The Moment I Knew
The moment I knew something wasn’t right was right after I pulled from my patrol unit. I had massive pain shooting from my left hip. The pain I had never felt before, but I was alive. I couldn’t walk, but I could crawl, and on several attempts, I tried crawling to help Brian. But they kept telling me, “No, Joe, don’t move.” ‘Who are these people, and why’? EMS had been on the scene for a while, but I hadn’t seen them, which told me they were working on Brian. I prayed to God for them to get him whatever he needed. I heard the words life flight! I thought, thank God, he’s alive; they will get him out of here! Not long after, another medic unit arrived and started helping me. Medics asked where I was hurting and what day it was.
They fastened a neck collar and secured me into the ambulance within minutes. Oklahoma Highway Patrol Trooper Chris Dennis (a friend of mine) jumps on the ambulance in a panic, asking, "What happened?" The only words I had were 'I don't know' and burst into a panic cry! I asked them If they got Brain out, and they wouldn't answer me and would only say to worry about me right now. I overheard the other medic crew tell my medic crew that they had canceled Brian's Medic flight and were giving it to me. The moment I knew but officially didn't know! Over my career, I have been on more vehicle accident scenes than I could ever count. I have helped set up many Landing Zones for life flights, and on every single one, I knew that a requirement for the patient was to be in stable condition. Them giving me the first life flight told me that Brain wasn’t in stable condition! I remember screaming at whoever was around me to make sure Brian got the first helicopter out of there. They continued to say not to worry about Brian and focus on myself, that they were taking care of Brian. I couldn’t tell how long I was in that ambulance, but it seemed like days when I heard the first life flight come in to land.
The medics began to get me ready to move. The inside of my body felt like I was slowly dying, killing me, but all I could do was cry, knowing I was getting this flight out of there and Brian wasn’t. I had no idea where Brian was or what was going on. The medics moved me out of the ambulance. All I remember is the helicopter and an OHP Trooper holding my hand. I can’t remember which trooper did that for the life of me, but it meant so much that he was there. The medics loaded me into the helicopter, hooked up several machines to me, and slammed the door. Within minutes, I was gone. We left Choctaw County and headed for Plano, with none of my family knowing I had even been in an accident. I looked at the flight nurse and asked if she could let my family know where I was going and that I was ok. She immediately took my phone and called. She was my angel in the sky.
Death Notification
The flight seemed to last forever; my adrenaline had started to fade away, and my pain was setting in. The flight nurse could only allow so much pain medication into my system before we landed. We were getting close to Plano when I heard the captain telling the co-pilot that the weather was coming in and we needed to get landed. While we were landing, I could feel and hear the wind blowing the helicopter around. I knew these guys were trying to land on the hospital roof with an April thunderstorm over Plano. I seriously didn’t care what happened at that point. I sunk into this low depression that nothing mattered at this point. Today, I’m so thankful for the skilled pilots who landed that helicopter precisely in the cold front wind blowing over that hospital. The hospital crew threw open the door, and so many medical professionals were waiting for me. They rolled me into the hospital and a trauma room with different doctors. I believed I wasn’t hurt enough to warrant so much attention. I kept asking for something to help with my pain, and the doctors kept telling me that they had to get through the test before they could give me anything. I felt like I went through 20 medical machines before they finally said I could have pain medication.
Morphine was the first relief I felt since the accident. I was lying in the trauma room when I heard a familiar voice demanding to come into the room. I was only in Plano for maybe an hour; how could he be here already? Trooper Eric Blades entered the room with a look of fear I’ll never forget. I looked into his eyes and asked the question. The question he had to answer for me. Something I’ll never forget how he handled. Being a good friend and a trooper, this had to be one of the hardest things for him to do. I asked Eric how Brian was. Eric looked at me with genuine eyes and face and gave me the death notification of Brain. This notification was the moment that changed my life. Eric’s words to me were, “We lost Brian, Joe.” That’s the moment I lost all composers. All I could remember after that was Eric and John Hobbs watching over me until the hospital staff moved me to a room. Once they moved me to a room, Eric told me that Plano Police Officers would stand guard at my door until my family arrived. What an honor to know they had my six when I was down. The blue family is so strong in times of need. The two officers that stood watch over my door thank you so much! I am so grateful. So many local officers and family made the trip that night to check on me. To everyone, if you ever happen to read this, thank you. You are all amazing. Later, I discovered my family had a police escort from Hugo, OK, to Plano, TX. They had Troopers from Oklahoma and Texas and many other departments from Paris, TX, and Bonham, TX. They blocked intersections to get my family to me as fast as possible. What family is stronger than the Blue family? In my opinion, there isn’t anything more substantial. After hearing this, you can only imagine how proud I was to be a part of this family.
Brian’s Funeral
The next few days were a blur for me. I was released from the hospital the next day. After several tests and specialists looking at my x-rays, they determined that my hip was just extremely bruised and had not cracked, so off I was on crutches. I cannot explain the guilt I felt. The only way to describe it is survivor guilt. Why am I alive and Brian isn’t? Why am I just about walking away with cuts and bruises and a good man, a good deputy, a good American gone? I didn’t go home immediately. I don’t recall how many days I stayed in Dallas or what I even did. I just knew I wasn’t ready to go back. I didn’t let anyone know I was home when I returned. I couldn’t hear another person tell me how sorry they were. My social media was so busy with everyone checking on me that I turned my phone off. I didn’t want to hear or see anyone. The day of Brian's Funeral was tough. Everyone told me that I didn't have to go. I was thinking, 'How in the hell can you say that to me,' of course I was going! The day of the Funeral would be the first day I put my uniform back on. Class A, all pressed and ready to go. Boots polished and brass shining. I still couldn't walk without the assistance of crutches, but I would still show and honor Brian's sacrifice. Brian's Funeral would be the first Law Enforcement funeral I have attended, and since then, I have been to 8. I'll always remember how many LEOs came to support Brain and his family. I was still very distraught and don't remember much of the Funeral, but I do remember this. Leaving the Funeral, the Undersheriff Terry Park came and found me and said, "You may try to dodge everyone else, but you are not dodging me." He gave me the biggest hug of support that he could have, and we both just cried.
When something tragic like this happens, you don’t know how much those moments mean, but years later, you will. I was trying to dodge everyone, not speaking to anyone if I didn’t have to. But for Terry to make sure he got to me before I got into the car was something I needed at the time. The Funeral procession was terrific; as I said, so many different agencies and officers were there. I didn’t make it to the gravesite, and to this day, I wish I would have. This was when I needed support to push me out of my comfort zone, support I didn’t have. Brian was laid to rest on Thursday, the 27th of April. You will never understand how many lives can change so much in a week.
Part 2 (Career Ending)
I sat in the office with the best testifying face and demeanor I could ever have. Johnny Depp couldn’t have performed better than I did that day. I was like most of us and thought this brain shit was a joke, and not once took it seriously…
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