How I Remember it
Mar 19
PROLOGUE
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Last week Rick called and asked if we had watched Southland yet. My parents have satellite so they were able to see the East Coast feed. I told him we hadn’t.
“Don’t, sweetie. Your mom and I would prefer you didn’t.”
“Is it bad?”
“Yes.”
“Okay we won’t watch it.”
I hung up the phone and told Hot Joe. Then I started to cry a little.
“I guess it’s a car accident.”
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How I Remember it
AUGUST 2, 1979
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I was 8-1/2 and Beth was 6. School was starting soon. Mom and Beth and I were living in a townhouse.  My parents had recently separated.Â
I don’t know what time it was but Beth and I were both in bed. Â She was asleep but I was still awake. Â I heard the phone ring and a bit later I heard Mom yell out. Â I waited a beat to see what would happen next and then headed downstairs, wondering what was wrong.
The phone call was what I think of as one of the L.A.P.D.’s biggest mistakes. Â From what I was later told, and again this is from the memory of an 8-1/2 year-old, Mom answered the phone to a police family friend, Bimmy, wife of Pete. Â When Mom began to exchange pleasantries with her, Bimmy quickly realized Mom hadn’t been told, so she took it upon herself to tell my mom, “Jim’s been shot.”
I don’t know who Mom called first – Aunt Sharon (Daddy’s sister) or the police department, but Aunt Sharon was over in minuTes, and in the meantime mom was informed that Daddy had in fact not been shot; he had been in a car accident. Â They were sending some officers over to tell her about it.
I wonder what Mom was thinking then, though I’ve never thought to ask. Â Did she think they were going to take her to the hospital to see her husband, who maybe had a ruptured spleen or a broken elbow? Â Deep down did she know the only reason why they send officers to another officer’s home is to make a notification? Â Was she aware she was just waiting to hear that her husband was dead? Â How awful! Â How dare the L.A.P.D. make such a grievous error.
I remember when they got there.  Mom went outside and I stayed inside with Aunt Sharon.  My maternal grandmother may have even been there at that time as well, but I don’t know if she went with Mom or stayed inside.  My other grandmother, Aunt Sharon and Daddy’s mom, hadn’t been told anything at this point – as far as I know.
The notification was made outside, I assume so I wouldn’t see, but when Mom walked in the house some time later and I saw the expression on her face and the mascara pouring down her face I knew. Â I don’t remember being told. Â I do remember saying I wish it had all been a dream.
I had always known the basics of how the accident had happened, but I thought he had been chasing a car. Â I found out only a few years ago that my facts were slightly incorrect.
Daddy had been on a call, en route to a scene, and he crossed through an intersection in an unmarked (undercover) car without lights spinning. Â A drunk driver broad-sided my dad, who always insisted on 1) Driving; and 2) Wearing a seatbelt. Â Reportedly he was killed instantly. Â Daddy’s partner later told Mom that when he regained consciousness Daddy looked like he was simply sleeping. Â There was no blood or gore. Â They had to use the jaws of life to get him out but his body ‘looked’ intact.
I slept with Mom in her bed that night. Â In the morning, Mom, Grandma, Beth and I all sat at the kitchen table and held hands. Â Mom told Beth Daddy had been in a car accident. Â Beth asked, “Was he hurt?” Â Mom told her yes. Â ”Bad?” Â Mom told her yes. Â ”Where?” Â Mom said, “In his heart.” Â That’s all she said. Â She never actually told Beth that Daddy had died. Â That always amazed me.
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Southland
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I talked to Mom on Wednesday and asked her how bad the scene was she didn’t want me to see.  She said it was awful for her to watch and had a very strong effect on her.  She told me the exact scene I could watch up to before I should stop.  I asked if it was a car accident.  She confirmed that it was and it bore a lot of similarities to Daddy’s accident.  I told her I thought I wanted to watch it. I needed to watch it.
