Published: May 09, 2008 03:04 pm            

On the job or off, I was proud to know Sgt. Altizer as a true friend

Regardless of how hard I tried, I never could bring myself to call Sgt. James Altizer by his nickname, Bubba. I knew Sgt. Altizer for years, and I think I may have taken a picture of him in 1996 when he was sworn in as an officer with the Bluefield, Va., Police Department, but I’m not sure. I think I took a picture of Todd Day a month later when he was introduced as the new town engineer. Through the years, my relationship was strictly professional — just the facts, Ma’am kinda stuff.

I was covering an accident near the State Line Market on Virginia Avenue when I first heard Sgt. Altizer called Bubba. Volunteer firefighters were on scene and when I asked one of the firemen, Derrick Ruble, who was working the scene, he said: “Bubba.”

When I asked him to repeat what he said, he responded: “Altizer. You know, Bubba.” Now, I never had a problem calling Derrick “Opie” as everyone else does, but I couldn’t force myself to approach Officer Altizer as Bubba no matter what I did.

I suppose he figured that out about me over time. We had a great working relationship as long as I would be patient and wait for him to release the details he could release. Sgt. Altizer, Cpl. Mark Haynes of the West Virginia State Police and Senior Trooper David Olinger of the Virginia State Police are not shy about making me wait at an accident scene until they are absolutely certain they have all the witness statements, measurements and pertinent information. I admire thorough officers.

The last time I bumped into Sgt. Altizer when we were both on the job was late one Saturday evening last summer or early fall when I heard scanner traffic about an incident at a local shopping center. I arrived shortly after the police, stood outside the front door and when I saw Sgt. Altizer coming out, I rolled my eyes and laughed. He came up to me, smiled and asked me what I needed. I was on a short deadline leash that night. He told me everything I needed to generate a couple of sentences, and we both left smiling.

We saw each other lots of times after that, but we didn’t talk until three weeks ago early one Sunday morning. I leave my house for my four-mile walk every day at about 5 or 5:05 a.m., take some side trips, go down to Lotito Park and head back home. I often see police officers of both Bluefields on their patrols down Stadium Drive. Some times I wave and they wave back, but that’s usually the extent of our exchanges with that one exception three weeks ago at 5:45 a.m., at the entrance to Lotito Park.

Sgt. Altizer pulled up to me and started talking.

It had been a busy night — not necessarily newsworthy — but busy nevertheless. Busy nights go by faster than slow nights, we both observed together. He told me that SWAT team members had been called out to a situation in Richlands that morning, and that I might want to call on it, but mostly we just talked about our families and how good it feels to get home after a hard day in the rat race when the rats seem to be gaining ground every minute.

We mostly talked about families and home during our 15-20 minute conversation. What I remembered most about our conversation later was how important it was for Sgt. Altizer to get home after a particularly challenging shift.

I knew exactly what he was talking about. There are times after really long days and nights on the job that I feel so all alone, and the thing that keeps me going is knowing I’ll be getting home where I can close the door behind me and feel safe. Even though my wife is usually asleep after I have one of those long day-night things, our cat will stretch, yawn and tell me all about his day. I don’t have to tell him about my day. I just have to listen.

I realized that morning that I felt safe in my house when I closed the door because guys like Sgt. Altizer were out there being patient, being thorough, being kind and/or strict when necessary and watching out for me.

I got all excited when I came in from my walk and told my wife all about the conversation with “the officer they call Bubba, but I call Sgt. Altizer,” and of how we felt exactly the same way about getting home after a hard day at work.

I was so excited that I gave my wife a big hug and went to work and had a busy but productive day. I was really happy when I got home that night.

I was honored to know that Sgt. Altizer was my friend.

Bill Archer is senior writer for the Daily Telegraph. Contact him at barcher@bdtonline.com.

        

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