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I was left alone in that parking lot with Chad’s empty cruiser and the red Firebird he had stopped. If asked how long I remained there I would swear that it had been several hours, when in actuality it was probably 20 minutes. Looking back, those minutes were some of the longest in my life.
On April 5, 1997, I was working as a reserve police officer for the city of Auburn.
As a reserve officer, I was unpaid and mainly there to gain valuable experience. Reserves weren’t allowed to drive the cruisers or work alone, nor did we handle any paperwork.
On this evening, like many before, I rode with Officer Eric Syphers. Having both served in the Marine Corps and being the same age, there was a natural bond between us.
Around 8:45 p.m., we were assisting another officer at the scene of a domestic argument. The boyfriend had decided to leave, and we were standing by waiting for him to finish packing. As we were about to depart we heard the familiar voice of Officer Chad Syphers, Eric’s younger brother, crackle across the two-way radio. He was stopping a car for hitting the curb in front of Roy’s All Steak Hamburgers on Washington Street.
Less than a minute later, as our male from the domestic was marching off into the evening, we again heard Chad over the radio. This time he was reporting that the person he stopped was a male juvenile who had admitted to having no license and taking his father’s car without permission. Being only half a mile away, Eric Syphers keyed his portable radio and asked Chad if he wanted us to head over and assist. The reply was yes; we rushed to the location.
When we arrived, we found Chad’s cruiser in the parking lot behind a red sports car. We could see a teen boy and girl standing by the right front tire of the red car, but all I could see of Chad was his feet sticking out from the front of the red vehicle. From my angle I thought Chad was looking under the car for damage from the curb.Advertisement
I was wrong. Dead wrong.
Eric had a better view of his brother and yelled, “He’s down!” I radioed to dispatch that we were with Chad while Eric went to check on him. I was right on Eric’s heels as he reached Chad; we were both horrified to see Chad lying facedown and motionless on the cold, wet pavement. Not knowing what had happened, we assumed the worst.
Eric and I both instinctively placed our hands on our weapons as we faced the driver of the stopped vehicle and his female passenger. Eric asked the two if they had done anything to Chad. Their frightened response was no. I could see in their faces that they were telling the truth; they were more scared than I was. The male teen said that Chad had suddenly leaned against the hood of the car and told them that he would be OK in a minute but, instead, collapsed to the ground.
Eric and I rolled Chad over onto his back; he was very stiff, with his eyes fixed straight ahead. He was making a moaning noise which soon turned to a horrible gurgling sound, a sound that would haunt Eric and I over the coming weeks. While Eric radioed for help I gently shook Chad and called out his name, all with no response. He did not appear to be aware of our presence. It took several attempts for Eric to get an answer on the radio. When he finally did get through, the response he received was unimaginable . . . there were no available ambulances. With no time for questions, Eric returned the radio to its holder and turned his attention back to his dying brother.
We would later learn that while we were working on Chad, one of the city’s firefighters who worked part-time as a dispatcher was successfully working on diverting a local ambulance from a non-emergency call to our location.
Eric began to remove Chad’s shirt, vest, and duty belt. As this was being done, we noticed that the gurgling had stopped. Eric asked if he was breathing. I checked for a pulse and breath; I found neither. I informed Eric that his brother had no pulse or breath. Without hesitation he told me we needed to start CPR.Advertisement
I gave two quick breaths, which Eric followed with five chest compressions. This was done a few times until Chad started to come back, but we soon lost him again.
Once more we performed CPR, and once more Chad started to fade on us. CPR was administered a third time and continued until we were relieved by paramedics from the ambulance that had been secured for us.
Chad was attached to a defibrillator. I heard the paramedic operating the machine say that Chad did not have a pulse; his words carried with him the shock and realization that my friend lay dying before me. An electric charge was given to Chad, and his heart started for the fifth time since his birth some 24 years earlier.
Chad was placed on a stretcher and rushed to a local hospital. Before the ambulance pulled away, I looked around and noticed that the area was swarmed with police officers. Many were on duty, some were off.
One off-duty deputy had run to the scene from his house three blocks away. He had heard our calls for help over his scanner and took off down the street, a radio in one hand, his gun in the other. The parking lot was filled with emergency vehicles. A group of reporters had also gathered in a section of the lot. As I walked past, one of them asked me a question. When I looked at him he must have seen the anguish in my face, for he became silent and took a step back.
The sergeant on duty ordered Eric off-duty and had him go to the hospital to be with his family. Another officer took charge of the teens and took them to the station to have their parents pick them up; no charges were filed against them. Everyone began to clear out, but I was told to stay at the scene until the detectives arrived.Advertisement
I was left alone in that parking lot with Chad’s empty cruiser and the red Firebird he had stopped. If asked how long I remained there I would swear that it had been several hours, when in actuality it was probably 20 minutes. Looking back, those minutes were some of the longest in my life.
I was alone with my emotions, in a state of shock, not knowing what could have caused a young healthy heart to stop beating, and fearing what news may come next.
That sight is permanently etched into my memory. It is now several years later, and I could easily lay out the scene showing exactly where the two cars were parked, and where Chad had been found, along with many other details.
Chad was in critical condition for days. Those days were torturous for his family and friends who were concerned for his outcome. Fortunately, after those initial few days Chad recovered quickly.
During this time I was readily accepted into the Syphers family; they were grateful for my participation in Chad’s survival. I am grateful for the appreciation and affection they showed me. Without it my emotional healing process would have taken much longer.
Chad was out of work for over 18 months. When he was cleared to return he was assigned to work as our parking enforcement officer, due to restrictions his doctor had placed on him. It took another two years before he was able to return to working as a patrolman on the bicycle team. A year after that he was promoted to detective.Advertisement
To look at Chad today he appears to be a healthy man, but to just look at him I cannot see the pacemaker that lays beneath his uniform. Combined with the pacemaker is a heart monitor and defibrillator that will remain embedded in his chest for the rest of his life. As a reminder of this he must see his cardiologist every six months in addition to the medications that he takes daily.
It took a few weeks before I stopped having flashbacks, a month longer for Eric. We managed to deal with our emotional trauma well. Seeing Chad recover was a major step toward that, and the never-ending support from family and friends was another big help. My bond with Eric is now fortified, and I have a new equally strong bond with Chad.
This experience definitely proved to myself and everyone else that I have what it takes to be a police officer. One of those impressed was Chief Robert Tiner Jr. of the Auburn Police Department. Eleven months after Chad’s cardiac arrest I was hired as a full-time patrolman and was sent off to the police academy in March 1998.
Five days after I started the police academy, Eric Syphers and I both were honored by the Maine Chiefs of Police Association with the Humanitarian by an Officer Commendation.
Two years later Eric Syphers moved to the Lewiston Police Department, from which he has since retired. Chad and I would closely work together as detectives for nearly 10 years, until we were both promoted to sergeant in January 2016.
Twenty-five years after Chad’s cardiac event, on May 26 of this year, I was assisting with a physical fitness test for police applicants and officers waiting to attend the police academy. During the run portion of the test one of the runners collapsed. I ran over to him and discovered he had a dangerously high heart rate, and was just regaining consciousness. I provided aid while an ambulance was called for. Members from the Auburn Fire Department soon arrived and began rendering medical assistance and attempting to slow his heart.
Auburn Fire paramedics decided the officer needed to be transported to the hospital for further evaluation. I rode in the ambulance along with a 21-year-old Auburn firefighter named Matthew Syphers.
Matthew is the son of Chad Syphers.
Jason Moore is a sergeant with the Criminal Investigations Division of the Auburn Police Department. He will be a lieutenant with the Patrol Division effective July 18.
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