Days earlier the journalist had broken the story about National MP Sam Uffindell who, as a teenager, was asked to leave his boarding school after beating a younger student late at night.

Johnston’s tweet was addressing various accusations levelled not at Uffindell, but her. They were coming from both the public and media types questioning her motives, sources, political ties: you know, the usual.

“I know it’s exciting to think there’s like, a mega plan and everyone is Machiavellian,” she wrote, “but there’s just me alone in my office with my dog forgetting to have lunch until 2pm most days.”

Johnston says the sort of criticism and conspiracies she received following the Uffindell story are all part of the job, albeit a tiring one. And to be clear, she’s not asking for sympathy or bemoaning the fact; she’s just answering questions and not particularly enjoying doing so.

The investigative journalist was last week named Reporter of the Year at the 2022 Voyager Awards, the annual event honouring excellence in media, and in its wake has reluctantly agreed to talking both about her work and herself.

But first, the trolls. Johnston says people should question journalism, though all too often it’s not queries but abuse copped by those in the profession, and not just from faceless social media accounts.

“All reporters know it. They go to parties and don't say what they do.”

Johnston, meanwhile, once went to a fancy dress party kitted as a puppet, wearing a sign saying “New Zealand Government” hanging from her neck. Sometimes you’ve just got to laugh at the absurdity of it all, she says.

“If you had met nearly any journalist you'd realise we’re equal opportunity haters – it doesn't matter who it is or what political party they’re from, if there's a story there reporters will go after that.

“What drives us isn't a political ideology, it's a journalism ideology.”

Stuff writer Kirsty Johnston and Paddy the dog. He’s needy, she says. Photo / Alan Gibson, Stuff

Johnston lives in Tauranga with her husband and dog – the one that sits in her office – a “very trendy cavoodle” named Paddy. She got married last year, somewhere in between running a half-marathon, releasing a podcast and studying law.

She’s been a journo for 15 years, joining the first tranche of Fairfax Media interns then cutting her teeth on breaking news. She remembers sleeping under her desk while covering the Christchurch earthquake, as well as intense reporting on Pike River, the Rena disaster and the Carterton hot air balloon tragedy.

More recently though she’s been writing stories about the unfair treatment meted out by the country’s justice system. Her coverage of ‘Mrs P’ an abuse victim wrongly convicted of perjury is what won Johnston this year’s award; something she says pales into comparison to what it means for victims.

“I feel like her being vindicated was a vindication for all the people going through or having been through that.”

Her favourite story, though, was that of Ashley Peacock, an autistic man who spent five years locked in an isolated mental health unit as a compulsory patient under the Mental Health Act. Allowed outside for just 90 minutes a day, psychiatrists deemed the incarceration kept both him and the public safe from his frequent psychotic episodes while the Ombudsman labelled his living situation "cruel and inhuman".

Johnston’s reporting raised public concern and ultimately saw Peacock freed to live in his own house.

“I still think you can't ask for more than that as a reporter,” she says of the work.

But despite the serious and life changing investigations she produces, Johnston still doesn’t turn her nose up at that most beloved topic of reporters: the quirky creature tale.

“Back in the day I wrote an amazing story about a seal who chased a cat into a house. There’s nothing better than a banging animal story.”

Andrea Vance: “If people honestly think we’re being paid by the government they’re not well.” Photo / Robyn Edie, Stuff

That’s a sentiment echoed by Andrea Vance who, when approached for this interview, brushed aside my comparison of her recent work and mine.

“I love Nigel the gannet fyi,” she replied by email, “I'd just do birds the whole time, especially penguins, if they'd let me.”

Vance and visual journalist Iain McGregor’s documentary series This Is How It Ends won the Best Editorial Project at the awards. The series highlighted why New Zealanders should care as much about biodiversity as climate change, and yes, there are penguins.

This year Vance also released Blue Blood, a book detailing the inside story of the National Party’s war with itself, and is now down a disinformation rabbit hole exposing the many conspiracy theorists currently vying for local government positions.

As for information about her? Vance says she likes to keep her personal life private, mainly because the most interesting thing about it is her dog, a Sharpei named Dubh, who keeps her company while working from home to avoid distractions.

“My biggest problem is I love to talk and talk, so when I go into the office I spend all my time catching up.”

Vance describes herself as a bit of a magpie, always looking for shiny things which in her case are stories. She says a lot of those come about through that talking she’s so fond of; little tidbits of information discovered while shooting the breeze with, well, everyone.

