Catch and Kill

Catch and Kill Plot Summary

Introduction

In the shadowy corridors of American power, a disturbing pattern has persisted for decades: powerful men committing acts of sexual misconduct while entire systems mobilize to protect them from accountability. This phenomenon transcends individual industries, revealing a sophisticated architecture of silence that spans media conglomerates, intelligence firms, legal teams, and corporate boardrooms. When journalists attempt to expose these abuses, they often discover that their own institutions become obstacles rather than allies in the pursuit of truth. The story of how this system operates—and occasionally fails—offers profound insights into the true nature of power in modern America. Through examining pivotal moments when journalists confronted institutional resistance, we witness the extraordinary measures deployed to suppress inconvenient truths: private intelligence operatives conducting surveillance on reporters, media executives killing stories that might damage valuable relationships, and sophisticated legal machinery designed to ensure victims remain silent. Yet we also see how individual courage, institutional backbone, and journalistic persistence can sometimes overcome these formidable barriers, creating moments of accountability that transform society. This exploration reveals not just how power protects itself, but how determined truth-tellers can occasionally pierce its armor.

Chapter 1: The Architecture of Silence: Corporate Media's Gatekeeping Power

Between the 1990s and early 2010s, American media underwent a profound transformation that fundamentally altered how information reached the public. Major news organizations, once operated as independent entities with distinct journalistic missions, increasingly became small divisions within massive entertainment conglomerates. Companies like Comcast (owner of NBC), Disney (ABC), and News Corp created sprawling empires where news divisions represented just one business interest among many—and rarely the most profitable one. This corporate consolidation created new layers of gatekeeping that operated largely invisible to the public. When journalists pursued stories that might damage corporate relationships or threaten other business interests, they encountered resistance that rarely manifested as explicit censorship. Instead, stories were subjected to extraordinary levels of scrutiny, endless requests for additional reporting, or simply allowed to die through delay. As one veteran producer observed, "The most effective way to kill a story is not to say no, but to say 'not yet' until it's no longer relevant." The relationship between media executives and powerful figures created additional barriers to accountability reporting. Top network officials maintained close personal and professional relationships with the very individuals their news divisions should have been investigating. These connections weren't merely social; they reflected deep financial entanglements across industries. When Harvey Weinstein called NBC executives directly to complain about reporting on his alleged misconduct, he wasn't just a news subject but a business partner who had produced content for the network and maintained relationships throughout its corporate hierarchy. Legal departments, ostensibly tasked with protecting journalistic independence, often became instruments for suppressing challenging stories. Legitimate concerns about sourcing and evidence were weaponized to create impossible standards for reporting on powerful figures. Journalists were told their stories needed additional elements that executives simultaneously prevented them from pursuing. This created Kafkaesque situations where reporters couldn't satisfy the very standards being used to block publication. The consequences of this gatekeeping extended far beyond individual unreported stories. When media organizations repeatedly demonstrated unwillingness to challenge powerful interests, sources became less likely to come forward, journalists internalized boundaries of acceptable reporting, and the public remained uninformed about critical issues. This architecture of silence ultimately undermined the fundamental purpose of journalism in a democratic society: to hold power accountable regardless of who wields it or what interests might be damaged by the truth.

Chapter 2: Predators and Protectors: How Power Networks Shield Abusers (1990-2016)

