The murdered child I cannot forget

COMMENT | One of the most painful things about being in the media is one’s exposure to the dark side of life. In fact, my children have told me that moving from an entertainment and features-based journalist to one editing news turned me into a paranoid father.

I realised the explanation for that is that most of what makes the news is usually bad news.

Children go swimming all the time, but it’s news when someone drowns. When long-distance car journeys end in four car pile-ups, that’s news. When racial harmony is blighted by a violent clash, that’s news.

Someone else’s life-changing tragedy is news.

Ultimately, there is a danger of becoming a desensitised and cynical journalist. Of not being empathetic to the terrible things that play out around us. I learnt over the years to try and take it coolly when I saw uncensored photos of a suicide victim, or a reporter told me about looking at a dead child’s body.

But try as I might, I have never been able to overcome, nor forgive the deep sadness and anger one feels when you encounter child abuse cases.

No case affects me as much as the death of Baby Bala...