The New York Times published an article June 23, 2008 noting that Wikipedia essentially broke the news of Tim Russert’s death June 13 when a contributor to the online encyclopedia updated Russert’s page nearly forty minutes before NBC went on the air to make its “official” announcement. The contributor added the date of Russert’s death and changed all references to the journalist to the past tense. Even though the Internet and Twitter were already buzzing with the news, NBC says it waited until 3:39 EDT to make the announcement so that family members could learn the news privately and first hand.

When journalists are witnesses to breaking news what is their obligation to report that news? In an era when being first isn’t even fast enough any more, should a web tool like Wikipedia wait until the pubic has had time to digest the news from more traditional sources? Guidelines for editing Wikipedia state that all entries must be verifiable by other published materials.

That isn’t the only debate here. The Wikipedia poster, identified in the Times article as a “junior-level employee” at Internet Broadcasting Services, a St. Paul, Minn. firm that provides Web services to a variety of companies including local NBC affiliates, has been fired. Was he fired for being quick on the draw? Was he fired for updating the online encyclopedia without confirming the facts or was he fired for not knowing that family members traveling abroad still might not have been notified? Or, was he fired for scooping NBC?

It may not have occurred to that poster that family members were in the dark. He may have deduced that if he knew of Russert’s death, next of kin surely had been advised. The Times reports that he made the changes believing that the information was already in the public record.

Does his action justify his job loss? Would some form of punishment or discipline been more appropriate?

Journalists have long debated when it is appropriate to release the name(s) of murder victims, accident fatalities and other tragedies. Often newspaper articles report that the names were not released pending notification of family members. Some news organizations follow the rule that if the police release the victim’s name then it is okay to print or broadcast it. One can assume, right or wrong, that the police — or other law enforcement agency — have notified the family.

But what is the ethical obligation of a newsroom of journalists who witness the sudden — and newsworthy — death of their colleague? As journalists they are trained to report the news. As colleagues and friends they are socialized to act as first responders, administering CPR, calling 911 and reaching out to the fallen’s loved ones. How do we reconcile our personal and professional beliefs and practices?

I am reminded of an incident several years back when one of my colleagues at Knight-Ridder collapsed in the newsroom. An editor who recognized his symptoms as a likely seizure acted as the first responder and attended to my colleague while another called 911. Our colleague had no history of seizures so calls immediately were being made to family members and HR to obtain medical information that could be useful. Because our office building had numerous entrances, a few of us went downstairs to direct the EMS team. When they didn’t arrive after several minutes, another call was made to 911. It was more than 20 minutes — and several increasingly frantic phone calls later before the ambulance crew arrived.

This incident took place in the late 1980s– long before Twitter, Wikipedia or even the Internet, but at a time when the District of Columbia’s ambulance service was under fire for slow response time, going to the wrong address, getting lost or not showing up at all. Those of us involved in attending to our colleague (who would be fine) were unaware at the time that another colleague was doing what journalists do: reporting the news.

Amazed and angry at the slow EMS response, she took the story out of our newsroom to a wider audience when she telephoned a local television network affiliate that had been covering the ambulance story. A well-known television personality showed up unannounced in our newsroom the next day wanting to interview those of us who had made the 911 calls.

Our colleague who had needed the medical attention was adamant that he would not talk to the press, citing his privacy. Those of us who had been in the newsroom that day and witnessed the incident were supportive of his request for privacy. When the television reporter insisted that he would not leave our newsroom until he had his story, decisions had to be made. As journalists we realized that a story needed to be told about the poor response rate of the city’s ambulance service. But as friends and colleagues we also respected the need for privacy.

A compromise was reached. One of the witnesses to the events in the newsroom agreed to be interviewed, but only about the response time for the EMS crew. There would be no discussion about the nature of our colleague’s illness, nor would his name or any other identifying factors be revealed.

If that incident happened today, our decisions — and our moral dilemma — could be drastically different. The way we share information today and the tools that people use to receive news has completely changed. As new tools emerge, and the time it takes to exchange information lessens, journalists and anyone who participates in the conversation will have to examine what it means to be first.