When journalists Laura Ling and Euna Lee were captured by North Korean forces on the border with China in March  we had questions. What were they doing there? Why were they taken? Why was their employer, the viewer participation cable news pioneer Current TV, staying silent about the case? Even to the point of censoring viewer created content on the subject?

Last night Ling and Lee issued a written statement about their imprisonment and the events leading up to it, with a focus on the story they were there to pursue: the plight of North Korean defectors in China.

In their statement published on Current, the pair paint a dramatic picture of their capture:

Feeling nervous about where we were, we quickly turned back toward China. Midway across the ice, we heard yelling. We looked back and saw two North Korean soldiers with rifles running toward us. Instinctively, we ran.

We were firmly back inside China when the soldiers apprehended us. Producer Mitch Koss and our guide were both able to outrun the border guards. We were not. We tried with all our might to cling to bushes, ground, anything that would keep us on Chinese soil, but we were no match for the determined soldiers. They violently dragged us back across the ice to North Korea and marched us to a nearby army base, where we were detained. Over the next 140 days, we were moved to Pyongyang, isolated from one another, repeatedly interrogated and eventually put on trial and sentenced to 12 years of hard labor.

The answer to the most baffling of the questions raised at the time-- why was Current remaining silent-- comes in at an unexpected angle, and sheds light on the character of Ling and Lee:

AFTER WE WERE detained, the two of us made every effort to limit the repercussions of our arrest. In the early days of our confinement, before we were taken to Pyongyang, we were left for a very brief time with our belongings. With guards right outside the room, we furtively destroyed evidence in our possession by swallowing notes and damaging videotapes. During rigorous, daily interrogation sessions, we took care to protect our sources and interview subjects. We were also extremely careful not to reveal the names of our Chinese and Korean contacts, including Pastor Chun. People had put their lives at risk by sharing their stories, and we were determined to do everything in our power to safeguard them.

Our families and colleagues back home maintained total silence about our work for two full months, both to minimize the potential impact on sensitive underground work in China and to protect us. We were surprised to learn that Chun spoke with reporters publicly in the immediate aftermath of our arrest. Among other things, Chun claimed that he had warned us not to go to the river. In fact, he was well aware of our plans because he had been communicating with us throughout our time in China, and he never suggested we shouldn't go. Chun's public statements prompted members of our families to speak directly with him in Korean, pleading with him to refrain from any further comment that might jeopardize our situation and those of relief organizations working along the border.

 In a media landscape where the news personality is considered more important than the news it's heartening to see two reporters who became the story seek to put the spotlight back on the work.