A policing career involves dealing with many things most people never see. Death is often one of those. You attend scenes where one or more people have died. It can be a natural death, accidental or due to a criminal action. My first death scene was an old lady who had passed away in her sleep in 1974.  A neighbor had gone to check on her, finding her lifeless body in her bed. We responded to all deaths that did not occur in a hospital setting under medical supervision.  I was assigned to stay with the body while the senior constable interviewed the witnesses.  I read a lot of Stephen King novels back in the day so needless to say my imagination ran wild as I stood watch over this poor old lady. 

That was short-lived, thank God, when the ambulance arrived and took the body to the morgue.  I drew the short and only straw, so I attended the autopsy the next day.  The medical examiner was very professional, explaining everything as he worked away on the deceased. It made the experience more interesting than unpleasant.  (But not by much 😊). 

I can’t say I ever got used to seeing dead bodies but once the initial shock was gone, you just got on with the job.  I don’t think any first responder would argue, it is the death of children that stays with you long after the scene has been finished. Whether or not you have children, the death of a child is a difficult event to cover.   The following is a poem I wrote about one such occurrence at a house fire in a small community on the north-east coast of Newfoundland and Labrador in the early 1980’s.

Frozen Scream

Smoke rose in wispy trails

From the remains of the house,

The home

We lifted the girl’s body onto

The stretcher next

To the charred roast

That was her baby brother

Her little body stiff, soot covered

Taken from a living room chair

Where she had tried to escape

Pushing back from the approaching flames

Her tiny face contorted into

A frozen scream

The weight was light but the burden

The burden of two small souls

Weighed heavy on our hearts

We placed the stretcher in

The waiting ambulance

Closing the door on

A memory that would

Wander through our dreams

Forever