The One That Got Away

It was just after 1:00 AM in the freezing cold early morning hours of Friday, January 30th, 1970. To put in perspective how long ago it was, just three weeks earlier the Beatles had performed together in the studio for the final time, and it was just 3 weeks since a new soap opera 'All My Children' had made its debut on television.

The remnant of a previous snowfall still coated the ground as rookie Philadelphia police officer Fred Cione pushed his red patrol car around the corner and into the 1700 block of west Oxford Street in the city's 23rd district.

My wife, the former Debbie Marshall Howe, grew up just two doors from Fred's family on Huntingdon Street in the city's Kensington section. As a 14-year old budding adolescent at that time, she already recognized that Freddie, a single Vietnam vet, was 'really handsome' and 'built'.

As this handsome 25-year old rookie cop drove onto Oxford Street that night he came upon three men and found something suspicious about them, or their behavior, or just the fact of them being on the streets in that location on that kind of night.

What we do know for sure is that Freddie got out and approached the three, and that one of them opened fire on him with three gunshots, one of which went into this chest and another into his gut. The men ran off, and Freddie was left to die like a dog in a North Philly gutter. That was almost three full decades ago.

2007 American of the Year: Chuck Cassidy

Folks outside of the Philadelphia, PA area might be saying “What? Who?” right about now. But bear with me and you will understand. For those in the area, it’s likely that you know the name, and if so then you know the reason.

Let’s start off with the briefest of updates for those who don’t know the reason. Charles “Chuck” Cassidy was a Philadelphia police officer who gave his life in the line of duty on Halloween morning, basically ambushed by a robber whom he likely never saw coming.

It was the sunny morning of October 31st, 2007, and 54-year old Chuck Cassidy eased his marked Philadelphia police department SUV into a parking space directly in front of a Dunkin’ Donuts business in the West Oak Lane section of the city. No one can speak for officer Cassidy as to what was running through his mind at that moment. From being in his situation on thousands of occasions over a seventeen-year career, I can probably paint you a fair picture.

First, it was a beautiful day outside and Chuck, a veteran of a quarter-century policing the streets of Philadelphia, was likely basking in it. Perhaps on the drive to the donut shop he had music playing in his patrol vehicle. He certainly had his police radio on, listening to the scattered broadcasts coming over on a typical bustling day in the busy 35th police district which he served for two decades.

Nearby that morning there was scheduled to be a memorial service for a long-ago fallen officer. A plaque would be placed near the location of that heroic officer’s ultimate sacrifice, and it is entirely plausible that Chuck had plans to attend that service along with dozens, if not hundreds, of fellow officers, friends, and family members of the officer. He would certainly have known of the service, and was factoring it into his morning plans in some way.

Also, it was Halloween, and Chuck Cassidy was a family man in the best sense of that word. He was married to his high school sweetheart, Judy, for over 26 years, and they had been raising three great kids: Katie, Colby, and John. Along with this immediate family there were numerous nieces and nephews, and some would be getting ready for the annual “trick or treat” rituals. This kid-friendly holiday and his own family’s plans to handle that evening’s anticipated rush of candy-craving kids was surely on his mind.

Black Males Are Killing Us

Here in Philadelphia, PA, the murder capital of the United States of America, it was just announced that 54-year old police veteran Charles Cassidy died from wounds inflicted on Halloween morning.

Officer Cassidy walked in on a robbery in progress at a Dunkin Donuts in his patrol area, and the robber shot him in the head before the officer had a chance to react.

He leaves behind a wife, three children, and scores of family, friends, acquaintances, and co-workers who will be affected by his murder for a long time to come. He also leaves behind a city that is in crisis, indeed a nation that is in crisis, with little or no hope for any meaningful change to what has become the violent status quo. Why? Because few will say publicly what needs to be said: black males, in particular reciditivists, are killing us.

Actually, the saying of it is only the very necessary first step. If folks do begin to say it, and actually recognize it for the fact that it is, then further steps need to be taken to address the problem. But let’s deal first with the facts, and the expected outraged replies.

First, crime in Philadelphia is indeed out of control, and now our own police, pilloried in recent media reports as shooting too often ourselves, are the targets. Officer Cassidy is the fourth uniformed Philadelphia police officer to be shot while performing their duties in the past six weeks, third in the past four days alone.

All were shot by black males.