Death is something police officers must face on a regular basis. Statistically, most of us will die in medical care facilities. About 7 percent of us will die in our homes (this statistic came from one of the death investigation seminars your tax dollars sent me to).

The first dead body I saw as a police officer was on a Mother’s Day almost 30 years ago. It was something I will never forget. My field training officer and I were dispatched to a woman’s home because her son got worried when she hadn’t answered the phone. He went over to her home, and unfortunately found discovered his mother had died.

At the scene, we learned from the son that the doors had been locked upon his arrival, nothing appeared out of place and her purse and contents were readily visible on the kitchen table. Nothing seemed suspicious, so it appeared from the scene itself that no foul play was involved.

My partner and I entered the room, and our eyes were immediately drawn to light shining in through some lace curtains. The light was shining on the deceased, who was clad in a bathrobe and pajamas and was kneeling in prayer at the side of her bed. The right side of her face was resting on her hands clasped in prayer. 

For a woman of faith, I can think of no better way to cross over into as Shakespeare put it, “that undiscover'd country from whose bourne no traveller returns.” The scene was peaceful, poignant and beautiful, if a death scene can be that way.

That was the first and most serene death scene I ever encountered. I’ve seen many lucky mortals die in bed in what appears to be a peaceful sleep. Some do not die as peacefully.

On another Mother’s Day weekend, I stood over one of the Ann Arbor serial rapist's victims. I was taken back by how desolate that scene was. It was dark, cold, windy and misty as I stood over the partially clad body of this poor woman. This could have been one of my loved ones lying here in the cold mist, lonely and scared, but hopefully unconscious when she was killed.

I did something I learned never to do again. I promised that poor soul that one way or another, we would catch the animal who did this to her. That investigation became a personal obsession. It took more than a year and involved over a half dozen different agencies - and at it’s zenith, it had two dozen detectives working full-time on it while entire police departments searching as they patrolled. A little over a year later, the predator responsible was convicted and sentenced to life in prison.

To my wife - the mother of my children - and to my mom…Happy Mother’s Day. Hopefully I won’t have to miss any more family Mother’s Day celebrations.

Lock it up, don't leave it unattended, be aware and watch out for your neighbors.