Sun-Times photographers describe their favorite photos of 2025

Candace Dane Chambers

When I reflect on my coverage since I joined the Sun-Times in July, one photograph continues to surface — this image of 5-year-old Eli Valentina Vaca behind the gates of the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement facility in suburban Broadview.

My experience in the newsroom has been largely defined by "Operation Midway Blitz," and many of the photos I’ve made have been high-energy action images. Virulent tensions between law enforcement and community protesters boiled over into standoffs week after week, and my colleagues and I did our best to be on the scene documenting each clash. Our images of tear gas and rubber bullets and batons and rage and fear reached beyond Chicago and drove conversation about immigration enforcement on the national stage.

And yet, this quiet photo still rings the loudest for me. Eli peers up at a federal agent as her parents, Nancy Guamangate and Milton Javier Otto Manzano, stand beside her. The faceless agent towers above her in full tactical gear, which is in stark contrast to her pink pinstriped dress. Zip ties are wrapped around Milton's wrists, and Nancy looks above her daughter toward the detention center doors. Eli's bewildered expression of confusion and anxiety about what comes next feels like the unsettling undercurrent of 2025 as a whole.

Ashlee Rezin

This was one of the first times during "Operation Midway Blitz" that a member of the Sun-Times witnessed federal immigration enforcement agents interacting with a child during an arrest.

I took that photo as I was sprinting up and the arrest was ending. The child was put in the vehicle and the agents immediately cleared out. I was lucky I was able to bear witness, and that the photo was in focus.

What was going through that child's mind as the agents were detaining their guardian? Were they scared? How will this affect their relationship with law enforcement in the future?

We are far from learning the long-term psychological effects of the aggressive federal tactics on detainees, family members, Chicagoans, Americans, etc., during "Operation Midway Blitz."

Despite colleagues' best efforts, we were unable to identify the child or the person detained that afternoon near Pioneer Court.

I went home at the end of that Sunday. I wish I knew where the child went.

Tyler Pasciak LaRiviere

This photo encompasses different aspects that I like about flying a drone for photography, mainly the higher perspective and bird’s-eye view photos I can take with a drone.

The vantage point allows me to look at everyday scenery in a new way, which often reveals wonderful patterns one would not see right away at regular eye level.

What draws me in the most here is the stark contrast of organic shapes and patterns of the ice chunks versus man-made patterns of nearly parallel lines created by cyclists and foot traffic on the concrete beach. This photo could almost get mistaken for a painting in the Museum of Contemporary Art or even the Art Institute of Chicago, given its surrealist nature due to the higher perspective.

Pat Nabong

I wouldn't say this is my strongest photo this year, but the story behind it is emblematic of the joys and privileges of photographing local events in the city.

Reporter Mary Norkol and I were covering Cubs fans during the home opener at Wrigley Field. I was looking for something new that I haven't photographed in previous years, and it was a challenge. The energy was pretty low compared to previous events I've been to. It was just the standard scene of people taking selfies and buying tickets.

I told Mary, "This is boring. Nothing's really happening." She agreed but spotted a person who looked interesting a few steps away. She said she wanted to interview them, so I trailed behind her.

As we made our way through the crowd, I accidentally walked right in front of a family taking pictures. I looked to my left to see what the fuss was about and saw a man on a bent knee holding a small, red box in front of a woman carrying a kid. I realized I was photo-bombing a proposal. This was not boring at all.

I quickly stepped to the side, mortified but frantically trying to take a picture of the moment. People cheered around them as she put the ring on. I called out to Mary, who was a few steps ahead of us, and we decided to stick with this family.

We found out that Christopher and Christina, who was carrying their son dressed in a "Lil Chris" baseball jersey, go to 20 to 30 games a year and that Christina was expecting another little Cubs fan soon. I sent copies of the photos to them for posterity.

