by Reed Anfinson
Newsworthy 1997

Covering stories of family tragedy is never easy in a small community - particularly when that tragedy involves suicide or attempted suicide.

We often know the people involved. We see them in the grocery store, at the coffee shop or in church. We know that any coverage of the pain a family suffers may be heightened by our reporting. It's a pain we can't escape from witnessing long after our stories are written.

For more than six hours on a morning in early January, 1996, the Benson community held its collective breath as a young man perched on the edge of the city's water tower. Sometimes he sat on the catwalk with his feet over the edge, sometimes he stood on the thin metal railing encircling the tower, leaning back against the reservoir.

When a reporter on the staff came into the office saying that a young person was up on the water tower, our initial reaction was that it was some kid caught in a prank and that it would end quickly. At most, we would be looking at a story about trespassing or vandalism.

That wasn't the case.

A teenage boy was threatening to kill himself by throwing himself off the 120-foot tower in the center of town. Through the bare trees his solitary shape could be seen throughout the community.

After talking with him, Benson Police Chief Bill Clark decided that the young man might well jump. Clark had faced similar situations in his 20-year career with the county police in Washington, D.C.

As police cordoned off the area and re-routed traffic through the city, the situation's impact upon the community grew. At noon, school officials told students not to leave the building and gave them a rough idea why. All emergency services of the city were on standby, just out of sight of the young man on the tower.

The teenager's plight became the focus of the community. At first it was the topic of conversation everywhere, but as painful hours passed and tension grew, conversations became short, as if the entire community was trying to avoid what was unfolding.

To everyone's relief, the young man came down unhurt, talked down by a trained negotiator from a nearby prison. But that was by no means the end of the story for the people of Benson.

Churches scheduled meetings for young people to talk about how the situation had affected them. Area law enforcement and emergency services assessed their performance and discussed how to handle future incidents. The school held counseling sessions for students.

The trauma affected not only young people, but many adults as well. The community needed to face what had happened and to talk about it.

In deciding how our newspaper should handle this sensitive story, we didn't simply rely on our own judgment. We talked with the publishers of three community newspapers - in Glenwood, Paynesville and Monticello - and asked them how they would handle the story. We talked with John Finnegan, former executive editor of the St. Paul Pioneer Press. We talked with Don Gillmor, former head of the Silha Center for the Study of Media Ethics and Law at the University of Minnesota, and we talked with the News Council's executive director, Gary Gilson.

They all agreed that we had a responsibility to cover the story thoroughly. They agreed that we needed to carry a photo to illustrate the tension the community felt. At the same time, they agreed that we should not use the young man's name or a photograph that allowed readers to identify him.

We carried five stories on our front page, two long and three short. The main stories covered the event, how it unfolded and what the school district was doing for students. Shorter stories reported what churches were doing, telltale signs of a troubled teen, and the background of the negotiator.

A front-page photo showed the full height of the tower, with the teenager and the negotiator. The negotiator was walking away from the teen. Inside we carried another photo: a closer view of the youth standing on the railing, showing just how precarious his situation was. His face wasn't recognizable.

We never published his name.

We felt strongly that this incident held promise for the community. It offered the opportunity to open a discussion about relationships between parents and teens. What happened to one family could easily happen to another. And the family is rare that escapes emotional upheaval as its children pass from their teen years. Why not have monthly forums about communicating with teens, about how to recognize signs of depression, about how to deal with anger?

We also need to break down barriers around the words "mental health." In the past, many have viewed the need for mental health services as a sign that a person is weak or crazy. In small towns especially, where everyone knows one another, there is a fear of being seen seeking mental health services or of having someone find out you have been seeking aid from a counselor.

We at the paper have a responsibility to cover the news as it occurs; we also have a responsibility to inform area residents about issues behind events, in this case, issues of teen depression and suicide. Without rehashing the incident, we plan to carry stories in the future that deal with relationships between teens and their families and information about resources available to help them.

Reed Anfinson is editor of the Swift County Monitor News