Fri. April 13, 2018: In Memorium: Sean Gannon

Friday, April 13, 2018
Waning Moon
Mercury Retrograde
Jupiter Retrograde
Stormy and mild

His name is Sean Gannon. He was thirty-two years old, and, with his K-9 partner, Nero, was in the drug detection division of Yarmouth PD.

He was murdered yesterday, and Nero shot, serving an arrest warrant in Marstons Mills to a guy who had 111 charges on his sheet.

To say I knew him would be a stretch; we’d crossed paths a few times and exchanged pleasantries, because of Nero. In any human/dog situation, I’m far more likely to interact with the dog. While I’m not acquainted with anywhere near as many cops here as I was in NYC (going about the day, Broadway, and research) or Rye (where I grew up with a bunch of people who then became cops), I do the same here as I did in NY — the “hey, how are you?” and “thanks for dealing with all this stuff so the rest of us don’t have to.” Acquaintances in NYPD used to joke that I knew so many of the K-9 dogs that, should anything happen to me, from capture to cadaver, there was a dog who knew me. A little macabre, but, hey, NYPD.

Anyway, both Gannon and Nero struck me as smart, positive, dedicated. Gannon volunteered with Big Brothers and Big Sisters; he and Nero participated in skills trials. I actually noticed the human with the dog in his case because he looked so much like a close friend of mine from college looked at his age.

Whenever I saw them, I thought they’d be good inspirations for characters in one of my books.

Now, Gannon is dead, murdered. The last I heard, Nero was at a vet clinic; I don’t know if he survived. All their potential is gone, their families shattered.

I’d just finished my taxes yesterday afternoon when I heard the sirens. Siren after siren after siren, for a more than usual stretch. I figured there was a pile-up on the Mid-Cape Highway with lots of injuries. The construction work on the Sagamore Bridge is causing delays of up to two hours; people get impatient and get stupid.

Sirens and sirens and sirens.


Then, reports of gunshots and SWAT team dispatched.

At this point, I was irritated. SWAT team meant there was some asshole with a gun out there causing problems. And I am sick, sick, sick of assholes with guns, and I am tired of the escalating gun violence here on Cape Cod, usually drug-related. The neighborhood was locked down and evacuated. ATF, Homeland, State, SWAT, everyone who could possibly help was there, and fast.

Then came the news that an officer had been shot, serving a warrant.

I was getting more news OUT OF NEW YORK, and then, out of Providence and Boston, rather than locally. It’s happening four miles up the road and New York has better information than the so-called reporters around here.

I was pulling for the officer. Cape Cod ER staff is pretty damn good; the paramedics with the fire dept. are superb, so I hoped they could save him

A few hours later, word came that the officer died.

Again, I heard it from a friend in New York, who was watching the story.

Once they released the officer’s name and photo, I was shocked to recognize him. I hadn’t known his name (although I knew Nero’s). But I recognized him from the photo.

At 9 PM, an honor guard of cops and firefighters escorted the Medical Examiner’s van from Cape Cod Hospital to the ME facility in Sandwich/Pocasset. It was a strong, powerful, heartbreaking tribute.

Of course, the rabid right-wing douchebags took to social media crying the whole thing was the fault of “liberal judges” and the fact that MA gun laws are “too strict.”
Proving again the cognitive dissonance of that faction. MA judges aren’t all that liberal, in what I’ve seen. I don’t know where the system failed in this case, but it did, and I trust Michael O’Keefe’s office to find out how and why. But MA gun laws aren’t strict enough, or this jerk wouldn’t have been able to have a gun. I can legally buy a gun one town over in less time than it takes the computer to boot up. Whether he had his gun legally or not — he shouldn’t have been able to access one, and I’m sick and tired of living in a gun culture.

None of that debate brings back Sean Gannon, who died in the line of duty. His name deserves to be remembered; all the good he did in his life deserves to be remembered.

He will inspire a hero in one of my books. I don’t know what genre, or what form it will take, but he will, and the book will be dedicated to his memory. There is nothing I can do to change the tragedy that happened yesterday, nothing I can say that will help his family or his colleagues; but I can honor his memory with a story worthy of his spirit.


Published in: on April 13, 2018 at 9:27 am  Comments (1)  
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