Trauma-informed reporting critical to covering crime

An article in the Star earlier this month, about surviving residents in the Vaughan condo building who felt abandoned after the mass shooting there in December, got me thinking about how we cover crime as a newspaper.

Decades ago, the Star devoted much more ink and resources to crime stories. I remember my days as a junior reporter, rushing out to crime scenes. Often the task was solely about getting to the impacted families as quickly as possible, speaking with them, securing photos of the deceased and rushing back to write the story, which, depending on how serious the incident was, might end up on the front page.

How the victims might respond the next day, seeing their lives and grief in the Star, wasn’t top of mind for me at the time, I don’t think.

But the conversation around crime coverage has since changed. There’s more discussion now among journalists and editors, certainly those at the Star, about the impacts of trauma on the family, friends, schoolmates, co-workers etc. of the victims we write about.

It’s called trauma-informed reporting and it’s a welcome improvement, I would say. There’s also a lot more talk now about how writing about crime can impact journalists emotionally.

The Star’s journalistic standards guide doesn’t say a lot about reporting on traumatic events, except that people should be treated with “sensitivity during times of grief or trauma.”

Wendy Gillis and Jim Rankin, award-winning, veteran crime reporters at the Star shared their insights for this column into how to be mindful of trauma. They also provided tips about preserving one’s sanity when covering topics that the average person might find difficult to process.

Gillis has written about a number of high-profile crimes, including Toronto resident Bruce McArthur, a self-employed landscaper and serial killer responsible for a string of horrifying murders in the city’s Gay Village. She also reported from the scene of the brutal mosque shooting in Quebec City that claimed six lives in 2017.

Rankin, who has won wide acclaim for leading the Star’s coverage of policing issues, such as racial profiling and carding, was part of a team of reporters who covered the police investigations and trials of murderer and serial rapist Paul Bernardo and his partner in crime, then-wife Karla Homolka.

Gillis said trauma-informed reporting starts with being completely honest and up front with the people being interviewed, especially family members of the deceased.

“It starts with full disclosure of what the story is about, how you’ll be using their information. I never assume that people understand journalism or have media literacy training. So, they may not even understand how their information is going to be used,” Gillis said.

“I do think it’s incumbent upon us as journalists now to think about how it might impact a person to have their photo and story on the front page,” she added.

Going over details of a traumatic incident can be retraumatizing for survivors, Gillis said.

“We know that from the research. So, it’s about providing everything from making sure they’re comfortable physically, to being able to stop an interview if they’re uncomfortable or need to take a break,” Gillis said, adding this is particularly helpful when speaking to people who are living in vulnerable circumstances, such as victims of sexual assault.

Tamara Cherry, a trauma researcher and communications consultant based in Regina, who spent 15 years as a crime reporter for the Star, Toronto Sun and CTV News, agrees with this approach.

“We should never make survivors flinch by the stories we tell about their trauma — not by the images we show, the words we use, the sounds we play.”

Rankin said when a life is lost, particularly that of a child, if a subject forcefully says no to an interview, it’s time to walk away. I took the same cues when I was a reporter long ago.

“Whatever the circumstances are. You have to go in and be hugely empathetic and be prepared for a range of emotions — getting a door slammed in your face. It’s so raw. If the person says ‘f --- k off I don’t want to talk to any reporters,’ that’s a firm no. You don’t go back there. You say that’s it,” Rankin said.

“Maybe you post a letter to them a week or two afterward and try again. But don’t harass. That gives a bad reputation to journalists and the media outlets they work for,” Rankin said.

Cherry said reporters need to be mindful that quite often trauma survivors who really didn’t want to talk to a journalist but did, end up experiencing further harm down the road, “once the initial fog of shock has lifted and they feel exploited, preyed upon, or that their wishes weren’t respected.”

In terms of self-care, Gillis and Rankin agree that seeking support from a therapist or psychologist can be prudent after covering a story involving major trauma.

After reporting from the scene of the deadly mosque shooting in Quebec — members of the mosque allowed reporters in to see bullet holes and blood stains — and she returned to Toronto, Gillis’s editor at the Star took her aside and recommended she seek help.

“I did see someone,” Gillis said.

“Whenever I talk to journalism students they ask me ‘How do you take care of yourself?’ I’m really happy that is something that is bit more top of mind. I do think we need to take care of ourselves when we are telling these stories,” Gillis added.

But she cautioned that while you might be moved by someone’s tragedy, the story is not about you as a journalist — words that every reporter should keep in mind and that I have passed along to new journalists in my role as public editor.

“You have to be so careful about saying ‘I understand,’ or ‘I can imagine.’ No, you can’t. You can’t until you’re there,” Gillis said.

Donovan Vincent is the Star’s Public Editor and based in Toronto. Reach him by email at publiced@thestar.ca or follow him on Twitter: @donovanvincent