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Like first responders, journalists need to be at their best when things are at their worst.
When the first unconfirmed reports of gunfire at the National War Memorial and on Parliament Hill landed in the Citizen’s newsroom and its downtown bureaus just before 10 a.m. a year ago today, no one waited to be told what to do, or where to go.
Reporters, through experience and accumulated skills, operate on instinct. Parliamentary reporters Lee Berthiaume, Mark Kennedy, Jason Fekete and Dylan Robertson paused for no longer than it took to grab a digital recorder, cellphone and notepad before they were running headlong for the Hill and the cenotaph.
“As soon as it happened, you knew it was of a magnitude beyond anything we’d seen on the Hill,” Kennedy says today. “It was a game-changer.”
At City Hall, columnist David Reevely, recognizing he was closest to the cenotaph, was on the scene within minutes, talking to witnesses, trying to make sense of the confusion and filing what he was seeing back to the newsroom and to the community via Twitter.
Veteran photographer Wayne Cuddington, driving into downtown looking for a feature shot, rerouted himself as soon as he noticed an RCMP vehicle racing in front of Parliament Hill. Within minutes he’d worked his way to the War Memorial, where he photographed the people working to save Cpl. Nathan Cirillo, images that would be displayed on websites and newspapers around the world. One of them would be nominated for a National Newspaper Award.
Perhaps most tellingly, some of the best work produced that day was done by journalists operating outside their usual comfort zone.
“It was impressive how much news was broken by people doing things that weren’t really their jobs,” says editor-in-chief Andrew Potter, “political writers doing basic police and crime reporting, taking important photographs.”
Back in the newsroom, editors gathered to make sure no components of the unfolding story were overlooked, and reporters were assigned to fill the gaps or use the contacts on their beats to see what they could learn. Stories were assigned, graphic elements such as maps and timelines were under way, an editorial was prepared. People not scheduled to work were showing up offering to pitch in.
Within minutes of the news arriving, a writer and editor had been assigned to collect information flowing in from reporters and news wires into a continuously updated story on the Citizen website. The paper’s mobile app had set up a rolling blog of news.
A year later, Citizen reporters, photographers and editors were asked to recall some of the events of that day. Here are some of their stories (and more can be found at ottawacitizen.com):
‘The safety of military personnel was on my mind as I biked by the War Memorial.’
Lee Berthiaume
Parliamentary reporter
I bike past the National War Memorial every morning, and last Oct. 22 was no different. Over the weeks before that, I’d been writing stories about the safety of Canadian Forces personnel following Canada’s entrance into the war against ISIL. I’d written how the military had changed its procedures so journalists couldn’t interview or take pictures that would clearly identify those deploying as part of that mission. Then came the hit-and-run attack that killed Warrant Officer Patrice Vincent in Quebec on Oct. 20.
So the safety of military personnel was on my mind as I biked by the War Memorial and looked over at the two sentries on duty there. I remembered that the rifles the sentries carried weren’t loaded, and how if someone wanted to attack a member of the military, it could easily happen there.
Half an hour later in the Citizen’s office on O’Connor Street, I looked at Twitter and saw two mentions of a possible shooting at the War Memorial. I grabbed my notepad and recorder and ran out the door. As I raced down Queen Street I wasn’t hearing anything so as I got close to Elgin I slowed down because I thought, well, what if the gunman, or gunmen, are still there. I didn’t know what I was running into. I had a new baby and a wife, and so I kind of peeked around the corner. I could see the crowds of people and some reporters who were already there.
It’s strange but when I looked at Cpl. Cirillo he looked like he was sleeping. His eyes were closed. I didn’t see any blood or signs of violence. Several people were trying to resuscitate him. Unaware of what was happening on Parliament Hill, I started interviewing witnesses. In the midst of one interview, I realized I should probably take a picture and so, with one hand holding my audio recorder as a witness talked, I snapped a picture with my camera practically over my shoulder. At the time I didn’t think much of it. The only thing I knew was I wasn’t comfortable tweeting it, even though I didn’t know at the time that Cirillo had died or would die. I felt the decision whether to make it public should rest with editors. So I sent it to the Citizen photo desk and continued to interview witnesses before Cirillo was taken away by ambulance. It was only the next day that a colleague pointed out that my photo was on the front page of the National Post.
Berthiaume snapped this image of passersby trying to save Cpl. Nathan Cirillo minutes after the sentry was shot. He hesitated to post the photograph on Twitter immediately, leaving that decision up to his editors.
‘I ran up a ramp to the World Exchange Plaza and I will never forget what was going through my mind: I might get shot in the back.’
Mark Kennedy
Parliamentary bureau chief
I was in the Citizen’s downtown office and had planned to go over to the Centre Block by 10:45. Just before 10, Lee Berthiaume shouted out: “There’s been a shooting at the War Memorial.” As soon as he said it, all of us in the bureau knew it meant something. Two days earlier, in Quebec, a member of the Canadian military had been mowed down by a car, apparently by someone with sympathies to Islamic radicals. Lee ran out for the War Memorial.
Within a minute, Jordan Press, also reading Twitter, yelled out: “There’s been a shooting on the Hill.” I jumped up, looked at Jason Fekete, and said, “Let’s go.” As we sprinted north on O’Connor, I remember running through office workers and tourists. They looked at us curiously, still oblivious to what was happening.