It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.  It was two male cops.  They were turned around and stopped in an intersection and an unsuspecting vehicle plowed into them.  It was loud – so loud.  The passenger cop took a minute to come to his wits and broke out of the car.  The driver was covered in blood and appeared to be unconscious.  Or possibly dead.  I guess we’ll find out with the next episode, but it’s the season finale so there could be a cliff-hanger.  I wasn’t affected like Mom was.  Maybe it’s because her memory is so much more vivid and mine is of an 8-year-old child.  Maybe it’s because this was her husband, who although recently estranged still loved her and was still the father of her daughters, who were now left without their daddy.
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Post Script
On June 2, 1983 L.A.P.D. Officer Paul Verna was shot to death in the line of duty. Â Mom called the L.A.P.D. and told them, “Please. Â Give his wife my phone number. Â I know what she’s going through. Â I understand how she feels. Â I can help her.”
With this call additional calls were made, plans put in place and the Los Angeles Police Department Family Support Group was formed. Incidentally, this website reports that Officer Verna’s wife was the one who reached out for help. This is incorrect. Mom made that first call, and I have always been in awe of her for reaching out blindly like she did to help a complete stranger, but a member of the L.A.P.D. family and a fellow widow. With the birth of the Family Support Group came a complete change in the policies and procedures following the death of an officer in the line of duty.
I’m at a loss at how to end this, so I will simply leave you with a photograph, one of my favorites, shot in the late 1970s when Daddy was working Vice. I wish you could see my nephews and my sister and my cousins and how that face and even his voice and personality lives on in them all. As for the personality trait that leads a person to put their whole life in a blog replete with curse words and at times inappropriateness but a fierce love for my family – that I got from him. Mom cringes at some of the things I say. Daddy would laugh out loud.
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James Joseph Choquette, working Vice
For reflections on my dad (and every U.S. fallen police officer) by other officers, family members and even strangers, visit the  Officer Down Memorial Page.
I’m so sorry for your loss. How upsetting
Thank you. It’s not as bad as it was, although writing about it does bring up a bit of sadness.
Wow, I’m speechless. Wonderfully written, so powerful. Love the pic of your dad.
Thanks Kerstin. I absolutely LOVE this pic.
So sorry for your loss. I cannot imagine losing a parent…especially at such a young age. A sa child of the 70s I love your Dad’s picture.
It is SUCH a 70s shot, isn’t it. I always used to think, “I can’t believe I’m one of those kids who has one parent.”
Kim, Kim, Kim, Kim….. Once again, that was incredibly moving. You have a gift
U.C.
Thanks U.C. xxoo I forget how young you were. Geez, how weird for you.
So sorry for your loss – what a terrible tragedy. Your Mom is an amazingly resilient person to take her pain and use it to help others; to form a support group that I am sure has helped so many. I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose your father at such a young age but I have no doubt he would be very proud of his daughters and his wife.
He would be so thrilled about what she started, and he would be madly in love with his grandsons.
What an amazing post – what a terrible, vivid tragedy. It’s wonderful that much of what you remember of him lives on in family and in support organizations, and clearly, in your writing.
Thank you so much. Such a compliment from the likes of you and your amazing flare for words.
Wow, Kim. Brilliantly written and so moving. I’m sorry for the loss of your daddy.
Thanks Erica. I was totally expecting an email with suggestions on how I could have done it better.
Wow. What a horrible thing to endure. But bravo to your mom for helping other wives. Your writing is amazing. Keep up the good work.
Thank you very much. I’ll keep trying.
Brought me to tears. That’s my favorite picture too.
xxoo Do you see you and Elijah and Beth? I often wish of all the boys I could see how he would have related to you with your similarities, like Beth. Mom says she sees Sierra in the picture.
I totally see Elijah!
Beautiful Kimmy.
He wanted me to teach him how to braid your hair in case anything should ever happen to me.
You blog is perfect.
Thanks Mommy. You never did teach him, did you? You deserve the credit that you got as well. xxoo
It’s a terrible thing to lose your father at any time, but especially so young. Moving story. Your mom may cringe at some of your blog posts but I would think she’d be proud of this one.
