More info: http://saltcity50.com

Very excited to announce that Salt City 50 is finally off the ground.

The new project Salt City 50 is a non-profit group that puts on exhibitions of photographic prints. Our first show is coming up very quick, and will be held at the Gallivan Center September 10th in conjunction with Broadway & Opera Under the Stars. This first show is limited to Utah photographers, so this is your shot to have your work beautifully displayed before a large, sophisticated audience.

It works like this:

1. Photographers submit their work ($10 submission fee per photo).
2. Salt City 50 juries the show, has the work printed and mounted, and promotes the exhibition.
3. Photographers may price their prints for purchase. If a piece doesn’t sell, the photographer gets the print.

We have big plans for the future, and it all starts right now.

Deadline for submissions for our first show is 11:59pm Friday, August 20.

The link: http://www.saltcity50.com/

Depending on your politics… sign placement WIN or FAIL.

That’s the full frame, shot from a distance with a super-telephoto 400mm lens. On the website and in print we cropped the photo tight, zeroing in on the emotion.

Just minutes before I took the photo above, I was talking with another photographer about how much we hated tragic events like this. How we hated to see these terrible things, and how we felt as photojournalists during times like this. It’s a huge topic that I need to write more about in the future.

This photo captured the emotion of a tragic event. It is a powerful moment, one of those things I’ve seen on this job that I’ll never forget. The kind of thing that stuns you speechless when you go home after and your spouse casually asks, “Did you have a good day at work?”

Some readers on our site felt my photo went too far. I’ll end this post with their comments, which you can agree or disagree with:

Tribune – would you please show a little sympathy and empathy…we do not see to see the sorry of the parents as they try to get through this horrendous ordeal…..PLEASE think how you would feel is this were your child.

Kind of inappropriate, trib, to show a mother’s unspeakable grief – doncha think? Privacy…

Horrified the Tribune chose to show a picture of her mother learning her daughters fate.
Is there no decency anymore? No privacy for the bereaved. Having cameras in your face while hearing what no one should have to hear. Your child is gone. Having to see yourself in the paper on the worse day of your life.

THINK Tribune!

The look on her mother’s face says it all. It’s devastating to lose a child no matter how old they are. I agree that it is in poor taste for that photo to be accompanying this article. Her parents deserve a little bit of privacy during this time.

My heartfelt condolences to the family. Tragic. That photo broke my heart.

Shame on you tabloid Tribune!!! Give the parents some privacy.

Dear God: Please don’t make my death something that will feature my mother breaking down in public. I can’t imagine a more troubling thing to weigh on my soul than to have my mother share her grief with the world. I ask you for this, Lord, as I know common decency is not something you find in journalism anymore and “self-restraint” can never weigh up to the money that exploitative photos are sure to bring in. Shame on you, Tribune.

My sympathies go out to this good family in their hour of sorrow.

As a sidenote: I am usually a fan of the Trib’s journalistic efforts–but not today. This picture showing the unbearable grief of this poor mother is heart-wrenching and uncalled for. Best that this photo be left out of the public’s eye and these good people grieve in privacy.

At 4am Friday I was done covering the execution. I sat down and wrote all I could remember…

My first stop is to the media area, set up at the police academy. To get into the parking lot I have to show my press pass at a roadblock. Once in there are patrols of police roaming the parking lot.

A photog stops to chat, says he got stopped by police and asked for his press pass while just walking in the parking lot. After he leaves I go back to eating my dinner in the car. An officer peaks his head in my window looking for someone. I say I just arrived.

Minutes later another officer peaks in my window and asks for my press ID. I flash it and she asks if I have checked in. No. She says I have to check in, and she stands by my car door until I put down my food and get out of the car.

In the building I go through a metal detector and register. They put a blue sticker with the number 35 on my press pass. It’s funny how much weight people give a company issued press pass, as they are so easy to fake.

Lots of media inside fill a large gymnasium, reporters and cameras from around the world.

After a while I drive down to the prison and hit a roadblock. The guy takes my drivers license and scans through a two page list and doesn’t see my name. I assure him I must be on there. I’m the pool photographer. He re-scans the typewritten list again. On the second page he finally locates my name, scrawled in by hand at the bottom.