But while Vance insists her only skills are being nosy and persistent, her body of work and awards speak otherwise, even if she won’t tell you about them.

Born in Northern Ireland, Vance grew up near Belfast where her dad edited three newspapers. Determined to dissuade her from following in his footsteps, her father gave her a summer job expecting she’d cover garden fetes and similar boring topics.

Instead, as rioting kicked off, the teenager found herself reporting on pipe bombs and burning cars.

“It was really important, people were being terrorised. I got the bug then and there’s nothing in the world I'd rather do.”

And she hasn’t. Vance has gone on to report from around the world and spent a decade in NZ’s parliamentary Press Gallery. There was also the time she ducked out of her honeymoon to cover Nelson Mandela’s funeral.

Like Johnston, Vance is no stranger to having her integrity questioned, especially when it comes to perceived political bias. She shakes that off, though takes valid criticism on the chin and admits to often lying awake in the early hours of the morning, fretting about a soon-to-be published story.

“The worst thing in the world is making a mistake. It makes you feel sick. You just have to apologise, fix it, make a correction and learn.”

But when reasonable criticism is replaced by vile abuse, Vance isn’t losing any sleep. There are such things as courtesy and manners and she’s got better things to do with her time than deal with people who refuse to use them.

“The old saying is once you start insulting someone you've lost the argument so why would you engage?”

The same goes for the conspiracy theorists.

“You can't fight crazy. It's exhausting. Half their tactics are to tie you up in pointless circular arguments but if people honestly think we’re being paid by the government they’re not well.”

Despite her refusal to let the trolls win, Vance doesn’t want people to think reporters are heartless drones, even if we often don’t do ourselves any favours.

“Especially in the political space it feels like we’re taking people down... and their lives are being destroyed in a media feeding frenzy.

“Most journalists know these are human beings and don't want to destroy careers, but we have a responsibility as well.”

Thick skin aside, Vance isn’t heartless either. She might be loathe to reveal much about her private life but a few years ago she did, and it was the hardest thing she’s ever written.

“Five years ago I lost my best friend, she died of diabetes. I guess I wanted to honour her memory and tell people how amazing she was; how much she's missed.

“I can’t believe I put so much of myself out there. I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve; I’m not a mushy person. A lot of people who know me were surprised.”

When Paula Penfold went to Afghanistan, she entered a land where women are subservient, controlled and, on the streets, almost invisible. Despite that, she’s never experienced hostility and hatred like she has in New Zealand. Photo / Phil Johnson, Stuff

Paula Penfold is a little more forthcoming about her private life. She lives in Auckland with her builder partner and has two adult children, as well as a dog and a cat.

It’s a pretty quiet existence and when the couple aren't working they tend to just hang about reading and walking or sitting by the stream.

“Doing peaceful things as a nice antidote to some of the shitty stuff we’re mired in.”

Penfold’s work means she’s often mired in shitty stuff and right now that’s certainly the case. The recently released Fire and Fury investigation into disinformation in Aotearoa has seen her targeted with death threats, abuse and, unsurprisingly, conspiracy theories.

“I’ve had lots before but never as many or as ugly or as threatening than after this documentary. The ironic thing is its proven exactly what we’re trying to show our audience.”

Penfold won Broadcast Reporter of the Year for her work on Deleted, revealing how NZ is implicated in the persecution of Uyghurs in China, but it’s Fire and Fury she’s most keen to talk about. Nothing in her career holds a candle to what she experienced while making the project, nor what’s followed in its wake.

It was during the anti-government occupation of Parliament’s lawn that Penfold witnessed and was subject to the most hostile and hate-filled reactions to media she’s experienced in her 30 years of journalism. The release of the documentary has prompted the same response.

“The intent of that is to silence journalists; to chill the voices reporting and exposing things they don't want known. It shows we have a right to report what we did and there's more to report.”

She’s proud of the work she and Stuff Circuit colleagues Louisa Cleave, Toby Longbottom and Phil Johnson have delivered, and buoyed by the reaction of others to the documentary.

“We feel resilient to the threats because the greater voice has been one of appreciation for showing people something they were unaware of.”

Penfold, who started her journalism career reporting in Masterton, says she’ll keep going as long as there are stories to tell. And while those stories might not be the sweet critter yarns beloved by almost every reporter, it’s not for lack of trying.

“I remember working on 60 Minutes and had just come back from bereavement leave. Eugene Bingham suggested a nice story for us about the popularity of designer dog breeds.

“It turned into an investigation into puppy farming. We try and do cute stuff, it just never works.”

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