We ran across Wellington Street and up the stairs toward the West Block where a couple of journalists were already interviewing someone who had been in the Centre Block when the shots went off. I jumped into the scrum. Suddenly, three or four black limousines raced by, just feet away from me. I recognized them as those used by the RCMP security detail that guards the prime minister. As I later learned, this was about the time that Stephen Harper exited the parliamentary grounds. Though I could not see him through the tinted glass, Harper was probably in one of the vehicles.
Then we were ordered by the police down to Queen and Metcalfe. Police cars were screaming down the street and constables were scrambling everywhere, with their handguns and rifles drawn. I will never forget the look of panic and confusion in the eyes of some of those police officers. They were doing their best, but it seems they were hearing conflicting reports on their radios about the number of gunmen, and where they were.
Police swarmed the streets around Parliament Hill, hand guns and rifles drawn.
At one point, an Ottawa police officer ran at me and shouted to get off the street because they had spotted a gunman on a rooftop.“Now,” he said. “Run, run.” And I ran — I mean, I really ran. I ran up a ramp to the World Exchange Plaza and I will never forget what was going through my mind: I might get shot in the back.
Inside it was pure pandemonium. We were ordered to stay away from the windows and told not to go outside. Then the doors were closed, and we were literally locked in. My phone reception grew weak. It was difficult to get calls out or to send emails or text messages. For a reporter, it was a very frustrating experience. There was a major story unfolding just blocks from where I was imprisoned, and I couldn’t get to it.
‘I was standing next to an apparent terrorist’s car, which he’d abandoned in the street outside Parliament.’
David Reevely
Provincial affairs columnist
When we got to the War Memorial, the first RCMP were just arriving, the bystanders were working on Cpl. Cirillo, and a couple of reporters were rushing in from (I assumed) Parliament Hill bureaus on Queen Street. Lee Berthiaume was one of them. Wayne Cuddington arrived, too, and took his amazing photo. Not being sure what the hell was going on, I started interviewing witnesses who had confused stories about two or three shooters, a carjacking, someone possibly having run off in the direction of the Market. Not long after, a bunch of police cars came up Elgin Street, sirens going, and looped over in the direction of the Hill. I went running after them.
By this time, there were a fair number of cops in the street with guns drawn, many of them taking cover but clearly not sure what they were taking cover from. The police cars got to the Hill well ahead of me on foot … but as I arrived, one officer was talking to another one guarding one of the (Parliament Hill) gates, and the guard told the new arrival that this brown car in front of us was the shooter’s. So I took a bunch of pictures. I didn’t shoot the car discreetly. It was there in the middle of the road … I walked up and walked around it taking pictures. (Metro reporter) Joe Lofaro tweeted a picture of the car … with me in the middle of taking photos.
Here’s David Reevely snapping pictures of a car on the street near Parliament Hill after he heard police say the vehicle was used by the shooter. Joe Lofaro/Twitter
The police, I guess, didn’t have their wits about them enough to be keeping the car secure yet. I tweeted the first photo I took and pretty much instantly got replies from followers to the effect of WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? GET AWAY FROM THERE! And that’s when it occurred to me that it might conceivably explode. I was standing next to an apparent terrorist’s car, which he’d abandoned in the street outside Parliament.
‘Reporters could easily have died when that guy came through with his gun.’
Jason Fekete
Parliamentary reporter
We’d been moved by the cops from Parliament Hill and were on Sparks Street interviewing political staffers like Marc-Andre Viau with the NDP. The gunman had just run right past him, close enough that he had to duck for cover. In our business you often don’t get to see the real personalities of the people you cover on the Hill. There is so much cut and thrust. But I remember the look of alarm and fear on Marc-Andre’s face. That’s not something you see very often, and I hope I don’t see it again.
A tourist captured this shot of Michael Zehaf-Bibeau, who shot Cpl. Nathan Cirillo at the War Memorial, then ran onto Parliament Hill and continued the shooting rampage.
Reporters could easily have died when that guy came through with his gun. It could have been any of us standing there. I’d been there that morning just before 9 and was planning to go back around 10:30. I kept thinking that if he was going to walk into Parliament with a gun, it couldn’t have happened at a better time. If (it had happened) at 8:45 or 10:45, that hallway is crowded. Reporters are there, MPs’ staff are there, MPs themselves are coming in and out. There would have been 50 or maybe more people there. It could have been so much worse.
‘I quickly parked near a bus stop at Sparks, grabbed my cameras and ran to the scene, photographing anything and everything that was happening.’
Wayne Cuddington
Photographer
I was in the right place at the right time, driving east along Wellington Street near Bank at about 9:45 a.m. when I noticed an RCMP vehicle racing at high speed from the west gate entrance of Parliament Hill in the direction of the Centennial Flame. I knew this to be unusual and phoned (photo editor) Howard Fagen to see if he had any information. He told me the newsroom was hearing there was a shooting either at the War Memorial or Centre Block. Traffic had slowed to a crawl in front of Parliament Hill, with at least a half dozen police vehicles clogging up the street, and I realized I needed to park. I turned onto Elgin, where I noticed a small group of people huddled near the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, with someone appearing to give CPR to someone on the ground. I quickly parked near a bus stop at Sparks, grabbed my cameras and ran to the scene, photographing anything and everything that was happening. It was then I noticed it was a soldier, wearing a kilt, who was on the ground while two women and two or three men were giving immediate assistance, including mouth-to-mouth (resuscitation) and chest compressions. There were only a couple of police officers there and no paramedics.
