2 Who Paid the Price of Our Freedom

On the evening of July 23 as I was leaving an event, I saw my friend, Special Agent John Gibson, sitting in his parked car waiting for the man he was assigned to protect, House Majority Whip Tom DeLay. John grinned and waved; I called out, “Good night, John. See ‘ya tomorrow.”

That “tomorrow” brought tragedy. John Gibson and Capitol Police Officer Jacob “J.J” Chestnut were killed in the line of duty July 24 while guarding the U.S. Capitol from a crazed gunman.

After 10 years as a prosecutor and judge, I thought I had become better than most at accepting death and keeping my emotions in check. This tragedy taught me that I’m not nearly as tough as I once thought.

Two days after the shooting, when my wife, Christine, and I were attending our church in Burbank, my Sunday school class asked me to share with them the story of what happened.

I remembered being with John at an Orioles baseball game last year. That night, while guarding Tom, John persistently refused the hot dogs and beer I offered him, despite the fact that Tom and I were safely ensconced in a sky box. My nagging John to relax and enjoy the game brought a professional and consistent, “No thank you; I’m on duty.”

I thought of J.J., kneeling with my five-year old twin daughters not long ago in the House visitor’s gallery, sweetly showing Dana and Claire how to salute like a police officer.

Mostly, I thought of the families and the three children each man leaves behind.

I found myself filled with emotion that rarely surfaces. Tears filled my eyes as my voice cracked. I couldn’t finish the narrative to our Bible class.

*

July 24 was a busier day than most on Capitol Hill. Restless members of Congress griped about missed flights and rescheduled reservations as they watched the clock for the final vote that would free the mass exodus to airports.

That morning I had learned of a project in my district that had been terminated. I would need Tom DeLay’s support to help reinstate the funding. After playing telephone tag during the day, I learned that he had expressed sympathy over my concerns. But that afternoon, after missing him on the crowded House floor, I voted and left. Already late for my weekend travel plans, I exited the Capitol and sprinted to my office. “My staff can brief me after they talk with Tom,” I thought.

A short time afterward, I heard a radio story of shots fired near the Capitol. The initial report indicated that a youth had fired a pellet gun at tourists from the east entrance. I turned off the radio, irritated by the reckless and foolish conduct that apparently had just occurred.

Later, while stopped in freeway traffic, a trucker spotted my congressional license plate and motioned for me to roll down my window. “Hey, thank God you got out of there OK,” he called. “I’m really sorry about the shootings. Hope it wasn’t anyone you knew.”

Stunned, I turned the radio back on and learned of the real tragedy unfolding. A man in line with thousands of tourists had drawn a revolver without warning and felled J.J. Chestnut and a young tourist. As the man approached Tom DeLay’s office firing his gun, John Gibson had responded by ordering the staff under their desks. John encountered the man and was mortally wounded. Despite his injuries, before John collapsed he returned fire and brought the shooter down. His gallantry clearly saved many innocent lives.

*

As I flew back to Washington that Monday, I read an elegant tribute in The Times to these valiant heroes by former Ambassador Smith Hempstone. He closed by saying of John and J.J. that “[T]he country will not long remember their names. When the last sad note of taps has sounded and the smell of gunfire from the graveside salute has blown away, life will go on. Yet if we forget who they were, let us at least remember what they did on that hot July day in 1998. They did their duty, paid the price, and in doing so, helped the rest of us to remember, in an age of whining and cynicism, that America can still raise sons worthy of its past.”

To those who love it, the United States Capitol is more than a magnificent building. It is a living monument that daily gives witness and testimony to the sacrifices made over two centuries to prevent subjugation. Too often we unconsciously allow our national legacy of liberty to be stripped of the tales of individual courage, and fade them into the shadows of impersonal, sepia-toned tints of history. On July 24, at 3:40 p.m., two more names were added to the priceless honor roll of those who have purchased my freedom with their blood.

I will never be able to repay them; I will never forget their gift.