My journalism journey part 7

My journalism journey, Part 7

More in Montana

I've spent a lot of time in Montana because I had a lot of fond memories there. There were many interesting people and places there. Even though I had to leave my family and friends, I made new connections, new family and friends. I've always said I have made sisters and brothers from other mothers and fathers.

And I covered many interesting stories. One of the saddest stories involved Tim "Sox" Sullivan. He was a police officer for the Anaconda-Deer Lodge County police department, but was also involved with the local Little League. And because of both of those, I got to know him well.

Sullivan was a big burly guy, with a big shock of white hair. I can't remember ever seeing him with a serious look on his face. Wally said he wasn't really the best police officer but he was a really good person. I guess that says a lot.

I also decided one year to take a trip to Seattle to see the White Sox play the Seattle Mariners. Sullivan's wife was taking a nursing course at the University of Washington, so he asked if he could come along, and he'd split expenses with me. We had hoped to make it over there in one day, but we left late the first day and wound up staying overnight in some cheap motel (separate rooms, of course). Along the way, we talked a lot and got to know each other well.

As we were leaving Missoula, there is a big downhill. I forget to take my foot off the gas and I was going much faster than 55 mph (although most drivers in Montana at that time went faster than 55). Suddenly, I saw the police lights in my rear view mirrors and pulled over. Sullivan was chuckling. The highway patrol officer said I was going 65. "Oh, really, Officer? I'm sorry. I wasn't aware." I was shaking, I was so upset. Sullivan flashed his badge and asked if he could get up and stretch his legs while the ticket was being processed.

I thought I was really going to get hit. He hands me the ticket and says it's a $5 "waste of natural resources" fine. I could pay him there. Well, why not? I gave him the $5 and we went on our way. Sullivan laughed for some time after that. He said he was going to tell everyone in the police department I got caught speeding.

We got to Seattle and I dropped him off where his wife was staying and I checked into my motel and figured out where the ballpark was. He was going to go back with his wife, so that was the end of our trip together.

Several years later, there was an extremely busy week at work. On Wednesday, I went up with a bunch of people from Anaconda to the state capitol in Helena. They were lobbying to get the iconic smokestack named a state landmark. I was starting to get a cold at the time, and by the time the day was over, it was full blown.

Friday, I was really miserable, but we had a paper to put out, so I went through everything I needed to do to finish out the paper, then went home, took some cold medicines and went to bed early. Sometime about 10 p.m. or so, my editor Wally called and said there was a big fire in town, just a couple blocks from me. I was pretty sleepy and drugged from the medicines. I said, "Really?" and went back to bed.

Wally was pretty miffed at me the next day that I didn't go out and shoot the fire, but I was sick and not coherent when he called. So he asked me to shoot the aftermath of the fire on Saturday. It took out some fairly old buildings on Main Street.

Sunday night, I had just taken a bath and washed my hair. It was in February, I believe, and cold. Wally called again sometime around 9 p.m. and said there was chatter on the scanner about a domestic situation with a hostage situation and a police shooting. He told me to go find out where it was. He figured since I lived in town, and he was on the outskirts of town, it was easier for me to get out there.

But there wasn't an address given. I called the police and they wouldn't divulge the address. So what's a reporter to do? Well, I dried my hair, got dressed and went to the courthouse. I sat there for awhile and waited for a police car to leave, then followed it to the scene.

Wally was already there; they were bringing a body bag out. "It's Sox," he said.

Apparently, a man had gone after his estranged wife, locked his kids in another room downstairs, was raping his wife when Sox came down the stairs. So he shot and killed Sox, finished raping his wife, killed her, killed himself and left the kids alone. Sox, in a way, saved those kids.

The Anaconda-Deer Lodge police department didn't deal with a lot of officer deaths. To lose a beloved guy like Sox was a blow. The funeral was held in the high school gym. It was packed. He had coached many youngsters in Little League baseball. Everyone had been touched by him in some way.

A few years later, his youngest son, Patrick, was involved in a horrible car accident. The car was on fire and he barely escape alive. He had serious burns. The family had another terrible tragedy to deal with.

I think of stories like this many years later and try to remember all the details. I can't remember everything, but what I do remember are the faces of the people, the sadness, and the way the community responded to the event and pulled together for the Sullivan family. I often wondered what happened to them many years later.