It was a good day for Vic Micolucci.
An email had just gone out to the newsroom announcing the 28-year-old who’s covered tough crime cases from Lonzie Barton to Jordan Davis will become WJXT TV-4’s newest morning anchor.
He wasn’t nervous about it, he said. He’s subbed in the position many times. And truthfully, he’s auditioned for anchor before. He’s not sure why he got the job this time.
Micolucci shouldered his colleagues’ praise — “Hey, congratulations” and “We love this guy” — with enough grace to make Miss America envious.
He was “grateful and excited.” It was “just hard, hard, hard work, building my sources and getting out into the community.”
He redirected attention back to his colleagues in the newsroom. Introduced them to his visitor. Talked up their good work.
Likeable, outgoing, generous.
Micolucci doesn’t just say the right things, though. He’s a true believer — in the power of community, in the power of his job to help take care of it.
Micolucci grew up in Jacksonville, attending Catholic school, surfing and DJ’ing for his father’s weekend band.
His family is rooted not so much journalism as in the medical field. His parents share a medical practice and his brother attended medical school.
But, there was never any pressure on Micolucci to do anything except “be the best at whatever you do,” he said.
He took a journalism class in high school. It wasn’t until he was a student at the University of Florida, though, that Micolucci really got hooked. It’s where he got his first scoop.
Micolucci was volunteering at the public radio station on a day when former Gov. Charlie Crist came to the campus.
The reporter on the assignment hadn’t asked Crist about cuts to education. The executive producer gave Micolucci a tape recorder and sent him to intercept the tour.
Crist was already headed to his motorcade and brushed Micolucci off at first. But Micolucci politely asked to walk with him and then peppered the governor with questions.
“He treated me seriously,” Micolucci said. “It was probably my first real interview.”
After that, the station bumped up his hours and soon, Micolucci was reading the main newscast.
“The first time, I was so scared I don’t think I took a breath,” Micolucci said. “It seemed like it was the longest minute and 45 seconds of my life.”
If news casting once made Micolucci nervous, it doesn’t today.
He talks to crime victims, strangers only a few hours earlier, on what is admittedly the worst day of their lives. He calmly asks them how they are doing.
Those who go on camera tell amazing stories. Off camera, it may not always go so smoothly.
The toughest part, Micolucci said, is the first time he walks up to knock on a door, not knowing who’s on the other side or what they’re going through.
“I’ve had doors slammed in my face. I’ve had people curse at me. I’ve had people threaten lawsuits,” he said. “There are people who do not like media. Or they’re just private.”
Micolucci apologizes for upsetting them, tells them they are in his thoughts, leaves a card in case they want to talk later.
Many times they do.
The payoff comes after the story is told, when tragedy turns into an outpouring of community support.
Crime tips may lead to justice and donations help pay for funerals and for the living expenses of bereaved spouses and children. The victim goes from being a number to becoming a person and the community shares in the grief of losing them.
“It’s cathartic and it helps them to heal,” he said. “There have been people who I bump into five or six years later and they’re still happy with the story.”
The most difficult stories to tell are the ones where a child dies.
On the day of Cherish Perrywinkle’s murder, Micolucci woke up at 4 a.m. for the morning newscast. The news team was on the air nonstop until the 8-year-old’s body was found. Micolucci was the one who interviewed Rayne Perrywinkle, Cherish’s mother.
“She is one of the sweetest people you will ever meet,” he said. “What she was going through — it was terrible.”
There’s satisfaction, too, of working a story that makes a difference. Micolucci followed the complex case of Jordan Davis, an African-American teen who was shot for playing loud music.
The station ran over 100 stories, and Micolucci eventually appeared in “31/2 Minutes, 10 Bullets,” a documentary about the crime.
“It was a big case and it had a lot of meanings — anger issues, racism, apparent profiling,” Micolucci said. “It caused a lot of conversations and it just took off.”
His appeal likely comes from the fact he does more than just report on the community. He’s tied to it.
Buttons with the faces of crime victims are pinned to the wall of his cubicle. He’s launched a video journaling program for Wolfson Children’s Hospital patients and he mentors young men through the Justice Coalition.
He interacts with his audience beyond the newscast. His Twitter account is up to over 15,000 tweets. His Facebook page has over 5,000 likes and more than 2,900 emails appear on his cell phone.
It’s volunteer time, he admitted, but he responds to as many of the comments as he can. People today expect news instantly and he wants to deliver.
Two audience members especially stay in the loop.
“My parents still text me every day to see when I’m going to be on air,” Micolucci said.
Now, with his new 9 a.m. spot, they won’t have to.
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