I pull up to the meeting place. Several officers stand at the prison entrance, silhouetted by two rows of high fence topped with razor wire. There are two vans.

The officers come over and now I’m told that I can only bring one camera, no camera bag, and I must have a lens cap on my lens. That changes things. I grab a body with a 16-35, stick a flash on top, pop in my most reliable battery and an 8 gigabyte card. It’s an uncomfortably light kit for such a big assignment.

I leave everything else in my car other than a car key and my drivers license. Those are the rules.

The other media witnesses show up. There are nine. We are taken into a small conference room with a table covered with large ziploc bags labeled with our last names. We put our ID’s and keys into the bags. We wait ten minutes. Everyone is pretty quiet. What do you talk about at this moment? I can’t think of anything. Instead, I agonize over my equipment. My reporter seems concerned until I tell him not to worry, “I’m just overthinking it.”

There are four guards. One speaks up and reads a page of instructions. It details a little of what will happen. Any last words? Then a volley. A second volley if necessary to kill.

We go through a metal detector and then are physically searched, patted down.

We board the vans, which are freshly covered in Armor All. The steps and floor and seats are very slippery. No one is injured climbing in. Then we sit in the vans for at least 25 minutes. The radio is tuned to a local news channel. We laugh as the two hosts speculate wildly about the execution. One of the guards laughs at us laughing at our poor radio colleagues.

The radio hosts report that as of 1130pm, Ronnie Lee Gardner was asleep. One of the hosts goes off on a theme of wondering what Gardner’s last dream was. In our van, eyes roll.

The vans start up and we are driven to a different part of the prison where we idle for a while near a loading area. Time passes. 1158, 1159, 1200, 1201. I watch the minutes tick off on the van’s clock radio. The radio hosts are saying, “It could be happening this very minute,” but really we’re all sitting in vans waiting to be let in.

1202, 1203, 1204

I can’t remember the exact time we got out of the vans and into the prison, at earliest it was 1205.

An officer directs me and the videographer to the side. The nine media witnesses are let in the door and go right. Then we go in and go left. Everything inside is white and gray and fluorescent lit, very institutional. There are hallways and doors everywhere, each with an officer standing by them. Me and the video guy are led down a long hallway, past numerous guards stationed by doors, past a courtyard with a basketball court (and two officers guarding it), up some stairs, down a hall and into a conference room where we are guarded by two officers. We wait, quietly. Again, what is there to talk about at this moment? There’s a typewriter in the corner, a drinking fountain, doors numbered 69 and 70 and one labeled, “showers.”

It’s quiet. I keep wondering if I’ll hear the shots. After a long while the media witnesses are brought to our room, with more guards. It is done, he is dead. I didn’t hear anything.

The witnesses sit down and start talking about what happened. They compare notes about things like Gardner’s last words and the sequence of events. They want to get it right. The hood was put on, the shots were fired, “It happened so quickly!”

Immediately there are disagreements about details. Standing at the window of the execution chamber after Gardner was shot, one reporter had drawn a sketch of the target on Gardner’s heart indicating the four bullet marks. He insists his sketch of the target is accurate, while another reporter disputes it, saying that two shots were actually on the left not the right. The other reporter defends his sketch, saying he drew it while the target was still in front of him. They continue to argue over the details of the target. Square? Circle? Oblong? Left? Right? Centered?

They all talk about how quickly it happened. The warden was talking to Gardner. Gardner says he has no last words. The warden walks out. Guns appear. Bam-Bam! Very loud, even with earplugs.

We hadn’t heard a thing in the conference room.

They debate how long it took for Gardner to die from his wounds. Two minutes? Three minutes? They have no idea but figure it was probably three. Time was impossible to track standing there at the window watching the execution.

And time in the conference room is hard to track. After at least thirty minutes we are led into the execution chamber.

It is very small. I start shooting. We approach the chair. There are four bullet holes behind it in the wood panel behind the chair.

Reporters are soon climbing all over the chair,

pointing at the bullet holes, poking their fingers in them…

Prison officials ask the reporters to step back. I photograph the chair from every possible angle. I shoot with my flash and without. From straight on, from the left, the right, close up, far away. To avoid climbing up on the contraption I reach out and hold the camera up close to the bullet holes…

I shoot from a low angle with my camera on the ground. At a certain point I’ve exhausted the scene. Around then we are asked if we have enough.

