Like other reporters, I witnessed dozens of unarmed civilians killed at the hands of People’s Liberation Army soldiers who had marched on Beijing after student protesters took control of the sprawling square in the heart of the capital.
 In all, hundreds, perhaps thousands, were killed.
  One man who spoke with passion late on the morning after the massacre was a worker named Xiao Bin. Xiao Bin was a man who, because of me, ended up in jail, and whose life today — 10 years later — remains in ruins.
 He was jailed, in effect, for talking to me on television.

Heartfelt Words
Xiao Bin was an angry man who spoke from the heart, not from the head. He was one of dozens my colleague Alise Joyce and I had interviewed that morning.
 In a crowd on a Beijing side street he stood out, taller than the rest, his arms flailing. He was more impassioned than anyone I had seen. And when there’s emotion, the camera rolls.
 “The bastards killed thousands!” said Xiao Bin. “Tanks ran over people. Crushing them.”
  ”Ni Kanle ma?” we asked. “Did you see it?” “Wo kanle.” Xiao Bin answered. “I saw.”

A Signal Intercepted
Xiao Bin was a factory worker at a rubber products plant in the northeastern city of Dalian. He had come to Beijing to watch and support the student protesters demanding democracy for China.
 Twenty-four hours later Xiao Bin made his appearance in a short story I did for ABCNEWS that appeared also, much to my lasting horror, on China Central Television.
 The video had been intercepted by the government off a satellite transmission going out from Hong Kong. And when this emotionally overcome and angry man was seen by 200 million viewers in China, they read a blue scroll under his name.
 “This man is wanted.” It said, “He is a rumor-monger and counter revolutionary. Please turn him in to your nearest Security Bureau office.”
 A few days later he was turned in, convicted and sentenced.

Guilt, and a Broken Man
It hit me hard. Xiao Bin, I felt, was my responsibility. I had been incautious, insensitive. Experienced journalists, I told myself, carry the responsibility of protecting those they interview. I had not protected him.
 In 1994 Xiao Bin was released from prison after serving five years of his 10-year sentence.
 Today he struggles to support himself and his family. As a convict, he has no job prospects and is unemployable. He is still watched by the local Security Bureau.
 Xiao Bin lives in Dalian with his wife and son. He turned 52 last Feb. 28, which makes him a few months older than I am. His son is in middle school. His wife works as a statistician for a factory.
 Xiao Bin is, of course, but one of tens of thousands whose lives were altered by the events of 10 years ago, including, in a small way, my own.