I walked away from that experience reminded to never judge a situation prematurely. Staff photojournalists often get sent to the same events every year, and it can get challenging to find something visually new. Everything else could look the same, but who knows? Maybe a proposal could happen right in front of you.

In September, I was back at Wrigley Field for another fan story. While photographing the crowd near Gallagher Way, a man came up to me and said, "Sun-Times? Do you know who I am?" It took me a moment before I realized it was Christopher. He told me the wedding hadn't happened yet, but they had two little Cubs fans now that Christina had given birth to their second child.

Running into people I've photographed in the past is a reminder of the connections that photography creates. It's not hard news, but being able to document a small piece of Chicagoans' personal histories, which make up this city's history, is a privilege that comes with being a local photojournalist.

Anthony Vazquez

Of all the photos I took this year, this image from the funeral of Chicago Fire Department Capt. David Meyer is the most memorable. The moment is powerful.

What struck me immediately was the contrast between the event's sadness and the visual hope of the blessing. You see the incense smoke rising directly into the white opening at the top of the church. This visual act captured the religious symbolism of the spirit ascending, a representation of the individual’s journey toward the light.

The architecture of the church helps illustrate this theme. Bold, converging ceiling lines draw the eye upward, directing focus to that light source. This composition enhances ascension, with the incense column angled toward the same destination. The light streams from above, contrasting with the mourners standing in shadow below. This tension highlights the profound reverence of the gathering.

This photograph speaks to the loss of Meyer, a nearly 30-year veteran who embodied dedication before being killed in the line of duty.

Given the challenging events this year, this image became a symbol of collective grief and resilience. It captures a community honoring a fallen hero, showing the gravity of loss while simultaneously embracing the positive light — the love and respect that emerges from coming together in sadness. This combination of deep emotion and stark visual symbolism is why it stands as my favorite image of the year.

Zubaer Khan

I think what I like best about being a photojournalist is that on any given day, I can end up in a place and situation that I never imagined myself being before. Sometimes, that is getting to watch a 67-year-old circus performer practice her routine, and sometimes it is watching federal agents fire tear gas and pepper balls indiscriminately into a crowd of protesters and journalists.

One of my favorite places to find myself is in the company of someone who is doing what they are passionate about. I do not wear fur, but after spending an afternoon with Gerard Brown, owner of Island Furs, what became undeniable to me was that I was in the company of a master craftsman. Watching him work at a sewing machine was a special moment.

It was also very dark. When I saw Brown’s work area, I went into a panic. How was I going to get images that could capture the extent of his skill and process in this poor lighting? With a background almost exclusively in video, I am the team’s least experienced photographer, and I am constantly in conversation with myself about how to pull my weight.

What ended up helping was that Brown was such a generous host. He let me hang out with him for as long as I needed — a luxury in this world of quick-turnaround journalism. I was able to take my time, call upon my decades of experience creating visuals and, through trial and error, translate the vision in my head to the photos in the camera.

And then? I was off to the next assignment.

Manuel Martinez

When I met Letonia Robinson, she had spent the better part of two years searching for a home for herself and her three kids. While she looked for an apartment, she was temporarily living with her mother. Like many Chicago residents, Robinson was experiencing the rising cost of rent and the struggle to find an affordable home.

To report on these types of stories as a photojournalist requires time and trust. Robinson was choosing to share a vulnerable and intimate aspect of her life with us. Her struggle to find a home for her family was being made public, and she was trusting us with her story. It was important to me that she knew we were there to tell her story with fairness and dignity.

For the lead image of this story, I wanted to make an intimate portrait that showed her looking toward her future with hope. In spite of all her struggles, guilt and doubt, Robinson was always positive, especially around her kids. Everything she was doing was to help her three children have a better life.

Visually, I wanted to find a way to show the struggles she was feeling but do it with the proud feeling she carried as a mother. The reflections in the window of the home help remind the reader that we all have things we are fighting for and working toward. This portrait embodies her struggle and her spirit to persevere.