Hollywood dramas weave tales of police officers drawn into the line of fire in pursuit of drug dealers, human traffickers and thieves. The reality of last week's Seaforth-area shooting, by contrast, was that Constable Vu Pham was caught in the crossfire of family violence.
Susan Melkert, executive director of Family Services Perth-Huron, quickly made the link when she heard about the crime. In an interview, she admitted her first response was to wonder if there had ever been any contact between accused shooter Fred Preston's wife and the collection of organizations which work together to provide services to area residents threatened by domestic violence. And she wondered how things might have been different if intervention had been possible from a number of avenues: highly confidential counselling services; safe and confidential shelters; the often (but not always) court-mandated Partner Abuse Response program.
It's impossible to reach into the mind of a person who drives all the way from Sundridge to Seaforth, rifle in hand, then somehow leaves the residence of his estranged wife without carrying out the act he, apparently, came to complete. And it's equally impossible to understand why, a short time later, a dedicated father and church community member - a “quiet man” who would give anything for his family - became the victim of the shooter's tortured rationalizations.
Our society attaches great gravity to the killing of a police officer. But it seems certain this crime would not have occurred if a man had not first envisioned the murder of his wife.
All life is sacred. Despite the fact that the family of Preston's wife, if she had been killed last week, may not have benefited from the support of the entire North American policing fraternity, along with the heartstrings of a general public acutely affected by the media coverage given this crime, it would have, nonetheless, been a tragedy of equal proportions.
We, in St. Marys, know this to be true. Extreme violence of any kind is rare here, just as it is in northeast Huron County. The weekend of July 13-15, 2001, may seem a long time ago but, for the many St. Marys-area residents who felt the painful reverberations of two separate murder-suicides over the span of three days, we know the scars that can be left by domestic-related deaths.
Those close to police officers prepare, over years, for the all-too-frequent eventuality of death in the line of duty. So it's no surprise that grief for their loss is given eloquent and passionate voice, through coverage in the media of statements by relatives, friends and fellow members of the force.
Had Preston's wife been killed, it's unlikely we would have heard such elevated praise for her achievements and attributes. Instead, we probably would have heard clumsy attempts at memorialization, followed by requests for privacy, and possibly dissenting claims about her character from estranged in-laws or friends of her husband.
Indeed, we saw exactly this a few days later in the Belleville area, after a consumed-by-anger teen allegedly shot his estranged girlfriend, her mother and her sister. And thinking back to 2001, it's also what we heard - either in the media or in on-the-street comments whispered away from the prying reporters - in the wake of this town's incomprehensible weekend of domestic violence.
Unlike responses to police officer deaths, responses on behalf of victims of domestic violence don't generally adhere to agreed-upon policies and procedures. Yet, without delving into the specifics of each case of domestic violence, it's impossible to generalize that the victims are anything other than what Constable Vu Pham was: an innocent bystander, pursuing an altruistic goal of making the world better, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Do we, as communities, need to better prepare ourselves for such crimes? Should we distribute leaflets and emails advising how to respond to requests for interviews? Should we appoint representatives to speak on behalf of us all? Will this help us to more compassionately grieve high-profile crimes?
It seems unlikely everyone would receive the information, nor buy into the strategy. There may be, however, a better way to achieve a similar goal: strive to end domestic violence.
In word and action, make it plain to your neighbours and the youth of this town that it's unacceptable to take lightly threats of domestic violence. Make yourself aware of the services available to potential victims and potential perpetrators. And make yourself aware of how you can safely and effectively inform these people about such services.
For this information, visit the provincially-funded website www.neighboursfriendsandfamilies.ca. Or call Family Services Perth-Huron at 273-1020. “There's no wrong door,” explained Melkert, when asked what happens if her organization can't directly provide advice. “If we know somebody needs help . . . we'll help them navigate through to get the information they need.”
Police officers, meanwhile, carry with them a list of domestic violence contacts.
If doing these things decreases by even one the number of domestic crimes, it should be seen as a victory. One fewer domestic crime in the Seaforth area, after all, might have saved Constable Vu Pham.