This week, our professor asked us to think about what justifies a "death knock," which is shorthand for reaching out to a person who has just experienced the death of someone close, either by proximity or relationship or both. She also asked us to determine when we think a death knock is warranted, especially concerning new reporters.
In general, I don't think we talk about death enough as a society. But people who go through the experience of watching a loved one die want to talk about it. I learned this after my friend Laura Barker's dad died suddenly of pneumonia. His death was not shocking because he had recently undergone a bone marrow transplant for leukemia. It was also the second time in his life that he had cancer. The first time he lost his leg. Even though it was an experience everyone feared and had seriously thought about, the finality of his death was hard to take.
After Ken Barker died, I wondered if I should bring up his death with her and how often. My instincts told me to ask and to ask often. A few months later she thanked me for checking in so much. She said people avoided asking her about her dad because they wanted to be respectful, but she would have preferred the questions they assumed were too intrusive. Losing her dad at 23 was terrible, and she really just wanted to talk about it.
I know that's just one story, so it's anecdotal, but I think the theme rings true. Most people want to share their story, work through their grief and tell people what happened. It seems we find meaning or hope to find meaning by telling others about our grief. The question for the media comes down to timing. Immediately following death, myriad reactions are possible.
So, in deciding whether to assign a reporter to a story about someone who has recently died, I would go with my instincts. In general, I would err on the side of asking them to call, which gives the person the choice of whether they'd like to respond. The approach would be crucial and I'd debrief with the reporter both before and after the call and the assignment. The source needs to know that the choice to interview is in their hands and that the reporter will make a good faith effort to avoid all and any mistakes. The incident itself would be a consideration as well. I would not send a reporter to an actively dangerous scene such as an active shooting incident or to an Ebola outbreak without knowing that they had proper training and/or protection. I'd also assess the reporter's ability to handle stress, though this could be tricky since everyone responds differently. Angela Anderson told me that one reporter who came to interview her started sobbing, and Anderson said it was inappropriate. The reporter hadn't just lost two of her children.
Also, if the situation seemed too dangerous or too intrusive, I'd consider following up later. In the case of Anna Steele's mom, I agree that an immediate call might be too triggering and intrusive, but a call after the initial shock has passed could be acceptable if she is willing to share. More time would also give the reporter a chance to write a stronger article and include information and context about shaken baby syndrome, etc.
Before sending a reporter out, I'd stress the importance of leaving the scene if they sense any sort of danger. A story is not worth getting injured, dying or becoming psychologically scarred. Bearing witness is important, but, in my opinion, is not worth dying for. I know some journalists would disagree with this, and I thank them for taking such risks and putting their lives on the line. I would not ask a reporter to stay in a dangerous situation.
With new reporters, I'd also be sure to check in after the experience to make sure they debrief and have time to process the experience, especially if the reporter witnessed devastation or a grisly accident. First-time experiences can leave a more lasting impression because defense mechanisms have not been built up yet, so that's why it's important to spend more time talking about it and guiding them through the experience.
It's a tough question and I'm sure one that takes years of practice and reconsideration.
In general, I don't think we talk about death enough as a society. But people who go through the experience of watching a loved one die want to talk about it. I learned this after my friend Laura Barker's dad died suddenly of pneumonia. His death was not shocking because he had recently undergone a bone marrow transplant for leukemia. It was also the second time in his life that he had cancer. The first time he lost his leg. Even though it was an experience everyone feared and had seriously thought about, the finality of his death was hard to take.
After Ken Barker died, I wondered if I should bring up his death with her and how often. My instincts told me to ask and to ask often. A few months later she thanked me for checking in so much. She said people avoided asking her about her dad because they wanted to be respectful, but she would have preferred the questions they assumed were too intrusive. Losing her dad at 23 was terrible, and she really just wanted to talk about it.
I know that's just one story, so it's anecdotal, but I think the theme rings true. Most people want to share their story, work through their grief and tell people what happened. It seems we find meaning or hope to find meaning by telling others about our grief. The question for the media comes down to timing. Immediately following death, myriad reactions are possible.
So, in deciding whether to assign a reporter to a story about someone who has recently died, I would go with my instincts. In general, I would err on the side of asking them to call, which gives the person the choice of whether they'd like to respond. The approach would be crucial and I'd debrief with the reporter both before and after the call and the assignment. The source needs to know that the choice to interview is in their hands and that the reporter will make a good faith effort to avoid all and any mistakes. The incident itself would be a consideration as well. I would not send a reporter to an actively dangerous scene such as an active shooting incident or to an Ebola outbreak without knowing that they had proper training and/or protection. I'd also assess the reporter's ability to handle stress, though this could be tricky since everyone responds differently. Angela Anderson told me that one reporter who came to interview her started sobbing, and Anderson said it was inappropriate. The reporter hadn't just lost two of her children.
Also, if the situation seemed too dangerous or too intrusive, I'd consider following up later. In the case of Anna Steele's mom, I agree that an immediate call might be too triggering and intrusive, but a call after the initial shock has passed could be acceptable if she is willing to share. More time would also give the reporter a chance to write a stronger article and include information and context about shaken baby syndrome, etc.
Before sending a reporter out, I'd stress the importance of leaving the scene if they sense any sort of danger. A story is not worth getting injured, dying or becoming psychologically scarred. Bearing witness is important, but, in my opinion, is not worth dying for. I know some journalists would disagree with this, and I thank them for taking such risks and putting their lives on the line. I would not ask a reporter to stay in a dangerous situation.
With new reporters, I'd also be sure to check in after the experience to make sure they debrief and have time to process the experience, especially if the reporter witnessed devastation or a grisly accident. First-time experiences can leave a more lasting impression because defense mechanisms have not been built up yet, so that's why it's important to spend more time talking about it and guiding them through the experience.
It's a tough question and I'm sure one that takes years of practice and reconsideration.
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