Last week, for the second time since I was elected Lieutenant Governor, one of Delaware’s emergency responders was killed in the line of duty. In late December, Delaware City volunteer firefighter Michelle Smith was killed by a motorist while she was assisting an accident victim. Then last week, Patrolman Chad Spicer was killed by a gunman who he was pursuing in connection with an earlier shooting. Michelle and Chad were both 29 years old, and they both left behind young children—Michelle’s daughter Emily was 12 at the time of Michelle’s death, Chad’s daughter Aubrey was only three.
I went down to Georgetown on Friday afternoon to visit with Chad’s parents Norman and Ruth Ann, after checking with a mutual friend to make sure I would not be intruding. I realized when I arrived that I know Ruth Ann—she works for a Sussex County doctor with whom I worked on insurance issues when I was Insurance Commissioner. And I was just one of many people at the house, including the Spicers’ minister and a member of the Georgetown Police Department. Ruth Ann told me that members of the department had been at their side literally every minute since the shooting.
My conversation with the Spicers was private, but I can tell you that they were torn between unspeakable grief and the enormous pride they had in their son. They showed me a framed picture that they had taken just a few weeks ago of Chad and Aubrey at her pre-school graduation, with Aubrey in a three-year-old sized cap and gown and her dad beaming. And while they were showing me the picture, Aubrey woke up from a nap and wandered into the living room where Chad’s parents and I were sitting. She was carrying the same Elmo cup that my boys, only six months older than her, have. That was when it truly hit home for me.
Friday night, there was a candlelight vigil for Chad on the Circle in Georgetown, and well over a thousand people (including Vice President Biden) came out to pay tribute to his memory. Ruth Ann chose to speak to the crowd, something that took extraordinary courage just three days after her son had been slain. I was sitting behind Norman and Ruth Ann during the program, and they were overwhelmed by the number of people that had turned out to honor Chad. I noticed something else: it was a crowd that had people of every nationality, every ethnic background, from every corner of the city. The vigil itself was organized by La Esperanza, a Georgetown organization that services Mexican and Guatemalan immigrants. I don’t think any of this was an accident, or purely the result of Chad being a police officer. It was a testament to the sheer number of people who he had touched in the course of his lifetime in Georgetown and his career in law enforcement.
During the candlelight vigil, Aubrey noticed that her father’s squad car was sitting, with a black ribbon and flowers on the hood, in front of the stage. She pointed to it and said to her grandmother, “that’s daddy’s car. Where’s daddy?”. For Chad Spicer, who sacrificed his life trying to protect the city and the people he loved, we Delawareans have an obligation to play whatever small part we can in filling the void that his death has left in Aubrey’s life.
