KEY POINTS:
The formal media statement by sports broadcaster Tony Veitch about his violent assault on a former partner was much more remarkable for what it omitted than what it included.
Veitch announced at the opening of the press conference that he would take no questions after reading a prepared statement. But the reporter who called after him as he left, "Exactly what did you do to her, Tony?" was seeking a plain answer to one of several questions that the statement signally failed to answer.
Indeed Veitch's choice of words was remarkably coy, and not just for its lack of specificity. "I broke," he said, in the only direct reference to the assault, "and lashed out in anger."
In such a description - and every syllable of the statement would have been subjected to the most meticulous analysis, very likely with the assistance of lawyers - the victim of the assault is conspicuous by her absence. Indeed, she is rendered entirely invisible. Veitch might as well have admitted that he "lashed out" and struck a wall - an act of intimidating violence in itself. The careful framing of his mea culpa cannot escape the accusation of being mealy-mouthed because it seeks to gloss over - indeed, comes close to ignoring - the impact of his actions on anyone other than himself.
Today's interview with Paul Holmes goes further in explaining his state of mind before, after and during the incident. He elaborates on his relationship, its difficulties and his thoughts about his ex-partner. But again, he is treading very carefully between a public that is demanding answers and a desire to save his career and avoid prosecution.
If we still don't know much about the assault - a term Veitch has yet to utter, though he has not disputed its accuracy - we know something of its aftermath. Reliable reports indicate that the woman, Kristin Dunne-Powell, suffered four cracked vertebrae and had to take leave for months from a job which she later stopped completely. Such physical damage is at odds with the phrase "lashed out", which conjures up, and was doubtless intended to conjure up, a short, discrete and minor action.
Veitch says that both of them "did not want this to play out in the public", but that does not dispel the impression that he wanted to keep it quiet for the sake of his career. He seems, in short, less sorry for what he did than for having been found out.
A year ago, a reporter for this newspaper left a message inviting Veitch to comment on the assault allegation, which was then doing the rounds. His failure to return calls is more consistent with a desire to bury the story than with the contrition he now professes. And it ill befits a journalist to use the phantom defence that "some of what's been said by the media is untrue" if he is not prepared to say what was wrong - and how.
Veitch's fudging was matched by his employers. TVNZ and The Radio Network were too slow in dealing with the matter when it broke last Monday morning. Our revelations today that senior TVNZ management knew about the matter months ago mean that it may not just be Veitch whose future is in doubt. TVNZ's chief executive, Rick Ellis, has been left in an embarrassing and difficult situation, with a ratty Government and Prime Minister breathing down his neck.
Both employers need to show Veitch the door, not just for the sake of their brands, which he has tarnished, but because it is their duty as corporate citizens. TVNZ, in particular, publicly owned and earning revenue from an advertising campaign saying that domestic violence is not okay, must take a stand. Like it or not, Veitch's position imposes on him a particular kind of noblesse oblige: he trades on a public image of a lovable scamp and he is held in high regard by young, sports-mad men who figure disproportionately in violence statistics. The case for his sacking would be persuasive if he were a business reporter; given the role he plays, it is unanswerable.
