Author: trialsofluke

I went to a funeral this week. A funeral for the 19 year son of a friend. A funeral for another 19 year old male who reached a moment in his life when he decided that continuing to live was not his best option. I have known this young man’s parents for nearly 18 years. He is a man I have helped out on many occasions and he has done the same for me. I will not mention names, but some of you know who this young man is. I know his father tried hard to raise his children and I know he tried to do what was best for his oldest son.

 

I had opportunities to help this young man. And on several occasions he has been to my house, helping his dad clean my gutters and make other repairs around my house. I took the time to talk with him about problems he was dealing with. One of the first times was right after Luke’s death. Like Luke, this young man had developed an affection for Xanax bars. This young man had met Luke and when we talked after Luke’s death, I believe he was moved and responsive to what I told him. But no matter how well someone may seem to be doing, an event, a bad thought or a drug can set off a mood swing. Those thoughts of being hopeless or useless can spring up.

 

I was moved by the outpouring of love at the funeral, but I was most moved by the words and music of a young man who was one of his closest friends. He sang a rap song that he said they had actually written together about “being his ride,” in essence being there for each other. The audience loved it.

 

After his song he spoke and passed along some profound words of wisdom. “Sometimes your friends just want to hang out with you.” Those words stick in my head because I know that Luke reached out, despite his anger, there was a part of him seeking someone to “hang out with.” Just another reminder that even though your friends may act angry and try to push you away, inside they are reaching out and they need you to be there to support them.

 

I did not expect to be that guy who has to look his friends in the eye and hug them when they lose a child and tell them I understand their pain, but I guess that is what has been laid on me and I have a responsibility and even a need to be there for them.

I miss my friend, Frank Wermeling. I especially miss him today. On the Friday night before the Derby he would buy a Racing Form and study it thoroughly. Frank had a knack as a handicapper. On Saturday he would call or text me with the various wagers and exotics to place my money on. He kept his betting records like an accountant, even taking into consideration parking, programs and gas to the track. He said he never had a huge margin but managed to stay slightly ahead each year.

I do not remember when or where I first met Frank, but I do know it was in 1972. We were both working on the George McGovern Presidential Campaign. I made a lot of friends during the fall of 1972 so nothing really stands out.

The first vivid memory I have of Frank was from the mid-1980s. One morning I ran into Frank outside of the Fourth Floor District Court Room in the Kenton County Courthouse. I knew his wife at the time, also an attorney had been diagnosed with a debilitating illness. No one else was in the hallway but us. As we spoke I noticed that Frank wreaked of alcohol. He spoke with that same intellect as he always did, but it was obvious he had problems. It got worse and in 1986 the Kentucky Supreme Court issued an Order suspending Frank from the practice of law.

After that I lost contact with Frank and in August 1988 I took a job with the Kentucky Justice Cabinet and moved to Lexington. In the early 1990s our paths crossed again. Frank was working as a law clerk for my brother Bill in his Park Hills office. That is when I came to realize that Frank was a master of legal research and a phenomenal writer of legal briefs. At that time Frank wore his hair in a ponytail all the way down his back. Like a recluse he holed up in his second floor office with his computer, surrounded by books and files.

Over the next five years our friendship grew. Frank left Bill’s employ and began doing freelance work from his home for multiple attorneys. Frank also became prolific at handling Social Security cases, which did not require a law license. Frank did apply for readmission to the Bar. At his hearing in Lexington Bill and I along with Pat Flannery and David Garnett testified on his behalf. I was never sure if it was because he was delinquent in his child support or just the fact that the then Bar counsel and he had a tenuous relationship, but his reapplication was denied.

Frank was a true genius. He was a graduate of Covington Latin School, Thomas More College and UK College of Law. Around 2000 I began putting Frank’s brilliant mind to use, primarily in writing briefs but also working on personal injury cases. We became a pretty good team. Frank would travel to Frankfort regularly and I would generally come to Covington once or twice a month. We had some nice triumphs, but I have always felt that our greatest success was in the case of Joshua Popp v. Commonwealth, 2006–SC-000311.

