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Union Grove Community remembers racine county Sheriff's Deputy Joshua LaForge
BY NICOLE LAFORGE
UNION GROVE — The morning started with “rap, rap, rap” of a woodpecker searching for a meal on the wooden fascia over the east wall outside my bedroom.
The parade will soon start, time to get puppies out of their kennels, get them fed, and take a walk. A stressful day left my husband exhausted and in bed well before me the night before. I’ll let him sleep.
I get dressed, put on my walking shoes, and head out of the house. The warm sticky blast of summer air hits my face as I step out onto the porch coordinating the leashes of two puppies and an adult pointer.
Thoughts race through my head of timelines and where we have to go today, what time the parade starts and will one of the kids want to walk with their group instead of watching. I should probably verify the arrival time and where we need to go.
(Buzz, Buzz) Text read: “Why didn’t you wake me? I’m going to catch up to you.”
Well, let’s slow down and do some sitting for treats. I spend the next five minutes getting the dogs to sit, down, sit, down, heel, walk nice. An elderly couple walking up the street remarks on the dogs and their cuteness. They pet them and get some of the love the dogs are willing to share.
I arrive at a corner and look back. There he is, jogging, rounding the corner by the library, he sees me and realizes he’s caught us. He slows and starts to walk with me. We chat about the day’s activities to come, plans, fireworks, kids’ schedules. This recent season of life has been hard for us. The days are long, but the years go fast.
We walk our route. We chat about the dogs and how we have a foster for a few more days. Having been a first responder family for the last 18 years, life has had its peaks and valleys. Recently we both made big career changes knowing it’s in the best interests of our family and us being able to stay a whole family unit.
We are still learning how this huge adjustment in our lives fits and makes it better. He decides to jog home with our adult pointer, while I’ll walk with the two rambunctious puppies.
“Bye, see you at home” he says as he heads off in the direction of finishing our route. I’m untangling leashes and coordinating which pup should be left or right, watching them trying to play instead of focusing on their walk I give a slight tug at their harnesses.
Continuing up the hill I look to see if he’s still in sight. Yep, jogging just ahead a bit. Why is he turning back? Ok, weird. Maybe he decided he wants to just run this out and walk with us rest of way or will run back and forth between home and us entire way while we inch closer to home to get more steps in.
I watch him and realize something doesn’t seem right. Why does the dog keep looking back at him. Why does the dog seem to be nervous? He trips, falls, and arms go underneath him. His head hits the pavement.
Our adult dog circles him and looks towards me as I scream and run as fast as my feet will take me to him, yelling to him “I’M ALMOST THERE! YOU’RE GOING O BE OK, JOSH! JOSH!”
Panic sets in and takes ahold seizing my throat and ripping my grasp of reality from the realms of my hands. I’m shaking like a leaf.
“911. Racine County Dispatch.”
I tell them who I am, who is down, where we are and ask what I should do. He gasps. I scream, “HELP! HELP! DONNA!”
Donna’s neighbor comes out and goes to knock on her door. Dispatch tells me they’re on their way. I start compressions. His agonal breaths have seized and I’m shaking too much to be able to identify a pulse. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16 … When am I supposed to give breaths? Why can’t I remember what to do?!? Donna arrives in a panic as she realizes who is on the ground.
The blur. The sirens. The lights. The haze of how this happened and what do I do. How can I help, but who do I call, how/what could I have done? If I just, if we were, why didn’t I? Rescue tells me his heart stopped that the electrical impulses were there but it wouldn’t beat.
He is pronounced.
The dogs brought home and kids picked up by Donna and their aunt. Brought to the scene, they walked into the unknown. They knew there was an accident but nobody told them before they walked into the back of the rescue squad with their dad laying on his back pale and gone.
We ride grieving and crying to the hospital. The ride is escorted with squad cars. We arrive to see multiple cars in the lot with a whole line of people in the ambulance bay. His colleagues, our friends, people who we’ve grown close to over the last 18 years of life. They stand aghast, astonished, shocked as the man on the gurney passing by them is their friend, some just went fishing with, just spoke to on the phone with, planned to see us that afternoon.
The kids and I united, walk into the family gathering room as people arrive: the medical examiner, the process, the chaos in my head, buzz of the lights, the whoosh of the doors, the hustle of friends, family, loved ones rush through grieving and in disbelief. The whirlwind of that day. The gratitude in my soul to not be alone. The coworkers and friends, community, the friends going door to door with blue lights asking to honor Josh and place in your light outside. The days of rushing and chaos of should’ve, could’ve, how do I, and what do I … The funeral home.
July fourth was nothing like we planned. The day. The chaos. The heartbreak was not the best day of my life, by far the worst. But in the darkness there is light and while it took me time to find it, I’m so eternally grateful for our small town community, the embrace our family had while mourning our loss, the meals, outpouring of support, the impact as tragedy turned to turmoil, and out of our turmoil came tenacity.
The tenacity to figure it out. How does this happen? How did nobody know? How did this silent killer take him so quickly? How can we change this for just one other person? How could we prevent this from happening to anyone else?
The initiative. We have to do something. How did we, 18-year veterans of law enforcement, have no clue that this was a silent risk, that the risk of sudden cardiac death was 80 percent higher for first responders.
How didn’t we know that calcium blockage in the heart won’t show up on lab work and didn’t effect an EKG from being normal? How can I keep any other family from experiencing this tragedy?
The reach. Why doesn’t each department offer this test? Why isn’t this a part of routine wellness? How do we get the word out?
The discussion with human resources. The gratitude and respect for those behind the badges, their tenacity, enthusiasm, and endurance in making sure all of the county employees would have the opportunity to have a heart CT. Just amazing. The triumph that came from tragedy. We saved 60 lives, all with no sign or symptoms but needed intervention.
While this story doesn’t quite fit the narrative of the best 4th of July, the tragedy of our July 4th turned to triumph throughout the first year after. We are so eternally thankful for each of our community members who held a hand in the process or placed a blue light in honor of our fallen hero.
Joshua “Tater” LaForge
EOW 07-04-2023
Forever in debt to the amazing men and women in the law enforcement community, our agencies and those who came from miles away to pay their respects and embrace our family in our darkest days.
Please schedule your heart CT if you haven’t done it yet. It truly is a silent killer, never a sign or symptom.