It seems like the years fly by, and now Peace Officer's Memorial Day (and National Peace Officer's Week) has arrived once again. At this point in the year, not even halfway through, fifty-four police officers have perished in the line of duty. Last year at about this same time, forty-nine officers had died in the line of duty. Unfortunately it appears officer deaths this year will closely mirror last year's numbers.
The late winter and spring months of 2018 proved to be double-digit months, as far as deaths were concerned. Gunfire has been the most common cause of police officer death up to May 15. The second most frequent cause of death for officers this year has proven to be traffic accidents, not including deaths resulting in accidents related to police pursuits. Three officers have died this year of complications from illnesses caused by 9-11 related duties.
Police deaths are not just numbers on the Officer Down Memorial Page. Each officer who is memorialized was a person who had loved ones, relatives, friends, and colleagues. Not only that, but each officer who perished in the line of duty was mourned by fellow officers both known and unknown to him. And I know that many people across the nation are saddened as well to read of fallen officers they never knew.
In my years with the Waco Police Department we were relatively lucky. Although from 1981 to 1990 several officers were wounded, injured, or criminally assaulted, only one officer was killed in the line of duty. Sergeant Bobby Vicha was murdered in his own home by his brother-in-law, who had just murdered Sergeant Vicha's elderly parents as well. The animal that committed those three murders has been on Death Row since 1989, and UNBELIEVABLE as it is to me, this animal lost another appeal in 2018! There are several cases on Death Row in which evidence may be questionable, but this is NOT one of them. Instead, what is questionable is WHY this animal is still breathing some twenty-eight years later! The only positive to this situation that I can see is that this animal was held and never allowed to leave prison, thus not able to kill anyone else. Sergeant Vicha was well-liked by those officers who knew him, and the pain of his loss has only been compounded by the justice system's lack of power to put down an animal so that he could never hurt anyone again.
In the winter of 1994, just over two years after I left the Lamesa Police Department, a friend and fellow law officer was killed in Big Spring, about fifty miles south of Lamesa. Trooper Troy Hogue was killed by a DWI suspect after responding to a traffic accident on I-20 in Howard County. The suspected drunk driver was seated in a patrol car but apparently had not been searched by officers at the scene. After Trooper Hogue spoke with Howard County officers, he approached the suspect, who fired a single shot from an undiscovered handgun, killing the trooper. Trooper Hogue was one of those officers that police officers admiringly call "an officers's officer." This was a way saying that Trooper Hogue constantly went above and beyond what was expected of DPS troopers as far as assisting and advising city and county officers, and jumping in to help whenever he was needed. As tragic as his death was, it was even more so because it was most likely a preventable death. A too-oft repeated scenario occurred that night in Big Spring. Officers who first arrived on the scene and knew that the suspect would be arrested failed to exercise even basic crime scene security, and committed the nearly unforgivable omission of failing to search a suspect. Unfortunately, time and time again the officer or officers who make the mistake are spared, and an officer arriving later on the scene pays the ultimate price for other officers' failures.
I was working as a security surveillance officer at a certain West Texas hospital on October 9, 2014 when I saw Sergeant Mike Naylor, Midland County Sheriff's Office, walk into the hospital emergency room. Sergeant Naylor headed the local mental health police task force, made up of both city and county officers. In this position, Sergeant Naylor had created a mental health task force that truly protected and served the mentally ill in the county, using minimum force to restrain and detain these persons, and doing all possible to calm and assure these people that no one was going to hurt them, that help was being provided to them. Sergeant Naylor truly excelled in this position, and took pride in this service, yet, he was foremost a police officer. When the call came in that afternoon that a sexual predator (wanted on a felony warrant) was barricaded in a residence in the county, Sergeant Naylor never hesitated. Within seconds he was out the door. The last thing I and several others said to him was, "Be careful, Mike. We'll see you later."
Less than an hour later Sergeant Naylor was back in the emergency room, this time as a critically injured patient. The suspect had suddenly drawn a concealed weapon and fired one time, striking Sergeant Naylor in the head. He never regained consciousness. Doctors and nurses worked feverishly to save their friend, but the damage was too great, and Sergeant Naylor succumbed to his wounds within a few minutes. Like Trooper Hogue, Sergeant Naylor was one of those officers who was routinely called "a cop's cop." After shooting Sergeant Naylor, the wanted man, a couple of hours later, meekly surrendered to other officers on the scene. The killer eventually plead guilty to Sergeant Naylor's murder and is currently serving two life terms.
Three men I knew, three men who were not just numbers on a page of statistics. And since these men were killed, so many more officers have died in the line of duty. Cops ambushed at public demonstrations or at service stations while fueling their cars, cops killed while stopping traffic violators, or while trying to prevent family violence, or even while working accidents or directing traffic. Regardless of what the officers were doing at the time of their deaths, they were doing their job, neither backing down nor refusing to act in dangerous or hazardous situations.
I was proud to serve with Bobby Vicha and Troy Hogue, and was blessed to have known and worked with Mike Naylor in a different circumstance. These men were not "just numbers," and neither were the many men and women who gave their lives as peace officers, both before and after these men. All of these officers were men and women who were loved by someone, who were both parents and children, who mattered so much to their loved ones, their relatives, their friends...and of course to the fellow officers who were left behind to carry the badge another day.
