When Polly Jennings picked up The Oregonian Tuesday morning, she was appalled to see a photo of her dead son on the center of Page One.
Jennings had opposed the story on her son, but knew one was being written and had resigned herself to seeing a version inside the newspaper.
“I was horror-stricken when I saw it on the front page with the big picture,” she says. “I expected to see it buried in some back section or some Living section.”
The Oregonian took the rare but not unprecedented step last week of publishing an in-depth story of a subject who died of a drug overdose, despite the strong objections of a parent who was one of four primary sources in the story.
The case raises several journalism ethics questions, particularly about the competing values of privacy vs. the journalistic responsibility to inform and educate the public. The story reveals the limited rights of sources and the tug of a riveting story on journalists.
Reporter David Stabler pursued the story of Marty Jennings, a brilliant violinist who struggled with heroin addiction and died in a Newport motel, only hours after performing. Stabler and his editor, Jack Hart, were aware that the family was not unanimous in wanting a story published. But they thought the story offered an opportunity to shed light on how addiction could grip a person, even in the rarified world of classical music. The story, they thought, could bust stereotypes and myths about addiction, enlightening readers. And quite frankly, Stabler says, he was drawn to it because it was so compelling.
Given the mother’s reluctance, editors devoted much of two meetings last week before and after its publication to discussing the story and its play. While journalists generally applauded the handling of the story, I wanted to hear from the sources most closely involved. Journalists at The Oregonian frequently hold deep discussions about whether and how to pursue stories, where to play them and even at times what their effects might be. But they rarely revisit the subjects whom they write about or photograph.
Even Marty Jennings’ mother says the story was accurate, well-reported and well-written. But she still says it never should have run, an opinion she forcefully told Stabler.
Polly Jennings argues her son never would have wanted to see his life shared in public that way. She agreed to talk to Stabler only after she learned a story would be published anyway, based on interviews with other family members and colleagues.
Marty’s father, Forrest Jennings, encouraged a story because he concluded his son’s story could be of value to the public. “I thought that there could be some good that could come from it. It could serve as a cautionary tale and have some people better understand Marty,” Forrest Jennings says.
He was pleased to see the story on Page One because that meant more people would likely read it. Overall, he praised the article and Stabler’s work. But he was disappointed the article focused mostly on his son’s music and drug use, and did not reflect many of his other talents and interests. He also thought it left the wrong impression that his son regularly used drugs after performances.
Robin Allred, Marty Jennings’ girlfriend, says she was willing to be interviewed in part because of the strong reputation of Stabler, who is widely viewed as a thoughtful, sensitive reporter and was a Pulitzer finalist last year. But now she wishes an article had never been written. She also thought the story focused so much on music and heroin that it did not reflect the richness of Marty Jennings’ life. She also believes the story unintentionally glorified heroin use and failed to show how sick it made Marty Jennings.
Marty Jennings’ ex-wife, Dunja Jennings, says she agreed to be interviewed because she thought the story might do some good. But she also recognized the newspaper would go ahead with it anyway because it would make such compelling reading. Yet on Tuesday she was surprised to see no resources listed for people struggling with addiction issues and their families — especially if the intent of the story was to offer a public service or serve as a cautionary tale.
As it turned out, she also fears that the article actually glamorized heroin addiction and didn’t reflect how it changes people and makes them sick. “I don’t know what good could come of it,” she says. “Maybe someone might be in a similar situation and might not want to end up dead. But Marty knew a lot of people who had overdosed and it didn’t stop him.”
Many stories require tough decisionmaking, none more so than when reporters are opening up the lives of private individuals to public scrutiny, particularly in the raw and painful time after death. Yet newspapers, while always weighing the ethics of their decisions, have an obligation to educate and enlighten readers even if the stories might be tough on subjects or their loved ones.
Stabler was forthright in telling his sources about the ground he was covering. As ethics experts recommend, he, Hart and other editors discussed numerous times whether to proceed with the story, and if so, how to do that. They carefully weighed significant facts that nudged them toward publishing, such as factoring in that Marty Jennings was an adult at age 32; that most of those close to him approved of a story; that what happened to him was broadly known in the community; and that he was prominently known as a musician and member of the symphony. At the forefront of their thinking was the fact that a newspaper’s key obligation is to inform and shed light on all aspects of the community so that citizens can be better informed. Those considerations stacked up against Polly Jennings’ wishes and pain, and in the end they decided it was a story worth telling.
I agree with the decision, and the reader reaction Stabler has received, particularly from those whose lives are touched by drug abuse, reflect the story’s potential for public benefit. But I am less certain the newspaper took enough care to minimize harm, essential when practicing journalism ethics.
Given the benefit of the family’s reaction, thought could have been given to playing the story on the Metro section or Living covers, where readers still would have found it. If it were to remain on Page One, the newspaper could have played it at the bottom of the page. Or the newspaper, which had taken care to tell the family members when the story was going to run, could have done the additional courtesy of alerting Marty Jennings’ mother that his story would appear on Page One.
Likewise, if the story was as a cautionary tale, a box with resources to help with drug problems would have given readers more information, although Hart contends that would have detracted from the power of the story.
In the end, however, lessons in journalism ethics offer small consolation to Polly Jennings. After being contacted by Stabler shortly after her son’s death July 6, she was pleased with a news obituary that ran July 10 and had thought she had a choice about any future story. She learned differently.
“I did think at the beginning that I might have some rights,” she says. “And apparently the only right I had was not to talk.”