We are led back to the vans and taken to our cars. We drive quickly to the media center. A press conference takes place where the media witnesses form a panel and provide their descriptions.

The first witness to speak shows a sketch of what the target on Gardner’s chest looked like. The second witness to speak disputes the first’s sketch and describes his own.

The media witnesses, in short statements, provide a patchwork of observations about the execution. One reporter says it wasn’t as violent as they thought it would be. The execution is described as clean and clinical. The ninth witness disagrees with the rest. He says it was shocking, louder than he expected and not clinical at all. He says that contrary to how the other witnesses described it, it was a very violent act.

I went home and slept.

I trained my camera on the victims’ families. The Board announced its unanimous decision not to commute Gardner’s sentence. The execution would proceed.

Barb Webb, whose father was shot by Gardner, pumped her fists. Afterward, Barb’s sister Tami was interviewed in front of the prison…

From the cell block behind her, inmates began shouting. “Kill him!” “Kill him!” Their primal shouts sent a chill down my spine.

And now I’m going into the prison to cover the firing squad execution. I won’t be witnessing the actual event. I will report back after it is done.

The final witness on day one of the commutation hearing is the offender, Ronnie Lee Gardner. He’s sworn in and makes a statement, then answers questions.

His lawyer reads a letter Gardner wrote to Oprah, hoping to get her financial help in starting up a farm for neglected and abused children on some land he owns. He has a little over a thousand dollars (made from selling handmade crafts) to put into getting the farm started.

Recounting the murders his story seems to shift a bit. He says this time he’s telling the truth. He says he wants to apologize but one of the victims’ families won’t accept his apology so he hasn’t offered it.

He says he has avoided speaking out in the media to keep the families from any further hurt.

For a very brief moment (above) he is overcome with emotion, talking about the remorse he feels. He looks down and the moment is over.

Referring to a violent incident with another inmate he says, “I didn’t try to kill him. I stabbed him several times.”

Gardner’s attorney tells the board that he would prefer not to attend the remaining two sessions of the hearings. He says Gardner’s arthritis makes it too painful for him to sit in the chair with his hands chained behind his back.

After it’s over, Deputy Nick Kirk’s widow VelDean Kirk and her granddaughter Mandi Hull leave the prison.

The hearing is scheduled to go from 8am to 2pm with two fifteen minute breaks. To get photos and news out we sent in three reporters. First break, first reporter grabbed my memory cards and left the prison, dropping the cards with the photo editor and calling in an update. Second break, second reporter grabbed my cards and left. With my memory cards I sent a note that said, “Mexican for lunch.” The system worked out well and we moved fifty photos to the pool* quickly.

The first parts of the hearing were statements from the families of Gardner’s victims. Tami Stewart read a statement with her niece Mandi Hull providing support…

After the families, Psychology professor Craig Haney testified for the defense about his findings on Gardner’s upbringing. To sum it up, Ronnie Lee’s early years were a nightmare: Neglected from the start by a mother who had more than she could handle. Huffing paint and gas at age six, on drugs at age ten. Sent to a mental institution in order to provide him with a healthier environment, not because he was mentally ill. While in a state institution, he and his brother were befriended by a man who took custody of them upon their release. Authorities checking in on the situation later found the home filled with men dressed as women and the Gardner’s new guardian to be a pedophile.

As it was all detailed, I photographed Haney with members of the victims families in the background, wondering what they were thinking. Of course, this case is twenty-five years old. They’ve probably thought enough about it already.

Twenty five years. Think about it.

* Pool – on big stories a single photographer is designated the pool photographer. That photographer is the only one allowed in but shares photographs with all media outlets in the pool.

Of course, it’s naive to think that being part of the execution coverage would have absolutely no affect on you, but that was my first reaction. I have now covered several court hearings leading up to tonight’s scheduled execution.

The first assignment was to meet with the Kirk family, to tell their story. Deputy Nick Kirk was shot during one of Gardner’s escape attempts. He survived, but his health was never the same.