Wayne Cuddington captured the heart-breaking image of passersby trying to help Cpl. Nathan Cirillo.
I later realized I had probably arrived about five minutes after the shooting. An ambulance and more police soon arrived and Cpl. Cirillo was put on a gurney and rushed to hospital. I spent the rest of the day following leads and rumours and looking for more photos, but nothing would match what I already had.
‘The cops went nuts, yelling at everybody, Take cover, Take cover.’
Glen McGregor
National reporter
I was at Bank and Wellington interviewing MPs about what they’d seen when the cops started pushing people away from the Hill. I ended up at Sparks and Bank. We could hear the police radios, all the chatter, and we could hear that the cops thought there were more gunmen still at large. And then all of sudden we heard this BANG, BANG, BANG, really loud and really close, sounding like it was from just around the corner on Wellington. The cops went nuts, yelling at everybody, “Take cover, Take cover.” So I went charging down Sparks Street and ran through the first open door I could see — somebody actually held it open for me. And I immediately realized I was in Brixton’s, the local watering hole where we go a couple times a week. It’s sort of the NDP bar, where they hang out a lot. The staff there locked the door behind us, and were inside for a while. You’d think a bar would be the place to be, but they didn’t have the taps open yet. It turned out the bangs we heard were not gunshots, but guys doing construction work at Wellington and Bank.
‘The street filled with both uniformed and undercover police officers running, guns drawn, close to the sides of the buildings.’
Ashley Fraser
Photographer
Waking up to a siren passing my downtown apartment isn’t abnormal. But that morning I awoke to sirens that sounded like they were everywhere around me. I grabbed my iPhone to quickly learn there was a possible shooting downtown. Moments later the phone rang, a call from the photo desk at the Citizen. I gathered my laptop and gear and started running. I live about 12 blocks from the Hill and figured it was best to leave my car parked and throw on running shoes to get me up there quickest.
I made my way down Sparks close to Elgin. This is where I came across Ottawa Police unloading their explosive unit’s robot. Police seemed to be running my way from many directions with various sizes of weapons drawn. More and more officers arrived, their guns pointing to the roof tops. I don’t know how long I was there before officers told everyone to clear Sparks and go into the buildings. I chose a building with big windows that I could possibly shoot through if something unfolded in front of me.
Shortly after the street filled with both uniformed and undercover police officers running, guns drawn, close to the sides of the buildings. Then a large tactical truck pulled up and a group of undercover officers started to sweep from one specific door (behind the Canada Post building) out to the truck. I pointed my camera on the scene and got ready. Police then started ushering people out of the doorway, one at a time, heavily guarded, moving them with urgency to the armoured vehicle parked on Sparks. I noticed the people being moved had military markings so quickly sent a copy of an image back to the office for IDing.
When she took this photo, Fraser didn’t realize it was Tom Lawson, Canada’s Chief of Defence staff, being hustled into an armoured vehicle.
The impact of what I’d photographed didn’t really set in until the next morning when I saw my image of Tom Lawson, chief of defence staff, being whisked to the armoured truck on the front page of newspapers around the world, including my own paper.
‘It was a bit surreal for me, as basically an intern with five months’ experience, to have veteran political journalists suddenly relying on my WiFi and petting my cat.’
Emma Loop
Reporter
After spending much of the day in lockdown at the World Exchange Plaza, Jason Fekete, Mark Kennedy and I needed somewhere to work. The Citizen’s downtown office was off-limits: People were allowed to leave the building, but not enter. The police wanted the downtown core empty. We joined up with National Post columnist John Ivison, who was also stranded. I suggested we work at my place, which was only a few blocks away. It was spacious, and had cable, Internet and coffee — all the essentials. Thus, the Somerset Bureau came to be.
It was a bit surreal for me, as basically an intern with five months’ experience, to have veteran political journalists suddenly relying on my WiFi and petting my cat. At one point, Ivison was sitting on my bed with my laptop, live on the air via Skype with Al Jazeera America, my cheap Bouclair wall art hanging in the background. From my living room we filed stories, ordered pizza, and watched as the prime minister gave a televised speech late in the evening. I remember thinking that he looked as though he was trying to mask his anxiety.
‘At one point I went into the kitchen to call my parents and tell them I loved them, in case anything happened.’
Dylan Robertson
Parliamentary reporter
I was doing fine inside the office until the moment Mark Kennedy saw something on Twitter about 50 O’Connor going on lockdown because of a possible gunman entering the building. Just then, the PA system announced not to let anyone into any rooms, and to not go to the hallway washrooms. When I looked out of our 13th floor window, there were gun-wielding officers in SWAT gear on top of at least two neighbouring buildings, looking at our building (but not pointing their guns). This was the only time I felt scared. I sat right in the line of vision of our office’s glass doors at the elevators, and I felt the need to get under my desk. (I look back on this feeling quite embarrassed and slightly amused). I eventually moved to a desk around the corner from the glass doors, and at one point I went into the kitchen to call my parents and tell them I loved them, in case anything happened. It was really surreal, if nothing else because my parents each kept in character — my calm but ever-concerned mother and my nonchalant father who wanted to talk about a sale at the grocery store, or something routine.
‘I was mostly glued to my chair in the newsroom, desperately trying to process and collate all of the dozens of files coming in, and trying to sort truth from fiction.’
