In the courtroom, I almost lost my objectivity - and my lunch.

For the last few weeks, I sat in courtroom 4E at the Kent County Courthouse, chronicling the ups and downs of the murder trial of James Richardson, accused of killing Margaret Duffy-Stephenson in 2005.

I sit across the aisle from the family. A seat behind the defendant has my name on it. I chat with the family members about the climate in the courtroom, and joke that maybe tomorrow, I'll bring my parka.

I'm the only reporter who's been in the courtroom since day one. I sat through the motions to suppress, jury selection and opening statements. I detailed testimony in tight stories for the next day's paper. I made corrections when the family pointed out mistakes.

But mostly, I listened.

I listened when Margaret's coworkers told about how their friend was a great teacher's aide and always willing to help someone. I listened when her husband, James Stephenson III, told us about the last time he hugged his wife. I listened when her father told the court that when he found his only daughter covered in blood at the bottom of the stairs, he reached over and touched her face.

So when the prosecution showed a photo of Margaret's wounds on the projector screen in the courtoom, I almost lost it. My mouth gaped open as I stared at her wounds. I swallowed hard as the medical examiner explained Margaret's killer had cut her throat so deeply her backbone was visible through the hole in her neck. Of the 11 wounds on Margaret's body, more than half were stab wounds.

My stomach started to churn.

I looked at those pictures and no longer was Margaret just another victim in another homicide. She was Margaret. The mother of Robert. A teacher's aide at a local elementary school. The only daughter amongst a gaggle of brothers. That was Margaret's body on the autopsy table.

I glanced over at the family when the pictures went up - instinct. To my left, Margaret's sister in law was visibly shaken, tears streaming down her face. Her husband - Margaret's brother - comforted her.

I glanced down at the wooden pew, almost ashamed for having witnessed the family at such a vulnerable time. I took a deep breath and focused on the notes I was writing. I had a job to do.

After court recessed for the day, I went to my car and stared out the windshield in silence. It was all I could do to hold back the tears.

Labels: courts, ethics, young journalists

Read this very good story on Poynter.org about a bill moving through Washington's state legislature that would make students responsible for content in school-sponsored student publications in high schools and colleges.

Here's the gist: "The bill would make newspaper advisers responsible for teaching journalism, style and grammar, but even they would not be responsible for content. Nor could they be disciplined or fired for something that appeared in print. If problems arise, or if the journalism adviser lacks the training to help student editors make appropriate decisions, the principal could still exercise prior review -- just not censorship, Washington Rep. Dave Upthegrove, who sponsored the bill, said in a phone interview."

College papers aren't facing this pressure much -- yet. It's primarily high schools. But this is an incredibly progressive, and important, move in Washington that's gaining lots of support.

I remember in my high school newspaper class, our teacher/adviser never had to censor our work, she'd just often repeat "Be sure this can get across the principal's desk at the end of the month." As a total ignoramus about the importance of journalism, I just wrote fluff and didn't think twice, like all the other writers. Imagine what I could have learned if my teacher could focus on educating us about the importance of an aggressive, inquisitive student paper.

Please read this whole thing, and even check out the feedback comments at the end. Maybe you can add your own memories of a high school newspaper situation.

Labels: ethics, journalism, law, student_press