Another assignment was a hearing at the Utah Supreme Court, where Gardner’s attorneys were making an argument to overturn the execution. In the court you’re stuck in a corner and good shots are hard to come by. Outside after the hearing, attorneys spoke to microphones and TV cameras. I watched for a few minutes and left. In the lobby I came across a split second scene. Two widows of Gardner’s violence, VelDean Kirk and Kathy Potter, sharing a quick and emotional embrace. I only got two or three frames before it was over, and because of that the composition of the moment isn’t perfect…

I approached Mrs. Potter to ask for her name, which I didn’t know at the time. The man she was with waved me off saying, “She doesn’t want to be involved.” I was starting to back off when she said something like, It’s okay. My name is Kathy Potter. I am Melvyn Otterstrom’s widow.

To be continued…

Thelma Moriarty was a World War II bride, having married husband Bernard Moriarty just before he enlisted. Now that many WW II veterans are dying off, their wives remain as the only link to this important time in history.

This is the box we climbed up on to shoot into the backyard where a dog viciously attacked a toddler, severely injuring him. Not that the child or dog were still there; I got a photograph of a trampoline.

A month since my last post here? Ouch. Time to catch up.

Quality trumped Quantity. Instead of the usual 100+ entries you’d find in popular categories like Feature Photo or Sports Action, the Arizona shooters had submitted around 15 entries in each category and most of those were amazing photographs. Normally a judge can eliminate a high percentage of images before getting to the finalists. Here the entries were so good that I was only able to eliminate a few photos before things got tough.

The Photo Essay is Alive. So many great photo essays to look through. The beauty of a long-term photo essay is that the photographer is able to spend time getting inside the lives of his/her subjects, earning trust and witnessing personal moments. The Arizona photographers submitted entered powerful and moving photo essays with descriptions like these:

Twelve-year-old Alex Lopez is ready to die on the operating table…He has a 10% chance of surviving the risky surgery. He…may not wake up. But Alex opted for the open heart surgery to repair his heart so that he can be a normal boy. Without it, he has…two years to live.

Dennis Winters suffers from severe depression, agoraphobia, multiple personality disorder, post traumatic stress disorder, among others. Winters who rarely leaves his apartment says he is struggling to get the mental health care he needs from Magellan Health Services, a for-profit company that received a three-year, $1.5 billion contract from Maricopa County to provide direct services to the mentally ill.

Each day, hundreds of undocumented immigrants are deported to Mexico by the U.S government Many have trekked through the desert for days. Most have no money or possessions other than the clothes on their backs. They must decide whether to hire smugglers for another try at the border, or return to families in their homeland.

Juan Israel Fernandez Lara, 2, was severely burned on 90 percent of his body when the ABC daycare center caught fire and trapped children inside with only one exit. The death toll would eventually rise to at least 47 toddlers under the age of 3, including Juan.

This list serves as a wake-up call to any photojournalist. Do you keep shooting day after day of the routine assignments handed to you or do you go out and find a project that moves not only to you but the entire human family? Your choice.

I’m going to end this post with a photo from Arizona Republic photographer Cheryl Evans’ essay on Stephanie Nielson, that reporter Jamiee Rose described like this:

For the past 16 months, I’ve been following Stephanie Nielson, whose courageous story of survival and recovery after a fiery plane crash has touched so many. Stephanie and I have spent hundreds of hours talking, getting every detail right.

She allowed me to tag along while she went to doctors’ appointments, to dinner, to church. Photographer Cheryl Evans and I invaded her Utah home for days. Her family members answered my questions for months. I traveled to the scene of the crash in St. Johns, interviewed the witnesses and kind people who helped her. Her doctors and surgeons patiently shared the details of her care.

Wait, Smokey, this is serious. I want to end this post with one of Cheryl’s photos and the heartbreaking line that went with it…

“It took her daughter, Jane, several months to look at her mom again.”

(Click the photo to see the package on Stephanie Nielson at the Arizona Republic’s site.)

Denver’s Chris Anderson slams into Jazz guard Deron Williams in the final minute of play.

Lost the game, but this was a cool play.

Tammi Stewart is the daughter of Nicolas Kirk, a bailiff who was seriously injured during an escape attempt by death row inmate Ronnie Lee Gardner. Kirk passed away in 1995, Gardner has been on death row for twenty-five years. From Christopher Smart’s story:

Although unarmed, Kirk confronted Gardner the day of the courthouse shoot-out in an effort to stop him. Gardner shot Kirk in the lower abdomen. The bullet ripped through his small intestine and lacerated his appendix and bowel before lodging near his hip.