Andrew Duffy
Senior writer
I wrote the main story for (the printed newspaper) that day so I was mostly glued to my chair in the newsroom, desperately trying to process and collate all of the dozens of files coming in, and trying to sort truth from fiction. There was a terrific number of wild rumours that day, and the principal challenge was to try to write a story with solid information that had drama and pace. My colleague Shaamini Yogaretnam was critical in the fact-finding process: it was her police sources that confirmed the story that Kevin Vickers brought down the shooter. She also confirmed the shooter used a rifle, rather than a shotgun.
One of the most difficult aspects of the day involved trying to make sense of the conflicting eyewitness accounts. Some said Michael Zehaf-Bibeau ran to the Hill. Some said he drove in a car. Others said he hijacked a car. None of it seemed to make sense, and I reported like that. It was only later, of course, that we understood that all of these witness accounts were true: people just saw very different parts of the same movie.
I drew stuff from Twitter accounts of some senior politicians and interviewed the NDP’s Greta Levy by phone after I saw her give a compelling interview on TV. My biggest regret is that we didn’t get more stuff from inside the Conservative caucus room. I think there was a strong story there that we simply missed that day.
‘Cops often use a phrase, dynamic fluid situation, and that was this situation exactly.’
Shaamini Yogaretnam
Police reporter
It was really challenging to figure out what was happening when there was so much confusion, when the cops themselves were so confused. Cops often use a phrase, dynamic fluid situation, and that was this situation exactly. They had a lot of information they hadn’t fully corroborated … there were three different forces involved and not only did they have to talk to each other, each of the forces was having its own communications struggles. And that made our work difficult, even those of us who deal with the cops regularly. But using our sources, my colleagues and I tried to piece together the day. We needed to know what happened at the memorial and in the hall of honour and eventually it came together.
‘This was the first time people came up to me and told me my writing made them cry.’
James Gordon
Editorial writer/columnist
There was really no discussion as to what our editorial would say the next day. And there was no process to speak of — I just wrote what I felt and tried to capture the city’s mood. I guessed at how people would react in the coming days and was proven right: “Citizens of Ottawa will come together to help the physically wounded and the psychologically shaken. We will share in the grief of Nathan Cirillo’s family and empathize with members of Parliament who came here to serve the public and faced bullets for their trouble. We will marvel at the bravery and dedication of our neighbours who rushed toward the danger. We will remain, in good times and bad, strong and free.”
Coming from the sports department, I was used to getting passionate reactions to things I’d written. This was the first time people came up to me and told me my writing made them cry.
‘You also realize you were so busy you really didn’t have any time to sit back and think about it in any kind of larger way.’
Drake Fenton
Mobile app editor
The day was just madness. I was running a mobile live blog of what was going on and trying to sift through a lot of moving parts and inchoate storylines in order to figure out what was reportable. Everything was high-stress and very fluid. At one point, one of our people reported that police were saying there was a shooter on a roof downtown and people were in danger. I thought, “Should I put this out there? We have no idea whether it’s true.” But at the same time, if it proves to be incorrect, what are the consequences of that, versus it proving to be correct and we didn’t publish it, and could maybe have warned someone.
I was fairly fresh to this kind of thing, and what I learned is how fast things can move on you in these kinds of stories. You also realize you were so busy you really didn’t have any time to sit back and think about it in any kind of larger way. When I look back at that day I think the main thing I tell myself is next time it happens I need to be more aware of what I’m doing while I’m doing it. I think it is impossible to exit from one of these situations without making mistakes, but one of things I was happy about is the mistakes we made were not that serious. We didn’t act too soon on the important stuff, we didn’t go with anything that was vastly misleading, we didn’t get swept up in the wild rumours.
“(Photo editor) Howard Fagen (called) me over to look at the first photo Wayne Cuddington had taken of Cirillo. It was very powerful and I remember choking up. ‘
Andrew Potter
Editor-in-chief
It was a day full of moments but there were a few moments that really struck me. One of them was (photo editor) Howard Fagen calling me over to look at the first photo Wayne Cuddington had taken of Cirillo. It was very powerful and I remember choking up. We had a very robust conversation … about how to deal with the photo. We decided to keep it off the web. He could have been local, he could have been dead, you could see his face, there were good reasons not to just throw it out there. And two minutes later it was on the National Post website. Once a photo goes into Merlin (a photo library) it’s out there for any Postmedia paper to use.
Despite all of that, I will say now that I regret not putting Wayne’s photo on the front page the next day. The photo we used, the Ashley Fraser picture of the chief of the defence staff being hustled to safety, was great. But I think that the best photo of the day was Wayne’s.
Looking back at everything, I think our end-of-day wrapup story still stands up as a very accurate account of the day. When we didn’t know something, or questions were hanging, we said so. It was a very credible first draft. I was pleased with how much news we broke during the first 12, 24, 36 hours. I was also really pleased by how much news was broken by people doing things that weren’t really their jobs. Political writers doing basic police and crime reporting, using their instincts and experience. That impressed me. One of the photos that got used most widely was taken by Lee (Berthiaume), a Parliamentary reporter. He just knew to take it, even while he was interviewing people in the middle of all the confusion at the War Memorial. David Reevely, a political columnist, knew to take photos of the shooter’s car before the area got locked down. The information in those photos allowed us to do some reporting we couldn’t have done otherwise.
