The wide-eyed student asked the old journalism professor a question. What makes a big news story?

The old prof answered with a cliche. He explained if a dog bit a man, that is usual and not news. But if a man bites a dog, that is unusual and becomes news.

We see examples all the time. Most of our friends in public office come to work every day and do their best to fulfill their assignments. Our police and firefighters keep us safe, catch the bad guys, save our homes, and work together to pull the carcass of a deer off the hood of our new family car. They also face the unenviable task of notifying us when tragedy visits our homes.

It is well and good they do this. We applaud them. But their actions are usual. They usually do not generate big news. But, when they do otherwise, these events are unusual. And these unusual circumstances can morph into big news stories.

For instance, most of us recently saw police camera videos from Memphis that made us and every good police officer cringe. That tragic event and the video soon became a huge national story.

Sometimes we read about public officials who wink at legal violations for cash. Once again, their unusual conduct becomes a big news story. I remember writing a story about a tax assessor who cut the property tax bill of a fancy new downtown office building by reporting that the 14-story building had only 13. Oops. Yes, it was not long before someone counted the floors, and the assessor was soon on his way to the clink for that stunt.

If you are old enough to collect social security benefits, you might remember the story of the corrupt Baltimore public official who pocketed bribes from road contractors. When the Baltimore guy got promoted to vice president of the U.S.A., he saw no reason to stop accepting the fat brown envelopes filled with cash, although this time, they were delivered to him in his office the Executive Office Building.

When the crooked contractor got caught, he squealed to save his skin. A few months later, the celebrated vice president found himself in court, out of a job, and forever consigned to the dustbin of history.

Let's go back to journalism 101. The old prof told the young cub reporter to always tell the truth. Why? Because sooner or later, the truth would come out. If a reporter gets caught skirting the truth or writing a flat-out lie, his or her reputation is kaput, finished.

I go through all this because recent national news roundups include stories based on sworn court documents that made me cringe, just like all good cops reacted when they saw the disturbing Memphis police videos. In a sworn court filing in a lawsuit before a judge, a group of prominent TV commentators and network executives admitted they did not believe the stories they told their viewers. They said they knew the claims made by supporters of a certain losing political candidate were wrong, were lies, and were just crazy stuff.

Yet day after day, despite knowing they were lies, the network's biggest stars kept repeating the crazy false claims and continued to present the nutty spokespersons on the air. Why? They said if they did not continue to propagate the lies, their audience would go away.

Now, I am not going to try to be holier than thou, and say I have never made a mistake. I have made them and have been embarrassed. I expect I will make others, too. But, over some 55 years in the news business, at outlets big and small, I knew better than to fib. I knew once the truth got out, my tail belonged to Joe Hayes, and I would have to find another way to feed the family.

As kids, we all knew others who always had an excuse when they lost the race or the game. They claimed the other side cheated, the officials messed up, or worse, were in the tank for the other side. And if you challenged their claims, they might double down, saying anyone who disagreed with their point of view was a sissy or a communist or worse. In the news business, no matter if you are in the major league or the minors, once you get caught in a fib, your readers and advertisers are reluctant to believe you again.

That, said the old professor to the young journalist, is why you never tell a fib. Because someway, or somehow, just like the crooked tax assessor and the shady vice president found out, the truth always seems to come out. When it does, it causes problems, big problems.