The heartbreak of lost Shea Heights fishermen, for friends, families and reporters alike
In 31 years at the CBC I've seen a lot. I've covered murders, sex assault trials and every permutation of accidental death, from fire to car crashes.
Most of the nasty stuff we cover has already happened. It's a murder scene with police tape around it, a car crash with a blue tarpaulin draped over the spot where someone bled out or died on impact.
There's already a distance established when the reporters show up. We are shooting the aftermath, trying to piece together the story from the police.
But there is nothing as raw as a loss at sea.
A boat going down is heartbreakingly different than such other tragedies, especially when it affects a community —especially when that community is as close-knit as Shea Heights.
And worse, when two of the men still have not been recovered, the inevitable is cruelly dragged out.
The heartbreak of Pop's Pride
Last Tuesday, Eugene Walsh, his son Keith Walsh Sr. and grandson Keith Walsh Jr., as well as family friend Bill Humby set off to do some fishing around Cape Spear. Late that night their boat sank, and only the bodies of Humby and Keith Walsh Jr. have so far been recovered.
On Wednesday morning, cameraman Eddy Kennedy and I headed up to Shea Heights to try and find anyone in the community who would talk to us. For a journalist, this is the toughest kind of work.
You're looking for someone who can give you the perfect clip, capture the emotion and the loss. You're approaching people when they are at their most vulnerable. At the same time, this is the "big" story.
As a reporter, there's a perverse sense of exhilaration underpinned with the guilt about feeling that way. As a dad, husband and human being, you are sick about having to do what you're about to do.
We pulled into Shea Heights and parked in a convenience store parking lot. I approached a couple of guys sitting on a porch. They knew the four fishermen, but they weren't willing to talk to me on camera.
We walked across the road. Another man was out on his porch: sunglasses on, staring into space. He told me that he considered one of the lost fishermen to be his best friend.
"The community is devastated," he said.
He also told me several folks were out at Cape Spear watching the recovery efforts. We asked him for a comment on camera. He said no.
As we drove out of Shea Heights, I was struck by how polite and dignified people had been, answering my questions. I was also relieved.
Cape Spear: part search, part memorial
So out to Cape Spear we went. It was a warm, sunny afternoon. As we got closer, the people started to appear.
They were dotted here and there on the cliffs, looking across the expanse of water, looking for any sign of the missing men.
Everyone's focus was on the sea and the men who had been swallowed up by it.
This was a day about the worst that can happen to people. It was also about people showing their best.
There were dozens of people at the Cape but there was a hush over the place. It felt, to me, like the loneliest place in the world.
I approached a group clustered around a picnic table. They were friends and a couple of relatives, and they looked shattered.
I introduced myself and asked them if they wanted to talk. One man looked at me and said, "I know you've got as job to do b'y but we're not talking." We shook hands and I moved on.
Poignant moments
At 6 p.m. reporter Terry Roberts and I hit the air live from the small boat basin. Terry had a powerful interview with Glen Winslow, the skipper of the fishing boat that recovered the bodies of two of the fishermen.
As a fishermen himself, Winslow is well acquainted with what can go wrong at sea. He was happy to help, he said. Happy to bring two men home to their families.
Former pro hockey player Terry Ryan then joined me on the air. He'd been friends with the four men.
Terry had agreed to do the interview because he said it would be therapeutic. His interview was among the most poignant I've ever done, although I didn't have much to do with it.
Here was this big, tough guy on the verge of tears, pouring his heart out. It was simply heartbreaking. He paid tribute to his friends, then urged folks in Shea Heights to remember them, talk about them and celebrate them.
The best and the worst, at once
This was a day about the worst that can happen to people. It was also about people showing their best.
From the dignity of the folks I met in Shea Heights, to the quiet strength of the ever-hopeful watchers at the Cape, to the former hockey pro and his outpouring of love for his friends.
It takes the edge off the brutal reality. At 6:40 p.m. last Wednesday my job was done. Long after I went home the coast guard was still searching. The next day Joint Search and Rescue downgraded the search to a recovery.
It's been more than a week and still the other two men, a father and son, have not been found. A cruel story in need of a final chapter.
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