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When the first unconfirmed reports of gunfire at the National War Memorial and on Parliament Hill landed in the Citizen’s newsroom and its downtown bureaus just before 10 a.m. a year ago today, no one waited to be told what to do, or where to go.
Reporters, through experience and accumulated skills, operate on instinct. Parliamentary reporters Lee Berthiaume, Mark Kennedy, Jason Fekete and Dylan Robertson paused for no longer than it took to grab a digital recorder, cellphone and notepad before they were running headlong for the Hill and the cenotaph.
“As soon as it happened, you knew it was of a magnitude beyond anything we’d seen on the Hill,” Kennedy says today. “It was a game-changer.”
At City Hall, columnist David Reevely, recognizing he was closest to the cenotaph, was on the scene within minutes, talking to witnesses, trying to make sense of the confusion and filing what he was seeing back to the newsroom and to the community via Twitter.
Veteran photographer Wayne Cuddington, driving into downtown looking for a feature shot, rerouted himself as soon as he noticed an RCMP vehicle racing in front of Parliament Hill. Within minutes he’d worked his way to the War Memorial, where he photographed the people working to save Cpl. Nathan Cirillo, images that would be displayed on websites and newspapers around the world. One of them would be nominated for a National Newspaper Award.
Perhaps most tellingly, some of the best work produced that day was done by journalists operating outside their usual comfort zone.
“It was impressive how much news was broken by people doing things that weren’t really their jobs,” says editor-in-chief Andrew Potter, “political writers doing basic police and crime reporting, taking important photographs.”
Back in the newsroom, editors gathered to make sure no components of the unfolding story were overlooked, and reporters were assigned to fill the gaps or use the contacts on their beats to see what they could learn. Stories were assigned, graphic elements such as maps and timelines were under way, an editorial was prepared. People not scheduled to work were showing up offering to pitch in.
Within minutes of the news arriving, a writer and editor had been assigned to collect information flowing in from reporters and news wires into a continuously updated story on the Citizen website. The paper’s mobile app had set up a rolling blog of news.
A year later, Citizen reporters, photographers and editors were asked to recall some of the events of that day. Here are some of their stories (and more can be found at ottawacitizen.com):
‘The safety of military personnel was on my mind as I biked by the War Memorial.’
Lee Berthiaume
Parliamentary reporter
I bike past the National War Memorial every morning, and last Oct. 22 was no different. Over the weeks before that, I’d been writing stories about the safety of Canadian Forces personnel following Canada’s entrance into the war against ISIL. I’d written how the military had changed its procedures so journalists couldn’t interview or take pictures that would clearly identify those deploying as part of that mission. Then came the hit-and-run attack that killed Warrant Officer Patrice Vincent in Quebec on Oct. 20.
So the safety of military personnel was on my mind as I biked by the War Memorial and looked over at the two sentries on duty there. I remembered that the rifles the sentries carried weren’t loaded, and how if someone wanted to attack a member of the military, it could easily happen there.
Half an hour later in the Citizen’s office on O’Connor Street, I looked at Twitter and saw two mentions of a possible shooting at the War Memorial. I grabbed my notepad and recorder and ran out the door. As I raced down Queen Street I wasn’t hearing anything so as I got close to Elgin I slowed down because I thought, well, what if the gunman, or gunmen, are still there. I didn’t know what I was running into. I had a new baby and a wife, and so I kind of peeked around the corner. I could see the crowds of people and some reporters who were already there.
It’s strange but when I looked at Cpl. Cirillo he looked like he was sleeping. His eyes were closed. I didn’t see any blood or signs of violence. Several people were trying to resuscitate him. Unaware of what was happening on Parliament Hill, I started interviewing witnesses. In the midst of one interview, I realized I should probably take a picture and so, with one hand holding my audio recorder as a witness talked, I snapped a picture with my camera practically over my shoulder. At the time I didn’t think much of it. The only thing I knew was I wasn’t comfortable tweeting it, even though I didn’t know at the time that Cirillo had died or would die. I felt the decision whether to make it public should rest with editors. So I sent it to the Citizen photo desk and continued to interview witnesses before Cirillo was taken away by ambulance. It was only the next day that a colleague pointed out that my photo was on the front page of the National Post.
Berthiaume snapped this image of passersby trying to save Cpl. Nathan Cirillo minutes after the sentry was shot. He hesitated to post the photograph on Twitter immediately, leaving that decision up to his editors.
‘I ran up a ramp to the World Exchange Plaza and I will never forget what was going through my mind: I might get shot in the back.’
Mark Kennedy
Parliamentary bureau chief
I was in the Citizen’s downtown office and had planned to go over to the Centre Block by 10:45. Just before 10, Lee Berthiaume shouted out: “There’s been a shooting at the War Memorial.” As soon as he said it, all of us in the bureau knew it meant something. Two days earlier, in Quebec, a member of the Canadian military had been mowed down by a car, apparently by someone with sympathies to Islamic radicals. Lee ran out for the War Memorial.
Within a minute, Jordan Press, also reading Twitter, yelled out: “There’s been a shooting on the Hill.” I jumped up, looked at Jason Fekete, and said, “Let’s go.” As we sprinted north on O’Connor, I remember running through office workers and tourists. They looked at us curiously, still oblivious to what was happening.
