In September 1995, long before I served on the ATF Peer Response Team, I got a call to respond to an explosion in Essex, Maryland. Very few details were provided as usual, but I assumed it was going to be a long night. After arriving and being assigned to a section of the blast scene to methodically search, I found something on the ground that crystallized the trauma for me personally. It was the singular aspect of the blast scene – where an estranged husband lured his wife and three young children into his car to kill them with stolen high explosives – that acted like a hook which I couldn’t rationalize, forget, or ignore. It wouldn’t be until many years later that I realized that the ‘hook’ was a very common part of what makes an incident traumatic for each person. It’s no different than the hook in the mouth of a fish; something from which the fish has very little or no ability to free themselves.
It wasn’t my first critical incident, but I decided on the drive home hours later that I wasn’t going to talk about it, or as little as I had to, to protect my own wife and kids. How could I describe that grisly scene to those who never, ever, should see such things without failing to protect them? Days passed and the explosive incident turned into a full forensic investigation into what created the mass homicide.
Because of the nature of the scene, the decision was made to bring in the ATF Peer Response Team. I was relieved that I was previously scheduled to travel to St. Louis for a conference and I wouldn’t have to talk to the arriving team. A few days later, while at the conference, I was only one agent among hundreds of attendees, and I didn’t think anyone would ever ask about me the bombing. What I didn’t know was that some agents in St. Louis were notified by others in Baltimore about the investigation and that I was a part of it.
A St. Louis group supervisor whom I had never met, approached me at the conference and said something like, ‘Hey, I got a call from some of your people in Baltimore about that bombing. Tough scene. Let’s get some dinner and talk a little about it.’ After the surprise wore off, I replied something very noncommittal, but had no intention of talking to him or anyone else about it. I thought I dodged another bullet until the next day when an agent approached me and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I knew I was somewhat of a captive audience with nowhere to hide, so I agreed to meet him and the GS for a steak dinner that night.
While the three of us were at dinner, it didn’t take long for the GS to bring up the bombing. We talked a little about my role in the investigation, and I was doing my best to hide my emotions. Then the GS proceeded to describe exactly what I did the night I arrived home from the blast scene. I was stunned. I tried to keep my emotions in check, but I couldn’t. I started to cry over my dinner in front of two agents I didn’t really know. I told them all of it.
Although it appears unresolved (unhealed) trauma is one factor that may contribute to suicide, it almost certainly isn’t the only cause. In fact, in conversations with psychologists and psychiatrists who specialize in trauma and suicide prevention, it’s clear that there is still a lot of mystery about suicide and its causes. I am not a mental health clinician, but by training and experience I believe there is something powerful for those struggling and those concerned for others with their mental health. It’s conversation with people we trust.
There is something very powerful – God-ordained I believe – that happens when we speak about hard things with those whom we feel safe to express vulnerability. Whenever that is happening, that’s a very good thing. It’s the beginning of the path to greater resilience. On the contrary, when we’re concerned for someone with whom authentic trust has been built and they no longer respond to us, that’s a concern. In fact, if someone invented a ‘Mental Health Concern Meter,’ I believe it would show a direct correlation between the amount of effort a person uses to avoid conversation to the amount of concern others should have for their well-being. My observation is that a commonality of people considering suicide is their use of isolation. If someone we know seems unusually dedicated to isolating themselves, even creating scenarios that seem to justify it, then it is time to enlist more trusted people into the conversation for their sake.
Suicide is not a simple problem, and there a lot of people that have worked hard to resolve it, but one of the best ways is simply people confiding in others they deeply trust. It’s a great display of strength to ask for help when we need it. It is also a display of strength to be a conversation starter for those we love.