by Tim Troglen, reporter
I didn't know Boston Heights Police Officer Jarod Dean, nor do I know any members of his family -- but I wish I did.
I would like his family to know that while Jarod lost his life in the early morning hours of Jan. 19 on a stretch of northern Route 8, he is still doing in death what he was sworn to do in life -- to protect and serve.
A few miles south, on the same state route, less than a month after his funeral, the memory of Officer Jarod Dean helped to protect me and an Akron police officer.
I left work shortly after 7 p.m. on Feb. 6, and was driving south on Route 8 heading home to Akron. Near the University of Akron, just off the right side of the road, I saw the red and blue flashers of a police car.
It was very dark, with few if any traffic lights along that stretch, and there was a lot of traffic heading south. And while I could not immediately see what was going on ahead, I thought of Jarod and what happened to him.
In the past I would have just kept driving, making sure I gave the officer enough room so as not to toss dust and debris in his or her face with my passing car.
But not anymore. Not since Jarod's death.
While thinking of Jarod, I merged left and slowed down, making sure I scanned the road ahead for an officer or other impediment in the road -- and it's a good thing I did.
Putting down flares in the road, was a dark blue-clad Akron police officer. The officer was not wearing a reflective vest or orange jacket. And while he was holding a flare, he was still hard to see.
There was no close call and thankfully no tragic ending, but because of what happened to Jarod, I was more aware of the surroundings once I saw the police lights.
And this is not the first time since Jarod's death that I have slowed down more than in the past and glanced around intently at the road in front of me at the sight of emergency flashers.
I hope the tragedy of this young officer's death can make not only me, but everyone who has heard about it, more aware of what police lights along a dark road can mean.
As a former police officer, I know what it's like to be on a four-lane highway at night or in a blizzard or pouring rain, putting down flares, picking up debris and trying to direct traffic and stay alive.
I also know, first hand, how the flashing lights of a police car can blind not only oncoming drivers, but the officers exiting the cars. Several times while getting out of a squad car I was hit in the face with the blinding lights and had to wait a few seconds for the flash to go away before approaching a car.
The lights can also momentarily blind or distract drivers. That's the same claim of the man police say hit Jarod. On TV this week, the driver of the truck said he was blinded by the flashing lights and did not see the officer.
I don't know. I wasn't there, thank God.
But it is feasible. And it could happen to anyone.
The loss of the young officer has reawakened the awareness to slow down and be aware when lights are seen.
And I want to thank Jarod for that.
But please don't misunderstand. In no way am I glad that this man was called on to give the ultimate sacrifice -- his life.
And I feel for his family, department and friends.
I still carry part of that "thin blue line" in my soul. With that comes an immense sadness at each death of an officer.
But what I'm thankful for is that the sacrifice made has helped me to potentially be able to keep myself, another driver or an officer safe with a heightened awareness.
At Jarod's funeral Mass, the Rev. Michael Surufka, pastor of St. Stanilaus Church in Cleveland, said Jarod "was a man dedicated to serve and protect."
And his memory is doing that today.
I wish I could let his parents know that some small glimmer of good has come from this tragedy.
And I hope and pray as Jarod helps patrols those golden streets of Heaven that these five simple words are somehow conveyed to him -- thank you, Officer Jarod Dean.
E-mail: ttroglen@recordpub.com
Phone: 330-688-0088 ext. 3146