My first dreaded errand as a rookie reporter back in my long ago days as a print journalist was to fetch a photograph from the relatives of of a high school youngster who had been found face down in a creek one month before his never-to-be graduation day.
This was one of the editor-imposed duties for new reporters working the weekend shift.
Editors back in those days used photo pick-ups of those lost to tragedy as a means of what they called “separating the wheat from the chaff” in their reporting staff. Thank goodness the one in charge on my work weekend left a note advising me to “call the house first and let them know you will be coming by to collect the picture”.