In February 1999 I was working as a detective sergeant on the afternoon shift as I had for about five years. A bunch of us had been complaining about getting extra on-call duty because our chief had recently decided that we no longer needed an accident investigation unit. Apparently he thought people would no longer die in traffic accidents in our city. When it became clear that some people were going to die in accidents despite what our chief thought, he did just we expected and dumped that responsibility on us, the detectives.
Since some of us had prior training and had worked in Traffic, naturally we had to be on call in the event of a fatal accident, thus doubling our on-call to about two weeks out of the month. Needless to say, we were pissed, and we weren't gonna take this without a fight. I told my detectives, "If they call me at home for an accident, I'm not coming." I figured if a fatal accident came in and nobody was on duty working, they couldn't force us to come in. They would have to take care of the problem, right?
Well, it sounded good, but the truth was that we all cared too much about what we do and who we do it for to not answer "the call" whenever it came, or whoever it came from. So, a few days later, when my captain called me at 9:00 a.m. to tell me we had just had an officer-involved shooting and a child killed by a school bus at the same time, I replied, "I'm on my way."
It's funny, that Monday morning call changed my life forever, yet I don't have any idea what the weather was like that day or what I had been doing before the phone rang. All I remember is what happened after I answered the call.
A short time later, when I arrived at the office, the captain told me that two of our midnight patrol officers had chased a thief and had shot him after the guy pointed a gun at them. The cops weren't hurt; the suspect was seriously injured, but was going to live. Now, you have to understand that this might be an everyday thing in many departments, but in our department this was the first officer-involved shooting in several years. So we were all pretty worked up.
Then he told me that a five-year-old girl had been crossing in front of her school bus and was run over and killed by the driver. He assigned the accident to me since I had worked in Traffic before and had experience in fatal accident investigation. This, just after the shooting, was a little overwhelming to say the least. To make matters worse, the bus driver didn't know she had struck the child and continued driving her route until contacted by radio telling her to stop and wait for the police.
I've investigated countless deaths. You just can't be a cop for very long without seeing this kind of stuff. Over the past twenty-two years on the job, I have seen just about every imaginable way you can die or be killed. Old people, young people, children, and babies, I've been there. Some tragic, some sad, some even funny. You just go and do what you have to do. After all, somebody has to it, right?
So I gathered some equipment and met the patrol lieutenant at the scene. Several years prior I had worked for him in Traffic, so he and I had done all this before many times. He briefed me on what he knew. There was the usual crowd of people standing around. I saw some blood in the street where the child had been lying, a shoe, and a book bag. I took some pictures, gathered up the shoe and book bag and went to the hospital to photograph the body and talk to family members. Again, I had done this a thousand times before, and this was just another death investigation to me, or so I thought.
When I arrived at the hospital, I photographed the body, documented the injuries that I saw, and talked with the coroner covering the case. Through all that I never really looked at the girl on the table. I was totally wrapped up in what had to be done. A nurse came in and told us the parents were waiting outside. Telling a family member that a loved one is dead is one of the most difficult parts of the job. Whether it's a child or an adult, old or young, sudden or expected, it doesn't matter. But I have learned that what I say and how I say it will be remembered by that family member forever. It has always been very important to me to do it compassionately, properly, and professionally. I've done it more than most because I know how important it is and how it needs to be done.
They had already been told their daughter was dead, so I knew I wasn't going to be delivering that news. Somehow, in my mind, that made me less apprehensive about meeting them. When I was satisfied I had gathered the evidence I needed for my investigation, I asked the nurse to prepare the child for the parents to view. This was pretty standard and involved wiping blood and dirt from the body and covering it to the shoulders with a blanket. There's nothing you can really do to prepare someone for the moment when they see their loved one dead for the first time. All you can do is try to prepare them for what they will soon see and comfort them as much as possible. You have to be a professional.
Just before I left the room the room to talk to the parents and bring them in to see their child, I turned and really saw (as if for the first time) the beautiful little girl lying on the table. She looked like an angel, as if she were asleep. I paused for what seemed like an eternity. How can this be? What kind of world is this? I thought. My mind and heart and spirit reeled from the shock. I composed myself, then went outside and met the parents. They were young and, judging from the depressed area the accident happened, didn't have much. I told them what I knew, and what I was going to be doing to investigate the accident. I prepared them as much as I could and led them into the room. Part of the anxiety of delivering death notifications and dealing with families is that you never know how people will react. Some cry, some yell and scream, some will even attack you.
I don't remember what they looked like, and wouldn't know them if I saw them today, but I will never forget what I saw and felt when the father sat down beside his little girl.
For some reason I wasn't prepared for this one. This man, with tears running down his face, simply leaned over his daughter, put his arms around her, and asked her to wake up. He held her in his arms and kept repeating over and over,"Wake up,Angel, wake up. Everything will be OK. Just wake up. Please." His wife stood behind him, sobbing. He just kept begging his little angel to just wake up over and over.
I know that denial is part of the process, but it just caught me by surprise. I don't know if all the other emotions I had been feeling that day caught up with me, or if it was because I had a wife and three daughters at home.
It doesn't matter, does it? I had just realized that the life of a beautiful child had been snatched from her parents for no apparent reason, and I couldn't maintain my composure any longer. Tears flowed down my face as if it were my child lying on that table. I didn't know what to say or do for them. I had felt sadness for victims and their families many times before on the job, but never like this. I just couldn't handle it. I simply stood behind them as they held their child, and I cried. No one noticed that I had fallen apart, which was important to me, because I was the one who was supposed to be in charge. I was the one with the answers. I was respon sible for taking care of everything for this family.
Before, God forbid, anyone did notice, I left the room, got into my car, and drove away. I didn't share my feelings with anyone except my wife. I don't think I would have ever been able to do this job without her strength, wisdom, and understanding. Not that I necessarily hid my emotions,; I just didn't talk to anyone else about it. Although it affected me profoundly, and forever, it was my personal experience and I chose not to share it with anyone else … until now.
Over the next few days, I continued the investigation into the death of this child. I found that the school bus was equipped with a video camera that clearly showed the children on the bus bounce when it passed over her body first with the front tire, then with the rear. I interviewed several children who, when they felt the bus run over her, looked out the windows and saw her lying on the street. Some told me they tried to tell the driver, without success. When I completed the investigation, I recommended that charges be filed against the bus driver. I admit it: I was angry and wanted someone held responsible.
When it was all said and done, no charges were filed. The prosecutor felt the woman driving the bus had suffered enough, and he was probably right. She hadn't been irresponsible in the past, and it was an accident. I was told she quit her job as the result of the accident. Safety equipment has since been added to all of the buses to help protect children walking in front of them.
I've not spoken to the woman who was driving that bus or anyone from the family of the little girl since then. I wish them all well. I wish them peace and understanding. I hope none of them have to go through anything like this again.
I, on the other hand, will continue to deal with death as part of my job for as long as I choose to be a police officer, and I will be professional, and proper and competent.
But I will never forget that little angel.
God willing, I will continue to learn, feel, and be a better person for it.
