[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 162 (2016), Part 10]
[Senate]
[Pages 13885-13888]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




              HONORING CHRISTOPHER LEACH AND JERRY FICKES

  Mr. COONS. Mr. President, it is with a heavy heart that Senator 
Carper and I come to the floor this evening to honor Chris Leach and 
Jerry Fickes,

[[Page 13886]]

two brave Wilmington firefighters who lost their lives this past 
Saturday night. In any State or in any community, the loss of a 
firefighter or police officer is devastating, but in our small State of 
neighbors, a close-knit State with an even closer knit first responder 
community, a community that includes families and multiple generations, 
it is especially hard.
  To those who knew Chris and Jerry, it must be little comfort now that 
we are here on the floor of the U.S. Senate to pay tribute to their 
lives, but in the next few minutes, we hope to capture just a fraction 
of the light they brought to their families and our community with 
their love and service.
  Lieutenant Christopher Leach wasn't supposed to be working on 
Saturday night, but he filled in for another firefighter, likely 
thinking it would be a shift like any other shift. He was always 
willing to step forward and serve.
  After getting the call that there was a fire in a Canby Park row 
house, Chris did what he had been training to do since 1993. Chris did 
what he told his friends, all the way back to Salesianum High School, 
he always wanted to do as long as they could remember--fight fires.
  Chris grew up in the volunteer fire service. He joined the Tallyville 
Fire Company in 1993 at the age of 18, rising steadily through the 
ranks of the volunteer fire service to captain. The more time he spent 
at the firehouse, the more he loved it. Four years later, at age 22, 
Chris joined the Claymont Fire Company and served as a full-time 
firefighter and EMT there.
  Chris was a lifelong learner, doing whatever he could to develop new 
skills to support his crewmates and help save lives.
  Chris took classes all over our country, from Virginia to Texas, to 
California, and his training paid off. In July 2002, at a house fire in 
Claymont, a firefighter from the ladder company fell through the first 
floor and into the basement. Chris and two others saved that 
firefighter's life, earning Chris a series of recognitions, including 
Fireman of the Year from New Castle County Volunteer Fire Service and 
the Claymont Fire Company.
  Several months later, Chris joined the Wilmington Fire Department, 
where he was assigned to Engine 4B Platoon. He was only there for a 
couple of years before being transferred to the Special Operations 
Command of Engine 1B, where he was quickly recognized for his work, and 
then Rescue 1B. At the time of his passing, he was serving with Engine 
6.
  All this time, Chris never stopped learning and improving. He never 
stopped acting on his passion for firefighting. He researched and 
applied for and earned a $200,000 grant for extra training and 
equipment. He wrote the standard operating procedures for the Special 
Operations Command. He trained as an instructor in NIMS, the National 
Incident Management System, and made sure that every Talleyville 
volunteer member became certified in the NIMS system. He served on the 
Newcastle County Task Force Rescue Team and earned a bachelor of 
science degree in fire service administration from Waldorf University.
  Throughout a long and distinguished firefighting career, Chris was 
constantly achieving and growing, saving lives and building new skills. 
Described by so many I have spoken to as a ``firefighter's 
firefighter,'' his commitment to his brothers and sisters at the 
firehouse was relentless. If he thought the department needed something 
done, he would go do it himself. If the fire company couldn't afford 
something, he would find a way to make it happen. That commitment went 
beyond just his professional leadership. I have heard from so many who 
said Chris was a good, loyal, and faithful friend. He was a softball 
teammate and also a practical joker, a lover of Billy Joel and Lynyrd 
Skynyrd, a so-called Mr. Fix-It, and king of nicknames. He was a big 
