Crisis Within: How Coppell Faced the Unthinkable
I’ve known Sharon Logan for decades. She’s not only a trusted friend but also my colleague at DFW StratComm, where we help local governments prepare for and navigate crises. Sharon spent much of her career as the Public Information Officer for the City of Coppell, Texas. In 2010, she faced one of the most harrowing situations any communicator could imagine: the murder-suicide of the city’s mayor and her daughter.
In this installment of our Crisis Comms series, Sharon shares a first-hand account of that experience: What it was like to lead communications through an unthinkable tragedy, the backlash and media storm that followed, and the lessons she carries forward for anyone in public service.
By Sharon Logan, Retired PIO, City of Coppell, Texas
It was Tuesday, July 13, 2010. The Coppell City Council was preparing for its regular 5:30 p.m. meeting. Everyone was in place—except Mayor Jayne Peters. That wasn’t like her. She was always on time. Always prepared. Always present.
Mayor Peters had lived in Coppell since 1993 and served on Council since 1998. She was elected Mayor in 2009. Her husband had passed away from cancer in 2008, and she was raising her only daughter, Corinne, who had just graduated from Coppell High School. Outwardly, it seemed life was moving forward. In reality, serious personal and financial problems were mounting.
Unbeknownst to Corinne, she had not been accepted to the University of Texas, despite her mother’s claims. The “new car” she was packing for her college trip was actually a rental. That morning, July 12, a neighbor saw Jayne unpacking the car. Corinne was never seen alive again.
At 8:09 p.m. on July 13, after a welfare check was requested, police found a key taped to the door of the Peters home along with a note:
“To our first responders: Here’s the key for the front door. I am so very sorry for what you’re about to discover. Please forgive me. —Jayne.”
Inside, they found Corinne’s body in the laundry room. Jayne Peters was upstairs, dead by suicide. A second note read: “Do not resuscitate under any circumstances.”
Community Reactions and Challenges
The City Council held an emergency executive session that night so councilmembers could be briefed on what police had learned that evening. The initial news release went out at 10:30 p.m. We chose not to use the words “murder” or “suicide.” We were focused on acknowledging the loss, protecting the family, and beginning to manage the community’s grief and confusion.
By early Wednesday morning, city staff and residents were learning of the tragedy during their commutes. We held an all-staff meeting by 8:30 a.m. to share what we knew and offer reassurance. The city manager visited every facility personally to deliver the same message: “We are a family, and we will get through this.”
Still, backlash came quickly:
“Why are we flying our flags at half-mast for a murderer?”
“Was the Executive Session illegal?”
“Why aren’t you being more transparent?”
On Thursday, another shock: a local news station reported that Mayor Peters had been under investigation for misuse of a city-issued credit card. That was true—but it hadn’t been public. The information had been leaked.
We confirmed the City Attorney had been reviewing her procurement card use for personal items like food, gas, pet supplies, and rental cars, totaling more than $6,300. The City Manager had been asking for repayment for months. On the night of the tragedy, he had prepared a memo to launch a formal investigation. It was never delivered.
Managing the Media Storm
The media presence exploded within hours. By 6 a.m. Wednesday, reporters were on-site. We had local, national, and international interest—People Magazine, Inside Edition, and news outlets from Atlanta to London. For ten days, live trucks lined the parking lot. Journalists camped in our lobby. Some offered residents money for “the real story.”
We split communication duties. I handled credit card abuse inquiries. The Deputy Police Chief addressed the murder-suicide. Together, we functioned like a mini Joint Information Center (JIC).
We held a press conference the afternoon of the funeral. The Mayor Pro Tem, City Manager, City Attorney, and Deputy Chief each spoke. We controlled the timing and format, ensuring everyone received the same information simultaneously.
But the pressure was relentless:
Reporters demanded a minute-by-minute timeline.
We were accused of lying and withholding information.
One conversation with a reporter lasted until 3 a.m.—he insisted on speculating about pet feces to determine time of death.
Records requests poured in—33 in total. Some were so specific they confirmed we had an internal leak. We created binders so reporters could review documents in person. One outlet ordered over $4,600 in paper copies and brought a truck to pick them up. We supplied the dolly.
To complicate things further, the Medical Examiner’s office released preliminary autopsy findings to the press before sharing them with us. We only learned of the report when a journalist handed it to me.
Key Lessons and Takeaways
The case was formally closed on Sept. 16, 2010. By then, most records had already been released, and media outlets found they had nothing new. Our proactive transparency had worked.
Here’s what we learned:
Words matter. Our first news release referenced “mourning the loss.” We were accused of sympathizing with a murderer. Choose language carefully.
Web and phone systems must be ready. The city website saw 75,000+ hits on July 14 and went down. Our main phone line was overwhelmed.
Keep your internal team aligned. Early confusion faded once we sat down and shared what each of us knew.
Stay on message. Repeat your priorities: protect the community, respect the investigation, honor the family.
Know your spokespeople. Only those with the facts should speak. Arm them with clear, accurate information.
Records managers are critical. Be ready for an avalanche of open records requests.
Monitor social media. Even if you’re not posting, you need to know what’s being said. Rumors move fast.
Know your community. We knew Coppell and Coppell knew us. It was important to protect the integrity of the community and provide support. They were there for us as much as we were there for them. Get out in your community and introduce yourself whether they like you or not. It pays off in the long run.
Take care of yourself. I didn’t. And it took a toll on my health and psyche. If counselors are offered, say yes. Don’t tough it out alone.
Above all:
Be strong. Be kind. Be clear. And have a plan. Because when the unimaginable happens, your preparation is all you’ve got.
Onward and Upward.