How did I get here?

For the first night in a while, I didn't have to do a live shot.  That was grounds for a Murphy s law effect.  Dumped my gear in my news vehicle.  Placed my camera in its kennel for the night.  A mere seconds later, Truck rolled over, on the freeway.  I neglected to get the details, because loading up the live truck(again) would take a while.  So at 11:05, I was out the door, with the destination to get to the scene, tune in, and get a live picture on for the 11.  Of course, in my mind, I didn't see that happening. My mind set in breaking news situations is this.  Only because, If I don't get a shot out, I am not disappointed.  However if I do, then a pat on my own back.  Because, lets face it, probably the only ''pat'' I will get.

Now to the scene: after a successful live picture of a somewhat obstructed view of the scene, I quickly tore down.  With camera in hand, and mic ready to get sound, i darted across the road.  Ran up the hill, and got several shots of the truck.  Little did I know, I was up to my ankles in talc powder. Thank goodness I am not allergic to talc.  After driving several miles to turn around and come back on the other lanes, I parked the truck.  For those of you asking, yes I had my safety vest on.  I shot some more video, then was told to go b back to my truck, or I would have to be stripped down, and hosed off.  You can guess what I did next. if it were 100 degrees, I might have chosen the water shower.  So after several questions asked, and gear put back in the truck, I sped off.

As you can see from this picture, The  truck didn't seem to do much damage to the guardrail.  Somehow I don;t think it was any match.

What to do when shots are fired

When you get called to a triple shooting, your heart starts racing.  Of course, you want to get there fast, and first.  Once the tripod is set, camera turned on, lens in focus, the camera starts rolling on anything that moves.  But this time, what moved was more than just the crime tape waving in the wind.  First came yelling, then heads turn, and cameras begin recording.  What transpired next was all caught on tape.  Several gunshots fired, police running, guns drawn, people screaming, a chaotic scene was unfolding.  Nothing can prepare a photographer for this moment.  With police and media at every corner, the act was considered brazen.  Opening fire not only into a crowd of people, but crowds of officers, all which are armed.  With every station recording on the occurrence, and everyone else running, one would wonder why our cameras were still pointed in the direction.  Every photographer dreams for this moment, but none hope to find themselves in the moment.  But for a handful of them, it was a reality.

Raw video of the shooting from the WLKY website
WLKY triple shooting coverage.

The lone Reporter

All that remain are; a few forgotten cables, balls of gaffers tape, and nestled atop the lone riser, stands a news crew.  The Photographer thinking about how long it will take to tear down. The Reporter, left with barely any words to say. While the crew that awaits to tear down this last riser, the final live shot is delivered from the Crescent City.  Yes it was a great time, good food, hospitality, and even a short trip into the lower ninth ward.  But once it was all said and done, the Big easy was a distant memory.  If I could do it again, I would.  New Orleans was a fun time, lots of new experiences as well as fun people.  But of course, all good things must come to an end.  Yes there were stressful times, but thats life on the road for ya.

A week has gone by, and it's still all a blur. From the first dark cloud and wild wind to the sirens and tears of a small Southern Indiana community.

The day was like any other day. Packaged a story on weather damage in grayson county. With interviews over, tape rolled, all that was left was to head back. All to be sent back out the door with no real direction, no real idea. "Just head for where the Tornado will be." Tornado chasing is not something one has experience in. As a matter of fact, nothing can prepare you for something like this. The rolling hills of Southern Indiana made it hard to discern if a Tornado was nearby. Only high winds, and ominous clouds were a clue. While the the video camera in the back was sitting comfortably, the driver and passenger were filled with anxiety, contemplating what to do next. So a decision was made to pull over, lock down the camera and hope for something air worthy. All of this while one conscious says "do so under ones own discretion, the other, get the video!!!" Not a frame was shot before white pellets from the sky started cascading down. Camera flung back into car, Photographer making a B line for the front seat. Not a second later, those pellets turned into golf balls, one even denting the front of the news car. So turn around it was, and head for shelter. Only moments later did the weather get better, and the ground was littered with frozen chunks from the sky. Then over the two-way, came the voices from the desk; "Henryville High School has been hit" "Henryville High School has been destroyed" "Henryville High School is gone!"

Up to this point much has never been heard of the small town, choked out by the stories on bigger cities. But this day, the little town Of Henryville, Indiana, would be put on the map. Engines roaring, tires squealing, sirens wailing past, all emergency and rescue crews descended on the birth place of Col. Sanders. The rain was heavy, air was littered with Tornado sirens, "what is one to do?" First thought was to duck into the closest establishment. As soon as the doors swung open, ready to duck into the nearest establishment, only siren echoes remained. To some people, those echoes still exist. So with Camera on shoulder, mic in hand, the biggest story of the day had begun. One could have described it as chaos, but that seemed unworthy of a description. Ambulances speeding by, people running around, it felt like the set of Twister2.

With a few shots of broken windows and ambulances, heading to the school was the next intention. After a brief interview with bloody faced man, feet soaked due to jumping into a puddle, the tripod and camera were set. But what the camera captured next would be forever etched into the minds of the soul behind the viewfinder. Parents screaming for their kids, cars pressed into each other forming a heap of metal, school buses ripped from their chassis. The camera rolling on whatever moved. At one point the chaotic scene was too much to capture with just one lens. Interview, after Interview, the descriptions of what had happened were slowly developing. Meanwhile many other surrounding communities were suffering from the same effects if not greater. Darkness was slowly creeping in, not before a few media briefings were conducted. With the sun behind the horizon, the pen hit the paper. Reporter putting emotions into words, Photographer putting emotions on to the TV screen.

With the last cable wrapped, and the last light turned off, the news crew headed back towards base. Tail lights facing that little town, whose residence were just dealt a huge blow. The photographer, still reeling from the days events. From the first foot laid on the pavement, the images, sounds that followed, were left etched forever. The days that followed, those images still stuck, wondering what could be done. Capture images, sound, information to be broadcast later. What one would question if its helping or not. Maybe the people who see these images, maybe they will be moved to help. From the news photographer who captures these moments, to a reporter who with careful constructed sentences, tells the story of a broken community coming together. Only then will the possibility of a few neighbors helping out, come true.

So what was only 7 days ago today the little town, with a big heart, is now in the healing process. What will become of Henryville, Indiana? Surely, they will never be forgotten. What was a small dot on the map yesterday, is now a large dot in our hearts and minds.

The story that I started that day, I keep thinking, wishing that I could have done something to end it. But now Henryville will stay strong, rebuild, and move on. But never will they forget that day. I know I won't.