Between 1990 and 2016, a sophisticated ecosystem evolved to protect powerful men accused of sexual misconduct. This wasn't merely a matter of individual enablers but rather interconnected networks spanning multiple industries and institutions. Understanding how these networks functioned reveals why predatory behavior could persist as an "open secret" for decades while victims remained isolated and silenced. At the center of these protection networks were the direct facilitators—assistants, executives, and colleagues who created the conditions for abuse. Harvey Weinstein's assistants scheduled "meetings" with young actresses that were routinely moved to hotel rooms, while executives provided what insiders called "honeypot" presence—initially attending meetings to make women feel comfortable before leaving them alone with Weinstein. These individuals often compartmentalized their actions, convincing themselves they weren't responsible for what happened after arranging meetings or delivering messages. Yet their participation created the infrastructure that made systematic abuse possible. The legal apparatus surrounding powerful figures formed another critical layer of protection. Attorneys crafted increasingly restrictive non-disclosure agreements that prevented victims from speaking about their experiences even to therapists or family members. When allegations emerged despite these agreements, lawyers deployed aggressive tactics to discredit accusers, often using their personal histories or financial circumstances against them. As one attorney who represented multiple victims noted, "The legal system became a weapon that could be used to ensure silence rather than facilitate justice." Media complicity represented a particularly troubling dimension of these networks. Tabloid publications like the National Enquirer practiced "catch and kill" operations—purchasing exclusive rights to damaging stories only to bury them. Meanwhile, mainstream outlets maintained symbiotic relationships with powerful figures, trading favorable coverage for access and advertising revenue. When allegations did surface, these same publications often framed them in ways that minimized misconduct or questioned accusers' credibility. By the mid-2010s, these protection networks had expanded to include sophisticated private intelligence operations. Firms staffed by former intelligence officers conducted surveillance on journalists and sources, gathered compromising information, and created elaborate deception operations to derail investigations. Black Cube, an agency founded by former Israeli intelligence operatives, deployed agents using false identities to approach women who had accused Weinstein of misconduct, secretly recording conversations in efforts to gather information that could discredit them. What made these networks particularly effective was their ability to isolate victims and witnesses. When individuals encountered misconduct, they quickly discovered that speaking out would mean confronting not just a powerful individual but an entire system designed to protect them. The message was clear: the personal and professional costs of challenging these networks would be devastating, while the likelihood of achieving accountability remained minimal. This isolation ensured that even when dozens or hundreds of people knew about misconduct, the public remained uninformed and predators continued operating with impunity.

Chapter 3: The Surveillance State: Private Intelligence Against Journalists (2016-2017)

Between 2016 and 2017, as journalists began investigating long-suppressed allegations against powerful figures, they encountered a shadow world of private intelligence operations designed to monitor, intimidate, and discredit them. This period revealed how wealth and influence could essentially purchase a privatized surveillance apparatus that deployed tactics once reserved for nation-states against private citizens and reporters. At the center of this system was Black Cube, an intelligence agency staffed largely by veterans of Israel's elite military and intelligence services. When Harvey Weinstein faced increasing scrutiny in 2016, his legal team signed contracts worth up to $1.3 million with Black Cube to "provide intelligence which will help the Client's efforts to completely stop the publication of a negative article in a leading NY newspaper." These contracts explicitly authorized using undercover operatives and "avatar operators" who created fake identities online to gather intelligence on targets. The tactics employed were sophisticated and deeply invasive. Black Cube deployed an operative named Stella Penn Pechanac who, using the alias "Diana Filip" from a fictional investment firm, spent months befriending journalists and Weinstein accusers. She met with Rose McGowan more than a dozen times, presenting herself as a women's rights advocate while secretly recording their conversations. Similar operatives approached New York magazine's Ben Wallace and The New Yorker's Ronan Farrow, attempting to extract information about their reporting and sources. Physical surveillance complemented these deception operations. Journalists working on sensitive stories discovered they were being followed by teams in unmarked vehicles who monitored their movements and meetings. One reporter described the psychological impact: "You start questioning your own perception—am I really being followed, or am I becoming paranoid? That doubt itself becomes a powerful deterrent to pursuing difficult stories." This surveillance served both intelligence-gathering purposes and created implicit intimidation. Digital intrusion represented another front in this campaign. Journalists received suspicious messages designed to extract location data or install spyware on their devices. Their email accounts showed signs of attempted access, and their social media profiles were closely monitored for clues about reporting progress. These digital operations created a sense of vulnerability that extended into journalists' private lives, blurring the boundaries between professional risk and personal safety. The private intelligence apparatus extended beyond Black Cube to include other firms like Kroll and PSOPS, creating a multi-layered surveillance operation that could track journalists across continents. These firms compiled extensive dossiers on reporters and sources, searching for information that could be used to discredit them. One internal document listed dozens of journalists, producers, and accusers as targets, with "red flags" highlighting priority individuals for intensive monitoring. What made this system particularly troubling was how it exploited the vulnerabilities of freelance journalists and independent publications. Reporters without the protection of major institutions faced these sophisticated operations largely alone, creating significant disparities in who could safely pursue accountability reporting. The privatization of intelligence capabilities meant that wealth could effectively purchase immunity from journalistic scrutiny, undermining fundamental principles of press freedom and public accountability.

