Angela Schneider: Social media doesn’t break news. It breaks hearts and souls

Sunday hit hard, even for those of us accustomed to tragic news flowing through the newsroom.

Two firefighters were killed and another wounded in what appears to have been an ambush – someone allegedly set a wildfire, waited for first responders to arrive and opened fire. That’s not just tragic. It’s horrific. It’s the kind of event that makes your chest tighten even before the full story unfolds.

First responders are our co-workers, our friends, sometimes even family. And in the middle of all that heartbreak – before the families had even begun to absorb what happened – the internet did what it so often does now: It turned someone’s worst day into content.

I love that social media keeps me connected to friends and family scattered across the places I’ve called home. But every time something devastating happens, it quickly devolves into a swirl of misinformation, conspiracy theories and graphic material passed around like entertainment.

The internet used to connect us. Now it exploits our grief.

Unconfirmed rumors get tossed around as if they’re fact: “There were multiple shooters.” “It was a sleeper cell.” “Did you hear the 911 audio? You can hear the gunfire.”

None of it helps. None of it informs. And none of it honors the people involved.

Sunday night – a full 15 hours before the authorities released any names – a local influencer took it upon herself to publicly identify the fallen. That’s not breaking news. That’s breaking people.

When you post a victim’s name before it’s been confirmed and officially released, you’re gambling that a spouse, a child, a parent, a friend won’t see it online first. And if they do? You’ve just made their worst moment even worse. And here’s the thing: Even when you do know the name, you wait.

That’s not just Journalism 101. It’s Decency 101.

Social media has blurred the line between public service and personal branding. Too many people mistake visibility for credibility. Knowing something doesn’t mean you’ve earned the right to share it, especially when lives are still unraveling in real time.

Real journalists learn to hold that line. Not because we’re trying to control the story, but because we understand the responsibility that comes with telling it.

Because we know the difference between urgency and intrusion.

We’ve been taught – sometimes the hard way – that compassion matters just as much as accuracy. Often more.

One of the challenges with today’s influencer culture and the rise of untrained “community journalists” is that many simply don’t know where the line is. They never had an editor sit them down to explain why we double-check, why we wait, why we protect the dignity of the people behind the headlines.

If you want to serve your community, learn the difference between being first and being right. Between informing and sensationalizing. Because this – this rush to be seen, to be shared, to go viral – isn’t how we honor the dead. It’s how we trample over them.

And what breaks my heart most is this: It didn’t used to be this way.

I remember when social media was a force for good. In 2010, two friends and I gathered the Calgary Twitter crowd together to raise $100,000 for earthquake relief in Haiti simply by spreading the word online.

I remember when authenticity wasn’t a strategy; it was just people being human. We didn’t confuse follower counts with community.

We met each other with compassion, not commentary.

We believed the internet could make the world better.

And for a while, it did.

I still believe we can get back to that – not all the way, maybe, but enough. We can still reclaim those small corners of light where good people gather, care and fight to make something meaningful.

Because while the noise is loud, I know my community is full of people who show up, who hold the line, who care.

As we navigate the aftermath of this tragedy, we cannot forget the people at the center of it – the families grieving, the communities shaken and the fire crews who will roll out again tomorrow, carrying the weight of this loss.

They deserve better than what the internet has given them.

Angela Schneider is a part-time copy editor with The Spokesman-Review. Before that, she managed social media accounts for large corporations and small businesses for nearly 15 years. She is also the eye behind Big White Dog Photography, professional pet portraiture which showcases dogs and their humans on adventure in the Pacific Northwest.