008 Remembering a Friend

So full of life --- remembering a friend

Until two years ago, I had never known anyone who was murdered.

Violent crimes only happen in big cities (or so I thought). Headlines scream the sensational details about strangers (not someone I know). But this time, it was a person I saw at work every day--we both worked in The Winchester Star newsroom.

Sarah Greenhalgh’s absence from work that Monday morning the early part of July 2012 wasn’t unusual at first (she often worked evenings covering meetings and events and reported for work later in the day), but as phone calls came in, it became apparent something was terribly wrong.

Her house was on fire; the landlord wasn’t sure if she was at home and was hoping she had come to work. But unfortunately she hadn’t. Her death was not caused by the fire as officials would later report that the fire had been set after she was shot.

This forty-something had come to the newsroom August 2011 as a seasoned, veteran reporter, and photographer. The downturn of the economy several years before had proven especially devastating to the news business as readers were getting information from other sources, and advertising was 
declining.

She took the position as a reporter and approached it with zeal and determination, using the many years of experience from other media outlets to her advantage. Every inch of her assigned beat was under scrutiny as a potential story for her or anyone else in the newsroom. Many times she would share ideas from meetings or other sources that often translated into great story ideas. 

Never missing a step, Sarah knew everything that went on in the room and registered it all in her mental file of information – the mark of a good reporter. She could hear something that was said across the room and remark in an off-handed humorous way, usually nailing exactly what was brewing. I will never forget her wit, enthusiasm, and curiosity. She found pleasure in all that she did and shared that with all of us.

She certainly knew how to command the room when she entered, giving the latest updates on stories she was covering, as well as keeping us informed about the best places to eat in the area. Food is crucial to reporters who often work through meals and don’t have time to stop and eat. Sarah kept us up-to-date on what had the best of everything. Bringing in take-out, she was known to share with some of the other reporters who took her advice and guidance in the culinary pursuits.

Her passion for living never slowed down as she recounted her adventures and experiences and was looking for just the right person to share her life. I always looked forward to hearing the lively stories of her latest pursuits.

Black-eyed Susans (her state flower)
always remind me of Sarah.

The last time I talked to her was one evening at the end of June when a storm was pounding the area extremely hard. Of course, she was on it, answering phones, getting information from callers, and dispensing facts she had found out. I was reporting the damage on our street, and she told me what was happening in the rest of the area. I had no idea it would be the last time I would talk to her. 

For me, it was a double loss – she reminded me of a dear friend who had died several years before in an accident at her home. Both were free spirits, photographers, horsewomen, newspaper people, and even physically resembled each other. I had enjoyed talking to Sarah and remembering my friend. It was like losing my old friend for a second time and my new friend for the first.

Her death was felt throughout the building and the community. People still ask about her and how the investigation is going. The officials in the county where she was murdered are actively pursuing the case, according to releases from the department.

Her family and friends hope of course for some resolution of the case. Hopefully it won’t be much longer, but there have been no charges so far.

Losing Sarah was a real blow to the newsroom. It was never quite the same. Sure everyone goes on, stories are covered, replacements hired, but it is never quite like it was.

It is an overwhelming feeling to think that someone took the life of a person so full of life.

Frances C. Lowe