guy with a big heart and a deep voice who couldn't hide when he entered 
a room. Chris was someone who volunteered at the firehouse on his days 
off and visited elementary schools to talk about his love of 
firefighting and to help persuade a young generation to join him.
  As his friend Andy Millis described him, Chris ``was a lieutenant you 
wanted to work for.'' He loved his job, he loved his colleagues, and he 
loved his responsibility, but there was nothing he loved more than his 
family. His mother Fran, his sister Katie and Katie's wife Carolee, his 
fiancee Kate and her boys Landon and Casey. Most of all, Chris loved 
his beautiful children. He said there was nothing greater than being a 
father to his kids, Brendon, age 16; Abby, 14; and Megan, 12. He took 
them camping and fishing, to the beach and Cub Scouts, and always found 
a way to be there for their every activity. Chris lived for his kids.
  Chris lost his own father Michael to cancer in 2004 and always kept 
his dad's funeral card in his helmet. Chris honored his father by being 
a great dad himself, just as Michael was to him. We can only hope that 
in the brief time each of us has here, that we shine brightly and 
relentlessly for the people we love and the community we serve. Few 
shine as brightly as Chris Leach did.
  With that, I yield the floor to my colleague from Delaware Senator 
Carper, who will share some words about another hero we also lost on 
Saturday, senior firefighter Jerry Fickes.
  Mr. CARPER. Mr. President, I thank my colleague Chris Coons for 
allowing me to join him and together offer this tribute to Chris Leach 
and Jerry Fickes.
  Earlier today, the floor was busy with activity--and really joyful 
activity--as Democrats and Republicans tried to work together to come 
to an agreement on a spending plan to fund our government past the end 
of this fiscal year and into the beginning of the coming fiscal year. 
We worked out some difficult compromises. There was actually a lot of 
joy here as we said goodbye to one another and headed for our 
respective States until after the election.
  So on the heels of what was really a rather joyous afternoon comes a 
far more serious one, and that is the opportunity to say goodbye and to 
say thank you to a couple of Delawareans who were really true public 
servants who tragically lost their lives this past weekend in trying to 
save the lives of others--Chris Leach and Jerry Fickes. I am going to 
talk about Jerry, since Senator Coons has shared with us some wonderful 
words about Lieutenant Chris Leach.
  On Saturday, Jerry Fickes, a 13-year veteran of the Wilmington Fire 
Department, rushed into a burning home along with his colleague, Chris 
and others, when a member of the team believed to be Chris became 
trapped in the blaze.
  They were told, I understand from those who were present at the fire, 
that when the Wilmington Fire Department showed up, they were led to 
believe that there were people inside the house; the house was on fire, 
and they needed to be saved. Once inside the building, I think they 
went into the basement, but the floor above them apparently gave way, 
and their lives were lost in that fire.
  Two other firefighters were critically burned, and, hopefully, they 
are going to live, but one was burned on 70 percent of her body. Our 
hopes and prayers are with her and with her fellow colleague who also 
received very serious burn damage.
  Jerry Fickes was a husband, a father, a U.S. Army veteran, and a 
beloved member of Delaware's firefighter family. That is a strong 
family, as Senator Coons knows--a strong family and strong bond. We are 
very proud of them all.
  He was born not in Delaware but in Evanston, IL, to his mom Jo Ann 
who sadly predeceased him, and to his father Jerry after whom Jerry 
Fickes, Jr., is named.
  Jerry grew up in Illinois and later moved to Overland Park, KS, a 
suburb of Kansas City. Jerry's early life was full of innocent mischief 
and football games outside with his neighbors and his five brothers and 
sisters: Karen, Jeri, Kimberly, Steven, and David.
  The neighborhood kids played together so much--constantly crossing 
through each other's yards, I am told, to get to different houses--that 
the neighbors were unsuccessful at keeping

