Editor’s Note: In PoliceOne “First Person” essays, our Members and Columnists candidly share their own unique view of the world. This is a platform from which individual officers can share their own personal insights on issues confronting cops today, as well as opinions, observations, and advice on living life behind the thin blue line. This week’s feature is from PoliceOne Contributor Duane Wolfe, who writes here about his feelings in the wake of a young officer’s accidental off-duty death. Do you want to share your own perspective with other P1 Members? Send us an e-mail with your story.
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By Duane Wolfe
Parkers Prairie (Minn.) PD
I had just arrived for work that Saturday morning at the Police Department where I serve as a part-time police officer when the phone rang. It was Scott, a co-worker from my full-time job as a law enforcement instructor at a local college. Scott also works on the same police department as me.
“Did you hear about Pat Callaghan?”
When I heard Scott say those words, the only question in my mind was: how bad is it?
As a cop, you know when you hear words like that, what will follow won’t be good news.
It was bad news. Pat had died after being involved in a snowmobile accident the previous evening. Pat was off-duty, single, 31 years old, and worked for the Police Department in the city where I taught.
I hung up the phone and tried to collect my thoughts, scattered now by the unexpected and tragic news.
I knew and had worked with Pat’s dad, who was a deputy in the same county. I knew how he doted on his boy. I had heard the pride in his voice whenever he talked of him, which he did frequently. I tried to imagine what it would be like to lose your son. I tried to imagine what he and the rest of his family must be going through.
I thought about the devastating impact this would have on his fellow officers, his partners, his friends. I knew some of them as friends, some as former students, and others not very well at all. I wondered what they were feeling right now.
Some of them had been the responding officers to the accident scene. How would they cope?
Pat was a former student of mine. I had been his firearms instructor. I didn’t know him well. We weren’t friends. He worked on the department in the city where I teach and I would see him from time to time at training or on the street and we would say hello.
And now he was gone. As I drove around on patrol I had time to think about life, and death, and being a cop.
I teach and preach officer safety but he had died off duty, out someplace having fun.
I drove to work and I passed three city squads parked by the interstate off ramp, waiting. They would escort Pat to the funeral home.
When I got to work an e-mail regarding the visitation and funeral arrangements was waiting for me. I started to wonder what I should say to his family, to friends, to his partners, to those who truly knew him, to those who loved him. Nothing I could think of seemed adequate. Anything I could think of seemed trite.
Scott told me that he had put in a call to volunteer to help cover the city during the funeral so that all the officers could attend. I let him know that I would also like to help out. The offer was accepted. The least I could do to honor Pat was to try to ease the burden on his department, if only a tiny bit.
I sent an e-mail to coach Bob Lindsey including the newspaper article about Pat. In a few minutes the phone rang and without even looking at the caller ID I knew it would be him. He told me he could tell that I was hurting. He said that he if was there he would give me a hug. He said that in times of tragedy we have to have to ask ourselves what we can do to make something positive come out of the pain.
As I drove home from work the tears finally came. I cried for the loss of a young man. I cried for his family and the void that would be created. I cried for his friends and his partners. I cried for those officers who had to be on scene that night. I cried for myself.
At the end of every presentation that Coach Lindsey does, the last slide contains only a number. That number represents the number of officers that he has known or trained that have died. That number was in the 80s last time I saw it.
My number is a whole lot lower than that. One killed in the line of duty as a police officer, two as soldiers in Iraq, several more in off-duty accidents, and one suicide.
Now, one more will be added. I’ve trained thousands of people to be cops. I try to teach them how to stay alive and live long and healthy lives but it doesn’t always work out that way.
Tuesday night I attended the visitation at the funeral home. I walked in wishing I could find the right words to say to those who knew him best. I listened to their stories of what happened that night. The first officers on scene were only a short distance away. They responded to the report of a snowmobile accident only to find that one of the victims was a friend, the son of a friend, a fellow cop. Initially the prognosis was that he would survive his injuries. They said the words and made the promises you make when a brother lays hurt and it looks like he will make it. He was flown by helicopter to the best medical facility in the state. But there was a tear in his heart and he would die a few hours later.
The visitation had pictures of him throughout his life, fishing, hunting, and athletics were among his interests. I listened to stories about Pat and what a great cop and human being he was. Tears were shed and hugs given. I left wishing I had known him better.
The next day, personnel from my own department along with the Minnesota State Patrol, Pope, Grant, and Ottertail Counties helped man the dispatch center and cover the streets of Alexandria and Douglas County for the funeral.
Along the processional route people parked their cars, took off their hats and paid respect as the hearse passed. About 250 students from the Alexandria Technical College Law Enforcement Program staged in formation the parking lot of a drugstore. In uniform they came to attention and saluted. I was told that more than one officer wept at the sight.
By all accounts it was a slow day for calls and that was OK. On Wednesday Feb. 3, 2010, Patrick J. Callaghan was laid to rest with his family, his friends, his co-workers and several hundred peace officers at his side.
Coach told me to try and find something positive in the pain. The members of the Alexandria Police Department were absolutely overwhelmed with the support that they received from law enforcement agencies and the public. Sometimes it takes a tragedy to find out how much others care and are willing to share, to give of their time and of their hearts. Many people gave of their hearts this week.
We did it for Pat.
