FireLink

Firefighter Down, But Never Left Alone

Jul. 27 – From the moment Maplewood firefighter Ryan Hummert died, firefighters were there.

At first, it was his Maplewood crew, who, along with 22-year-old Hummert, had thought they were responding Monday to a routine car fire. Instead, they found themselves in the middle of a gunman’s killing field.

Before it was over, two police officers were shot, Hummert was killed and several other bullets barely missed their intended targets.

Minutes that seemed like hours passed until police could safely remove Hummert’s body. Then firefighters were there to carry him to an ambulance.

Clayton firefighter Brian Zinanni knew it was time to begin a firefighter’s tradition.

“We need somebody to stay with Ryan,” Zinanni told a visibly shaken crowd of firefighters.

Rock Hill Fire Chief Kevin Halloran and Clayton firefighter Ted Destatte volunteered and boarded an ambulance for a somber ride to the hospital.

“We wanted him to go in a fire department ambulance because it was the start of us taking care of him,” Halloran said.

When Hummert was pronounced dead at the hospital, firefighters were there.

When the medical examiner autopsied the body, firefighters were there.

Halloran and Destatte delivered Hummert to the funeral home, where other firefighters relieved them.

Nearly 12 hours had passed since Halloran had boarded the ambulance to escort a firefighter he barely knew through the post-mortem motions.

“I said I would do it not knowing fully what the day was going to entail,” Halloran said. “It was one of the biggest honors I’ve had in my career.”

Many felt the same way. Within hours of Hummert’s death, firefighters from across the country had called Zinanni to volunteer to stay with Hummert’s body at the funeral home.

“It’s a process of healing for firefighters as well as considered an honor to sit with a fallen comrade,” said Zinanni, team coordinator for the Missouri Fire Service Funeral Team. “And it’s a comfort to the family to know he was never alone.”

When funeral directors placed Hummert’s casket at the front of the funeral parlor, firefighters were there.

Two firefighters stayed with the casket for two-hour shifts. Often, the group grew to six as some stayed past their allotted time, or others just showed up. Some came in T-shirts and jeans. Others wore their dress blues.

They passed much of the time as they would at their respective firehouses, waiting for the next call. Talking shop. Sharing laughs. And sitting together.

It was their way of bringing the firehouse Hummert loved so much to him for his final moments among them.

Every once in a while, the group quieted. Their eyes turned to the casket.

“So he was only 22?” asked Grovespring, Mo., firefighter Brandon Miller during a shift that lasted until midnight Wednesday.

Maryland Heights firefighters nodded.

“Wow, that’s scary,” Miller said. “I’m only 20.”

Maryland Heights firefighters got a kick out of Miller and his fellow Grovespring firefighter Robert McClanahan. Their stories about life in a rural volunteer district south of Lebanon, Mo., kept the mood light. They discussed donating equipment to the volunteer department.

“Do you think we could come by for a tour of your station?” Miller asked. “I’ve never been in a paid fire department before.”

“Sure,” replied firefighter Larry Tennison.

Soon, Maryland Heights Capt. Bill Matzker’s eyes drifted once more to Hummert’s casket.

“So who was this Knobbe guy anyway?” he asked of the alleged gunman, Mark Knobbe.

The group shared what they knew: Knobbe was estranged from his family. He had worked for the Art Museum. He set his home on fire and shot himself in the head.

“Just senseless,” Matzker said.

About seven more shifts passed before the informal casket vigil gave way to a formal honor guard. Firefighters in full dress blues stood at both ends of the casket for 10-minute shifts during the seven-hour visitation.

Halloran took his post at 2 p.m. Wednesday at the foot of the casket. Brentwood firefighter Tim Hammer stood at the head.

Hummert’s tearful mother, father and sister were the first to visit. Firefighters were there.

They stood rigid until the next pair relieved them. But once in the hallway, their tears flowed.

The rotations continued until 10 p.m., even through a 40-minute procession of more than 600 firefighters, saluting the casket two by two.

Once the formal honor guard retired for the night, the informal watch resumed. Funeral directors dimmed the lights and told the firefighters where to find the restrooms and coffee.

When Hummert’s family arrived the next morning for the closing of the casket, firefighters were there.

Members of Hummert’s Rockwood Summit High School football team carried the casket to the door. From there, firefighters bore their brother to a pumper and then to Immaculate Conception Church.

Maplewood firefighters sat in the front rows to the right of the casket. The family sat to the left.

Firefighters delivered many of the nine eulogies.

Two nearby churches opened for the overflow. Firefighters from as far as New York, Nebraska, Tennessee, Kentucky and Indiana quickly filled more than 800 chairs and stood in the aisles.

About 135 firetrucks escorted the casket to the cemetery.

The family waited at the grave site as more than 1,000 firefighters marched behind the pumper carrying Hummert’s casket. It’s a tradition called “the Sea of Blue.”

An honor guard stood at attention while Maplewood firefighters delivered the casket to its final destination.

More than a dozen firefighters on bagpipes played “Amazing Grace.” And firefighters on bugles played taps.

The Hummerts returned to a limousine, in awe of the firefighters’ role in their son’s final journey.

“We could have taken months and never planned anything as beautiful as this,” said Andy Hummert, Ryan Hummert’s father.

The limo pulled out, and the firetrucks lined up to exit. Cemetery workers prepared to lower the casket.

They pushed a mound of earth over Hummert’s grave.

And a firefighter was there.

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