An open letter to Nina Radetich

Deny and defy.

That's the strategy, Nina?

Public silence essentially denying your scandal? Defying your critics?

Disrespecting your viewers?

Nina-gate swung open wide last week, exposing how you referred your boyfriend's media-spin services to the owner of Tire Works, an auto repair chain under investigation by Channel 13 -- your own station -- for alleged fraudulent practices.

A journalist suggesting that a publicist could blunt the impact of journalism. A breathtaking ethical breach.

Delivering a hollow mea culpa to your colleagues, you conceded no culpability for your professional malfeasance, expressing remorse only over the media ruckus in "prepared" remarks, a sterile, impersonal response treating your co-workers like nuisances with whom you must deal, rather than friends with whom you should level.

How'd it play? Here's one colleague's take from inside your newsroom: "It was just a poorly read statement from a piece of paper, nothing from the heart. She still acts like the queen of the place. You see the sideways glances, the talking and pointing, the sneering, but she's holding her head high as if nothing happened."

Another insider claims that in the midst of this miasma, you later blabbed that you happily anticipated a Cape Cod romp with your spin-doctoring beau, flipping a figurative middle finger to a newsroom you'd already dissed.

Chow time, Nina. The humble pie's getting cold.

An apology is due, in some venue or other (this column's still available to you). One protector/admirer -- VP/GM Jim Prather, who gently kissed away your transgression as a "lapse of judgment" -- is all you need to keep your anchor seat. Survival isn't surprising when you're a management darling, your accomplishments praised, your misdeeds pardoned, your ego nourished. But those who don't think you descended from Mount Olympus find your lack of contrition appalling.

Press Web sites were aflame with anger and disbelief, soiling the rep of the Vegas market among fellow journalists. Knee-jerk media bashers embraced another excuse to excoriate newscasters as double-dealing demons. Others, even if more balanced and reasonable in their media assessment, might wonder if the rest of us dabble in such duplicity.

Our attention soon will wander toward other topics. That's the restless nature of news. But like a clothing stain that's never washed clean, the blot of Nina-gate will permanently mark you, at least among colleagues and sources, if you don't take some soap and water to it.

Grab an opportunity, Nina, to press the reset button. Apologize, and perhaps re-energize your station, one that often undermines its credibility, as chronicled here.

(Recall the special effects that artificially goose stories? Ron Futrell claiming your news "scares viewers into watching the next newscast"?)

This requires an unselfish act -- a clear, cleansing expression of genuine regret, one to rebuild upon.

Think of yourself as the besotted hero of that old kids' singalong song: Poor ol' Michael Finnegan. ...

Begin again.

Contact reporter Steve Bornfeld at sbornfeld@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0256.