Why Do We Lose The Best?

Arvada Police Officer Dillon Michael Vakoff was murdered on September 11, 2022. He was just 27 years old. I had the great honor of standing watch over his memorial this past week and would like to share the experience with you.

I met Dillon last year as I stood watch over Officer Gordon Beesley’s memorial. It was fleeting. A few words of support, a handshake or maybe a hug. I would recognize his face if I saw him again but we did not know each other. I know him much better today.

Standing watch at a memorial provides a unique perspective into a person’s life and who they are. You get to hear about them through the eyes of many that have never crossed paths. You get to connect the dots.

If you watch closely, you will see people at the memorial that stick out. People you need to speak to. I asked the first man I saw like this if he knew Dillon. He told me yes and no. He was a client of Dillon’s mother for the last 25 years. Lisa had been telling him stories about Dillon since he was just 2 years old. But he’d never actually met Dillon. I did not need to ask if he regretted it. That was obvious.

A young man stood very still in the midst of a crowd milling around the memorial. When I approached him I discovered he was Dillon’s roommate in the police academy. He had since moved on to another department but he and Dillon still kept in contact. I asked the young man if there was anything he would like me to share with visitors about Dillon, anything in particular that stuck out. After thinking about it for awhile, he told me he didn’t even know where to start. There was just too much.

I watched one evening as a family of three generations exited a car and started walking toward the memorial. The two young children had canvas paintings with them. The children’s paintings were both inscribed to Uncle Dillon. This was his aunt, cousin, cousin’s wife and their two children. His aunt has an energy that is absolutely infectious. She is just wonderful. That would be important later.

As we got to know one another I asked his aunt and cousin to tell me about him. They had been talking for a few minutes when she said something I’ve never heard about someone before. She stopped and pondered the fact that she had never seen Dillon angry. His cousin, who grew up with him, realized that neither had he.

I would learn Dillon liked to make Zombie noises on the radio at night when things were slow. Gym rats would tell me about the short shorts he would wear no matter how much people harassed him. His drinking buddies would just look at each other and laugh when I asked for a funny story and then turn to me with a serious face and say, ”No!”. His Air Force colleagues would talk about his drive and accomplishment. Just today two separate couples approached. Dillon had introduced them both.

The more I learned the easier conversations became. I was able to start sharing stories that those whose lives Dillon had touched would appreciate but didn’t know until now, which brings me to connecting the dots.

A woman sat on a brick retaining wall near the memorial with a friend on either side. Her daughter, dressed in a beautiful dress, was playing with a K-9 dog a retired officer brought. The woman was sobbing. She looked broken. When I asked how she knew Dillon she told me she was on duty as a dispatcher the night Dillon was killed. “My job is to bring every officer home safely every night and I didn’t do it,” she lamented. I hugged her and comforted her. It was then that I saw Dillon’s niece and nephew approaching with the paintings I mentioned earlier.

Interacting with visitors to the memorial is important, but giving them space is just as important. I excused myself from the family after a little while and returned to the dispatcher. I told her that members of the family were here. Then I stepped away and gave everyone some space.

I watched from a distance as the dispatcher quietly approached his aunt. They spoke briefly and hugged, then they continued talking. The body language said everything. I watched as his aunt lit up that energy I mentioned earlier. You could literally see the dispatcher healing in real time. The weight of the world was being lifted from her shoulders. I saw her the next day and she looked like an entirely diffferent person.

This afternoon I had the privilege of spending a few moments with Dillon’s mother and father. I was so glad this opportunity came toward the end of my watch after I had learned so much. I told them about two of Dillon’s high school classmates that visited the other day. One of them is expecting his son to be born this very evening, the night before Dillon’s funeral. This young man and his wife will be giving their son the middle name of Dillon in his honor. It was nice to see some tears of happiness.

So what did I learn about Dillon? I learned he was a man of presence. People told me when he entered a room you knew everything was going to be ok. I learned his drive to serve was not caused by anything, rather it was hardwired into his very being. I learned that there are some very funny stories about him that some day I plan on prying out of his buddies. I learned he worshipped his grandmother and loved to dance with her as much as she loved baking for him. I learned he is an uncle, a nephew, a boyfriend, a grandson, and a son that anyone would be proud of. I learned that tomorrow morning we will again bury an extraordinary human being that was taken from us far, far too soon.

Our officers are a precious commodity. They bring talents and skills that need to be appreciated every day. They face the things that the rest of us don’t want to see. They need our support not just when tragedy occurs but everyday. Thank them, support them, try to understand the bigger picture of what they face day in and day out. Pray for them to come home safe, for their sake and for those who care so deeply for them.

If you will indulge me, I would like to thank Randy for getting me involved in the Colorado Fallen Hero Foundation. I would like to thank Mitch for providing me a home in which to decompress after long days at the memorial. Most of all, I would like to thank the love of my life, Deanna, for giving me the space to participate in something that means so much.

And to Dillon, NFQ, young man.