We ran across Wellington Street and up the stairs toward the West Block where a couple of journalists were already interviewing someone who had been in the Centre Block when the shots went off. I jumped into the scrum. Suddenly, three or four black limousines raced by, just feet away from me. I recognized them as those used by the RCMP security detail that guards the prime minister. As I later learned, this was about the time that Stephen Harper exited the parliamentary grounds. Though I could not see him through the tinted glass, Harper was probably in one of the vehicles.
Then we were ordered by the police down to Queen and Metcalfe. Police cars were screaming down the street and constables were scrambling everywhere, with their handguns and rifles drawn. I will never forget the look of panic and confusion in the eyes of some of those police officers. They were doing their best, but it seems they were hearing conflicting reports on their radios about the number of gunmen, and where they were.
Police swarmed the streets around Parliament Hill, hand guns and rifles drawn.
At one point, an Ottawa police officer ran at me and shouted to get off the street because they had spotted a gunman on a rooftop.“Now,” he said. “Run, run.” And I ran — I mean, I really ran. I ran up a ramp to the World Exchange Plaza and I will never forget what was going through my mind: I might get shot in the back.
Inside it was pure pandemonium. We were ordered to stay away from the windows and told not to go outside. Then the doors were closed, and we were literally locked in. My phone reception grew weak. It was difficult to get calls out or to send emails or text messages. For a reporter, it was a very frustrating experience. There was a major story unfolding just blocks from where I was imprisoned, and I couldn’t get to it.
‘I was standing next to an apparent terrorist’s car, which he’d abandoned in the street outside Parliament.’
David Reevely
Provincial affairs columnist
When we got to the War Memorial, the first RCMP were just arriving, the bystanders were working on Cpl. Cirillo, and a couple of reporters were rushing in from (I assumed) Parliament Hill bureaus on Queen Street. Lee Berthiaume was one of them. Wayne Cuddington arrived, too, and took his amazing photo. Not being sure what the hell was going on, I started interviewing witnesses who had confused stories about two or three shooters, a carjacking, someone possibly having run off in the direction of the Market. Not long after, a bunch of police cars came up Elgin Street, sirens going, and looped over in the direction of the Hill. I went running after them.
By this time, there were a fair number of cops in the street with guns drawn, many of them taking cover but clearly not sure what they were taking cover from. The police cars got to the Hill well ahead of me on foot … but as I arrived, one officer was talking to another one guarding one of the (Parliament Hill) gates, and the guard told the new arrival that this brown car in front of us was the shooter’s. So I took a bunch of pictures. I didn’t shoot the car discreetly. It was there in the middle of the road … I walked up and walked around it taking pictures. (Metro reporter) Joe Lofaro tweeted a picture of the car … with me in the middle of taking photos.
Here’s David Reevely snapping pictures of a car on the street near Parliament Hill after he heard police say the vehicle was used by the shooter. Joe Lofaro/Twitter
The police, I guess, didn’t have their wits about them enough to be keeping the car secure yet. I tweeted the first photo I took and pretty much instantly got replies from followers to the effect of WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? GET AWAY FROM THERE! And that’s when it occurred to me that it might conceivably explode. I was standing next to an apparent terrorist’s car, which he’d abandoned in the street outside Parliament.
‘Reporters could easily have died when that guy came through with his gun.’
Jason Fekete
Parliamentary reporter
We’d been moved by the cops from Parliament Hill and were on Sparks Street interviewing political staffers like Marc-Andre Viau with the NDP. The gunman had just run right past him, close enough that he had to duck for cover. In our business you often don’t get to see the real personalities of the people you cover on the Hill. There is so much cut and thrust. But I remember the look of alarm and fear on Marc-Andre’s face. That’s not something you see very often, and I hope I don’t see it again.
A tourist captured this shot of Michael Zehaf-Bibeau, who shot Cpl. Nathan Cirillo at the War Memorial, then ran onto Parliament Hill and continued the shooting rampage.
Reporters could easily have died when that guy came through with his gun. It could have been any of us standing there. I’d been there that morning just before 9 and was planning to go back around 10:30. I kept thinking that if he was going to walk into Parliament with a gun, it couldn’t have happened at a better time. If (it had happened) at 8:45 or 10:45, that hallway is crowded. Reporters are there, MPs’ staff are there, MPs themselves are coming in and out. There would have been 50 or maybe more people there. It could have been so much worse.
‘I quickly parked near a bus stop at Sparks, grabbed my cameras and ran to the scene, photographing anything and everything that was happening.’
Wayne Cuddington
Photographer
I was in the right place at the right time, driving east along Wellington Street near Bank at about 9:45 a.m. when I noticed an RCMP vehicle racing at high speed from the west gate entrance of Parliament Hill in the direction of the Centennial Flame. I knew this to be unusual and phoned (photo editor) Howard Fagen to see if he had any information. He told me the newsroom was hearing there was a shooting either at the War Memorial or Centre Block. Traffic had slowed to a crawl in front of Parliament Hill, with at least a half dozen police vehicles clogging up the street, and I realized I needed to park. I turned onto Elgin, where I noticed a small group of people huddled near the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, with someone appearing to give CPR to someone on the ground. I quickly parked near a bus stop at Sparks, grabbed my cameras and ran to the scene, photographing anything and everything that was happening. It was then I noticed it was a soldier, wearing a kilt, who was on the ground while two women and two or three men were giving immediate assistance, including mouth-to-mouth (resuscitation) and chest compressions. There were only a couple of police officers there and no paramedics.
