On January 17, 2010, five days after the earthquake in Haiti, while hurrying to a press conference in the back of a pickup truck, I spotted two bodies lying in the sun. This should not have been remarkable. Thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands, of corpses were strewn in the rubble those days, the air thick with their sour-sweet smell. But as I got closer, I could see these were different. They showed no sign of decomposition. When I yelled for the truck to stop and jumped out, it became clear: The young men sprawled facedown on the asphalt weren’t earthquake victims at all. Blood still ran from a single, recent gunshot wound to the back of each head. Their hands were tied together, and to one another’s, with a loop of twine. The fingers of the young man on the left, reaching out from a tan patterned shirt, still twitched.
I was in my third year as the lone Associated Press correspondent in Port-au-Prince when the quake struck. Suddenly, I was joined by journalists from all over the world. The double homicide on Route de Delmas could easily have led our main story for the day, fitting cleanly with the angle emerging in most news reports within 72 hours of the quake: the onset of violence. via – Salon.com.