The phone rang, and I reached for the bedside table to grab it.
It was 4 in the morning, and I was still half-asleep. But I recognized the phone number immediately. It was my work line.
Normally, such an occurrence would lead one to seek professional help. It would be unusual to field a call from work at such an early hour — let alone one from your own desk.
But I was working as a TV news producer in West Texas at the time, and the word normal didn’t really apply to anything. So, I picked up the phone.
On the other end of the line was the morning producer at my station. She cut straight to the chase.
So, there was a murder at your apartment complex. Can you scope out the scene and send us some photos to use on the air?
I felt a lump in my throat, and the hairs on my arms stood on edge. But I immediately agreed.
I put on some jeans, shoes and a jacket. And I headed outside.
It was a December night. The air was frigid, with temperatures hovering in the mid-20s. And all around me, it was quiet and still.
I had never covered a murder before. But I knew a what to look for.
I grew up not far from a rough neighborhood, and occasionally trouble would arrive at our street. I wouldn’t run and hide when this happened. Instead, I would watch intently, entranced by the flashing police lights.
So, as I made my way around my apartment complex, I looked for those flashing lights. Lights would lead to action, and action would allow me to take the pictures our morning producer needed.
And yet, I found no lights. No pools of blood. No silhouettes of police investigators.
Everything was deathly silent and still.
I was perplexed. Where did this crime happen? Did I miss something?
I was close to giving up when I heard a subdued hum cutting through the silence. Walking toward the sound, I found several squad cars and a forensics van, all with their lights off and their engines on.
Inside a nearby apartment was the crime scene — a mere 300 feet from where I had been sleeping moments earlier. I took pictures on my smartphone until my hands froze. Then, I headed back to the safety of my apartment.
There are few true essentials in life. But food, clothing and shelter certainly make the shortlist.
And when choosing a place for that shelter — a place to call home — there are certain criteria that must be met. Space, amenities and safety are chief among them.
I thought my apartment had met the requisite marks when I decided to sign my lease. But now, someone lay murdered a football field away from my bed, and I was questioning my choices.
Worse, I was worrying about what others would think. There were only 10 murders a year in town, and each would make the news. Now, my pictures of the police cars and forensic van would be airing on my station’s morning show, adding to that sad legacy.
Would people look at me differently, now that this had happened so close to my home? Was I safe? Would I need to get a gun?
I had no idea.
When I made it in to work that afternoon, my colleagues were talking about the murder.
Isn’t that where you live? they asked. I could only nod.
We ran the story on the news, using fresh video footage of the complex our cameraman had shot that afternoon. It was uncomfortable and strange.
Then, it was over.
In the days that followed, the news turned to other matters. A snowstorm was headed our way. Christmas was right around the corner. Both of those topics seemed more relevant than following the cold trail of an apartment murder.
And so, the news world moved on. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
Those same questions were nagging at me. The answers were as elusive as ever.
And so, I took a stand.
Using my TV news skills, I tracked down the incident reports. To my surprise, those reports didn’t come from the police or the county sheriff’s office. They came from the United States Marshals.
It turns out that the murder was part of a botched drug robbery. A few young men had tried to take the stash of one of my neighbors. When the neighbor confronted them, the men shot him dead in his own doorway.
It was a terrible story, and one that unfolded as the victim’s children were sleeping in an adjoining bedroom. And the Marshals were only involved because the suspects had ties to drug rings in multiple states.
Nevertheless, I thought the information was compelling. So, I pitched it to the newsroom in our afternoon meeting.
My boss — the station’s news director — replied with a pointed question. Are you only pitching this update because the murder happened at your apartment complex?
I replied that I wasn’t, instead emphasizing the presence of the U.S. Marshals on the case. How often was it that the feds picked up a local apartment murder, I asked?
Well, alright, my boss replied. We can feature a short update. But let’s not forget about the other stories we’re covering today.
Our news operation was looking to move on once again.
Years have passed since all this happened. And with the benefit of hindsight, I understand my boss’ decision.
News moves a mile a minute. It’s the ultimate What have you done for me lately industry.
With so much action to chase, it made no sense to dwell on old stories. Unless, of course, there was a compelling case for doing so.
And yet, dwelling on the details is exactly what we need.
For the news we’re served is sensational. It alarms us and disturbs us.
Journalists hunt for these types of stories, time and time again. Despite our complaints about them, they’re all we respond to.
Many news operations have tried the good news only approach. It hasn’t worked. Sensationalism still rules the day in the end.
And yet, journalists fail to provide us any sort of closure for their sensationalist reports. They punt on providing any healing for the wounds they’ve opened.
Such closure would violate journalistic ethics. And there are too many other novel stories for journalists to chase down anyway.
And so, it’s up to us to connect the dots. To research what ultimately happened with each story, and what we can take from it.
Such a process might make little difference in certain cases — such as a drug robbery murder. But in others it can mean everything.
Few events in living memory have jolted the world like the recent pandemic.
As the virus spread across the globe, concerned citizens had little recourse. There was nowhere to hide from the virus’ advance, and no bona fide treatment for it once infected.
It was a perilous moment, but journalists rose to meet it.
For months, news organizations covered the pandemic from three angles — the situation on the ground in the healthcare realm, the effect on the economy, and tips for avoiding infection.
These angles provided a healthy balance. One that was sorely needed in a world filled with unknowns.
But soon, journalists moved on to other matters. The movement for social justice was sweeping across America. Wildfires and hurricanes were threatening the coasts. And a presidential election loomed.
Attention turned away from the pandemic, even as it remained a devastating event.
In the shadow of news coverage, many did the best they could to hold on to the story. They tracked caseload dashboards. They looked for statements from public health officials. And they tried to make day-to-day decisions based on all of this information.
But others demurred. To them, the lack of coverage seemed to indicate that the nightmare was over. They let their guard down, even as the pandemic continued to rage.
The peril only deepened.
I wonder if this all could have been avoided.
I wonder what would have happened if news organizations had stopped chasing shiny objects. I wonder what the future would look like if journalists had clung like zebra mussels to this story, and helped the world across the finish line.
We’ll never know, of course. But that doesn’t make the question an empty one.
For the information we’re exposed to can have devastating effects. Learning that our neighbor was murdered can make it harder for us to sleep at night. Seeing so many people felled by disease and recession can fill our days with angst and dread.
We should not have to navigate these choppy seas alone. We deserve assistance.
And so, it’s time for the information providers to change their tune.
It’s time to end the practice of hitting us with headlines. It’s time to dig deeper. It’s time to follow the stories worthy of our attention, all the way to the finish line.
Then, and only then, can we be whole. Then, and only then, can the news lead to positive change in our lives.
So, yes. Holding on is trying. But it’s a challenge worth accepting.