I am proud to have been a police officer, and I am honored to lift up the men and women of law enforcement on this simple page, and in this simple way.
May God bless and watch over all peace officers everywhere...
And may God bless America.
The late winter and spring months of 2018 proved to be double-digit months, as far as deaths were concerned. Gunfire has been the most common cause of police officer death up to May 15. The second most frequent cause of death for officers this year has proven to be traffic accidents, not including deaths resulting in accidents related to police pursuits. Three officers have died this year of complications from illnesses caused by 9-11 related duties.
Police deaths are not just numbers on the Officer Down Memorial Page. Each officer who is memorialized was a person who had loved ones, relatives, friends, and colleagues. Not only that, but each officer who perished in the line of duty was mourned by fellow officers both known and unknown to him. And I know that many people across the nation are saddened as well to read of fallen officers they never knew.
In my years with the Waco Police Department we were relatively lucky. Although from 1981 to 1990 several officers were wounded, injured, or criminally assaulted, only one officer was killed in the line of duty. Sergeant Bobby Vicha was murdered in his own home by his brother-in-law, who had just murdered Sergeant Vicha's elderly parents as well. The animal that committed those three murders has been on Death Row since 1989, and UNBELIEVABLE as it is to me, this animal lost another appeal in 2018! There are several cases on Death Row in which evidence may be questionable, but this is NOT one of them. Instead, what is questionable is WHY this animal is still breathing some twenty-eight years later! The only positive to this situation that I can see is that this animal was held and never allowed to leave prison, thus not able to kill anyone else. Sergeant Vicha was well-liked by those officers who knew him, and the pain of his loss has only been compounded by the justice system's lack of power to put down an animal so that he could never hurt anyone again.
In the winter of 1994, just over two years after I left the Lamesa Police Department, a friend and fellow law officer was killed in Big Spring, about fifty miles south of Lamesa. Trooper Troy Hogue was killed by a DWI suspect after responding to a traffic accident on I-20 in Howard County. The suspected drunk driver was seated in a patrol car but apparently had not been searched by officers at the scene. After Trooper Hogue spoke with Howard County officers, he approached the suspect, who fired a single shot from an undiscovered handgun, killing the trooper. Trooper Hogue was one of those officers that police officers admiringly call "an officers's officer." This was a way saying that Trooper Hogue constantly went above and beyond what was expected of DPS troopers as far as assisting and advising city and county officers, and jumping in to help whenever he was needed. As tragic as his death was, it was even more so because it was most likely a preventable death. A too-oft repeated scenario occurred that night in Big Spring. Officers who first arrived on the scene and knew that the suspect would be arrested failed to exercise even basic crime scene security, and committed the nearly unforgivable omission of failing to search a suspect. Unfortunately, time and time again the officer or officers who make the mistake are spared, and an officer arriving later on the scene pays the ultimate price for other officers' failures.
I was working as a security surveillance officer at a certain West Texas hospital on October 9, 2014 when I saw Sergeant Mike Naylor, Midland County Sheriff's Office, walk into the hospital emergency room. Sergeant Naylor headed the local mental health police task force, made up of both city and county officers. In this position, Sergeant Naylor had created a mental health task force that truly protected and served the mentally ill in the county, using minimum force to restrain and detain these persons, and doing all possible to calm and assure these people that no one was going to hurt them, that help was being provided to them. Sergeant Naylor truly excelled in this position, and took pride in this service, yet, he was foremost a police officer. When the call came in that afternoon that a sexual predator (wanted on a felony warrant) was barricaded in a residence in the county, Sergeant Naylor never hesitated. Within seconds he was out the door. The last thing I and several others said to him was, "Be careful, Mike. We'll see you later."
Less than an hour later Sergeant Naylor was back in the emergency room, this time as a critically injured patient. The suspect had suddenly drawn a concealed weapon and fired one time, striking Sergeant Naylor in the head. He never regained consciousness. Doctors and nurses worked feverishly to save their friend, but the damage was too great, and Sergeant Naylor succumbed to his wounds within a few minutes. Like Trooper Hogue, Sergeant Naylor was one of those officers who was routinely called "a cop's cop." After shooting Sergeant Naylor, the wanted man, a couple of hours later, meekly surrendered to other officers on the scene. The killer eventually plead guilty to Sergeant Naylor's murder and is currently serving two life terms.
Three men I knew, three men who were not just numbers on a page of statistics. And since these men were killed, so many more officers have died in the line of duty. Cops ambushed at public demonstrations or at service stations while fueling their cars, cops killed while stopping traffic violators, or while trying to prevent family violence, or even while working accidents or directing traffic. Regardless of what the officers were doing at the time of their deaths, they were doing their job, neither backing down nor refusing to act in dangerous or hazardous situations.
I was proud to serve with Bobby Vicha and Troy Hogue, and was blessed to have known and worked with Mike Naylor in a different circumstance. These men were not "just numbers," and neither were the many men and women who gave their lives as peace officers, both before and after these men. All of these officers were men and women who were loved by someone, who were both parents and children, who mattered so much to their loved ones, their relatives, their friends...and of course to the fellow officers who were left behind to carry the badge another day.
I am proud to have been a police officer, and I am honored to lift up the men and women of law enforcement on this simple page, and in this simple way.
May God bless and watch over all peace officers everywhere...
And may God bless America.
No comments:
Post a Comment