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On February 10, 2026, Tumbler Ridge, B.C. (population ~2,400) was hit with a catastrophe it will carry for decades. RCMP have confirmed eight victims: five students aged 12–13, one education assistant (39), and—before the school attack—the shooter’s mother (39) and 11-year-old half-brother. The perpetrator, 18-year-old Jesse Van Rootselaar, then died by suicide.

Name the dead, because that’s the baseline for honest coverage. Abel Mwansa (12). Ezekiel Schofield (13). Kylie Smith (12). Zoey Benoit (12). Ticaria Lampert (12). Shannda Aviugana-Durand (39). Jennifer Jacobs (39). Emmett Jacobs (11). The family tributes are almost unbearable. Ticaria’s mother called her “my Tiki torch… a blazing light in the darkness.” Kylie’s father pleaded with the world to “hold your kids tight.” This is a tight community. The loss isn’t “eight fatalities.” It’s eight holes in a town where most people can point to the exact place those kids used to stand.

Now the media problem: within days, a noticeable slice of Canadian coverage pivoted to managing the public’s reaction to the shooter’s transgender identification. Global News ran a segment framed around “misinformation about trans people” being fueled by the shooting. The Tyee published an opinion piece warning that suffering “should never be weaponized,” focused less on the dead children than on backlash narratives. Even wire coverage foregrounded the shooter’s identity and used female pronouns while naming victims in the same breath—an editorial decision that tells you what frame is being protected.

Let me be precise about the critique, because this is where defenders hide behind a strawman. Nobody reasonable is arguing that “all trans people are responsible” for anything. The question is simpler: why was the instinct—right after slaughtered children—to warn Canadians about transphobia and “disinformation” rather than interrogate the failure chain that got us here? Reporting has already described a history of serious mental health issues and police encounters connected to the shooter, including firearm-related interactions. What interventions happened? What warnings were missed? How did access to weapons occur? Those are the adult questions. “Don’t be mean online” is not an answer to a mass killing.

This is what ideological capture looks like in practice: a hierarchy of empathy enforced by institutions. The victims are mourned, yes—but the “secondary story” rapidly becomes protecting a narrative category from reputational harm. That is not compassion. It’s brand management, and it trains the public to understand tragedy through approved lenses: some facts are treated as volatile, some questions as taboo, and anyone who notices patterns is pre-emptively suspected of malice.

Tumbler Ridge deserves better than that. Journalism’s first duty in a massacre is not to pre-scold the audience. It is to tell the truth, foreground the human cost, and pursue the causal chain without fear or favour. Start with the dead kids. Keep them at the center. And then do the hard work—because if the press won’t, the vacuum gets filled by cynics, activists, and conspiracy merchants. That isn’t “safety.” It’s surrender.