Field note
What to say in the first 30 minutes after something goes wrong
In the first 30 minutes of a crisis, confirm what you can, pick one person to speak, and put out a short first statement: what happened, what you're doing about it, what people should do, and when you'll say more. Leave out the cause, the blame, the names of anyone hurt before their family knows, and any promise you can't control.
Everything else in that first half hour serves those two sentences.
Why do the first 30 minutes matter so much?
Because the story starts without you. A neighbor posts a photo. An employee texts a friend. A reporter calls the main line and gets whoever picks up.
When you go quiet, people fill in the blanks. If your first words show up two hours after everyone else's, you spend the week correcting other people's versions. If they show up early, short and true, you become the place people check.
Who should do the talking?
One person. Pick them before you do anything else.
When I was a cop, most of the time every officer on the radio shared one channel. When a call went deep, I could clear it with a handful of numbers: "719, 10-33." A sharp tone followed, and dispatch moved everyone else off what was now my channel. Same lights, same chaos... a lot less noise.
Your first 30 minutes need a 10-33. One spokesperson. One person who approves what goes out. Everybody else stops posting, stops texting reporters back and sends every question to that one person. Yes, that includes the executive who wants to "just put something on LinkedIn real quick."
What must the first statement say?
Four things, in this order:
- What happened. Only what you can confirm right now: what, where and when, in plain words.
- What you're doing. The first real step, even if it's small. "We've closed the building and we're working with the fire department."
- What people should do. If customers, staff or neighbors need to act, tell them how in one line.
- When you'll say more. A clock time. "Soon" doesn't count. Then keep it, even if the update is "nothing new yet."
That's five or six sentences. If it runs longer, you're guessing somewhere. Here's how to write one, with an invented example.
What must it never say?
- The names of anyone hurt or killed, before their families have been told. No exceptions.
- The cause. You don't know it yet. First guesses get revised, and the revision becomes the second story.
- Blame. Not the vendor, not the new hire, not the weather. Fault gets sorted out later, with your lawyer.
- Promises you can't control. "This will never happen again" is a promise nobody can keep.
- "No comment." Say what you can, and say when you'll say more.
What do you say when you don't know yet?
You say that.
As a police spokesperson, I couldn't always share every detail. "I can't confirm that yet," or a firm "I'll release more info when I can," was often the smartest response I had. I fielded everything from barking dogs to a murder case that drew international media attention. On the hardest days, an honest "not yet" still beat silence.
Reporters can work with "we don't know yet." They can't work with nothing, and they won't wait for it.
Who hears it first?
Your own people. Staff, volunteers, the crews in the field. If they learn about it from the news, they can't help you, because they only know what the public knows. Send them the same statement at the same time, or a few minutes ahead, with one extra line: who takes their questions. If you're a public company, check that timing with your lawyer first. More on that in why staff hear the news last.
What should be ready before anything goes wrong?
One page. Who speaks, who approves, who tells the staff, and a fill-in-the-blank first statement your lawyer has already read. Put a backup name next to every job.
Thirty minutes goes fast. Every decision you make on a quiet Tuesday is one you won't have to make with the phone ringing.