| Shawn Roberts |
When we first reached out to interview Shawn Roberts, the subject of this week’s cover story, it was through the lawyer who represented him in a felony drug case related to the 2007 death of his girlfriend. After three years, during which time crucial evidence went missing and three other people close to Roberts died, Harris County prosecutors were taking him to trial.
His awyer, Mark Bennett, later told us that Roberts just wanted to put the trial behind him (he was acquitted) and move on.
But as more sources leveled more allegations, we wanted to hear a “no comment” directly from Roberts, if that was indeed his decision.
After we contacted him on Facebook, he chastised us for going through
Bennett and gave us the impression that he didn’t know we had wanted to
interview him in the first place. When we asked Bennett if he even told
Roberts, the former gave us an absolutely baffling response: He cited
attorney-client privilege, saying he couldn’t tell us what he may or may
not have imparted to Roberts.
That’s when Roberts told us, via Facebook, “if that article runs in
its current form I can assure you your employers and owners will be
upset bc I assure you The Houston Press will be in litigation. While I
can’t practice law, at least for a year…I have many friends who do.
All of who are some of the best in the State [sic].” (He also explained
that he was considering suits against other media for “irresponsible
works of journalism.” This was followed by a message stating “Btw, I
really like The Press, you have the perfect audience for this story. A
story of injustices, oppression, retaliation. Broaden your horizons. An
expose. I am a gold mine of information. You have the courage to print
what I tell you, and I’ll make you famous [sic].”
We never got the “story of injustices, oppression, retaliation.” But
we did get a look of utter surprise and disappointment when we told
Roberts that, no, we wouldn’t buy him lunch.
We cut that interview short, because Roberts would only speak off the
record, meaning we couldn’t print anything he told us. As we walked
out, Roberts asked us for a ride home. It was astonishingly sad. Roberts
once drove fancy cars and wore expensive suits. Now he seemed to have
nothing.
But in January 2012, Roberts can start practicing law again, and
those accused of crimes can once again put their futures in his
hands. He has the chance to rebuild a once-promising
career. Unlike his former girlfriend, his mother, his old rehab
acquaintance and his wife, all cold in the ground, he has the chance to
start over.
This article appears in Jan 27 – Feb 2, 2011.
