Poynter Ethics Journal

As the initial euphoria of Elizabeth Smart's homecoming wears off, some great journalism lies ahead. The saga of the teenager's survival and return will require many tellings. Reporters are lining up for the job.

But consider the downside, the journalistic hazards to avoid. This is a 15-year-old with a household name, a teenager who will some day return to school, to her church, to the task of growing up. How her story is told will become a factor in her recovery. With this burden weighing on journalists, it would be easy to take a timid approach. That's not the answer. Instead, Elizabeth Smart's story merits the best we have to offer - the truth in all its complexity, told with compassion.

Normally when writing about vulnerable people, particularly child victims, we have safeguards in place that give us wide latitude. This story is unique in that many of those safeguards do not apply.

Elizabeth Smart has become a national icon. When it comes to naming victims of certain crimes, many of my colleagues at Poynter have said, "You can't un-ring a bell, but you can stop ringing it." This is one of those rare cases when that metaphor does not hold up. Even if we stopped naming Elizabeth Smart today, most Americans would remember the name of the kidnap victim from Utah. It's one case in recent history where the name has been so well-publicized it cannot be erased from the national consciousness. Could we forget the name Patty Hearst?

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Some journalists will defend their actions by rationalizing that because this story is so big and so unique, because the proverbial genie is already out of the bottle, nothing more can be done to respect Elizabeth Smart's privacy. This argument is arrogant. Responsible coverage may require more work and more time for discussion, seeking input from experts outside the newsroom. But failing to identify alternatives will lead to bad decisions.

With that in mind, the Elizabeth Smart story calls for the very height of self-restraint and informed decision-making. As the details of her ordeal emerge, journalists are obligated to anticipate the ethical pitfalls, minimize the harm to Smart and her family, and identify and explore the bigger issues that often get lost when a story becomes larger than life.

Everyone is asking what happened to Smart. Was she abused? Was she drugged? Was she brainwashed? Family, police and prosecutors, witnesses and court documents, will tell the stories. Presenting the details requires sensitivity and sensibility. This is not a story in which the rush to publish an original piece of information should trump the responsibility to ensure accuracy and perspective. Yet the horde of reporters parked outside her home testifies to the intense competition experienced by reporters working on the story.

The Elizabeth Smart chronicle is no more meaningful than a fairy tale, unless it is told in the broader context of the story of American childhood.Dean Kilpatrick, founder and director of a center that studies violence against women, cautions that certain pieces of information could take on a larger-than-life significance, if presented inaccurately or merely out of context.

"The big picture issue is this guy and others managed to control her over a long period of time," Kilpatrick said. "Lord knows what happened. I would not be surprised, under the circumstances, if some fairly horrible things happened to her. But that should not be the biggest part of the story."

When journalists find themselves faced with new information, instead of asking if it should be published, it might be more helpful to ask how the information should be published and where. Is it the lede? Does it have to go on Page 1 or after the jump? Although the reporting climate on this story is competitive, it is always an option to hold information until a later date.

Minimizing the harm to Smart should be a part of the equation. Ann Alper is a former Broward County (Fla.) prosecuting attorney who specialized in child abuse cases. Now she is a court advocate for children's rights. She has a pretty good idea about what Smart's life will be like over the next year.

"Right now, what she wants to do, in my opinion, is surround herself with normalcy," Alper said. "She wants to be like everyone else. She wants to disappear and re-emerge as the person she used to be. And every time a camera shutter clicks, she is reminded that she is not that person anymore."

It will be impossible for reporters to avoid intrusion, Alper said. The public is likely to hang on every new detail. "When I opened up my paper, I couldn't wait to read the story. And I've been getting and sending e-mails all day about it," she said Thursday. "Everybody wants to know as much as possible, me included."

But Alper cautions, what may seem like a happy ending to outsiders may not feel so happy to Smart. Even that small disconnect could have long-reaching consequences, if journalists insist on calling this a happy ending or a miracle. "Emotionally, she is probably feeling a lot of things that don't feel like happiness," Alper said. "Hopeful might be a better word."

Good reporters will balance honesty and respect when revealing details about Smart's life. Many victims who have endured traumatic assaults feel particularly vulnerable when information about their bodies is revealed to strangers. Alper says to keep the focus away from the victim's body. When writing or broadcasting specific details, focus on the suspect or the setting. Give enough information to be accurate without crossing into "the stuff of steamy novels," she said.

In the best of all worlds, victims or their advocates should have input into the process by which reporters and editors decide when and what to publish. The Smart family has been fairly accessible, and journalists should use that access not just to mine new information, but also to gauge the potential harm of news reports.

The day will come when Smart herself will talk. When she does, it will be yet another challenge for journalists to avoid typecasting her as a victim.

"We are making an assumption that she is going to feel uncomfortable talking about it," Alper said. "I've noticed a trend among young teens who say, 'I'm going to make a stance. I did nothing wrong.'"

That ultimately may be the common ground Elizabeth Smart and the media can share. Although the Smart story is the exception to several norms, it is a fact that many American children are abused. It is also true that the story of childhood abuse is rarely told in its entirety by American newsrooms. We focus on the big cases and ignore the thousand upon thousands of "regular" abuse cases, where the bad guy lives under the same roof with the child.

Good reporters will balance honesty and respect when revealing details about Smart's life.The sheer commonality of most abuse cases is yet another layer of context that can minimize the harm and intrusiveness inherent in this story by providing perspective. Elizabeth Smart's case isn't just the exception to the rule; it's the exception that broke all the rules. Most kidnapped children are abducted by relatives. Most stranger kidnappings are resolved within weeks not months. The longer the child is missing, the more likely he or she will be found dead. Most cases don't get as much media attention as Smart's did. Most families don't have the resources, in both people and money, to keep the case in the limelight.

If this really is a story of hope, what does that mean for the thousands of other children enduring some form of abuse? What does it mean for the families of all the other missing children? Is it possible there is something to be learned and applied from the Smart case, as exceptional as it is? Or is the story of Elizabeth Smart merely the case that defied all odds?

As compelling as it is, the Elizabeth Smart chronicle is no more meaningful than a fairy tale, unless it is told in the broader context of the story of American childhood. Only then, with the joys and sufferings laid bare, can we begin to find the meaning for which we are searching.

Since joining Poynter?s faculty last July, Kelly McBride has been researching how the media covers kidnappings and sexual assaults (See "Survivors Speak" and "Rape and American Journalism").