Communication counsel for organizations navigating growth, visibility, and risk.

Some stories feel different the moment they hit the assignment desk. When news breaks involving someone many journalists know personally, the tone in the newsroom shifts. The work continues, but the conversations change. Editors pause. Producers ask harder questions. Reporters become more careful about what they share and what they hold back. As a former journalist, I know that what happens off the air matters as much as what makes it on. In stories involving danger, fear, or the possibility of real harm, ethical journalism is not about speed or spectacle. It is about judgment. One of the clearest markers of that judgment is knowing when not to report certain details, and when to immediately involve law enforcement instead of the audience. I remember learning that lesson firsthand. One evening, while I was working as the nightside reporter in South Texas, our newsroom received reports of a hostage situation at a fast-food restaurant just off a dark highway near George West, Texas. Law enforcement flooded the area. State troopers and county deputies were actively working the scene. Our role was clear. Inform the public. Keep people away. Do not escalate an already volatile situation. Then something unexpected happened. The armed suspect called our newsroom and asked to speak with Joe Gazin, the main local TV news anchor at the time. This was just minutes before the start of our 10 p.m. newscast. Joe urged this young man to surrender peacefully. By the end of the 10 p.m. newscast, he did. This occurred within a half-hour newscast. We carried the situation live because the public needed to know to stay clear of the area. We did not insert ourselves into the story. We did not compete for a moment that did not belong to us. Another station chose a different path, seeing that we were talking to him live on the air, decided to call the restaurant’s landline, trying to reach the armed suspect while he was holding some strangers hostage. That decision crossed an ethical line. Not because they were malicious, but because it prioritized competitive journalism over public safety. When media actions risk influencing the outcome of a dangerous situation, the story is no longer being covered. It is being altered. That distinction matters. Today’s newsrooms are filled with talented, passionate young journalists working in an environment that rewards immediacy and constant engagement. Many have not yet experienced a moment when a single decision could either escalate a crisis or save a life. That is not a failure. It is simply the reality of learning a craft that carries real consequences. I don’t envy any journalist covering the Nancy Guthrie case. It is a tragedy. It involves someone the news world knows, so reporting on this story likely feels uncomfortable because it is personal. Plus, there are some journalists being asked to serve as intermediaries for ransom notes, which puts them in an ethical and legal gray zone. While being an intermediary is part of the job for anyone in communication, these reporters are forced to be players in a criminal incident.  Stories involving potential violence, ransom demands, or personal danger demand restraint. Turning sensitive information over to law enforcement instead of broadcasting it is not censorship. It is a responsibility. Choosing not to publish certain details is not a weakness. It is ethics in action. Off the air, most newsrooms understand this instinctively. They talk about what could make things better or worse. They talk about the people at the center of the story. They talk about the weight of getting it wrong. They move fast. Mistakes are made. However, when newsrooms take a pause, remember their authenticity and report ethically and without bias….that, quietly and comforting, is the journalism profession at its best.

Summer 2025 is a masterclass in how quickly a moment can turn into world news. A viral “ick” moment at a Coldplay concert. A CEO resignation tied to a workplace relationship. A child’s hat stolen at the U.S. Open and shared far beyond the stadium. On the surface, these stories have nothing in common. But from a communications perspective, they all point to the same truth: workplace culture and leadership credibility can be shaken in an instant when personal behavior goes public. In today’s environment, there is no clean line between what happens inside an organization and how it’s perceived outside of it. A private moment can become a public narrative before leadership has time to react. And when that happens, culture is often the first thing tested. As someone who works in crisis communications and internal communications, here’s what I wish more leaders understood before the moment arrives. You set the tone Culture does not live in a handbook. It lives in behavior. Leaders will make mistakes. Everyone does. What matters is how those moments are handled. A thoughtful, accountable response can reinforce trust. A defensive or dismissive one can quietly unravel it. Transparency beats secrecy every time People can forgive missteps. They rarely forgive attempts to hide them. Silence, delays, or carefully worded half-truths often do more damage than the original issue. Transparency, when handled with care and intention, is not a risk. It is a stabilizer. You need a crisis communication plan before you think you do Most organizations prepare for external crises but underestimate how quickly internal issues can become external headlines. A strong crisis communication plan includes clear protocols for leadership behavior, internal investigations, employee communications, and rapid decision-making when private matters spill into public view. These are not abstract best practices. They are practical safeguards for your people, your brand, and your leadership credibility.  Crisis communications is not about spin. It is about clarity, judgment, and responsibility when emotions are high and facts are still forming. The goal is not perfection. It is trust. If this summer has taught us anything, it’s that the next headline rarely announces itself in advance. The question is whether leadership is ready when it does. Let’s make sure the next unexpected moment isn’t about you.