When Newsmakers Become the News

Covering tragedy is nothing new for journalists. When others rush out, they rush in. Officer killed in the line of duty? Speed to the scene. Giant apartment fire? Spring into action. Helicopter crash? Gather the facts. Report the news.

Even when it involves one of your own.

That horrific moment came for dozens of Seattle journalists on March 18 — some who heard and even witnessed the helicopter crash outside of the KOMO News studios at the base of Seattle’s iconic Space Needle.

“You could see right out the window that something was really wrong. You could see it just going down,” said Kelly Koopmans, a reporter and anchor who had just finished that morning’s broadcast. “Then it kind of falls from sight.”

“You’re thinking: there’s no way that was a chopper, even though you knew it was, because you could hear what it sounded like,” she adds.

Koopmans grabbed her cell phone and a photographer, and rushed downstairs. On the ground below — just feet away from the station entrance and rooftop helicopter landing pad — was a large fire, growing by the second, with jet fuel running down the street. Three cars were also mixed in with the debris on the street.

“I’ve covered tough stories where you see tough things,” she said, “but that was different for a whole number of reasons.”

In the wreckage were two beloved coworkers: pilot Gary Pfitzner, who had 15 years of flying under his belt, and seasoned photojournalist Bill Strothman. Both flew regularly for KOMO and were fixtures in the newsroom. Strothman had retired from daily news coverage about five years earlier to work on his own production company, said the station’s chief photographer, Randy Carnell.

Carnell was also tasked with covering the story.

“Nothing was going to stop me on that day from covering the story. Nothing,” said Carnell, who worked alongside Strothman for more than two decades. “I wanted to be able to tell everybody that was around there what a great guy he was. I just wanted to be there for him.”

Carnell sped toward the scene after he heard the first radio reports in his car. He was on site for about 11 hours, he said, doing live shots, helping edit packages and cover news conferences.

“I didn’t think of [what I did] as [part of my duties as] chief,” Carnell said. “I wanted to be down there as Bill’s friend. I wanted to be there and cover the story in the way I hoped he would do it for me.”

Interviewed for this article one month after the accident, Carnell said the pain was still very raw.

“It’s been 30 days of emptiness,” he said. “I don’t relive that day.”

Koopmans added that the most difficult moment for her was seeing Strothman’s son, Dan, also a photographer on staff, arrive at the scene.

“That was a tough moment,” Koopmans said. “I think I was in shock for a really long time.”

This item was originally featured in the July 2014 local newsletter.