As the courts reporter for the Tampa Bay Times, Curtis Krueger must keep track of developments in key criminal cases.
BY DUNCAN RODMAN
NNB Student Reporter
ST. PETERSBURG – The news media shines when it comes to exposing the negative. That’s good news for crime and courts reporters like Curtis Krueger, 56, a Tampa Bay Times staff writer for 27 years.
The public wants to know about the most heinous crimes in their communities, and that keeps journalists like Krueger busy. In Pinellas County there is no shortage of newsworthy crime.
“Well, it’s hard to top Florida for crime news,” said Krueger.
Krueger is a Hoosier at heart. Born and raised in Bloomington, home of Indiana University, he is unabashed about his crimson and cream roots. Now he brings his Midwestern work ethic to the Pinellas County Justice Center.
Court reporters have to write about unsavory characters. Most of the news stories that come out of the courts beat are about murder cases. When somebody is killed in Pinellas County, it‘s Krueger’s job to cover the legal proceedings that follow.
A typical day for Krueger begins in the cafeteria of the Justice Center, where he gets a cup of coffee, powers up his laptop and checks his calendar. There he searches court records to make sure he doesn’t miss anything important.
“Double murder is unusual. It is almost always newsworthy,” said Krueger as looked up the time of a pre-trial hearing for George S. Georgiou, a Tarpon Springs man accused of killing both of his grandparents.
Krueger is a regular at the Justice Center. When he walks down the halls, he’s greeted on a first name basis by multiple attorneys.
He gets inside information on what to expect in future trials. Based on that information, he can determine not only what is newsworthy, but when it’s likely to happen.
Upon arrival, one of the first things Krueger has to determine is where he needs to be. When he must monitor multiple trials and hearings in a limited period of time, he goes to the press room on the first floor. It’s a spartan room, with nothing but chairs, two tables and a television monitor. The monitor is an essential tool. It allows him to channel surf among the various courtrooms.
When he flips to Courtroom 6, he spots a public defender whom he recognizes – Jill Menadier. “She specializes in death penalty cases,” said Krueger.
He listens to Menadier explain to the judge that it was imperative that she watch a four-hour police interrogation video of her client, Georgiou. The prosecution views the tape as a confessional. The defense doesn’t see it that way.
“Let’s go,” said Krueger, as he hopped out of his seat and headed upstairs in hopes of obtaining more details about the Georgiou case.
A courts reporter cannot spend all day listening to every detail of every ongoing trial, but Krueger has mastered the art of catching up with the attorneys as they leave the courtroom. This helps him keep up with the particulars of a case, which are not available on the clerk of court’s website.
Krueger doesn’t spend all his time at the Justice Center.
“I do some work from home, such as updating my calendars,” said Krueger. “Sometimes I will end my work day at the house when it makes sense to do so, like if court ends in mid-afternoon. I usually make it to the newsroom (in St. Petersburg) Monday through Friday.”
Krueger is a writer, but he lives for the information gathering.
“It’s usually more interesting when I’m out of the office, although I do like the writing process,” he said.
The courts beat is full of the bizarre and depressing, but Krueger understands that reporting on these stories has more social utility than simply inundating his readers with melancholy.
“I feel I am accomplishing something by exploring how the legal system works and letting the public know about it,” he said. “I think that’s important, and it makes me feel like I’m contributing something, not just spreading out more depressing news.”
In 2000, Krueger did a two-part special report called “Under 12/Under Arrest,” which brought light to the trend of grade school children being arrested in the Tampa Bay area.
“Time was, little kids who got in trouble got off with a stern scolding,” he wrote. “Nowadays, children as young as 6 or 7 are carted off in handcuffs, locked up and saddled with permanent criminal records.”
“A local agency coughed up $250,000 to pay for counseling to try to find better alternatives for the kids,” said Krueger. “Things like that give me a lot of satisfaction.”