Chapter 4: Breaking Point: When NBC Suppressed the Weinstein Investigation (2017)

In early 2017, NBC News embarked on what should have been a landmark investigation into allegations of sexual misconduct by Hollywood producer Harvey Weinstein. By summer, reporter Ronan Farrow and producer Rich McHugh had assembled compelling evidence: multiple women willing to speak on record about harassment and assault, the damning audio recording from an NYPD sting operation where Weinstein admitted to groping model Ambra Battilana Gutierrez, and corroborating accounts from sixteen former and current Weinstein company employees. Yet in a decision that would later spark controversy throughout the journalism world, NBC executives effectively killed the story. The network's resistance manifested through increasingly insurmountable obstacles. Initially, executives expressed concerns about sourcing and legal exposure—legitimate considerations in investigative journalism. But as Farrow and McHugh addressed these concerns, the requirements kept shifting. When they secured on-record interviews, executives demanded on-camera interviews. When they obtained the police recording, they questioned its news value. By August, the pattern became clear: no amount of reporting would satisfy the network's ever-changing standards. Behind the scenes, Weinstein was actively working to pressure NBC. He made numerous calls directly to NBC News President Noah Oppenheim and NBC News Chairman Andy Lack. His attorneys sent threatening letters claiming the reporting was biased and legally problematic. According to multiple sources within NBC, Weinstein reminded executives of his relationships throughout the entertainment industry—including with other NBC properties and personalities. One executive later acknowledged that "there was a lot of pressure from people with a vested interest in making sure this story didn't get told." The breaking point came in August 2017 when NBC executives made the extraordinary decision to order Farrow to stop reporting entirely. As producer Rich McHugh later recounted: "I was ordered to stand down, literally told to stop working on the story, not to interview Weinstein accusers or witnesses, and to cancel an interview with a woman who was willing to be identified." This directive represented a fundamental breach of journalistic principles—not merely declining to publish a story but actively preventing further reporting. Faced with this institutional roadblock, Farrow made the difficult decision to take his reporting to The New Yorker, which published the investigation in October 2017 to immediate impact. The story, containing substantially the same evidence Farrow had gathered while at NBC, won the Pulitzer Prize and helped launch the global #MeToo movement. NBC's subsequent attempts to justify its decision—claiming the story "wasn't ready" despite evidence to the contrary—only heightened questions about the network's judgment and potential conflicts of interest. The NBC case study revealed how institutional failures could override individual journalistic integrity. The network had hired experienced investigative journalists, provided resources for months of reporting, and even had its legal department initially approve elements of the story—yet ultimately failed its basic journalistic mission when confronted with pressure from a powerful figure. This episode became not just about one killed story but a larger question of whether major media institutions could be trusted to fulfill their watchdog role when their own interests or relationships might be compromised.

