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  • Trolley Square Shooting – Vanessa Quinn

    Trolley Square Shooting – Vanessa Quinn

    The hardest part of covering the Trolley Square tragedy was the funerals. I did three in two days. First was the service for Vanessa Quinn, a woman who lived life to its fullest. It was “Nessa,” as she was known to her friends, who was the body seen in news photos of the shooting. Arriving early, I talked with a member of the family who was acting as the family’s intermediary with the media. Ed Quinn welcomed me in and said it was okay to photograph the service. He told me about Quinn’s husband Rich, walking around the house this morning, saying aloud, “Nessa, where’s my good shirt?” I previously wrote about Rich’s experiences with photographers on the night of the shooting. He found out about his wife’s death after seeing her body on a photographer’s camera. I’ll follow that up in a minute.

    Vanessa had been an amazing athlete, excelling in mountain biking, skiing, and soccer. The memorabilia of her active life was on display.

    The service was basically an open mic session emceed by Rich (above). He remained calm and composed throughout the emotional service as friends, family, and even a full soccer team got up to share their stories and feelings.

    Even photographing with the family’s consent, I felt a huge responsibility to act respectfully. I put my cameras on single-shot and made exposures sparingly. When Vanessa’s sister Jen got up and told of the loss she felt, she bared her soul. Her love for her sister is obviously endless. This is a moment I will never forget.

    When it was over Rich tightly embraced friends. As people were milling around after the service, I noticed a late arrival- the photographer who showed Rich the photo of Vanessa at Trolley Square. The photographs of Vanessa prone in the mall had become dominant image of the murderous events that night. The publication of those photographs caused a lot of anger in the community. But Rich Quinn didn’t see the photograph as the biggest problem. In fact, during a press conference in the wake of the shooting he thanked the photographer for showing him the photo. As that photographer told me in an e-mail, “The man was distraught not knowing what happened to his beloved spouse- whether she was just wounded or dead. He couldn’t get a definitive answer from the police. “While the photographs made that night have rocked the community, they also provided closure and the end of a roller coaster ride of emotions from not knowing for the husband. The publication of the photos on the Internet also allowed friends of couple to know what happened to her. They recognized her, too.” Rich’s friend Joe told me how when Rich collapsed at the scene of the shooting after seeing the photo, the photographer’s flash had gone off inadvertently (as he hit the shutter button to turn of the LCD screen). Joe said, “we nearly kicked his ass.” But after talking to him they had come to better understand his intentions.

    Now, at the end of the service, Rich gave that photographer permission to photograph his last goodbye to his dear wife. This is my photograph of that moment. It’s really a shame that you couldn’t all have been there. Vanessa Quinn was more than just a victim of the Trolley Square shooting. Nessa, described through the stories of her friends and family, was one of a kind and won’t ever be forgotten. My thanks to the Quinn family for allowing us to be there. I hope that our articles and photographs captured the spirit of Vanessa’s life, as well as your feelings of love for her.
  • Trolley Square Candlelight Vigil

    Trolley Square Candlelight Vigil

    After photographing at the Talovic home I was assigned to the candlelight vigil at the downtown library. I arrived early enough to scout things out. The atrium of the library is a multi-level affair. There was a podium set up with a microphone one story up from the ground level. The crowd would be below. You couldn’t really get a good shot of the podium from the ground floor. I looked around and noticed a lot of photographers were here, and the other newspaper in town had assigned two. I was on my own and outnumbered. So I climbed the stairs and chose the high angle, knowing that I’d be unable to quickly get back down during the event. Once the vigil started, I made some overall shots and then moved around for a tight shot on the family of Kirsten Hinckley, a high school student killed in the shooting. Her mother was also seriously injured and still in the hospital. The candles had been lit and Salt Lake City Mayor Rocky Anderson called for a moment of silence for the victims. This touching moment of the Hinckley family and the Mayor was shot with a 70-200mm lens (at 173mm) from across the balcony. After the vigil ended, the speakers and family were ushered off behind the check-out desk and security wasn’t letting us in. I didn’t want to take any more photographs, I just needed to get the names of the family members for my caption. There were at least three photographers waiting for the names and I kept thinking that one of us could get them and share. But before any of that happened, the family started to walk out, away from us to a secured exit. I frantically got the attention of a public affairs person (I don’t know who she was with, police, fire or mayor’s department) and told her we needed the names of the family members. She chased after the family and returned with a list, which we all copied down. She explained that it was the victim’s father, sister, sister’s husband, and brother. So that’s how I wrote the caption. The next day I get a phone call from my editor. He said the caption on my photo had two errors. Now you might be one of those people who thinks that journalists make mistakes all the time. You might even take some enjoyment out of that. But for me and any serious journalist it’s like getting punched in the stomach. It’s the worst thing that can happen. One of the errors was my fault. I had two names switched. The other error was the fault of the PR contact. Something that would have been avoided if we had been able to quickly talk to the family. It turns out this is a sister and her two brothers. No husband. The Hinckley family were dealing with far more important things than media requests, and still are. I hope the error in my caption at least provided them with a laugh in the dark days they were facing. Even in Utah it’s rare to see a brother marry his sister. It was unfortunate and I meant to do better. But I have to wonder if the error just confirmed what they may have been thinking about us.
  • More on the Trolley Square Shooting

    I walked up to Trolley Square this morning to photograph whatever was happening at the scene of last night’s massacre. A couple of photographers approached me and we shared stories and thoughts about last night’s shooting. One photographer who was there last night in the aftermath of the shooting told of a man who approached him looking for his wife. He wanted to look through the photographer’s lens, which was zoomed in on the mall where the body of a victim was visible. When the man couldn’t see clearly through the lens, the photographer brought up the image on the camera’s LCD screen. Seeing the body, he said, “That’s my wife,” and collapsed in grief. A short time after that, another photographer from another news outlet was shooting from the same angle with the same victim’s body visible in the mall. A man approached this photographer and put his hand over the lens. When the photographer objected to being obstructed, the man said, “That’s my wife.” Both of the photographers in these stories are also husbands and fathers. I know them both to be far from heartless. But these two stories bring up serious questions of compassion vs. coverage. How do we as news photographers balance our feelings of sympathy for the victims of tragedy with the importance of our job, which is to be the eyes and ears of the public, who (me and you and all of us) have a real need for this information? Have no doubt, the story of this shooting, with all of its tragedy, must be told. There were clearly troubling photos that had to be taken. Violence, no, murder on this level involves all of us. I know that in our newsroom these photographs prompted a long conversation between editors about how they should be published. The taking and publishing of graphic photographs at the Tribune is never taken lightly. How should journalists cover these moments of tragedy, especially when the pain is so fresh that the bodies are still uncovered? I can’t give you a simple answer.