Late in the 2006 season, I was having a casual conversation about the Patriots [team stats] when someone I trust threw out the following tidbit.

“I heard the Patriots filmed the Rams’ final walkthrough before Super Bowl XXXVI,” he said.

It was just a rumor, and certainly not actionable intelligence, as they say. He had heard it from a friend of a friend. I filed it away, and then forgot about it. Reporters hear stuff like that all the time.

Little did I know that comment would resurface from a much stronger source in the days after the Patriots had been caught filming the Jets’ defensive signals in September 2007.

I still needed more, and I tried to get it. Two days before the Super Bowl, I finally believed I had it nailed that the Pats had indeed taped that walkthrough. I didn’t know what happened to the tape or if it ever found its way to the coaching staff, but I felt I had the basic story, and even though I didn’t feel great about going the anonymous source route, this one was ready for print.

Turns out I could not have been more wrong. I regret it, and that’s something I’m going to have to live with for the rest of my life.

There was no tape made of the walkthrough. Former Patriots video assistant Matt Walsh confirmed this in his meetings this week with the league and Sen. Arlen Specter. An internal investigation by the Patriots reached the same conclusion.

Because I expect accountability of the people I cover, I must demand the same of myself. I owe that to both the readers of my stories and the subjects of my stories.

While I have no regrets over going to print the day before the Super Bowl, this is a story I simply could not afford to get wrong. And I did.

So what happened?

First and foremost, this is about a writer breaking one of the cardinal rules of journalism. I failed to keep challenging what I had been told.

I had repeatedly heard that this walkthrough had been taped, and from people I trusted. Eventually I accepted it as fact and stopped questioning the assertion.

The confirmed presence of a member of the team’s video staff at the walkthrough reinforced my belief that it was filmed. Secondhand sourcing took on added weight. When I got word that other reporters had picked up the scent, it only steeled my resolve not to get beat.

All of that said, I never expected to be running this story during Super Bowl week, but I opened the New York Times [NYT] on Friday, Feb. 1, and saw that not only was Specter complaining about the NFL’s investigation into the Patriots, but that the Times had tracked down Walsh, a former Patriots video assistant living in Hawaii who was suggesting he had more information on the team.

Walsh’s name set off alarms. He worked for the Pats during the 2001 season and his name had been floated amongst the rumors. Many believed he had filmed the walkthrough.

My determination to get the story had been re-stoked. I began reaching back out to sources.

One that I trust said he had been told the walkthrough was taped. A second said he had been told the same thing, but neither had seen a tape.

I already had been able to verify that a member of the team’s video staff had been setting up a camera at the walkthrough, but on the final, crucial point of whether the camera was actually rolling, I made a devastating leap of logic and assumed that’s what I was being told rather than confirming it explicitly. I considered the fact that it was taped unassailable.

And this is the exact point at which the story broke down.

I attended Roger Goodell’s state of the league address and asked him afterward if he had ever investigated allegations that the Patriots had filmed the Rams’ walkthrough. He said it was the first he’d heard of it, though a day later he’d release a statement saying the league investigated the rumor months ago and believed it to be unfounded.

We worked on the story throughout the day on Feb. 1, and by just before 9 p.m. felt we had a version on which we could call the Patriots for comment. The timing was another misstep. The call should have been made much sooner. I felt we had to know exactly what we were intending to print before trying to get a reaction. Patriots PR director Stacey James scrambled to find the right people, and eventually told us the coaches had no knowledge of it. The team was steamed, and I was told, “You’d better be sure.”

Caught up in the moment, I was excited to break a big story, but I had been so wrapped up in the process that I hadn’t stepped back to consider the ramifications.

“You’re really putting your neck out there,” one reporter friend said.

“This isn’t just any story,” another counseled. “There’s no coming back from this.”

For the first time, a pit settled in my stomach. That pit would become my constant companion for the next three months. I had no doubt the story was accurate when it ran, but now the enormity of what I had done was setting in. Journalism isn’t a popularity contest, but good Lord, this story was not going to be well received.

And it wasn’t. Patriots fans howled. The team released the denial that it has stood by to this day. But even as the story mushroomed on Super Bowl Sunday, I still had no doubts.

That feeling of certainty slowly eroded over the next few months as details of the walkthrough emerged. The league’s investigation determined there was no power to the cameras. A March 10 Boston Globe story made a compelling case that the walkthrough could only have been recorded in the unlikely event that Walsh used his own hidden camera.

We reported many of these details along the way, but I never uncovered enough to convince us we had erred. Fearing you’re wrong and knowing it are two different things.

By the time Walsh met with the league and revealed that he had no knowledge of the walkthrough being filmed, it was clear what we had to do. The paper issued a front-page apology Wednesday.

At this point, I have to pause. There has been a clamoring for me to identify the sources used in my story. This I cannot do. When a reporter promises anonymity, he can’t break that promise simply because he comes under fire. I gave my word, and the day I break that word is the day sources stop talking to me.

Another word on sources: The story mentioned only a single, unnamed source because in the end, while I had multiple sources relating similar allegations, I relied on one more than the others.

I’ve had a lot of time to think about this story, and here are some conclusions I’ve drawn:

I should not have written the story without seeing the tape or getting multiple, firsthand confirmations from members of the organization.

No one forced me to write that story, and it’s important to note I do not believe I was ever lied to. I believe my sources intended to provide accurate information, and it was incumbent on me to vet it more fully.

The Patriots deserved more time to investigate and respond.

What happens from here? I intend to continue covering the Patriots to the best of my abilities, and that means pursuing every storyline, good or bad. I have relationships to mend within the organization and with my readers. The process of regaining your trust will not be an easy one.

At the end of the day, I’m human, and humans make mistakes. Mine happened to be very significant and very public, and it’s something that will always be with me.

I’m confident it will make me a better reporter. Last year, Patriots safety Rodney Harrison [stats] pulled me aside to discuss a story he believed had unfairly attacked him. He felt it had gotten personal and wanted me to put myself in his shoes.

I thought I knew where he was coming from, but in reality I didn’t. Now I do. This perspective will only help moving forward.

I take immense pride in what I do and the paper I work for. I truly believe it’s a privilege to serve as a link between the fans and their team.

On Feb. 2, I let you all down. Today I hope to begin the long road back.

Kraft pleased with Boston Herald’s apology
/sports/football/patriots/view.bg?articleid=1094006

Patriots issue statement
/sports/football/patriots/view.bg?articleid=1093901