Chapter 5: The New Yorker's Courage: How Institutional Backbone Enabled Truth (2017)

In stark contrast to NBC's suppression of the Weinstein investigation, The New Yorker's handling of the same material in the fall of 2017 demonstrated how institutional courage could overcome even the most formidable pressure from powerful interests. When Ronan Farrow approached editor David Remnick with his reporting in August 2017, he encountered a fundamentally different response—one that prioritized journalistic values over institutional comfort or powerful relationships. The New Yorker's approach began with a clear-eyed assessment of the story's significance. Upon hearing the police recording of Weinstein admitting to groping Ambra Battilana Gutierrez, Remnick immediately recognized its news value. Rather than questioning whether audiences would care about allegations against a Hollywood producer, he understood that the pattern of behavior, the systems that enabled it, and the abuse of power involved made this a story of profound public importance regardless of potential blowback. The magazine's legal approach proved equally crucial. When Weinstein's attorneys sent threatening letters claiming the reporting was biased or legally problematic, The New Yorker's general counsel Fabio Bertoni dismissed these intimidation tactics as "a nonstarter." Rather than allowing legal threats to derail the reporting, Bertoni worked collaboratively with journalists to ensure the story was both legally sound and journalistically rigorous. This represented a fundamental difference in institutional priorities: using legal expertise to enable accountability reporting rather than prevent it. The New Yorker's fact-checking process demonstrated how thoroughness could serve truth rather than obstruct it. Veteran fact-checkers Peter Canby and Tammy Kim conducted exhaustive verification of every claim, contacting dozens of sources and reviewing all available documentation. This meticulous approach ensured that when Weinstein and his team were given the opportunity to respond, they could not credibly dispute the core allegations. During these fact-checking calls, Weinstein often contradicted himself, sometimes acknowledging wrongdoing before his handlers could intervene. The resulting article, published on October 10, 2017, presented devastating accounts from multiple women, including actresses Asia Argento, Mira Sorvino, and Rosanna Arquette, who alleged sexual harassment and assault spanning decades. Most significantly, it included three women who accused Weinstein of rape—allegations that crossed the line from misconduct to criminal behavior. The story also detailed the system of complicity that enabled Weinstein, from assistants who set up meetings to lawyers who crafted settlements. The institutional courage displayed by The New Yorker had ripple effects throughout journalism. It demonstrated that despite the immense resources powerful figures could deploy against accountability reporting—from legal threats to private intelligence operations—determined news organizations could still fulfill their essential function in a democracy. As Remnick later reflected, "The idea that powerful cultural figures could silence accusers through various means—that's not new. What is new is the determination of a lot of news organizations to override that." This episode revealed that institutional values ultimately flow from leadership. The New Yorker's willingness to publish such explosive allegations against one of Hollywood's most powerful figures reflected Remnick's clear understanding of the magazine's mission. When asked if he was determined to publish the story despite the risks, his response was unequivocal: "You're damn right." This clarity of purpose created an environment where journalists could pursue difficult truths with institutional support rather than resistance.

Chapter 6: The Aftermath: Institutional Failures and Systemic Change (2017-2020)

