As I sat in the upper-level pew at the Idlewild Baptist Church, listening to the family and colleagues of slain Tarpon Springs Police Officer Charles Kondek remember their loved one and friend, I thought about what I was doing there.
I’d never met Kondek, though it turns out I know people who knew him.
I didn’t know his family or really anyone on the small police force.
Like too many times before, I was there to cover a police officer killed in the line of duty.
But why?
It’s a question that requires answering, especially since there are those who feel it an intrusion, as is often the case when a first responder or service member is laid to rest after dying in the line of duty. It was a question I thought about a few days later, as I compiled a list of the 36 service members from our area who were killed during the 13 years of Operation Enduring Freedom, many names very familiar from repeated conversations with their families.
I was there at Kondek’s funeral not to intrude, not to sensationalize and not, as some might assume, to sell newspapers, though stories about the fallen tend to attract readers.
I was there, as were my fellow journalists, because Kondek was a man who died in service to his community, his salary paid for by taxpayers, his final action seeking to protect the community he loved.
He died, as many a mourner pointed out, for them. And that is why I was there.
It is the same when I cover fallen service members, again far too many over the course of a career.
The coverage follows a fairly standard arc. Learn the news, scramble to find loved ones, friends and colleagues, and try to put a human face on a grim statistic.
Why?
Because one of my main jobs is to make sure that the public, regardless of how an individual might feel about the military or war or law enforcement, never forgets that we have men and women in harm’s way, on their behalf, and on their dime.
The calls are never easy for the recipients. The pain is raw and palpable. But one thing I have learned in nearly three decades of making them: When done right, they serve the public and the person I am calling alike.
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And what does done right mean?
Not shoving a microphone or notepad in front of someone’s face and badgering them with, “how do you feel?” kinds of questions. But instead asking legitimate, and valuable questions.
And I often start with this simple truth. I have no idea what you are going through and hope never to find out.
I try to ask questions that those who are willing to talk will want to answer. And for those who don’t, I apologize and thank them for their time.
“Tell me about your loved one,” I often ask. “Tell me his or her hopes and dreams.”
From my end of the conversation, the answering offers some modicum of catharsis.
I noticed this many years ago, when I was covering the city of Camden, New Jersey’s record number of homicides. The stories about the crimes were usually just quick hits, a few paragraphs about the faceless victim, nearly all black or Hispanic, name and age, the circumstances of the killing and whether the alleged perpetrator was caught.
But with more than 50 killed in a town of just 80,000, that wasn’t enough. So with the blessing of the powers that were, I organized a team of reporters, photographers and editors, and set out to interview the families of each victim, to get their stories and pictures.
We were 100 percent successful, if success is measured by having people willing to speak.
In many cases, they weren’t just willing, but eager to talk about a life taken too soon. And to the public, they were no longer just faceless victims, but real people.
It remains one of the efforts I am proudest of during a long career. And the series offered lessons that have lasted all these years since, with the hundreds of families I have talk to who have lost a loved one, in some horrible way, to crime, circumstance or war.
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If I could speak to troops and families at a deployment briefing, or to first responders and their families at a police station or firehouse, I would tell them this: The man or woman you are about to send off to serve the community is now part of a larger family as well. He or she is your loved one, but they are serving and protecting their nation or community and what happens to them from this point on is of everyone’s concern and, for those who are injured, the public’s obligation is to ensure they have their justly-deserved benefits from that point on.
It is a hard fact to face, but it is a dangerous job and if something happens the community they serve not only wants to remember but to honor their memory and service.
And that’s where my colleagues and I come in.
I know we try, mostly with the deepest respect and dignity for all human life, to help remember and honor by asking the questions and telling the stories.
It is not pleasant and no one is perfect, not the one who made the ultimate sacrifice and surely not the ones, like me, who tell the stories. I know there are times over the years where I have unintentionally caused pain. But I would hope that in the vast majority of cases the benefits for all were far greater.
Of course, it is your call. If you don’t want to talk, if you don’t want us at the wake or funeral or any other memorial, that’s your prerogative to be respected. But at least you know why we ask.
I have covered enough tragedy to know that no two people grieve in the same way.
It is with sad certainty I can say that Kondek is not the last first responder who will perish in the line of duty. And though Operation Enduring Freedom is now over, and with it, the war in Afghanistan considered concluded, it remains a dangerous place where we have nearly 11,000 troops, each one in harm’s way.
There are another 3,000 back in Iraq, another very dangerous place.
And many tens of thousands more in Korea and Europe and all over the world.
The possibility remains there will be another dignified transfer, another flag-draped coffin taken off a plane at MacDill Air Force Base, a sorrowful procession passing by streets full of mourners.
And reporters, like me, to cover it.
I wish that were not the case, but that’s the stark reality. And I know there will be someone there taking notes and pictures and video.
To remember and honor.
To never, ever forget.
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There are lots of ways to remember and help out those who have served and their families.
One of those ways takes place Sunday.
It’s the sixth-annual Tampa Bay Frogman Swim, a fundraiser for the Navy SEAL Foundation.
The 5K cross-bay swim kicks off with a 6 a.m. check-in at Gandy Beach. Swimmers hit the water at 8:20 a.m., heading to Picnic Island in Tampa.
The event sold out in 33 minutes and all the volunteer slots are taken, says race organizer Kurt Ott. But there’s no limit on the crowd, and sponsorships and donations are always welcome. This year, Ott says organizers hope to raise $300,000. To date, the event has raised nearly $1 million, says Ott.
For more information, go to http://tampabayfrogman.com/.
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The Pentagon announced no new deaths in support of either of the named operations underway in the U.S. Central Command region.
There have been three U.S. troop deaths in Operation Inherent Resolve and none in Operation Freedom’s Sentinel.