Wayne Cuddington captured the heart-breaking image of passersby trying to help Cpl. Nathan Cirillo.
I later realized I had probably arrived about five minutes after the shooting. An ambulance and more police soon arrived and Cpl. Cirillo was put on a gurney and rushed to hospital. I spent the rest of the day following leads and rumours and looking for more photos, but nothing would match what I already had.
‘The cops went nuts, yelling at everybody, Take cover, Take cover.’
Glen McGregor
National reporter
I was at Bank and Wellington interviewing MPs about what they’d seen when the cops started pushing people away from the Hill. I ended up at Sparks and Bank. We could hear the police radios, all the chatter, and we could hear that the cops thought there were more gunmen still at large. And then all of sudden we heard this BANG, BANG, BANG, really loud and really close, sounding like it was from just around the corner on Wellington. The cops went nuts, yelling at everybody, “Take cover, Take cover.” So I went charging down Sparks Street and ran through the first open door I could see — somebody actually held it open for me. And I immediately realized I was in Brixton’s, the local watering hole where we go a couple times a week. It’s sort of the NDP bar, where they hang out a lot. The staff there locked the door behind us, and were inside for a while. You’d think a bar would be the place to be, but they didn’t have the taps open yet. It turned out the bangs we heard were not gunshots, but guys doing construction work at Wellington and Bank.
‘The street filled with both uniformed and undercover police officers running, guns drawn, close to the sides of the buildings.’
Ashley Fraser
Photographer
Waking up to a siren passing my downtown apartment isn’t abnormal. But that morning I awoke to sirens that sounded like they were everywhere around me. I grabbed my iPhone to quickly learn there was a possible shooting downtown. Moments later the phone rang, a call from the photo desk at the Citizen. I gathered my laptop and gear and started running. I live about 12 blocks from the Hill and figured it was best to leave my car parked and throw on running shoes to get me up there quickest.
I made my way down Sparks close to Elgin. This is where I came across Ottawa Police unloading their explosive unit’s robot. Police seemed to be running my way from many directions with various sizes of weapons drawn. More and more officers arrived, their guns pointing to the roof tops. I don’t know how long I was there before officers told everyone to clear Sparks and go into the buildings. I chose a building with big windows that I could possibly shoot through if something unfolded in front of me.
Shortly after the street filled with both uniformed and undercover police officers running, guns drawn, close to the sides of the buildings. Then a large tactical truck pulled up and a group of undercover officers started to sweep from one specific door (behind the Canada Post building) out to the truck. I pointed my camera on the scene and got ready. Police then started ushering people out of the doorway, one at a time, heavily guarded, moving them with urgency to the armoured vehicle parked on Sparks. I noticed the people being moved had military markings so quickly sent a copy of an image back to the office for IDing.
When she took this photo, Fraser didn’t realize it was Tom Lawson, Canada’s Chief of Defence staff, being hustled into an armoured vehicle.
The impact of what I’d photographed didn’t really set in until the next morning when I saw my image of Tom Lawson, chief of defence staff, being whisked to the armoured truck on the front page of newspapers around the world, including my own paper.
‘It was a bit surreal for me, as basically an intern with five months’ experience, to have veteran political journalists suddenly relying on my WiFi and petting my cat.’
Emma Loop
Reporter
After spending much of the day in lockdown at the World Exchange Plaza, Jason Fekete, Mark Kennedy and I needed somewhere to work. The Citizen’s downtown office was off-limits: People were allowed to leave the building, but not enter. The police wanted the downtown core empty. We joined up with National Post columnist John Ivison, who was also stranded. I suggested we work at my place, which was only a few blocks away. It was spacious, and had cable, Internet and coffee — all the essentials. Thus, the Somerset Bureau came to be.
It was a bit surreal for me, as basically an intern with five months’ experience, to have veteran political journalists suddenly relying on my WiFi and petting my cat. At one point, Ivison was sitting on my bed with my laptop, live on the air via Skype with Al Jazeera America, my cheap Bouclair wall art hanging in the background. From my living room we filed stories, ordered pizza, and watched as the prime minister gave a televised speech late in the evening. I remember thinking that he looked as though he was trying to mask his anxiety.
‘At one point I went into the kitchen to call my parents and tell them I loved them, in case anything happened.’
Dylan Robertson
Parliamentary reporter
I was doing fine inside the office until the moment Mark Kennedy saw something on Twitter about 50 O’Connor going on lockdown because of a possible gunman entering the building. Just then, the PA system announced not to let anyone into any rooms, and to not go to the hallway washrooms. When I looked out of our 13th floor window, there were gun-wielding officers in SWAT gear on top of at least two neighbouring buildings, looking at our building (but not pointing their guns). This was the only time I felt scared. I sat right in the line of vision of our office’s glass doors at the elevators, and I felt the need to get under my desk. (I look back on this feeling quite embarrassed and slightly amused). I eventually moved to a desk around the corner from the glass doors, and at one point I went into the kitchen to call my parents and tell them I loved them, in case anything happened. It was really surreal, if nothing else because my parents each kept in character — my calm but ever-concerned mother and my nonchalant father who wanted to talk about a sale at the grocery store, or something routine.
‘I was mostly glued to my chair in the newsroom, desperately trying to process and collate all of the dozens of files coming in, and trying to sort truth from fiction.’
