This afternoon, the WSJ's Randall Smith and Tom Lauricella reported one scenario for the departure of Stan O'Neal, while CNBC's Charles Gasparino reported another. Either way, the assumed exit would conclude an incredibly rapid decent down Jack Flack's "Five Levels of CEO Media Hell," revealing much about the connection between the news media and back-room power-plays.

So how did the story accelerate so quickly?

1. The espoused story was never the real story.

Espoused story: "Unexpected, massive write-offs from reckless risk-taking, combined with side-dealing without board endorsement, has forced the board to consider firing O'Neal."

Real story: "The write-offs and side-conversation made O'Neal vulnerable to the legions of enemies he's made in bluntly hacking away at the Mother Merrill culture."

The toppling of a powerful CEO is seldom actually about performance, and almost always about the control of power and the vengeance of embittered egos. Fire a bunch of type-A bankers and brokers over the years, and you better watch your back, particularly with one who felt born to the job you got instead. Urinate on the culture, and watch some scary ghosts come out of the attic.

While others have nibbled at it, only two pieces of commentary really tried to dig under the espoused narrative.

On Friday, the FT's David Wighton told us:

"Mr O'Neal's position has not been helped by a cold personal style that critics say has left him with few senior allies in the company and many vocal critics among the ranks of executives who have left the bank since he took the reins six years ago. 'There are a lot of people out there who have been waiting a long time for Stan to trip up,' says one supporter."

Also on Friday, in comparing the O'Neal situation to when the "Grumpy Old Men" bulleted Philip Purcell at Morgan Stanley, Breaking Views' Rob Cox and Robert Cyran noted:

"When Mr. O'Neal took over, he removed a gaggle of executives who presented a challenge to his authority and put new chiefs in charge. As a result, he was hailed for having created one of the youngest management teams on Wall Street. He also created many enemies among the departed.

"At the moment, the former Merrill executives who ran afoul of Mr. O'Neal haven't been galvanized into pursuing a Purcell-like putsch. One more slipup like the third quarter and today's sour moods could turn downright grumpy."

2. The media were quite happy to be used.
While some lauded the NYT's Wachovia scoop, the story was undoubtedly delivered into the laps of Jenny Anderson and Landon Thomas Jr. by a strategic leak from those who have suffered from O'Neal's harsh actions. The journalistic skill was not in ferreting out the story, but in developing the relationships that ensured that you're the one who got the call.

Whipping itself up into a echo-chamber frenzy, the business journalism community has made huge assumptions based the slightest of facts, all attributed to slim, unidentified sources. "O'Neal angered the board by talking to Wachovia... O'Neal has told friends he's gone in days... the board talked about specific replacements."

Read those stories closely, and it becomes clear that one angry board member could easily drive the dialogue if he was willing to risk working the press.

And from a reporter's viewpoint, who cares if you're being used if you can weave a perceived scoop from a fact or two from a legitimate source, particularly when that scoop fits within the hot drama of the week? And besides, sticking to the espoused story preserves your sources, who will take their whispers elsewhere if you make them part of the story.

3. The story wanted to happen.
O'Neal's resignation will conclude a narrative that nicely fits Jack Lule's classic "scapegoat" news story archetype, in which the sins of society (or in this case, virtually all of Wall Street) are neatly transferred to an individual, whose banishment cleanses everyone else. It's also a particularly appealing conclusion for underpaid journalists who surely sense an appalling lack of accountability in the situation.

Count on the fact that subsequent stories will note that the appointment of O'Neal's successor -- particularly if it is BlackRock's Larry Fink -- is a major step in "restoring credibility." In other words, billions were lost because virtually every major Wall Street player acted like greedy, sub-prime morons. But Stan got fired, the new guy seems clean, and so that should square things.

4. The board got media-hot-boxed.

Keep in mind, motivating a majority of the directors to look O'Neal in the eye and whack him would have been difficult. Nine of the 11 other directors were brought in during O'Neal's tenure, and most were considered staunch supporters of the man and his strategy. Also, the write-downs all came from board-endorsed actions, which thus far only Liz Moyer has highlighted.

These things usually come to an end when the boss under fire insinuates to his closest board allies, "I'm tired of fighting this crap, so give me my package and I'm out of here." O'Neal's history suggested that he was tougher than your average CEO, and fairly unconcerned with public sentiment. But he was likely worn down by board members who were sympathetic, and yet clearly did not enjoy Merrill's place in the news.

Today's conflicting reports seem to point to a classic situation of "you can't fire me, I quit." Or was it "you can't quit, your fired?"

It doesn't really matter which it was. After all, when the WSJ, NYT, CNBC and every other business news outfit keeps saying you're about to fire the guy, then, gee, you probably should go ahead and hand him that $159 million hara-kiri sword.

And when they hand you that $159 million sword, you probably should go ahead and take it.