[[Page 13887]]

shrubs along their proper line. It reminds me of growing up in 
Danville, VA.
  When Jerry started his freshman year at Washburn University in 
Topeka, KS, his grades were less than stellar, but in reality Jerry was 
just bored. Once he joined the Army ROTC, things turned around. The 
Army ROTC gave him structure, and he became very driven and goal 
oriented. By the time he reached his junior year in college, during 
which he would meet his future wife Laura, while she was working the 
phone in their dorm's office, Jerry had it all together.
  Jerry was a serious student, but he was also known to be a fun-loving 
guy. He graduated with a degree in computer science and mathematics but 
also had a lot of gym credits because he made being active a priority. 
His motto became ``Mind, Body, Spirit: If you have all three, then 
you're sound.''
  College and the ROTC taught Jerry there is lot more to learning than 
just memorizing facts, and that is when everything started to click for 
Jerry. He took actuarial exams before graduating college and started 
his obligation to the Army with officer training in Fort Benning. He 
took a test and scored so well that the Army asked him what he would 
like to do. That doesn't happen every day. Jerry told them he wanted to 
join the infantry because he wanted to make a difference, and that is 
where we felt he could best do it.
  I think that tells us a lot about the kind of man Jerry Fickes was.
  His wife Laura recalls the first time she met Jerry--in a tiny office 
in his dorm building where she answered the phones. When people would 
call for him, everyone would say his name differently--Fix, Ficks--and 
Laura could never find his name in the directory until finally one day 
she met him in person. She asked him: How do you say your name? He just 
replied: You can say whatever you want to say, and walked away. Little 
did she or he know that someday she would take that name, just a few 
years later, as her own.
  Once married, Jerry had the opportunity to become an actuary with 
Alico in Wilmington, DE, a company with which Senator Coons and I are 
well familiar, and the newlyweds with their hard-to-pronounce last name 
came to the East Coast. Jerry worked at Alico for a while and then 
later became a consultant for Ernst and Young in Philadelphia.
  But something always nagged at Jerry. Jerry had the heart of a 
servant, and when the first gulf war came around, he knew he could use 
his training in chemical warfare to be an asset to the Army. He called 
his reserve unit in Kansas to be put on the activation list, but at the 
time, and much to his wife's relief, he was not called up.
  But Jerry wanted to do more, so it didn't surprise Laura one bit when 
Jerry decided to join the Aetna Hose Hook and Ladder Company in Newark, 
DE, as a volunteer firefighter. For over a decade, he selflessly 
juggled his firefighting duties with a full-time career in financial 
services and a new family that would eventually include two young sons, 
Ben and Josh. It also didn't surprise Laura when, after 12 years of 
volunteering, Jerry could no longer ignore his true calling. He gave up 
his job at financial services to work full-time with the Wilmington 
fire company.
  From day one, Jerry jumped at the chance to take every call that came 
in on his shift. Because of this, his fellow firefighters called Jerry 
a dynamo. Sometimes his determination to get the job done right would 
leave Jerry covered in melted roof shingles or draped in insulation 
from an attic, while everyone else's gear was nearly clean. Those 
mischievous days running around the neighborhood in Kansas weren't far 
off. Around the firehouse, Jerry was known, very much like Chris Leach, 
as a prolific prankster. His friends recall that he would often pull a 
prank and then sit back, watching and waiting as everyone tried to 
figure out who was responsible for this latest joke.
  Jerry lived a full life, but perhaps no job was more important to him 
than helping to raise two sons, Ben and Josh. He was also interested in 
hearing about his sons and even about their friends, their interests, 
their goals, and their projects. He was the first to help them research 
a science project, chaperone big gatherings, or teach Sunday school at 
Grace Lutheran Church in Hockessin.
  Even though Jerry didn't care much for running, he knew how much his 
son Ben did. Jerry was so interested in his son's passion that Jerry 
did the first few triathlons with Ben, and this past May they both ran 
a marathon. Imagine that: son and father. And they were both getting 
excited to run the next race. In fact, just last week Jerry was 
thrilled to learn that his son had qualified for the Boston Marathon, a 
huge point of pride for him.
  Ben, a Charter School of Wilmington graduate and now a freshman at 
Northeastern in Boston, and Josh, a junior at Charter, both learned 
from their dad what is really important in life; that is, to serve 
others. To shake adults' hands and look them right in the eye, to give 
up your seat on the subway or the bus or the train for somebody else. 
That is the way Jerry lived his life, and that is what he passed down 
to his children.
  Jerry was a true public servant. He devoted his entire adult life to 
others. He was also a man of deep faith. His service, and ultimately 
his sacrifice, reminds me--and I know Senator Coons--of a passage from 
the Book of John: ``Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay 
down his life for his friends.''
  While no words can ease the suffering of Jerry's family, we seek 
solace in the memory of a life lived for others and a life given to 
others by a brave and selfless man.
  I pray and will continue to pray for Jerry's wife of 26 years, Laura; 
their two sons, Ben and Josh; Jerry's dad, Jerry, Sr.; his brothers, 
Steven and David; his sisters, Karen, Jeri, and Kimberly; and many, 
many nieces and nephews and his brothers and sisters in the Wilmington 
fire service.
  Words can never express the pride we have in our hearts for our 
firefighters in Delaware, the City of Wilmington, and throughout our 
State. How grateful we are for their sacrifice and for that of their 
families because the work they do every day and the work Jerry did and 
really gave up his life for is unlike any other. From the moment he and 
his fellow firefighters put on that uniform every morning, they 
answered a call that they knew could put their lives at risk in just a 
moment.
  I am reminded of the words of the firefighters' prayer that goes 
something like this: ``When I am called to duty, God, wherever flames 
may race, give me the strength to save some life, whatever be its age . 
. . and if, according to our fate, I have to lose my life, please bless 
with Your protecting hand my children and my wife.''
  The prayer embodies the selflessness that Jerry Fickes displayed 
every single day. He took an oath to serve, knowing that one day he 
might not come home but feeling even more strongly that he had to help 
others. Now it is my hope that our community of Delaware can be a part 
of protecting him and looking after Jerry's family, his wife, and 
children, helping to comfort them in their time of need and looking out 
for them in the days to come.
  To all of Delaware's firefighters who are in mourning, who continue 
to put on their gear every day to go to work to protect our 
communities, we salute you. We say thank you. And thank you for your 
unwavering commitment to lives lived in service to others. You are an 
inspiration to us all. So was Jerry.
  God bless each and every one of you, and may God bless Jerry Fickes.
  I yield the floor.
  Mr. COONS. Mr. President, I thank Senator Carper.
  Before we conclude, let us share our deepest gratitude to Ardythe 
Hope and to Brad Speakman, two Wilmington firefighters who were also 
badly injured in Saturday's fire. They are still in the hospital, 
Chester Crozer, recovering, and we pray for a speedy recovery.
  We are thankful as well for the safety of John Cawthray and Peter 
Cramer and Terrance Tate, firefighters who were also injured in the 
fire and for all of their colleagues.

