by Christina Stevens
He was doing his job… It was as pure as that – he was doing his job.
The head of the Ontario Provincial Police was trying to explain how 37-year-old Cst. Vu Pham could be gunned down, mid-morning as the sun beamed down on a quiet country road.
What a cruel, unforgiving price to pay, for simply doing your job.
It’s a delicate balance. In dealing with stories of tragedy as a journalist I care, and care deeply, about the people involved and the lives they touched. You cannot become emotionally involved though or it will impact both your ability to tell the story and your own well being. Many of us deal with it in much the same way firefighters and police officers do. Yet it is someone doing exactly one of those jobs, who has breached my journalistic distance.
Photo by Matt Ryan
I could not help but for a moment, imagine the fear Pham faced as he fought for his life. Would pictures of his wife, and his three sons flash through his mind as he crumpled into the mud and snow on the side of the road? Would he have time to remember the last few words he spoke to each of them? Would it be regret over an angry exchange…or a moment held, a cherished memory that made him know he was loved and loved in return?
Or would there be none of that? No time to consider, no thought, but the instinct of survival. Your heart thumping, the rush of adrenaline as you face what no one should have to. Your training kicking in automatically. You know each step you should take before you even move. But even that was not enough.
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Then the call to your family…the burden on your colleague, perhaps your friend who has to tell your family to come to the hospital, "Come quickly, there may not be much time." Your wife, for a moment perhaps, not quite believing it. She has likely played this nightmare out in her mind many times before as the spouse of any police officer would. The desperate hope, the bargaining with God, "Just let him be OK… Please God… just let him get through this. Please."
The children, your sons…the one who has your smile or maybe your eyes. How could they possibly understand this? After surviving their grief, how could they not become bitter and angry, that someone could do this to their father?
Ontario Provincial Police (OPP) Cst. Vu Pham
Your other loved ones…whether they're parents, siblings, cousins, or aunts and uncles. They were so proud of you, you had to know that.
I don't presume to know truly what any of them are feeling or doing. I only know that I put myself there, imagined myself in their shoes, all too easily, for a very good reason. I am convinced Pham loved his job as a police officer as much as my brother does. Going to work every day knowing he is doing the right thing, despite the risk. Pham was a constable, as is my brother. Pham was 37; my brother, 35. Pham was on the job for 15 years; my brother, 10. Pham is survived by three children. My brother has three children.
I can envision this horror descending on my family.
Vu Pham, as your colleagues tip their hats to you, I can only touch my hand over my heart and say thank you for doing your job.
I extend my condolences to your wife Heather, your three children, 12-year-old Tyler, 10-year-old Jordan, and Joshua, just seven years old. To them, I am sorry that it cost you so much for your dad to be out there just doing his job.
As pure as that, doing his job.
Christina is one of Global National's correspondents based in Toronto.
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