Today marks the 1 year anniversary of an attack in Chattanooga that changed the way many people felt about our city. I recently saw a facebook post asking “What is the Fallen 5?” and I briefly wondered how this person could not know. I began thinking about where I was and what I was doing when I first heard about the shootings last year. It was a normal work day sitting at my desk working on stories for Around and About at WUTC. I got a tip from a source that there was an active shooter at the Naval Base by the Tennessee River. The NPR news bureau was asking for my cell phone number so I could keep them informed at the press conference. For the next few days I put my grief on hold while I covered the story as the NPR reporter in Chattanooga.
I did not get very far when I first attempted to approach the Navy and Marine Corps Reserve Center. 
None of the other press agencies were doing much better. It was unsettling to see our local LEOs armed to this level on the roads I drove almost daily. Flashing lights in the distance belonged to vehicles from every law enforcement center across the region and were soon joined by the FBI. Is the shooting over? Are there more armed people in the area? Is the threat still active? I thought about this and more while sitting in my car less than a half mile from the scene. Eventually we were sent to the Chattanooga Fire and Police Training Center to wait for a press conference.
We waited for hours in lock-down before the press conference began. 
Local reporters were there first claiming prime spots. It was almost amusing to watch as each new reporter from regional and national news departments arrived and attempted to clip their own microphone to the ever growing collection of devices covering the podium. Each shift in equipment and jostling to add another camera prompted reactions from those already set up. Armed with my portable equipment and the cane that supports me, I jumped in to find my own place. Gallantry is alive and well in the south. I was given a chair right in the very front of the collection of recording equipment. It made me feel special. That long black microphone blocking the Fire Department logo was in my hand.
When the press conference ended I was instantly on the phone with NPR preparing to go live. The noise level in the room was a problem and I ended up moving to my car for the interview on Here and Now. It was 92 degrees outside. I was in my car and very grateful to own a Prius so I could keep the air cool without background engine noise. Roads were still closed and every building in the area was in lock-down while searches continued for further threats. I kept reaching out to my sources and scouring for any new information while I waited in my car to report live on All Things Considered. The call for the next interview came as I headed back to WUTC. I ended that day after midnight waiting for time zones to align so I could speak with BBC Radio Foyle.
I did not have time to experience deep emotions on that day last year. I had to focus and constantly communicate with sources to ensure I had the latest information, the newest tidbit, and a line to the next radio station I would be working with. There is a part of me that wishes I could have grieved right then and poured myself into the swelling emotions of a shocked city. Instead I had work to do. I produced a feature piece for Morning Edition on July 17th as well as a story for Around and About at WUTC. The Takeaway on WNYC was looking for a local voice on the story and another report to All Things Considered rounded out the day.
I did not realize the local impact from my reporting and just thought I was doing my job by telling the story to national and international news shows. It was the comment of a local friend that put things into perspective for me. People hear reporters sharing news all the time but it was not until he heard my voice on the national news that it all became real to him. This really was happening in our city. Our friends and neighbors were killed. I truly felt the responsibility of covering this story more keenly.
If we are lucky, breaking news stories fade quickly. I was so relieved when I put my microphone away and turned this over to another reporter. There were many more stories to come from the action of a lone gunman’s shooting rampage. Another opportunity to be the “local reporter” on KQED’s Forum came 3 days later. Acts of valor and sacrifice were honored. A sea of red, white and blue emerged as the community came to terms with our loss. The Fallen Five and their families were paid homage as thousands flocked to memorials or held vigils. Citizens flocked to the road side for funeral processions of people they never met but would always know. The stories of unsung heroes emerged. The community took a collective sigh and things began to get back to normal.
Here we are one year later. My duties at WUTC shifted away from the newsroom. I developed a growing respect for the journalists that live their lives chasing breaking news. I have too many other things going on in my life to regularly expend the level of energy and emotion that was poured into covering that story. I will never regret what I was doing on July 16, 2015 and I hope there is never a need for me to do it again.
Knitting With Strangers 