I write this fable to the Reporters Committee for Freedom of the Press, the American Society… I write this fable to the Reporters Committee for Freedom of the Press, the American Society of Newspaper Editors, the Radio-Television News Directors Association and the Society of Professional Journalists.

These media groups supported California attorney Allan Favish in his effort to gain access to death-scene photographs of Vince Foster, who was the deputy White House counsel, before committing suicide in 1993.

Foster’s death triggered several conspiracy theories — spread by President Bill Clinton’s opponents — of murder and a government cover-up.

There have already been five investigations into Foster’s death — investigations that have resulted in the disclosure of thousands of pages of evidence and analysis, along with more than 100 photographs. Isn’t that enough?

The United States Supreme Court thought it was, and unanimously decided that four of the photographs should not be released. They stated that Foster’s family’s right to privacy outweighed public interest.

The media groups that supported Favish are probably upset that they cannot broadcast pictures that have yet to be seen by the public.

Whenever I get upset about not getting my way, my mother tells me a story. Now, I’m no one’s mamma, but this little tale will have to do.

In a village not too far from here there was a monkey named Medeea. When Medeea was just a little monkey, he was fun to play with. People in the village learned from Medeea and it was a resource for the village, much like the sewage system.

The little monkey grew to be a beast all its own; yet, like the village sewage system, it stinks!

Medeea used to entertain and inform the children of the village, but recently, it has been accused of harming the children. It used to sit in its tree and tell stories, spreading truth and goodwill. Now it runs rampant through the village, and villagers such as Polly Tikin and Advert Eyesin employ it and teach it strange tricks. They even dress the monkey in costumes so villagers will be confused and no longer recognize it. Just imagine what this is doing to the children!

One day, Medeea escaped the supervision of Polly Tikin and Advert Eyesin and went to the river to bathe. (Yes, even monkeys named Medeea want to feel so fresh and so clean.)

On the way back, the little monkey got lost. While trying to find its way, it met a moose eating discolored squashes. The moose warned the monkey that what he did in his home was his business, but Medeea, being from a squash-loving village, hurried back to tell the villagers of the moose and the strange fruit.

Immediately, rumors spread throughout the village about moose and their bizarre eating habits.

As if telling the story was not enough, the monkey ventured back to the moose’s private property to steal a mutated squash and bring it back to the village for the villagers to see.

There was no reason to violate the moose’s request for privacy, and parade its squashes around for anyone to see. The villagers grew squash of their own. In fact, it was a prize-winning squash community.

Not only was the moose hurt by Medeea’s actions, but also, a child from the village thought it would be a grand idea to eat the moose’s squash. The child got very ill, and the village blamed the monkey for what had happened.

Medeea was never trusted again.

The moral of the story is that little monkeys with a sense of entitlement to information and too much power are not too far away from being community gossips that steal and endanger the lives of children. Also, it is wrong to steal squashes — even from moose!

Maria Nicole Smith admits to having trained the little monkey in exposing people’s secrets. Check with her at [email protected].