The publication of the Weinstein investigations in October 2017 triggered an unprecedented reckoning that extended far beyond one man's downfall. Between 2017 and 2020, the revelations catalyzed structural reforms across industries while simultaneously exposing the depth of institutional failures that had enabled abuse for decades. This period of intense scrutiny forced a fundamental reassessment of how power operated in American society. The immediate aftermath revealed how quickly seemingly impregnable systems could collapse once their foundations were exposed. Within days of the publications, Weinstein was fired from his own company. Within weeks, dozens more women came forward with allegations against him spanning nearly three decades. By month's end, the hashtag #MeToo had been used millions of times as thousands shared their own experiences of sexual harassment and assault across industries. What had once seemed like isolated incidents was revealed as a pervasive pattern affecting countless lives. Media institutions faced particular scrutiny for their role in maintaining Weinstein's impunity. NBC's decision to suppress Farrow's reporting raised troubling questions about conflicts of interest and executive judgment. The network's subsequent attempts to distance itself from the story only heightened concerns about institutional integrity. Other outlets that had declined to pursue Weinstein stories over the years, including New York magazine and The Hollywood Reporter, were forced to reckon with their own decisions. As journalist Rebecca Traister observed, "The media was not just covering a story about sexual harassment; it was confronting its own complicity." The legal system that had enabled silence underwent significant reform. States including California, New York, and New Jersey passed legislation limiting the use of non-disclosure agreements in sexual harassment cases. Courts began scrutinizing confidentiality provisions more carefully, recognizing how they had been weaponized to protect predators rather than legitimate business interests. Law firms that had facilitated these agreements faced professional and public pressure to reconsider their practices. Corporate governance structures implemented new accountability mechanisms. Companies across industries established improved reporting procedures, enhanced training programs, and more transparent investigation processes. The "Weinstein clause" became standard in entertainment industry contracts, requiring representations that executives had not been accused of sexual misconduct. Boards of directors, recognizing their liability for overlooking misconduct, became more proactive in addressing allegations rather than automatically protecting powerful executives. Perhaps most significantly, the power dynamics that had silenced victims began shifting. Women who had been isolated and made to feel their experiences were unique discovered they weren't alone. As actress Ashley Judd, one of the first to go on record against Weinstein, observed: "What I think is so powerful about this moment is that finally the world is able to hear. Because I believe that we women, one, are canaries in the coal mine. And two, speaking truth to power is simply our job." The aftermath demonstrated both the extraordinary measures powerful men could deploy to silence accusers and the ultimate fragility of those systems when confronted with determined journalism and the courage of survivors willing to speak. While some institutions responded with meaningful reform, others merely offered superficial changes while preserving underlying power structures. This tension between genuine transformation and performative adaptation continues to define the ongoing struggle for accountability in American institutions.

Summary

The architecture of silence that protected powerful predators for decades revealed a profound corruption at the intersection of media, law, and corporate power in America. What appeared as isolated failures of accountability were actually symptoms of a systemic problem: institutions designed to serve the public interest instead prioritized protecting powerful individuals and relationships. Media organizations killed stories that might antagonize valuable business partners. Legal systems that should have facilitated justice were weaponized through non-disclosure agreements and intimidation tactics. Corporate boards overlooked misconduct to preserve profitable relationships. This pattern crossed industries and organizations, creating an ecosystem where wealth and influence could effectively purchase immunity from accountability. The eventual breaking of silence demonstrated that even the most formidable systems of protection have vulnerabilities when confronted with collective courage and institutional integrity. The journalists who persisted despite surveillance and threats, the sources who spoke despite potential retaliation, and the publications that published despite legal risks all revealed that power ultimately depends on cooperation and consent. Their actions provide a template for confronting other entrenched abuses: speak truth persistently, build coalitions across traditional boundaries, document patterns rather than isolated incidents, and recognize that institutional change requires sustained pressure rather than momentary outrage. The lesson is not that power is invincible, but that challenging it requires understanding its protective mechanisms and dismantling them systematically rather than expecting any single revelation to create lasting change.

About Author

Loading...

Ronan Farrow

Ronan Farrow is a contributing writer to The New Yorker, where his investigative reporting has won the Pulitzer Prize for public service, the National Magazine Award, and the George Polk Award, among other honors. He previously worked as an anchor and investigative reporter at MSNBC and NBC News, with his print commentary and reporting appearing in publications including the Wall Street Journal, the Los Angeles Times, and the Washington Post. Before his career in journalism, he served as a State Department official in Afghanistan and Pakistan. He is also the author of the New York Times bestseller War on Peace: The End of Diplomacy and the Decline of American Influence. Farrow has been named one of Time Magazine's 100 Most Influential People and one of GQ's Men of the Year. He is a graduate of Yale Law School and a member of the New York Bar. He recently completed a Ph.D. in political science at Oxford University, where he studied as a Rhodes Scholar. He lives in New York.(source: Amazon)

Read more