Wednesday afternoon, the word came.

Shooting reported at Reactor Field on the University of Missouri campus.

In the context of Monday's killings at Virginia Tech, the report reverberated. Television stations ran with the story. Frantic out-of-town parents called their children.

At the Columbia Missourian, we quickly put the "news" online.

Problem was, it wasn't true.

In the newspaper industry, news cycles, once daily affairs, roll constantly. On any given day, the following morning, a time when newspapers will start to land reliably on driveways, always seems very far away. These days, readers expect to get the news as it happens, but they don't always realize that stories aren't born fully developed.

Newsrooms across the country, including the Missourian, are struggling to adjust.

Adjustment, unfortunately, has led to a number of quick-but-not-quite-correct news reports.

Wednesday's "shooting at Reactor Field" was just such a report.

Phones ring. Reporter runs into the room, yells the "news" to the editor. Phones ring again, second reporter runs in, adds to the story.

Or, and this happens just as often, second reporter runs in, changes the story.

In the background, the police scanner blares, broadcasting bits of information as authorities try to figure out the truth for themselves.

In the print past, newsrooms have had the luxury of waiting it out. We typically had hours to report and find the truth. Editors waited for confirmation.

Now, the Web beckons. We can't wait.

Is there value in quickly posting the "shooting at Rector Field" report? Perhaps.

Had word of the early-morning killings at Virginia Tech been reported more quickly, lives might've been saved. It's an issue that law enforcement officials, university administrators and journalists will grapple with in the future.

Is there value in getting it right? Absolutely.

Walter Williams, who in 1908 founded the Missouri School of Journalism, once wrote, "I believe that a journalist should write only what he holds in his heart to be true."

But Walter Williams didn't know about the Internet.

As Wednesday ticked on, the Reactor Field story developed. There had been a shooting, but not at the field. The shooting happened south of town and the victim's friends attempted to transport him to the hospital.

Driving erratically, they were stopped by a policeman near Reactor Field.

There was no threat to the students on campus. Our story, online, was updated. Television stations changed their accounts. Mothers breathed more easily.

The next morning, the print edition of the Missourian landed, reliably, on my driveway.

But in the newsroom, the problem remains, along with some not-so-clean feelings.

When online readers become privvy to a "developing story" or a story "still being reported," how should we let them know? When online readers essentially can "see" into the newsroom and "hear" our conversations, how should we let them know that the things they are witnessing might not be verified? How can we make it clear that early, incomplete versions of news have the potential to be wrong?

The answer could lie in transparency. It could lie in labeling. And admitting when you're wrong.

Maybe we post the report, but label it for what it is.

Story in progress: Reports of a shooting at Reactor Field. The Missourian is dispatching reporters to the scene.

Then, when verification finally arrives, use it.

Earlier reports of a shooting at Reactor Field were wrong. Here's what happened.

Is that better than what happened? In these uncertain days, it could be. If nothing else, it would be an important step, one Walter Williams would acknowledge.

And, most importantly, it would be true.