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It's lunchtime on March 22nd, 1990 in the port of Valdez, Alaska.

Almost exactly one year since a super tanker Exxon Valdez ran a ground and spilled tens of millions of gallons of oil into the water's a Prince William sound.

It's quiet in pouties and snow lies thick on the ground.

A lone car drives slowly through the town's broad streets.

In the passenger seat, as a man in his mid-30s, a sailor named Ron, who's come to town with a few hours to kill before he has to be back on his ship.

So Ron's decided to hitch a ride from a friend to a local bar for a drink.

Ron's friend turns off the main road and pulls up in the parking lot of a bar.

The pipeline club, it's sign promising steak, seafood and cocktails.

As Ron steps out of the car, he waves goodbye to his friend and then heads into the bar.

A warm fog of beer, sweat and cigarette smoke welcomes him.

The pipeline club is a long and narrow dive bar with low ceilings and sticky floors.

It's busy and to reach the bar, Ron picks his way through tables of people eating lunch and squeezes past an old man reading a newspaper by the light of an ancient tube box.

Finally, Ron reaches a free bar stool and that's when the bartender spots him.

Hey Ron, once you get in, this morning, rough trip across the Gulf will tell you.

The verdict come in yet?

Ron nods at the television above the bar.

The jury in the trial of Joe Hazelwood, a captain of the Exxon Valdez, is expected to deliver its verdict at any moment.

Nah, not yet.

Should be soon though, what can I get for you?

How about a Hazelwood iced tea?

The bartender smirks at Ron's joke.

...