When governor Don Carcieri of Rhode Island took to the microphones on February 21, 2003, the situation that he was about to discuss was one with which he had absolutely no experience. He wasn't announcing his reelection, and he wasn't touting a new piece of legislation that he was hoping the state legislature would approve.

Rather, Carcieri found himself in the unfortunate position of discussing a tragic incident that had occurred the night before; with about 200 people crowded inside a popular local nightclub called The Station, something had gone horribly wrong. Testimony would later suggest that an individual associated with the band Great White had lit pyrotechnics at the beginning of the rock group's show at The Station. The nightclub had recently passed a safety inspection but was exempted from the general requirement to have automatic sprinklers due to the old age of the building.

When I teach executive crisis management training programs, I typically play three brief videos related to this fire. The first is actual footage taken by a patron's cell phone of the fireworks that ignited the ceiling tiles of the nightclub and created a fireball that killed 100 club patrons. The second video features statements from band representatives indicating that they had nothing to do with the use of pyrotechnics during their show. The third, and by far the most illuminating, includes segments of the news conference held the next day by Governor Carcieri.

I'm sure the governor was in shock the day of the press conference, and I'll bet his constituents were, too. Governors are comfortable when it comes to budgets and regulatory affairs, but rarely do they have to visit a morgue or meet with dozens of parents who cannot identify their sons and daughters because they have been burnt beyond recognition. The governor is a human being, and he was in shock, so let's cut him some slack, right?

Wrong.

This is the governor - the CEO of the state. When crisis hits, the public expects its leaders to become commanders, to take charge of the facts, to issue a call to action - to offer a definitive roadmap to recovery.

Governor Carcieri blew it. In his press conference, he often referred to the individuals who had been killed as "bodies," rather than "victims." Rather than starting the news conference by assuring the public that his prayers and thoughts were with the victims and their families, he rambled for more than eight minutes about how he wanted to hear from dentists because having access to the dental records of victims might accelerate the identification process. Rather than saying, "This fire is beyond anything I've ever seen, and you have my promise that I will devote the full resources of the state to help us discover the cause of this tragedy and ensure that another similar event never occurs," Carcieri looked dazed. His own staff was caught on live national television in the background looking puzzled and seemingly asking themselves: "Where is this guy going with this?"

When crisis strikes, a smart organization expects a barrage of interest and inquiries from reporters, regulators, family members, and others. It selected the appropriate spokesperson, hopefully one who is seasoned at delivering difficult messages. It rehearses key phrases with that spokesperson until he or she has high comfortability with the content of the message he or she will be delivering. That spokesperson will need to participate in several mock interviews so they can answer complex questions succinctly. And the spokesperson should never - ever - refer to victims as bodies. In crisis communications, every word counts, every nuance matters. Even the location where you hold your press conference can have a considerable impact on how your message is received.

Every time I show the video of the governor's press conference, my audiences almost always become angry that the one person who had the opportunity to publicly express emotions of loss and rally his constituents instead drifted into a world of dental records and babble. I'm sure his intentions were good. But during his defining moment as governor, Carcieri was a rank amateur at the microphone.

*Crisis Leadership Now is published by McGraw-Hill. It is available at bookstores both online and offline.