The Ralph "Bucky" Phillips case had been gnawing at me for several weeks. Just before leaving for a vacation in July, I sat in a story-planning meeting at the Erie Times-News at which time we discussed the Phillips case. At that point, Bucky had been on the lam for four months -- since escaping from the Erie County Holding Center in Alden, N.Y. He'd been implicated in the June 10 shooting of a New York state trooper in Chemung County.

As Scott Waldman would report in the Erie Times-News on July 23, "Phillips, 44, cut a wide path through western New York since he used a can opener to cut a hole in the ceiling of a correctional facility kitchen ceiling to flee."

The way he broke out of jail and the way he kept eluding capture -- he reportedly stole a series of cars and ATVs -- made him something of a folk hero in Western New York.

Waldman talked to State University of New York at Fredonia criminal justice professor Len Brown, who said that Phillips' skill at eluding authorities for so long had captivated many local residents.

At our meeting, we talked about bumper stickers that asked, "Where's Bucky?" And there were even reports that a local diner had named a hamburger after him.

As I sat at the meeting, I was concerned that a story about Phillips in this vein might portray him a folk hero. And that would not be a good thing -- not when he was implicated in a cop shooting.

Anyway, I left town for a week, our story ran, and when I returned I saw several letters to the editor expressing outrage that we would glorify a character like Phillips. This was troubling to me, to say the least.

But only two weeks ago did I go back and actually read Waldman's account, which was fair and balanced. Yes, he talked to people like Professor Brown, who said that some local residents looked upon Phillips story like a David-and-Goliath story. But he also interviewed people like Clayton Barber, a farmer who was no fan of Bucky's.

In recent weeks, as Phillips was implicated in a shooting of two more state troopers, one of whom eventually died from his wounds, Bucky's support evaporated.

My concern is that some readers who did not see Waldman's story in the first place -- as I hadn't -- might have gotten the wrong impression about the tenor of the piece. If you saw only the letters to the editor, it might have been the case.

Doug Oathout, Waldman's assigning editor at our newspaper, observes that a reporter always walks a razor's edge on such a story -- you move too far on one side or the other and you're going to get cut.

Oathout edited Waldman's story and said he was satisfied that it met all the requirements of fairness. But he believes that some readers who saw only the photograph by Rich Forsgren -- a picture that showed the words, "We Love Bucky," written on the side of a truck -- might have drawn the wrong conclusion. "It was part of the package," Oathout said. "But the photo alone did not tell the whole story."

Oathout, who grew up in a rural area in Western New York, said that he thinks that some folks from rural settings get used to having their own space. "I think in the beginning, Bucky was not seen as a serious threat -- at least not to some rural people. Tragically, the people who hid him out badly misunderstood the situation. And once he revealed himself for what he was, opinions changed."

I'm glad I took the time to go back and read Waldman's story. I would defend it against criticism from those who might have only seen the letters to the editor. But that said, it's always good to go back and review -- reexamine all the steps that lead to a story.

-- Kevin Cuneo