Boulder wrestles with media coverage after antisemitic attack

After last week’s firebombing of a gathering on Pearl Street honoring hostages in Gaza, journalists from around the world descended on Boulder.

The attack, which injured at least a dozen people, quickly became international news. Authorities charged the suspect with attempted murder and a hate crime. Investigators said he told police he wanted to “kill all Zionist people” and would do it again.

As the Jewish community grieves and reckons with a renewed sense of vulnerability, some community members said the way this story has been covered has compounded their pain. Several described aggressive doorstep interviews, persistent texts and calls, entering synagogues during events, filming near religious buildings and premature naming of victims despite requests for privacy. All this has left some feeling overwhelmed and invaded. 

This reflects a pattern seen after other mass violence: a rush to tell human stories, sometimes without enough sensitivity to those affected. Journalists must navigate a difficult balance — meeting public demand for information and competing to break news — while respecting a community still in shock. In that race, the human impact can get lost.

The incident in Boulder is further complicated by the nature of the attack. According to police, the suspect planned it for a year and deliberately targeted participants in the Run for Their Lives gathering, which the suspect referred to as a “Zionist group.” 

For some, the attack underscored fears that had been building for months. Much of that concern centered on Boulder City Council meetings where public comments calling for a Gaza ceasefire sometimes veered into hate speech against Jewish members. That rhetoric, some said, was tolerated too long, leaving people feeling unsafe and warning that violence could follow.

That backdrop made the attack feel, to some, not like an isolated act of outside hate, but one that landed in a community already grappling with rising tensions. It added a layer to the story that was invisible to those parachuting in and made it especially sensitive to cover.

In the days after the attack, TV crews showed up outside the Boulder JCC and Congregation Bonai Shalom. Some filmed from public streets. Others tried to get inside, according to Rabbi Marc Soloway of Bonai Shalom. 

Rabbi Marc Soloway of Congregation Bonai Shalom at the Boulder Jewish Festival on June 8, 2025. Credit: John Herrick

On the Tuesday after the attack, after leading a Shavuot service and giving multiple interviews, Soloway said he was exhausted. Then a local TV crew rang his doorbell. He described such interactions as an invasion of privacy. He declined the interview.

Soloway said many journalists have called asking him to connect them with victims, as six belong to Soloway’s congregation. Few, he said, ask how he or his community is doing.

“We’re reeling. We’re in so much pain. There’s so much anger,” he told Boulder Reporting Lab. “There are ways that responsible media tell the story sympathetically, drawing attention to the issues that need attention drawn to them, and being compassionate about the ripple effect of this trauma throughout the community and, frankly, throughout the world.” 

In another instance, an NBC journalist showed up at the home of a Holocaust survivor burned in the attack, despite a sign on the door stating she did not want to speak with the press. NBC later published an “exclusive” using her name and quotes from that visit. According to people close to her, the survivor may not have fully understood the nature of the interaction. Once her name was published, it spread across dozens of other news outlets.

Stefanie Clarke, Boulder JCC’s communications strategist and co-founder of Stop Antisemitism Colorado, said she asked NBC on behalf of the family to take the story down. NBC declined. The reporter and a senior editor did not respond to a request for comment.

Clarke said these encounters can feel like ambushes, and the resulting stories often don’t reflect what victims want to share, if they want to share their story at all. It’s disempowering, she said. 

“When a media outlet’s scoop and story becomes more important than a trauma survivor’s privacy, safety and emotional well-being, that seems like it would be a clear violation of ethical standards,” Clarke told Boulder Reporting Lab. 

Bruce Shapiro, executive director of the Dart Center for Journalism and Trauma at Columbia Journalism School, said journalists covering mass trauma must weigh competing ethical responsibilities. On one hand, their work should aim to elevate the voices of survivors and their communities. On the other, it must acknowledge and respect the effects of trauma.

“All of these things are about tensions between ethical commitments,” Shapiro told Boulder Reporting Lab. “And the more trauma is in the room, as there is in the case of this awful attack, the more those tensions get heightened.” 

Reporting on hate crimes adds another layer of responsibility, he said. Naming people can make them more vulnerable to revictimization.

“If they’re a private person who, as a result of their name being used in the aftermath of a hate crime, becomes more vulnerable, that’s a responsibility for news organizations to take very seriously,” Shapiro said.

Speaking generally and not referring to any instance in Boulder, he said camping on someone’s doorstep and putting their name on a story they didn’t know was coming is likely to “set off that alarm again” and “cause at least some short-term distress.” 

Journalists gather for a news conference outside the Boulder County Justice Center on June 5, 2025. Credit: John Herrick

One way to minimize harm is through a shared reporting model that is sometimes used after mass casualty events, where a small pool of reporters gathers information and distributes it to others. That approach allows journalists to tell important stories while reducing the burden on victims, Shapiro said. 

At least one Colorado journalist, Steve Staeger of 9News, has noticed the impacts of “parachute” journalism in the aftermath of the Boulder attack. In a post on X, he said he and others are looking to have a community conversation about a better way to report on these events. 

“Unfortunately, Colorado has a history of horrific incidents and I’ve gotten to know a few victims,” Staeger wrote. “They’ve told me stories of the secondary trauma they feel from this kind of reporting.” 

While some people want privacy, others want to speak. The difference can come down to tact and timing. 

Rabbi Soloway recalled one early-morning interview with a Jewish publication based in London, just before an event with Gov. Jared Polis. He had not slept well in days and was still collecting his thoughts.

“It was beautiful. It was cathartic. It was gentle. She was very sensitive and not pushy in any way,” Soloway said of the reporter.

“It was a positive experience and I felt almost like it was part of my healing,” he added. “It was just someone who just created a space for me to talk about what I was experiencing and what I was holding.”