Our own most difficult crisis came when we had — there was a young man called Liu Xiang, who had helped us cover Tsinghua University. He was a student, and he had once registered us in the more open time to get into Tsinghua. And afterward, there he was, in this crackdown that got him into trouble. He was interrogated regularly about it. Finally he thought he was about to be arrested, and he fled. He ended up being imprisoned and he escaped from prison and came back to Beijing and asked for our help. Sheryl and I just agonized over that. One thing that is pretty clear in journalistic ethics is that you don’t help an escaped felon leave the country. And if we did that, we would be not only breaking Chinese law, we’d be also risking the closure of the New York Times bureau. We knew we couldn’t ask our editors for advice, because: a) the phone lines were tapped, but b), they could never endorse us risking the closure of the New York Times bureau. On the other hand, here’s a 19-year-old kid who was in trouble because he had helped us and the New York Times readers. If we didn’t help him, he was going to be caught at some point, and who knows what would happen to him. We just agonized over our moral responsibilities there. It was also a little bit complicated, because we worried that this might be an effort to set us up. It was a time when the government didn’t like my reporting and appeared to be trying to kick us out of the country, and it occurred to us that they might have let him out of prison so that he would then compromise us, catch us breaking the law, and then kick us out of the country. It was an immensely difficult decision, but we finally decided we just had to help him. We helped him, in a way with as few fingerprints as we possibly could. He was able to escape to Hong Kong, and I flew down the next day and helped him get to the States. He is now in the U.S. It was enormously unprofessional and yet absolutely the right thing to do.