People Do Things With Their Lives
She is. Very proud. She takes the good with the ‘bad.’
incredibly moving. thank you for sharing this. i’m so very sorry for your loss.
Thank you for your kind words!
How many years have passed and still emotions bubble up as if it was yesterday… death sucks.
Kim, you did such a wonderful job with this post. Fascinating that you remember seeing it through the eyes of a child, but now – a Mom yourself – you have a greater appreciation for what your Mom experienced. Really. This is amazing.
P.S. Death sucks
Ah Lenore. Death DOES suck. That’s all you needed to say. Thanks for the kind words too. xxoo
So so moving.
So very moving.
And then: that photograph, again.
He is so very beautiful. And so was this post.
Thanks for writing it my dear. So sad that happened to him, and to you and your family.
Thank you Ado. It felt really therapeutic to share it like I did.
I’m so sad that you lost your father and in such a way and at such a young age (for you both). His eyes are amazing. So much life in them. This post will stay with me for a long time.
Thanks Jennifer.
My sister has the identical eyes.
So beautiful and moving and powerful. What an incredible family you have. Thank you for sharing this with us.
What a great photo of your dad and when you said this..”I wish you could see my nephews and my sister and my cousins and how that face and even his voice and personality lives on in them all.”…I smiled. I could just imagine how you would see flashes of him in your loved ones.
So very beautiful.
Thank you. I truly love to see glimpses of him. My Aunt tells me my little cousin Elijah who is I think 6 is hands-down my dad at that age. I LOVE it.
It still makes my heart cry. We were all so young and innocent. I remember so many things about that time. When your parents meet, married and you and Beth arriving. Your Mom so loved your Father. He was a good and decent man. So many policeman showed up at the funeral. They all respected him as a fellow officer. I sat their with your Mom while they handed her the flag. It was so unreal. It was a tremendous loss for all of us. Memories fad but the heart never forgets. I am so sorry for your loss.
See, I don’t remember you were sitting with us but I imagine you would have been. It was so overwhelming. I do remember getting the flag though. Such a HUGE funeral and mom says there were a group of men that Daddy had arrested there as well. He was very respected. xxoo
Oh hon, I am so sorry. So beautifully written. I think I held my breath the whole time I read about the accident. I kept hoping, that like the report that he’d been shot, they would be wrong about the car accident too. I think it is a beautiful thing you are doing, keeping your dad alive through your blog. *hugs*
I actually like that you hoped and wondered. Thank you so much for the love.
I need a minute after reading that. I always look forward to your posts, but this one was something even more than the usual. A tough thing to talk about, but done beautifully. And brava to your mom.
Thank you so much and I agree; brava to Mom.
What an incredible story to share. I’m so sorry you had to go through this, and at such a young age, too! thank you for sharing this story. It’s so well written and moving. And I think it’s particularly amazing that your mom helped to form that support group. That takes a special person. Sounds like your dad was pretty special too.
Oh Daddy was awesome. Popular, handsome, LOVED HIS GIRLS. And I think the timing was right for Mom to reach out. One day I’ll write about the support group and what she started in more depth. It’s pretty amazing actually.
the way you wrote that. amazing. so sorry for your loss.
Thank you Tara.
Wow.
I don’t even know what to say. I am sad for you.
But I applaud you for having the strength to write about it and to move forward and make him proud.
Bravo, sweet girl. Bravo.
Thank you Carrie. It felt good.
Such a great post. I’m so sorry you lost your dad, particularly so young. Thank you for sharing your story with us.
Thank you for your condolences and for reading what I’ve shared.
This is a beautiful tribute to your dad and even your mom really. Besides the emotion of the piece which you handle beautifully, honestly and without manipulation, you have nice movement in this piece. I like the way you start the piece with the phone call, then move to the events of THE DAY, and then move to your mom’s story and her generosity in reaching out to someone in need. Loved it. Truly. Very touched. Erin
Thank you so much Erin. You know I put a lot of work into how I formatted it, so it means a lot to have that noticed.
Wow…I’m in awe and moved to tears. What a horrible memory for the 8 year old you to have of your daddy.
