Daniels v. Metro Magazine Holding Co., L.L.C.

634 S.E.2d 586, 179 N.C. App. 533, 34 Media L. Rep. (BNA) 2363, 2006 N.C. App. LEXIS 1978
CourtCourt of Appeals of North Carolina
DecidedSeptember 19, 2006
DocketCOA05-1336
StatusPublished
Cited by32 cases

This text of 634 S.E.2d 586 (Daniels v. Metro Magazine Holding Co., L.L.C.) is published on Counsel Stack Legal Research, covering Court of Appeals of North Carolina primary law. Counsel Stack provides free access to over 12 million legal documents including statutes, case law, regulations, and constitutions.

Bluebook
Daniels v. Metro Magazine Holding Co., L.L.C., 634 S.E.2d 586, 179 N.C. App. 533, 34 Media L. Rep. (BNA) 2363, 2006 N.C. App. LEXIS 1978 (N.C. Ct. App. 2006).

Opinion

*534 MARTIN, Chief Judge.

Sybil Lindsey Daniels (“plaintiff’) filed a complaint against defendants in Wake County Superior Court setting forth claims of libel, intentional infliction of emotional distress, and unfair or deceptive practices. As grounds for her complaint, plaintiff alleged that Reeves, the editor and publisher of Metro Magazine (“Metro”), had written and published an article in which he defamed plaintiff in her profession as an insurance adjuster for Progressive Insurance Company (“Progressive”). The article appeared in the November 2003 issue of Metro under an editorial column entitled “My Usual Charming Self.” The specific essay, “DRIVIN’ ALONG IN MY AUTOMOBILE,” reads in pertinent part as follows:

The theft of my automobile didn’t make the headlines. I guess the Michael Peterson and Meg Scott Phipps trials were deemed more important. And face it, car thefts and home burglaries are a [sic] commonplace, even in allegedly low crime zones like Raleigh. But I feel that what happened to me is worthy of making the permanent record based on the similar experiences shared by friends and associates. It seems many of us have been victims of the crime no one wants to do something about.
On Labor Day Sunday morning, I walked out of my side door with keys in hand to discover a blank space where my car had been the night before, not 10 feet away from the guest room that was actually occupied with guests. No one heard anything, including my two Chinese Chow-Chows who usually burst into a barking frenzy when the postman stops two blocks away.
I called the police, who arrived promptly. I told the officer I had satellite auto location capability so we should be able to track down the car in an hour or so. He said he would call OnStar and report the theft while showing me the onboard computer in the squad car with all my pertinent data displayed. He said not to worry, we’ll find it.
A few hours later there was no word from RPD or OnStar, so I called the number on the card the officer gave me, naively thinking it was his direct cell phone line. Instead I was disappointed to reach the main number for police dispatch. I asked to speak to my case officer and was told, “I’ve got 400 names here and they’re single-spaced and not alphabetized and I can’t find the officer’s name.”
*535 With this unforeseen setback in mind, the next morning, Labor Day, I called OnStar myself only to discover they had never been called by RPD to report the theft. I gave them the case number and headed out about my business and called the house an hour or two later to ask my wife Katie if she had heard anything.
Yes, she said, they have found your car. Before I could celebrate she added: “The police got into a high-speed chase and the car hit a pole (I’m thinking, not good news but still, they have the car) and . . . pause . . . the engine caught on fire.” This was not good news indeed. The car was basically new and I’m thinking it will never have the same value and I’m screwed — until it hit me it must be a total loss and I began ruminating about the choices before me: Do I replace it with the same model car or do I want to change to something else ... mmmhh, maybe this will work out to my advantage.
Until I talked to Sybil, the claims adjustor with Progressive Insurance. She called me responding to a message I left with my local agent and her local office the moment the car was stolen on Sunday morning. No one was available then, but on Monday Sybil was back in the saddle and in rare form. After accusing me of stealing my own car — she actually did — Sybil lapsed into bureaucratic order-giving that would put former Soviet security police to shame. She announced she was switching on her tape recorder with a tone that suggested she was on to me and the tape would tell the tale. I capitulated to the interrogation after some resistance and answered the questions. After that, she explained that she was sending me an affidavit to fill out and have notarized. “Notarized?” I said. In her calm, sinister voice she said yes and added: “I am enclosing in the package an envelope. You are to enclose all keys you have to your vehicle and return them with the notarized affidavit.”
In effect, I screamed at Sybil — you are taking my car from me. In that quiet Gestapo voice, she let me know that there would be an investigation,, again hinting that I had stolen my own car. Right about here in the story my agent returned to town and prevented Sybil from taking me to the gas chamber and things settled down until the next day when Sybil announced that the car was not a total loss.
By this time, late Tuesday, Sybil had seen the car but had forbade me from viewing the patient. The next day I was allowed to *536 visit the injured automobile in a junkyard in Southeast Raleigh hidden behind truck depots I never knew existed. As daylight was fading, I accelerated out of primal fear down the South Blount Street Connector and fortunately located what can only be described as Purgatory for deceased cars whose souls had passed into automobile heaven leaving behind their mortal coils of twisted steel, tires akimbo, their headlights dark.
The Jim Croce song about Superman popped in my head as Katie and I tiptoed around two junkyard dogs with pit bull features into the office trailer populated by what looked like bounty hunters and found out where my car was located in the vast graveyard of contorted metal corpses.
“Looks totaled to me,” I said peering at the crushed right front and the fire damaged engine area.
After our escape in the gloaming I called Sybil and said, “How in the name of all that’s holy could you say this car is repairable?” I’ll spare you the details of her response but basically Progressive Insurance wasn’t about to pay to replace a new car and that was that.
SOVEREIGN IMMUNITY
After more innuendos from Sybil that I had stolen my own car, Progressive went on with the repairs at my choice of shops (I didn’t trust their offer to have it done at one of their “network” repair centers, for obvious reasons). To his credit, my agent ran down the headman for Progressive in North Carolina to complain about Sybil but the guy turned out to be a caricature of the glad-handing PR flak that feels your pain and keeps right on sticking it to you. Then I found out that my rental-car allowance in the policy was good for one week. This was getting expensive as well as annoying and time-consuming and I wanted to blame someone besides me and the thief, whom I would never meet and for sure wouldn’t have insurance of his own.
So I called the Raleigh City Manager, the man in charge of the police department, to report that this harrowing series of events would not have happened if the police officer that took the initial theft report had done what he said he would do and call OnStar. I also communicated, my disbelief that the dispatcher could not locate the officer when I called to verify he had called OnStar.

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Cite This Page — Counsel Stack

Bluebook (online)
634 S.E.2d 586, 179 N.C. App. 533, 34 Media L. Rep. (BNA) 2363, 2006 N.C. App. LEXIS 1978, Counsel Stack Legal Research, https://law.counselstack.com/opinion/daniels-v-metro-magazine-holding-co-llc-ncctapp-2006.