecuting attorney about my opinions of police officers — I don’t trust them — and got excluded because there’s one thing prosecutors want, and that’s deference to authority. This time, they didn’t even ask me any questions, because they spent so much time filtering out prospective jurors who knew or were related to the defendant and the witnesses, and since this is a small town, everyone knows everyone, except me, because I’m a cloistered nerd at the university. I skated in based on my ignorance of local gossip, I guess.

It was an eye-opening experience, because I got to see the other side of town. This was a domestic violence case in a small rural midwestern town, so you can guess who I had to stand in judgment over: poor people intermittently employed in thankless, low-paying jobs, who have a history of meth use, and in the case of the victim, was also bipolar…but she’d given up on her meds and was instead self-medicating with methamphetamine (which doesn’t work at alleviating the symptoms of mental illness). It was a tawdry, ugly case, where the defendant had angrily and viciously punched his partner, and the partner wanted to retract her initial statement and claimed to have forgotten everything that happened that day because she’d been so high, and also she really loved her man and wanted to get back together with him.

We were in one of those situations where the only just recourse would have been to separate these two, give them intense but caring treatment for their addictions, and find them productive, stable employment and a life where they could better themselves, but nope, all we could do is say on the basis of the evidence presented in court whether the guy was guilty or not guilty on two counts of abuse. We found him guilty of one (there was a photo of a nasty, fist-sized bruise taken the day of), and not guilty of the other (we could see he was capable of the crime, and probably did it, but without physical evidence we couldn’t say that the state had made its case).

We learned afterwards, and this was definitely not a factor in the decision, that this guy had prior convictions for domestic violence, making this a felony, and that he’s probably going to spend a handful of years in prison for it. All because I raised my hand in the deliberation room. Well, and because he was in the habit of punching and choking his partner.

So how was your day? I’m going to have to find something uplifting to cheer me up. I may go into the lab and tend to spiders, or something.