It took a year for him to heal, but he was never the same, ValDean Kirk said in an interview. From the day of the shooting forward, her husband was in constant pain and suffered from depression and nightmares.

“It ruined everything for us,” she said. “He just wasn’t himself after that.”

Kirk retired in 1993 and died of a heart attack in December 1995.

“I definitely think Ronnie Lee should get the death penalty,” ValDean Kirk said. “I feel sorry for him. I don’t hate him the way I used to.”

But the Kirks’ eldest daughter, Barb Webb, said she has no sympathy for Gardner. His execution will bring long-needed closure for her family, she said.

“It’s absolutely disgusting. It should never have taken 25 years” for Gardner to be executed, she said. “It’s been a roller coaster for us. My dad never got closure.”

Another of Kirk’s daughters, Tammi Stewart, has remained angry at Gardner because he has never said that he was sorry. But the apology from Gardner’s family Friday means a great deal, she said.

“I think they really mean it,” she said. “It makes me feel 100 percent better. It’s so sweet.”

Gardner will face the firing squad on June 18th.

So many brilliant people came out of my high school. After a day like today, running around to three assignments that resulted in nothing but average photographs, it was good to get some inspiration from old acquaintances. I read an interview with fellow California High School* alum Phil Jaurigui, who runs Swing House Studios in Los Angeles. Those are some of his clients listed above. Read the list and weep. Phil was my partner in a high school Photo class (which I flunked). Phil probably got an A. He had skills, like so many Cal High students. For example, check out Cal High’s own F Scott Schafer, an amazing photographer who taught me everything I know about working in a darkroom.

Here’s a great quote from the end of the interview with Phil, which to me says as much about photography as it says about music:

If you’re a new band, just rehearse as much as you can, write and record as much as you can, and don’t look to anybody else to help you as far as building your sound and your audience. The only way you can do that is just by playing, playing, playing, playing relentlessly. The bands that survive—Wilco, AFI, Green Day, and a few others—they’re great bands, they’re valuable bands, and they’ll go on forever and forever because they never stopped touring and never stopped recording whether they had a record deal or not. That’s the way you gotta look at it, that it’s do it yourself. If you do it yourself long enough, you’ll eventually get good at it, and someone will notice it.

I needed something like that. As proud as I was of my photo of Karl Rove’s ear today…

…I’ve got to keep shooting, shooting, shooting, shooting, shooting relentlessly.

Here’s the full interview: Interview with Phil Jaurigui of Swing House Studios | LA Music Blog

* That’s really the school’s name, see:

Matt’s story on military veterans serving time was a great read, check it out here. I photographed Utah State Prison inmate Mark Peterson as he was interviewed for the story. Peterson became emotional when answering questions about his crimes, and those moments were my best shots.

We ran ten photos from last night’s game in today’s paper.
None were mine.

Sometimes other people’s strobes piss me off, sometimes they make me happy.

Deron Williams after the win. I’ll be posting more photos from the game tomorrow.

(This is probably not the photo that won.)

The results of the Society of Professional Journalists’ Top of the Rockies contest were announced the other day. I took second in sports photography, beat out by a photo the judges said, “Instantly rose to the top. Never seen this before…”

So that’s cool. The only problem is that I have no idea what photo of mine was entered. The title says, “BCS bound.” Too bad I didn’t shoot any Utah football this year, other than practices and portraits. Actually, none of the photos I turned in for contests had anything to do with the BCS.

I guess it’s better to win the award, even if you don’t know which photo it was, than to not win.

Other Tribune wins in the contest: Rick Egan, 1st place in News Photography. Jim Urquhart took 2nd in Spot News and Honorable Mention in Sports Photography. Francisco Kjolseth, Honorable Mention in News Photography. Chris Detrick, Honorable Mention in Feature Photography,

Daria Bijak

From Friday’s meet vs. BYU…

Daria Bijak

I know, I know. I just want to remember to shoot that same shot with a newer camera that can go high ISO and stop the action.

Kyndal Robarts

Jamie Deetscreek

Daria Bijak

Shelvin Mack

Here’s an edit from Butler’s win over Kansas State.

