Chronicle reflects on coverage of student's death

There can be no cover-up unless someone is struggling to expose the truth.

The administration has recently drawn some much-deserved criticism for refusing to promptly disclose that Raheem Bath's death was related to alcohol, but The Chronicle has much to answer for as well. The paper failed to follow up on his death and, as such, allowed an invaluable moment for campus dialogue to fall by the wayside. Duke officials were silent, but so were our reporters. Both organizations must now acknowledge that their self-serving silence only confirmed the shroud of secrecy our society uses to obscure the reality of alcohol abuse on college campuses.

Just days after The Chronicle published Bath's obituary, we began to hear rumors that his fatal case of pneumonia may have been caused by binge drinking and inhaling his own vomit. Unwilling to jump back into the fray and reconfront the death of a classmate-a tragic tale that had made us, as student journalists, feel shockingly vulnerable-we pursued those leads half-heartedly. We never pushed administrators to respond to the rumors and, in the process, we became accomplices in what appears to have been a paternalistic attempt to keep information away from students.

As journalists, we had the responsibility to confront those rumors head on, no matter how uncomfortable we are as individuals when it comes to covering deaths. Here was the senseless tragedy many said it would take to open our eyes and loosen our lips about drinking at Duke. Here was the senseless tragedy that could have torn down the barriers we build up around ourselves as students, or greeks, or nondrinkers and left us with an unprecedented opportunity for frank discussion and introspection. Here was the senseless tragedy that should have made us cry and think; instead, we covered our eyes and went about our business. As journalists, we dropped the ball.

We didn't just miss out on a front- page story or a flood of letters to the editor-we shirked our duty to the University community. At a place like Duke, where administrators can be unaccountable and inaccessible to many students and employees, it is our responsibility to bring public concerns and questions to top University officials.

We're not elected, but we are often in the position of representing our readers. Our position gives us remarkable access to administrators and when we talk to them, we are responsible for posing the questions others would ask, if they could. The skepticism we hear every day around campus informs our most probing questions. Why exactly was this man cited for trespassing? Why did this seemingly foolish policy get passed?

In this case, when students began to demand more details on the shocking death, we should have asked the questions; we should have honored our role as journalists and merited the trust given to us by so many readers.

Of course, there are many people who think Bath's death should never have been revisited. Many of those closest to him might argue that the memory of his life and grief of his death should remain with those who knew him. This sentiment is certainly understandable, and we must always be sensitive to the anguish our stories can wreak for those already in the throes of tragedy.