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  For Delaware's first responder community, in some ways, tomorrow will 
be like any other. Our firefighters, our police officers, our EMTs and 
paramedics will be on call, keeping us safe and secure, and we, the 
rest of us in our community and State and country, will go on about our 
lives, many folks really not thinking about them until the moment we 
need them. But no matter what we are doing and what we are thinking, 
when their shift starts, they will be on it. They will be on duty ready 
to run without hesitation, even into situations that would cause the 
rest of us to run in the opposite direction.
  As Christiana Fire Chief Rich Perillo said this past Sunday, ``the 
only thing we ever signed up to do is to protect our neighbors and 
neighborhoods, and that we will continue to do no matter what comes our 
way.''
  We are both so grateful for the dedication, the service, and the love 
shown by the Delaware fire service to protect neighbors. In that sense, 
today and tomorrow and the days after will be like any other in that we 
can continue to rely on our first responders, and we are grateful for 
that. But in so many other ways--in the ways that truly matter--it just 
will not be the same.
  For Chris's and Jerry's families and friends, for their brothers and 
sisters at the firehouse, for all the members of our first responder 
community, and for all the Delawareans who had a chance to work or 
serve with them and to be protected by them, things will not be the 
same. That is why we pray for their families. We pray that tomorrow 
will be just a little easier for them than today and that the next day 
a little easier than tomorrow, and so on, until the pain is eventually 
matched by the joy that comes from remembering someone you love and by 
the gratefulness we all feel for having had the privilege to know 
someone special.
  One of life's unsung joys is the look in a child's face in the 
presence of one of their heroes. Have you ever seen a young child as a 
fire truck goes by? Their eyes are wide with amazement. The station 
door rises, sirens wale, the lights flash, and the bright red truck 
goes by with an American flag waving off the back. As adults, we notice 
it. We take notice. We wonder what might have happened, and we go back 
to our day. Even though a child doesn't know where the truck is going, 
they know that is what a hero looks like.
  As a father, I look at firefighters like Chris and Jerry with the 
same sense of awe that young children do, not just because of their 
uniforms or the sirens or the truck but because of their deep and 
lifelong commitment to do a dangerous job.
  They loved their children and their families. They have been there 
for their friends and neighbors. They have served their communities and 
their brothers and sisters and firehouse tirelessly, all while risking 
their lives every day, leaving for a shift not knowing if they would 
come home that night or the next morning. That is what a hero looks 
like.
  This week and the weeks to come, I know Senator Carper and I and our 
whole community will remember, mourn, pray for, and be grateful for 
Chris and Jerry. Like a child watching an engine rush by, we will see 
their lives fly by in our memories and our tributes knowing they went 
by too quickly, leaving us before we can truly appreciate where they 
are going or why. But amidst so much we cannot know, we can take solace 
in knowing that they are going there for a reason far bigger than any 
one of us.
  And as we watch their lives pass by in our memories, we can say to 
ourselves what the child says when he sees a fire truck go by: That is 
what a hero looks like.
  Let me leave you with the same passage from Scripture shared by 
Senator Carper from John 15. ``Greater love has no one than this: to 
lay down one's life for one's friends.''
  Thank you, Chris and Jerry, for your sacrifice, your service, your 
love, and for laying down your lives for all of us.
  I thank Senator Carper for joining me tonight.
  Mr. CARPER. I thank Senator Coons for those beautiful, heartfelt 
words.
  A few years ago, the Senator who would have joined me and who would 
have joined Bill Roth before me would have been Joe Biden, who served 
here for six terms. He was someone who loved the fire service in 
Delaware and is still beloved by them.
  I have heard Joe say a number of times--and I know Senator Coons has 
as well--these words when talking to people who had a serious loss in 
their life. He would say something such as this: May soon come the day 
when the memory of the one you have loved and lost brings a smile to 
your face before it brings a tear to your eye.
  That would be my prayer for these families, the Leach family and the 
Fickes family.
  Thank you.
  I yield the floor.

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