favorite
Projects
Benjamin has published stories all over the U.S. from Virginia outlets like RVA Mag and WTVR, to publications with a national reach like The Washington Post and The Miami Herald.
Here are just a few of Benjamin's favorites.
Click the image to read a PDF version of the story. Or, when available, click the provided link to read online.
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At Gillies Creek Park, the smell of cooking charcoal floats through the air. Neon figures in wraparound helmets and tiny bikes bob up and down on a twisting track. A booming voice, with ESPN-esque accentuation comes on over the final licks of something to the tune of Green Day’s “Brain Stew.” In the “pit,” as the riders call it, immediately over the fence setting off the racetrack from the rest of the world, families in tents cross-pollinate, sharing stories and tailgate-style snacks as riders big and small make their way to the starting gate.
Today is Sunday. And Sunday is race day.
When I cut my engine in the parking lot of Baugh Auto Body and Truck Repair, the air was relatively still. There was some minor commotion at the large shooting range next door — car doors closing, people chatting — and a muffled rush of cars passing on Broad Street. But since Baugh Auto is tucked into a little oasis — down a hill behind a cube of a car wash and with some vegetation cover — it felt isolated, and vaguely surreal.
Porno theaters and biker haunts, streams of punk rockers flowing from bar to street to bar again, stitched up in Germs gear and Buzzcocks back patches. A line of motorcycles slouch crooked near the sidewalk, like iron horses in front of a saloon.
This was Grace Street in the 1990s, which, at that point, had maintained a rowdy reputation for decades.
When City Beach is nearly empty, the bar is vast and echoey. It appears to defy physics, a deeper space than the building should be able to handle when viewed from the street.
Past the smokers planted on the front patio and just through the doors stands a little room on the left. When occupied, the room can be loud, with an onslaught of clashing, out-of-time electronic sound effects from four bulky machines. Hands come down hard on buttons, and people yell to each other in frustration — or joy when they win a jackpot.
The House of Delegates on Tuesday is expected to pass the first five bills in a package of legislation to improve school safety — proposals drafted by a special committee after the mass shooting last year at a high school in Parkland, Florida.
House Speaker Kirk Cox, a high school teacher for 30 years, and other Republican delegates held a news conference Monday to urge support for the bills, which would help schools improve security, require them to have emergency response plans and ensure that counselors spend most of their time with students.
More than 250 years ago, Lord Botetourt relaxed in the Governor’s Palace and strolled the green grounds of William & Mary, but this unique character is still very much alive in the hearts and minds of the students.
Not just in the history books or the college’s long standing traditions, but through a much more 21st century phenomenon — his social media.
So here you have it, folks. The very first interview conducted with a person dead for more than two and a half centuries.
Pulsing bass and treble under your feet, around your head. It feels like it’s coming from deep inside your body. Spurts of fog blast out from under the stage, and wisps linger around technicolor lights. It’s all aglow — and people are dancing. You’re dancing. Suddenly pulled into a unified body, you’re swaying, arms flying, and smiles flash through the crowd in strobes.
Dust kicks up on the little dirt road to Clearview Alpaca Farm. At first, there’s just an empty field, monochrome and cut low for winter. At the foot of a cluster of trees, a weathered metal alpaca cutout comes into view, letting you know you’re in the right place.
But then you turn the corner, and there they are. Black, brown, white, mixed and matched: more than 200 alpacas wandering through a cluster of gated enclosures and shelters. Some are shy, almost bashful; others walk right up. There are babies wearing polyester coats around their torsos and keeping close to their mothers.
In 1965, the summer Bob Dylan “went electric” and the Beatles were gearing up for their second U.S. tour, 14-year-old Jay Nedry found himself descending a staircase to the basement of Monroe Hall on the William and Mary campus, following close behind an older kid.
They were looking for an entrance to a set of tunnels rumored to run under the Old Campus, connecting most buildings.
Their plan was simple: get to the girls’ dorm.
In October, Lt. Bradford Clark, a Hanover County firefighter, was killed when a tractor-trailer failed to “move over” as mandated by Virginia law. Now, the General Assembly plans to memorialize Clark through a specialty license plate and strengthen the state’s “move over” law. Read online