If you’ve been in a newsroom for any amount of time, you’ve heard the screeches of a police scanner.
I have to admit, some of the stories that come through that small box are entertaining.
From the “naked subject refusing to leave the Walmart parking lot,” to the woman who’s demanding an officer because her neighbor’s yard trimmings are falling on her property…it takes all types, right?
But, if you sit long enough, you’ll hear more.
You’ll hear the stories of the faces you’ll likely never see, or whose story will never be told. The emergency calls that come through as a “possible 10-7,” or extreme trauma.
On occasion, you get the complete series of events, but many times, you’re left wondering how the story ends.
As the words echo off sound waves from the dispatch to police and EMS, then first responders to the nearest hospital or trauma center, it’s nearly impossible to not get attached to certain stories.
It leaves me wondering, as I sit at my desk with a lukewarm cup of almost acceptable coffee, how do they go on? How do these victims—the sick and suffering, the fearful, the desperate—overcome this moment?
“I have an adult male, terminal cancer patient who says the pain is too much. He can’t take it anymore and he’s going to 10-7 himself. He hung up, and I can’t get him back on the line. EMS en route…” Who will tell his story?
“Possible drowning. Child pulled from hotel pool. Unresponsive. Caller is not sure how long the child was underwater. CPR in progress. EMS en route…” How could these parents possibly know that two days ago when they set out for their family vacation that their world would forever be changed?
The stories we tell matter, but so do the ones that never make headlines.
The stories of the loved, the forgotten, and of the heroic. Maybe that’s why we flock to those heart-warming stories that get hundreds of thousands of shares and comments on Facebook.
Like those who see and read our stories, we too need to be reminded that the world is good and strangers care. In a world of chaos, a two-minute story of how the underdog overcomes cancer, drug addiction, or PTSD may be just what someone needs to end their day better than it began.
The scanner is my daily reminder that life is short, someone is always facing a greater battle, and we should all strive to remind one another of our value. We’re here for such a short amount of time, so don’t forget to tell the good news stories.
7 comments
QuitCallingNewsr
“It leaves me wondering, as I sit at my desk with a lukewarm cup of almost acceptable coffee, how do they go on? How do these victims—the sick and suffering, the fearful, the desperate—overcome this moment?” So… you’re not making your best calls?
elgallopablo
The stories we tell matter, but so do the ones that never make headlines. Or it can be the total opposite. There is a reporter in Tijuana who was a legend because every night he would sleep in his car outside the Red Cross with the scanner on, waiting for anything, mainly shootings or accidents, but also any arrest that he could put on TV the next morning, and on a slow news day producers can put anything on tv, a kid busted for weed? You’d see him on TV, Homless arrested for loitering? Also TV worthy, and noone, nobody at all would stop to think about the real life implications of that kind of journalism, the cops loved him because he would put their job on TV, which they never thought of as wrong, the producers loved him because he would fill airtime, and the scanner would be this umbilical cord that would feed lazy newsrooms straight from the belly of the police HQ. Scanner culture is a cancer on newsrooms.
Load More