Capital Gazette photographer Paul Gillespie hasn’t been to many crime scenes in the six years since his newsroom became one.
At two separate shootings last spring, including the deadliest in Annapolis since five of his colleagues were killed, he saw much of what he saw then: grieving families, piercing police lights and bodies covered by sheets. His managers and editors try to steer him away from such things, but sometimes, a need overcomes him, a need to see what he’s capable of.
“As a journalist, you don’t want to miss out on the big stories,” Gillespie said Tuesday, sitting outside his favorite coffee shop. “It’s kind of like to test myself, to see if I could do it.”
Gillespie was one of several Capital Gazette reporters and staff members who, six years ago Friday, were attacked by a gunman consumed by an unflattering, true story published in the paper. A shotgun blast blew past him, but Gillespie made it out. Five of his co-workers — Gerald Fischman, Rob Hiaasen, John McNamara, Rebecca Smith and Wendi Winters — did not. The photographer still asks why he survived.
Even so, the job propels him.
Recently, Gillespie was assigned to cover a memorial march for three fathers, one year after they were killed in an alleged hate crime. He’s been on both sides of this sort of event and prepares using a mix of memory and experience. He knows to pack a longer, less invasive lens.
But not long before the march, Gillespie saw a post online about the fathers’ deaths. It described the triple homicide, which sent three others to the hospital, as the first mass shooting in Annapolis history.
“I was like, ‘Well, they forgot about ours already,’” Gillespie said.
In the years since the newsroom attack, the deadliest ever perpetrated against American journalists, the survivors of the Capital Gazette shooting have taken different steps to manage their grief. They honor their loved ones publicly and privately, in groups and on their own.
On Friday morning, the victims’ families and friends along with current and former colleagues of the Capital Gazette will gather for a private moment of silence in Annapolis organized by the paper’s parent company, Baltimore Sun Media.
Flowers lay at the Guardians of the First Amendment Memorial in Annapolis. (Jeffrey F. Bill/Staff photo)
Gillespie appreciates the community tributes.
“It was a bad day in Annapolis,” he said. “I need to see people remember. It’s nice, people care about you for a little bit.”
Five granite pillars at the base of City Dock call those killed “Guardians of the First Amendment.” Now, local leaders have proposed a new dedication, a highway sign to impress the journalists’ legacy onto anyone passing through what was their beat.
“We need to keep remembering and reminding ourselves how significant this was,” said Annapolis Chief of Staff Cate Pettit. “We lost five amazing people, and we want to honor their memory all the ways we can.”
The Annapolis City Mayor’s Office is preparing to submit an application to the Maryland Department of Transportation to dedicate a portion of a road to Fischman, Hiaasen, McNamara, Smith and Winters.
Once the application is complete, the Maryland Transportation Commission will begin a process to find one that could safely accommodate a new sign, while working with the applicant on what it will say.
There are 262 such dedications across the state, according to the Maryland Department of Transportation’s website, honoring fallen members of the military and law enforcement, and political and public leaders. There are 30 in Anne Arundel County.
The idea came from the Caucus of African American Leaders, which advocates for memorializing significant Maryland historical events. For example, since the collapse of the Francis Scott Key Bridge in March, the caucus and its convenor, Carl Snowden, have petitioned the state to rename the structure in honor of Parren J. Mitchell. Mitchell, who died in 2007, was the first Black Marylander elected to Congress.
A highway sign for those killed at the Capital Gazette, Snowden said, would honor both the people and the concept of a free press.
“It’s a principle that is cherished,” he said.
Annapolis Mayor Gavin Buckley said he was “on board” as soon as the caucus, which was essential in the building of the Guardians memorial, presented the idea.
“This was a traumatic event for our community,” Buckley said, “and not only will this help ensure the memories of Gerald, Rob, Wendi, Rebecca and John live on, it will help draw attention to the scourge of gun violence which has impacted so many in our community.”
The Guardians of the First Amendment Memorial in Annapolis. (Jeffrey F. Bill/Staff photo)
Gillespie has been working with his therapist to process what he saw online. Though upset, the idea that the newspaper and its story had slipped some people’s minds was not surprising.
“We’re not at as many sporting events or community events and stuff like that,” he said, remembering when the Capital Gazette sponsored local happenings like the spelling bee. “We’re just not able to get everywhere, so people probably don’t know about us as much.”
Including Gillespie, only five employees hired by what was then The Capital remain on staff: Navy sports reporter Bill Wagner, media sales consultants Janel Cooley and Chris Gorham, and advertising director Marty Padden. Cooley also survived the shooting, hiding under the desk during the attack and slicing her hand on shattered glass on her way out.
These trends in local news, the shuttering of papers and reduction of staff, elevate the “existing and ongoing mistrust in institutions … happening in America,” said Katherine Jacobsen, United States, Canada and Caribbean program coordinator for the Committee to Project Journalists, an international nonprofit.
“When you don’t have a local journalist in your community covering … these more quotidian topics, there’s kind of a lack of connection between what journalism is and the community that is reading or consuming it,” Jacobsen said.
In 2021, Jacobsen came to Annapolis to attend the trial of the shooter, which ended with a conviction and five life sentences. Sitting in the courtroom, she remembered the experience as “eerie” — a haunting moment for what seemed, to her, to be a close-knit community.
The Capital Gazette shooting, she remembered, shocked and frightened American journalists. In the wake of the attack, the kind of walk-in interactions with reporters for tips and interviews became less common in newsrooms. The need for safety clashed with the openness required of the job, creating further distance between reporters and their communities.
“It’s a very delicate and difficult balancing act to figure out how to have a safe newsroom, how to keep journalists safe, and yet still go out and report,” Jacobsen said.
In its new setting, the paper continues to publish every day, maintaining a relationship with the region that dates back to 1727.
After the attack on the Capital Gazette, Annapolis residents laid flowers and flags outside its office. They’ve raised money. They still donate blood. And to this day, they speak to reporters on assignment, engaging with them and their stories. Online, many check in on Gillespie.
“I don’t think a community moves on from anything like this,” Jacobsen said. “It kind of becomes part of the fabric and history of the community, rather than just a data point.”
Answering the phone Thursday afternoon, taking a short break from the sound of waves crashing along Ocean City, Andrea Chamblee, John McNamara’s widow, was grateful to learn about the potential sign.
Since her husband’s death, Chamblee has rallied time and again for gun control measures with Moms Demand Action. She said she understood the need for a new remembrance in a society overwhelmed by violence, and while the Annapolis journalists and their families are dear to her, she said there are countless others killed she wishes we could remember.
“Because we have so many mass shootings in the United States, it is easy to forget the names of those who have passed,” Chamblee said. “At this rate, we would have every road in America named for some gun victim somewhere, and I hope we can stop it before we let it get to that point.”