Matt Howard, Denis Clemente, Willie Veasley

Shelvin Mack

Butler coach Brad Stevens after cutting down the net

Ronald Nored and his mother Linda

Salt Lake City – Butler vs. Kansas State, NCAA West Regional (Final Eight), Saturday, March 27, 2010. Butler guard Shelvin Mack (1) Kansas State guard Jacob Pullen (0) Butler guard Ronald Nored (5)

Wesley Johnson, Syracuse

Xavier bench

Xavier bench

Terrell Holloway, Xavier

Terrell Holloway, Xavier

Yeah Smokey, thanks for pointing that out. Strobe-less floor cams are pretty worthless with that lighting. Here’s photo #2, shot during Kansas State’s double overtime win over Xaver, from the three-point line, away from the “solar incident”:

Syracuse forward Rick Jackson

Griff Hopkins, Jack Boeheim

Butler’s Shelvin Mack

Butler coach Brad Stevens

Here’s where I’m at and what I’m doing…

Trenthead (www.trenthead.com)
is where I post my best photographs (assigned and personal) and write about my career as a photojournalist. Here you’ll find longer posts that I’ve put a little more thought into (though your opinion on that may vary).
Subscribe to Trenthead.Com via RSS

Fly on the Wall (http://166.70.44.68/blogs/trent/)
is where I post about my job as Chief Photographer of The Salt Lake Tribune. Most of my posts from Fly on the Wall also appear on Trenthead, so you can subscribe to one or the other.
Subscribe to Fly on the Wall via RSS

One-Star Loser (www.onestarloser.com)
is my new microblog and it’s all about being short and sweet. Multiple posts daily, snapshots, quotes, observations. These posts are also fed to my Twitter and Facebook profiles so you can keep up through any of those venues.
Subscribe to One-Star Loser via RSS

The Click (www.theclick.us)
is where I post links to the best in photojournalism, photography, journalism, art, and culture.
Subscribe to The Click via RSS

UtahPhotojournalism (www.utahphotojournalism.com)
is a community of Utah photographers and fans of photojournalism. Anyone can join, post, comment, etc.
Subscribe to UtahPhotojournalism via RSS

Various other projects and sites exist. Maybe you’ve seen them. Maybe not.

I photographed the cops standing around outside the apartment, but as much as I worked the scene, great photos didn’t appear. Not even a single shot worth posting here, and nothing that’s going to beat this portrait of Valdez taken by the jailers:

That was yesterday. Today I was in the state prison to photograph a parole hearing. I arrived extra early because it’s always a bit uncomfortable mingling with the families of convicts when you’re there to photograph their loved ones in a prison jumpsuit. There was one woman there when I walked in. She looked me over and said, “They let cameras in here?!”

Here are some quotes from the board as well as prisoners from a few of the hearings I sat through while waiting for the one I was set to photograph:

“You had a history of sexual offenses as a juvenile.”

“…a subject of sexual acting out while in the prison.”

“If we release you to the streets, what can we expect?”

“You were diagnosed with mood disorders, ADHD, and intermittent explosive disorder.”

“I don’t wait to stay in here until 2022.”

Here was an interesting exchange between an offender and a man from the board of pardons:

“What do you think you need to control yourself?”

“I really have a bad attitude towards almost everything. If I don’t get my way I get very upset.”

“What’s the difference between that and being a spoiled brat?”

A sex offender was asked why he said he had completed a treatment program when the staff said he hadn’t. He said, “I completed treatment but because of the sexual acts I’ve committed in here they say I didn’t complete treatment.”

More quotes…

“I thought she was taking female medication. She started freaking out and I didn’t want to let her out of the truck.”

Another exchange…

“I had a few drinks in the club. There was alcohol in the vehicle. I’m not denying these things. I had just been sober five years, and heavily involved in Alcoholics Anonymous. I had a slip, basically.”

“How long did your slip go on?”

“A year.”

“How many DUI’s have you had?”

“Five.”

At the end of the hearing, and after the victims/victims’ families have been let out of the room, the guards tell the inmate to remain seated and turn around. The inmate has a brief moment to say hello to anyone (like family members) who may have come to support them/see them.

