As word got around the paper last fall that Chivers was leaving the foreign desk, he was in the newsroom in New York, putting the finishing touches on his major chemical-weapons story (part of his new role with the investigations desk). When the editor he’d been on the phone with from Libya, Rogene Jacquette, spotted him, she walked over to say she had heard the news. Chivers told her about his boy, about the game of cards and the hives and his terrible dread. He said it was as if a message were being sent through his son that it was time to go, in a way that even I could understand.
Jacquette took that in for just a moment and said, “We should all be thankful for your son.” And then she said, “Because he is a blessing.”
When Chris was killed, Tim Hetherington in that same attack, it was Chivers who got them home, who eulogized them in the only way that felt right to me.
No one covered war like he did, no one wrote better about conflict or captured the humanity that lies on both sides of the equation and while I miss his war reporting, I’m grateful for his son, too. Because we need him alive. He doesn’t let you off the hook when he writes. We need that now more than ever.
Why the Best War Reporter in a Generation Had to Suddenly Stop