Andrew Duffy
Senior writer
I wrote the main story for (the printed newspaper) that day so I was mostly glued to my chair in the newsroom, desperately trying to process and collate all of the dozens of files coming in, and trying to sort truth from fiction. There was a terrific number of wild rumours that day, and the principal challenge was to try to write a story with solid information that had drama and pace. My colleague Shaamini Yogaretnam was critical in the fact-finding process: it was her police sources that confirmed the story that Kevin Vickers brought down the shooter. She also confirmed the shooter used a rifle, rather than a shotgun.
One of the most difficult aspects of the day involved trying to make sense of the conflicting eyewitness accounts. Some said Michael Zehaf-Bibeau ran to the Hill. Some said he drove in a car. Others said he hijacked a car. None of it seemed to make sense, and I reported like that. It was only later, of course, that we understood that all of these witness accounts were true: people just saw very different parts of the same movie.
I drew stuff from Twitter accounts of some senior politicians and interviewed the NDP’s Greta Levy by phone after I saw her give a compelling interview on TV. My biggest regret is that we didn’t get more stuff from inside the Conservative caucus room. I think there was a strong story there that we simply missed that day.
‘Cops often use a phrase, dynamic fluid situation, and that was this situation exactly.’
Shaamini Yogaretnam
Police reporter
It was really challenging to figure out what was happening when there was so much confusion, when the cops themselves were so confused. Cops often use a phrase, dynamic fluid situation, and that was this situation exactly. They had a lot of information they hadn’t fully corroborated … there were three different forces involved and not only did they have to talk to each other, each of the forces was having its own communications struggles. And that made our work difficult, even those of us who deal with the cops regularly. But using our sources, my colleagues and I tried to piece together the day. We needed to know what happened at the memorial and in the hall of honour and eventually it came together.
‘This was the first time people came up to me and told me my writing made them cry.’
James Gordon
Editorial writer/columnist
There was really no discussion as to what our editorial would say the next day. And there was no process to speak of — I just wrote what I felt and tried to capture the city’s mood. I guessed at how people would react in the coming days and was proven right: “Citizens of Ottawa will come together to help the physically wounded and the psychologically shaken. We will share in the grief of Nathan Cirillo’s family and empathize with members of Parliament who came here to serve the public and faced bullets for their trouble. We will marvel at the bravery and dedication of our neighbours who rushed toward the danger. We will remain, in good times and bad, strong and free.”
Coming from the sports department, I was used to getting passionate reactions to things I’d written. This was the first time people came up to me and told me my writing made them cry.
‘You also realize you were so busy you really didn’t have any time to sit back and think about it in any kind of larger way.’
Drake Fenton
Mobile app editor
The day was just madness. I was running a mobile live blog of what was going on and trying to sift through a lot of moving parts and inchoate storylines in order to figure out what was reportable. Everything was high-stress and very fluid. At one point, one of our people reported that police were saying there was a shooter on a roof downtown and people were in danger. I thought, “Should I put this out there? We have no idea whether it’s true.” But at the same time, if it proves to be incorrect, what are the consequences of that, versus it proving to be correct and we didn’t publish it, and could maybe have warned someone.
I was fairly fresh to this kind of thing, and what I learned is how fast things can move on you in these kinds of stories. You also realize you were so busy you really didn’t have any time to sit back and think about it in any kind of larger way. When I look back at that day I think the main thing I tell myself is next time it happens I need to be more aware of what I’m doing while I’m doing it. I think it is impossible to exit from one of these situations without making mistakes, but one of things I was happy about is the mistakes we made were not that serious. We didn’t act too soon on the important stuff, we didn’t go with anything that was vastly misleading, we didn’t get swept up in the wild rumours.
“(Photo editor) Howard Fagen (called) me over to look at the first photo Wayne Cuddington had taken of Cirillo. It was very powerful and I remember choking up. ‘
Andrew Potter
Editor-in-chief
It was a day full of moments but there were a few moments that really struck me. One of them was (photo editor) Howard Fagen calling me over to look at the first photo Wayne Cuddington had taken of Cirillo. It was very powerful and I remember choking up. We had a very robust conversation … about how to deal with the photo. We decided to keep it off the web. He could have been local, he could have been dead, you could see his face, there were good reasons not to just throw it out there. And two minutes later it was on the National Post website. Once a photo goes into Merlin (a photo library) it’s out there for any Postmedia paper to use.
Despite all of that, I will say now that I regret not putting Wayne’s photo on the front page the next day. The photo we used, the Ashley Fraser picture of the chief of the defence staff being hustled to safety, was great. But I think that the best photo of the day was Wayne’s.
Looking back at everything, I think our end-of-day wrapup story still stands up as a very accurate account of the day. When we didn’t know something, or questions were hanging, we said so. It was a very credible first draft. I was pleased with how much news we broke during the first 12, 24, 36 hours. I was also really pleased by how much news was broken by people doing things that weren’t really their jobs. Political writers doing basic police and crime reporting, using their instincts and experience. That impressed me. One of the photos that got used most widely was taken by Lee (Berthiaume), a Parliamentary reporter. He just knew to take it, even while he was interviewing people in the middle of all the confusion at the War Memorial. David Reevely, a political columnist, knew to take photos of the shooter’s car before the area got locked down. The information in those photos allowed us to do some reporting we couldn’t have done otherwise.
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