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I was working as a civilian clerical assistant in the detective division when we heard the words, “Officer down,” broadcast over the police radio. Everybody in my office knew it was an East Precinct officer that was injured and that it could be my husband, Tom, but nobody said anything.
We didn’t have much information, except that the officer had been in foot pursuit of a suspect who had, only moments before, shot a little boy. We waited to learn the identity and the status of his or her condition.
Thirty minutes later, two detectives asked to see me in my manager’s office. As I entered, I looked at one – a tall, brawny man – and saw tears running down his face. He said, “It was your husband who has been shot.”
My knees buckled underneath me, but the other detective steadied me. I started to say something, but he interrupted, “We have to get to the hospital.” Stone-faced, they drove me there, where a surgeon informed me that my husband had died.
It didn’t seem possible Tom could be gone. We planned our life together. We had a house to finish working on, an anniversary dinner coming up. We had our first baby due in two months. Nearly nine years have passed since my husband’s death. Surviving has been indescribably difficult for me at times. Many of his fellow officers were also affected deeply by it. While we have struggled individually, we have also struggled together as survivors who are forever linked to the same tragedy.
One challenge we have faced is maintaining relationships with each other.
Too often, crises wear at the friendship and familial bonds that once seemed steadfast.
I hope that sharing some of the issues that often surround line-of-duty deaths will help other law enforcement families cope during the aftermath of a similar tragedy.
For the first few months following Tom’s death, I was overwhelmed with attention from the media and the community. Focused on the responsibilities of attending the memorial services and public engagements, I was too busy and still too numb to feel all of the pain.
It was a consolation to ignore the reality of my new life for the time being, but I feared the distractions would soon come to an end.
Soon the attention died down and the phones calls, cards, and visits slowed to a trickle and then stopped. Without them, it became impossible to keep myself from imagining Tom’s horrific end and from becoming overtaken by sadness and longing.
With the initial shock of his death wearing off, the excruciating reality set in – he wasn’t coming home. The realization was unbearable.
For a while, it seemed, I lived in pain. It hurt to breathe, to swallow, to laugh. And, it was hard not to show the anguish.
I was easily offended by others’ comments and actions. I think that for many survivors this can be an incredibly painful time.
Many survivors begin to feel that the police department has abandoned or betrayed them, and this is important to understand.
I grew to feel this way. After racking up a litany of the department’s “mistakes” – ranging from forgetting to issue police medals to losing treasured keepsakes, I was ignored, hung up on, and began to receive a very negative response from the department.
To some people, the misspelling of a name may seem like a trivial error. But to survivors, those oversights or mistakes can us wonder whether the department truly cared about our loved one. My experiences convinced me that people I had once fiercely loved had betrayed my husband. Blinded by bitterness, I ended all contact with them.
Understanding that surviving a line-of-duty death is a long, complicated process may help survivors maintain realistic expectations of themselves and others. Patience is important.
After almost nine years, I find I’m still changing and learning.
Although I was once angry, I now understand that others had their own ways of coping with my husband’s death – and their coping mechanisms were different from mine.
But this spring, for the first time in five years, I will be attending our annual memorial service to honor my husband’s sacrifice in the company of old friends. It’s something I’m looking forward to. Add this page to your favorite Social Bookmarking websites        
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