Monday afternoon the police scanner crackles of three people shot, men running from the scene disappearing into the woods in north St. Louis.  Canines arrive, a search helicopter is summoned.

Two ambulances arrive at the scene.  Emergency workers scramble, rolling two gurneys and an additional backboard across a police-taped parking lot toward a wholesale store.  Minutes later, a woman with a leg wound is swiftly brought from the store, her husband sprinting behind her.  A second gurney is casually wheeled out followed by the backboard.  Both are empty.

The wail of sirens of a departing ambulance is quickly replaced by screams of family members coming to grips with the news.  The store owner is dead.  His employee is dead.  And I’m across the street looking through a viewfinder.

It’s one of the more difficult tightropes to walk.  How do I balance the news value of a story with the forced intrusion into the grief of loved ones?  As journalists we are driven to report breaking news, capturing fleeting scenes quickly, adrenaline pumping.

There’s a funny thing about newsworthy loss.  Journalists are often rewarded for reporting the pain and suffering of others.

So on Monday I capture all I can, keeping my distance and intruding as little as possible as family members grieve for Jack Patel, owner of Rock Bottom Wholesale.  But I am intruding nonetheless.

Back at the newspaper our editors choose the appropriate picture to run in the newspaper.  It is one of a family coming to support one another, rather than an image of the raw wailing.  It may not be the correct call in every news situation, but today it’s the right way to go.