I’m so very sorry.
Thanks Jen. As an adult I can look back and feel sad for “her.”
Kim that was so touching. I cried the entire time I was reading. I love that picture of your daddy, I don’t know why but it made me smile. And kudos to your mom. What an amazing woman. Now I see why you’re so awesome *wink*
Haha…my awesome TOTALLY comes from him (okay and a little from Mom – my momness especially). How could that picture not make ANYONE smile? I think it rocks. And thanks for the sentiments.
I read the first 2 paragraphs and can’t go any further. I’m sorry. I love you.
I don’t know if I could in your place. I love you too.
All my love to you Kim and Beth and Karen for all you courage and love always! His spirit definitely lives in and through all of you. Always has and always will. I wish I could of known him, but through all of you I’ve loved him all the same. Kisses and hugs.
Thanks Win. xxoo
Beautiful Kim! I really like Daddy stories like this. I grew up with my Grandma and deep down I have always wondered how it would be to grew up with a Dad. This is a very beautiful way of remembering your Dad. He still lives on.
Thanks Ava. Thank god for my mom, who got us through it all.
Thank you so much for sharing this with us. Beautifully written and extremely heart felt. Unbelievable post!
Thank you so much.
thank you so much – i love how how brave and honest you, your writing and your mother are. you all deserve a giant hug, and big thank you for sharing this story and selflessly helping others in the same situation. best -susan
Hug accepted.
Wow is all I can say. This was beautifully written. You and your mom are amazing women. And your dad was one handsome guy.
Thank you!
THanks for sharing what I’m sure continues to be a painful memory so beautifully. And the pic of your dad was a perfect way to end the post – what a heroic looking man wiht such soulful eyes. I’m sure you feel this loss every day. Beautiful post!
Thank you very much. I really love that pic.
This is a wonderful tribute to both of your parents. It’s so important for us to remember the danger that police officers put themselves into to protect us. In today’s climate of grumbling and shouting about a lot of public servants, it’s even more important. Thank you.
Thank YOU. Firefighters, too. My sister married a FF and we were all a bit worried initially. Proud but worried.
As I was reading this, my 8.5 year breezed through the room. I cannot imagine what your family went/goes through.
I am so sorry for your loss. I love the picture of your daddy. You have his spunk, G.
Kerry at HouseTalkN
Tremendous post, Kim. I felt like I was there with you. My condolences.
Thank you so much Jay.
I simply cannot imagine a more terrifying or heartbreaking night for an 8 year old to go through. My heart goes out to you, your family, and especially your mother. God bless you all.
Thank you Abby. Terrifying is a word I hadn’t thought of. So true!
This was an awesome memorial of your dad and a fine tribute to your mom. What tragedy you had to endure at such a young age! You ladies were so brave and to have sparked a movement to support others – that’s moving mountains.
Thanks Nami.
–Kim, your daddy is such a beautiful man.
I am so very sorry for your loss. I know the pain and loss NEVER goes away.
Sending you love from Minnesota. xx
Thank you Kim. You’re right, the pain is always under the surface.
Oh Kim, what a story, what a family! I assume your father was always your hero, but from what you have disclosed of your mother, I do believe she is one too.
You are absolutely right.
Beautifully written. Without having experienced anything like this, your post makes me feel as if I had. It speaks to the paradoxes of humanity on so many levels. I am sorry for your loss, glad for your courage to get this out so eloquently, and grateful to have read it.
Thank you so much Kim. Compliments from the likes of you feel wonderful.
Kim,
I totally agree with Uncle Craig – you have a gift. Thank you for sharing that, even though you’re making my eyes leak and a big lump in my throat. I’ve always said Uncle Jim was my favorite uncle as a kid because he just made me laugh. Makes me want to go home and hug Elijah and tell him all about your dad. Love you, Cuz.
I love you too Tom, and when you hug Elijah tell him how much his grandma says he is like his Uncle Jim. She says he looks and acts just like Daddy at that age. Look at the picture. Elijah looks just like him!!!! Yay Choquette genes!!!!