One inmate had just one supporter, the woman who asked me about my cameras. She said to the shackled inmate, “I thought that other girl would be here…Your baby’s mama.”

He said, “Me, too.”

Then it was time for the hearing of Marco Herrera, a former counselor at West High School who is serving three 1-15 year sentences after pleading guilty to three counts of forcible sexual abuse committed on a 14-year-old female student.

His victim was in the room, and this is Herrera as she tearfully detailed the damage done to her life by his actions:

It was tough stuff to hear. The recommendation going to the board from this hearing was to schedule Herrera’s next parole hearing ten years from now.

Link: Day 16 : The Bobsled Process part 2 | Fly on the Wall

Might take a second to load, but here’s the entire take from heats 3 and 4, Men’s Four-Man Bobsled in Whistler. 1,217 frames

Link: Day 16 : Bobsled – Entire Take | Fly on the Wall

If there was one shot that got away from me at the Salt Lake games, it was the 4-man bobsled. I didn’t show up as early as I had been, so I was two positions back from my normal spot. No problem, I would still get the shot. That is, until another photographer broke the rules, leaned into my view, and threw off my camera’s autofocus. The shot was lost. Add in the fact that Holcomb was about to win the first US bobsled gold medal in six decades. I had to have this shot. So here is the warts and all version of what was going through my head as the event progressed.

Link: Day 16: The Bobsled Process | Fly on the Wall

Another full day here in Vancouver. I had two options this morning:

1. Take it easy until 2pm.
2. Go to the USA men’s hockey game.

Link: Blast from the bus | Fly on the Wall

Link: Day 15: Short Track 1000m Qualifiers | Fly on the Wall

Four hours, ten minutes on buses trains and foot to get to the Cross Country venue. Would it be worth it?

Link: Day 12: Nordic Combined Team 4×5km Cross Country | Fly on the Wall

I am on a bus at the Vancouver Olympics. I know, it’s hard to believe!

Here are my techniques for travelers on the two-hour bus ride to or from Whistler…

Link: Olympic Bus Tips | Fly on the Wall

Link: Spotted at Aerials | Fly on the Wall

Link: Spotted at the Canada Hockey Place | Fly on the Wall

It looks like I’m going to go the full distance here without shooting figure skating once.

Link: Still Alive | Fly on the Wall

Link: Observations from Day 11 | Fly on the Wall
Link: Day 11 : USA vs. Sweden Hockey | Fly on the Wall
Link: Day 11 : Hockey Photographers | Fly on the Wall
Link: Day 10: Two-Man Bobsled | Fly on the Wall
Link: Day 11 : Bill Schuffenhauer | Fly on the Wall

Link: Spotted at Short Track | Fly on the Wall
Link: Day 9: Short Track Speed Skating – Leading up to the Finals | Fly on the Wall
Link: Day 10: The Sked | Fly on the Wall
Link: Day 9: Apolo Anton Ohno’s Bronze Medal Finish | Fly on the Wall

Link: Day 9: Women’s Super-G Alpine Skiing | Fly on the Wall

Link: Day 7: First Two Heats of Skeleton | Fly on the Wall
Link: Something Fresh: Apolo Anton Ohno wins his Seventh Olympic Medal | Fly on the Wall
Link: Mark IV vs. Mark II | Fly on the Wall
Link: Day 7: Men’s Super-G | Fly on the Wall
Link: Day 8: Skeleton Final | Fly on the Wall

A couple new posts from the Vancouver Olympics, over on my work blog. Links below.

Link: Wire Service Ingenuity | Fly on the Wall

Link: Thoughts From Day…Wait, What Day IS IT? | Fly on the Wall

They say the Olympics bring people together, and that was never more true than last night.

Not because of Salt Lake City’s Torah Bright snowboarding to halfpipe gold for Australia, Evan Lysacek’s victory in the figure skating, or Zach Lund and Noelle Pikus-Pace situating themselves for a run at the medals in the skeleton, four years later. No … it was because in another kind of moment that seems to happen at the Vancouver Olympics, our photographer and I slept together.

Link: Strange Moments at the Vancouver Games

Link: Day 6: Mens 1000m Speed Skating – Shani Davis | Fly on the Wall

Link: Day 6: Random Speed Skaters, Mens 1000m | Fly on the Wall