“Murder the media.”

That’s a haunting phrase to repeat.

Someone etched those words into a door at the U.S. Capitol building during the insurrection a few weeks ago. To fully grasp the weight of this statement, put yourself in someone else’s shoes for a moment.

Imagine you’re a journalist at the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6 covering either Donald Trump’s rally or the Senate joint-session for certifying Joe Biden as the next president.

Trump’s speech starts at noon at the White House Ellipse, but not halfway through, a crowd begins to form in front of the U.S. Capitol. By the time Trump’s speech ends — a little after 1 p.m. — an angry mob has amassed. People soon begin forcing their way past barriers. Against your better judgment, you stay. This is your job.

Those attending the speech are encouraged to march down Pennsylvania Avenue to the U.S. Capitol. More and more people arrive, and eventually, they begin spilling into the building.

You continue coverage. This is your job.

There are a few ways your day might continue.

If you’re inside the building, perhaps you’re live-tweeting the insurrection.

Maybe you’re Olivia Beavers, a Politico Congress reporter. You’re in the room with House representatives, who are now being told to evacuate. You hear crying and banging on doors. Someone gives you a gas mask, and you’re moved to an undisclosed location. Your hands are shaking.

Maybe you’re Igor Bobic, a HuffPost journalist. You watch a single officer unsuccessfully attempt to hold back the crowd at different stairwell entrances. You capture photos of the mob clambering through hallways and breaking into the Senate chamber. You snap a picture of someone standing at the dais shouting “Trump won that election!” Guns are drawn.

If you’re in the crowd outside, you’re watching the angry mob scale walls and break windows. Perhaps your boss has told you to stay away from the building. Perhaps you can’t get through the mob.

Maybe you’re William Turton, a Bloomberg News reporter. People begin screaming at you and some Associated Press reporters to leave. One person pushes over some of the AP team’s camera equipment while another bashes the equipment with a flagpole. You use your own cell phone to capture footage.

Maybe you’re John Minchillo, an AP photographer. You’re dragged through the crowd and over a ledge. Some call you “antifa.” Someone else screams, "We'll f---ing kill you!” One man wearing a red Trump hat helps you on your feet and identifies you as press.

This is your job.

Olivia Beavers, a journalist who hid in the building with House representatives, posted a screenshot of a text from her mother about a week later. Her mother asked if they needed to invest in a bulletproof vest for her. “(This is) my mom’s level of concern over my safety the last week,” Olivia tweeted.

Imagine if Olivia was your daughter.

“Murder the media” is a haunting phrase because “media” refers to more than just the logo of your least favorite news source. It also refers to real people, like Olivia, Igor, William and John, all of whom stayed in D.C. to provide first-hand accounts during the insurrection.

“Murder the media” doesn’t stand for justice or democracy — it stands for hatred and inhumanity. It’s horrific.

Those in the media are human.

At the very least, they deserve to be treated as such.