By Mark David Blum, Esq.
Every once in a while, someone passes through your life, if only for a fleeting moment, yet the impression they make upon you changes you forever. Last night, I learned that one such person whom I met had died. Not quite sure how to react, I feel a certain sadness and loss and know that today some people are hurting quite a bit.
What brings me to write is that apparently, this is the first place in the public arena that the news of a Syracuse Police Officer having committed suicide Friday night is being made known. How the Main Stream Media and local chat radio missed this story is offensive.
I have no personal interest in seeing harm brought onto the Officer’s family or friends nor am I going to repeat his name here. But a police officer committed suicide. We should know why. When I brought the issue to a public discussion arena where other officers are known to lurk, the deceased was reported to be a “punk” who “did us all a favor” and whose death “served justice.” I have no idea what went down here, but it sounds like something more ominous that just one man’s lost debate with the Devil.
Whatever others may say about him; let me eulogize him this way. One afternoon, on the eve of the Todeschini funeral, I found myself in a “cop bar” with some friends. Plenty of SPD were around and I was “made” instantly. Now and then as time went on, one or another of the people at the bar would make a comment or send a dig in my direction. One very tall and obviously leader of the pack stood out. I approached him and he introduced himself as being a police officer from Montreal who was here for the funeral.
Being impressed, I wanted to chat with the Montreal officer and share my own experiences with some of Quebec’s finest. Five words of French later, it was obvious this guy was NOT from Montreal and probably was not even Canadian. He then introduced himself as ‘Callahan’ to which I promptly gushed with amazement that I finally got to meet the Famous Inspector Callahan. In the end, the guy came clean and eventually gave me a card.
We had a wonderful conversation that night. I learned more about police and their perspective on the world in those few tequila splashed hours than all the hours on my feet in court rooms. What I learned there, stayed there. Inspector Callahan was one of those active contributors to that conversation.
His words, like his smile and attitude, will haunt me forever. Clearly, I am a better person as a result of having met him. Whatever demon drove him into his hell, I pray he finally found peace.
