This week, has been a horrific week for the St. Tammany’s Parish Sheriff’s Office.  Two deaths occurred, both freakish, one yesterday.  Here is a Letter to the Editor from James Hartman who worked with the decedents at the St. Tammany Parish Sheriff’s Office.  He was Public Information Officer from 1996-2005 and knew who he calls  “Beau” and “Hilery” as both worked as patrol deputies, both in the northern district of the parish.  Both of them started in the Parish Jail, while Hartman was hired specifically to be PIO.

Erstwhile Victims of Circumstance

I’m tired of people I know – young people – dying.  I’m especially tired of sheriff’s deputies and police officers dying.  I tell myself it shouldn’t happen.  I tell myself that all lives have value and that theirs are no different.  But as someone who proudly carried a badge for nine years, it knocks the breath out of me when one of these men and women “passes on,” particularly in sudden and unforeseeable ways.

I can’t pretend that Hilery and Beau were close friends of mine.  I knew them – Beau much better than Hilery – and I worked with them for nearly a decade.  We started working at the Sheriff’s Office at almost the same time.  They were younger than I am.  And they have both died within a week.

Both were unforgettable, each in his own way.  One can never forget a man named Hilery, particularly one who stands about 6’3” and weighs 250 pounds.  Hilery made himself even more memorable with his easygoing manner, his stoicism, his quiet efficiency and complete lack of self-aggrandizement.  I don’t know that we ever had a conversation that went beyond, “Hello, Deputy Mayo” and the response of “Hello, sir,” or even just a polite nod.  I know Hilery’s brother Jeff rather well, though.  He is a good man, a good friend, and another good deputy.

Beau was unforgettable for different reasons.  Cocksure and occasionally overbearing, he was about 5’9” and 150 pounds.  He had multiple tattoos, which seemed to run contrary to his boy-next-door appearance.  He was smart and smart-alecky, which means we were a lot alike.  I have many memories of Beau.

I remember trying to recruit Beau to work for me when he was still assigned to the jail.  He declined because he wanted to be a “road deputy,” even though the position with me would have meant more freedom, more money, a “company” car, and more visibility with the “brass.” I respected his decision to put ambition over expediency.

I remember that a few years ago Beau decided for some cockamamie reason that I “owed him dinner.”  I don’t remember what the reason was, but it was silly; still, I tried a couple of time to pay that debt.  Scheduling never worked and eventually I gave up.

I remember Beau grabbing a cigarette from my mouth and crushing it on the pavement because he hated that I smoke.  That was the only time I think I was angry at him, but now it makes me smile.

I remember one night being behind a very reckless driver. Forbidden to make traffic stops in my unmarked unit, I grabbed my radio and called for a marked car.  Beau was closest and responded first.

I remember when Beau put in for a promotion to corporal, he asked me to help him write his letter.  I did.  He got his stripes and I was proud of him.

I remember a few years back when I took to writing a “word of the day” on the board in the squad room and challenging deputies to use them in their reports.  One word was “erstwhile.”  In the entire Records Room at the Sheriff’s Office, there is probably only one report with the word “erstwhile” in it.  Beau wrote it.  He was proud of it.

I remember when Beau bought himself a bright blue sports car and came to the office to show it off.  He said he’d take me for a ride in it.  We never made that happen, and I don’t even know if he kept it long.

A few years ago, Beau got transferred to the northern district, the farthest from my office – or any office, in fact.  I didn’t see him too much after that, and we weren’t the kind of friends who called each other or went out to dinner – even though I “owed” him one.  We were more than passing acquaintances, less than good buddies.

Hilery died last Saturday responding to a call of a person or dead body lying in or alongside a rural highway.  He lost control of his vehicle, apparently, and struck a tree.  There was no person, no body.

Beau died today leaving Hilery’s funeral, when a bad storm rolled through the area and a tree fell on his car.  His passenger, a 911 operator, Mary, has neck and spinal injuries.  She’s probably having surgery as I write this, attended by her mother and my dear friend Matt.  There was supposed to have been another deputy in the car, but he decided at the last minute to ride with someone else.

Both Hilery and Beau died young.  Hilery was 32.  Beau, I think, was 35.  Hilery died in service to his community; Beau died while honoring Hilery.  Both deaths knocked the proverbial wind out of me.

Both Hilery and Beau were victims of circumstance and nothing more.  Some will call these “acts of God,” but I don’t think that’s the best terminology.  God didn’t do it, but God will bring comfort to those who grieve and turn tragedy into victory.  It’s what He does.  It’s His job, if you will.

I used to keep a poem in my office that I would read whenever a deputy or police officer was killed in the line of duty, anywhere, under any circumstances. I still have a copy somewhere. It begins, “Somebody killed a policeman today, and a part of America died.”

Hilery and Beau were killed not by a violent predator, but by simple circumstance.  And, still, a part of America has died.

Please remember Hilery and Beau’s families in your prayers, in addition to Mary, her family, and caregivers.  And remember the brave men and women who put on uniforms every day, drive our streets, and risk their lives so we can be safe.  Remember the 911 operators and dispatchers who stay up all night so we can sleep knowing there’s help only three phone buttons away.  Hilery and Beau would like that.  Mary deserves it.  They all do.

 James Hartman is a political consultant, writer and is a contributor to Bayoubuzz