Our job as photojournalists is to capture, as best we can,the faces and landscapes of stories. We add the small and meaningful details – a hand peeking through a curtain, an empty parking lot – that can’t easily fit into a written story, but help to transport readers to the place where news is taking place.
In the days after the attempted assassination of Donald Trump, I travelled to Pennsylvania, driving the hilly backroads in the western parts of the state.
The world was fixated on the story – of how a young gunman had nearly killed the former president in a security failure. But in the communities we visited, there was a sharp disconnect between the cluster of news cameras and the quiet, day-to-day realities of towns thrust into the spotlight.
I visited the most newsworthy sites – including the firehall of Corey Comperatore, a former fire chief who attended the rally and was killed by a bullet as he shielded his family from the gunfire.
But I was also drawn to moments that told a softer, quieter story. One man’s tattoo, which he got after military service, depicted a snake and eagle locked in battle, a depiction of good versus evil, he said. A pair of young women wearing red MAGA hats enjoyed ice cream beside the site of the assassination attempt. They told me they were simply enjoying the view of the sprawling fields of the Butler Farm Show grounds.
At the same time, there was an overtness to the political displays in the region – atop flagpoles, hanging off trucks, tattoos and dresses – that reminded me of the deeply polarized nature of politics there.
When I left my home in Toronto, I knew I was travelling to report on a pivotal moment in American history. But within that, I saw a community unified in its outrage, if torn further apart politically. I’ve since left and so have the hundreds of other journalists. But that grief and turmoil hasn’t.
A yearbook photo of Thomas Matthew Crooks, the 20-year-old man who was killed by the Secret Service after attempting to assassinate Trump. The yearbook was shown to Globe reporter Robyn Doolittle, who was reporting on the shooter in Bethel Park, Pa., on Sunday, July 14, by a man whose daughter went to school with the gunman.
A hand is seen between the drapes in the front window of the house where the gunman’s family lives in Bethel Park on July 15. Reporters and photographers were watching the house, waiting for a glimpse of one of Brooks’s family members. I did not stay long, but at one point saw the curtains flutter before a hand appeared to pull them tight.
On the Wednesday after the attempted assassination of Trump, customers check out a roadside stand in Butler. James Heade, who sells at Trump rallies across the country, was already featuring merchandise with Trump’s new 'fight, fight, fight' mantra.
A truck drives down Meridian Road, which runs behind the Butler Farm Show where the shooting took place, on the following July 15. The rolling straightaway caught my eye in the dwindling light.
Cody Gillman rests on his friend’s truck in Butler on Sunday, the day after the shooting. I met Gillman on his friend’s porch just after sunset in Butler. I asked him about the Second Amendment flag hanging off the porch, and he wanted to show me the flags on the truck. Gillman also talked about his wedding, which took place the previous Saturday.
A man walks through an empty parking lot of a mall in Bethel Park, Pa., on July 15. Crooks, who came from the town, drove the 90 kilometres to Butler, where he attempted to kill the former president.
Two days after the shooting, I saw USA signs on the fence near the entrance of the Butler Farm Show.
Rachel Bryant stands with her daughter in the doorway of their home as she hosts a prayer circle at her property across the street from the Butler Farm Show on July 16. Globe reporter Laura Stone and I followed signs in Butler to this house, where a prayer group gathered on Bryant’s property to 'pray for our nation.' When we approached, I introduced myself as a journalist from Canada, and they asked if they could pray for me too.
Larry Bridgeman, a Trump supporter from Pennsylvania, shows me the front page of the Sunday Pittsburgh Post-Gazette newspaper the day after the shooting. I was photographing a roadside Trump sign in Butler when a car squealed into the parking lot beside me and Bridgeman showed me the paper.
In Butler, an American flag is illuminated in the downtown. I had hoped that someone would walk by on July 14, so I could take a photo, but no one did while there was still the right light.
An emotional Steven Fleeger covers his face at a vigil for Corey Comperatore, the former fire chief who was killed by a gunman at the Trump rally. Members of the Fleeger family attended the July 17 vigil at Lernerville Speedway, in Sarver, Pa.. 'My John ran with Corey, and my Steven trained with Corey. This is hard for all of us,' Maryanne told me.
Two days after the shooting, Baylee Gilliland, Rylee Werner and Mackenzie Gilliland eat ice cream at King Cones near the Butler Farm Show, with two wearing Make America Great Again hats. When I asked what brought them out, the responses were, 'the ice cream?' 'That…and the view.'
In downtown Butler, I ran into this man whose tattoo – an eagle wrestling with a snake – is meant to signify good versus evil. He told me when we met on July 16, that the tattoo means more to him now than when he got it, and he proudly shows it off in cutoff sleeves.
An American flag covers the inside of the front window of a house in Butler on July 14. The punishing heat that day seemed to keep many people indoors or at the local pool, but there were signs of life in almost every window we passed.
A Pennsylvania state trooper sits in a police car on July 15, near the industrial buildings that border the Butler Farm Show, the site where the attempted assassination took place.
Tracy Campbell wears a stars and stripes dress as she has ice cream with a friend in downtown Butler, the day after the shooting.
Nan Cuny stands in her yard in Butler as she recalls being in the front row at the rally for Trump when shots rang out. When a colleague and I walked by her as she gardened, she yelled, 'I was there.' She said despite what she went through, she would definitely attend another Trump rally if given the opportunity.
A sign in front of a store in Butler two days after the shooting. The day before, on July 14, the sign still displayed a welcome message for Donald Trump for his rally appearance.