Josh was indicted in Franklin County. I tried the case and Mr. Popp was convicted of raping, sodomizing and sexually abusing his 6 year old step daughter. He was sentenced to 30 years in prison. There was no physical evidence and the allegations were raised by her father during a discussion with her at a restaurant. The case was tried in front of Hon. William Graham. Judge Graham, who I always considered an excellent judge, allowed an over-zealous assistant Commonwealth’s attorney to introduce hearsay statements by a social worker in an attempt to bolster the girls’ testimony and he allowed the introduction of opinion evidence from a police officer regarding the girl’s credibility.

Frank worked tirelessly on the brief shaping arguments that shredded the improper introduction of prosecution’s evidence. In 2008 the Kentucky Supreme Court issued a 6-0 opinion reversing the conviction on all counts. The late Justice Wil Schroder would later tell me that when the case first came before the Court he was the only one who saw a need for reversal but was able to sway his fellow members to join him. Frank’s work saved a life. On remand, Mr. Popp pled to a non-violent, non-sexual offense and was sentenced to time served.

Frank Wermeling feared nothing. He spoke his mind to all, no matter how powerful, no matter how important, no matter how physically imposing. And yet there was the dichotomy of how he lived the last 25 years of his life. Frank once told me, “I never met a drug I didn’t like.” After that rough period Alcoholics Anonymous became the part of his life that overshadowed everything else. His commitment, his devotion, his need to help others made him a guru of AA. He attended meeting all over greater Cincinnati. He travelled to and spoke at national conventions. He was a sponsor for so many. He served as Vice President of the Disabilities Coalition of Northern Kentucky. He lived just a few blocks from the homeless shelters and soup kitchens on Pike Street. His house on Russell Street in Covington was like a haven. At any hour, day or night, those in need were welcome. There was always a pot of coffee made. There was always a seat on is couch. He gave love, but hard love.

But still Frank reveled in life. There are 2 memorable moments of pure joy that stick with me more than others. The first was his marriage to the love of his life, Linda in 1999. The second was when I took him to Foxwoods Casino in Connecticut, where we played in a World Poker Tour 50 and over Poker Tournament.

Frank’s years of hard living, particularly the smoking eventually caught up with him. Try as he could quitting was difficult. In the last few years of his life he would still come to Frankfort when I needed him. He was on oxygen for his COPD and he brought his oxygen with him. On February 16 2014 Linda called me and told me he was gone. He was 62 years old. It could not have come at a worse time for me. In late January I had my hip replacement and shortly afterward found out about Luke’s newfound passion for Xanax. It would have meant so much to Luke and me to have Frank around to provide Luke guidance and counsel on this subject.

. On this day when millions of us will stand and sing and cry as we hear a song written by a musical genius who died of at the age of 37, we should not mourn the loss of Frank Wermeling that came way too soon or those low periods of his life soon but take joy in all that he added to the lives of so many others.

As Frank would say, “That’s right.”

As I mentioned in one of my early posts, when I first started practicing law in May 1978 one of the first things I did was sign up with the roster for the Kenton County Public Defender’s Office. I thought that was my responsibility as an attorney. My brother had a very successful practice, particularly in the area of bankruptcy and personal injury, but he continued to participate as a member of the Public Defender Roster. It is about service to those who need it.

 

As I also told you Bob Carran called me in 1982 and ask me if I would represent a drug addict who was charged with attempting to sell his 2 year old daughter to an undercover detective with the Kentucky Attorney General’s Office. It was the only time Bob ever added, “You can say no.” But I did not. And over the years I have rarely, if ever, said no to the Kentucky Department of Public Advocacy, when I was asked to represent one of their clients. Whether it was a murder or a sexual offense I was willing to step up.

 

Even when Rodney Barnes called my cell phone as I was parking my car at the Capitol garage on a cold winter day in 2008 and asked me to represent Peter Hafer, who had punched his public defender in the jaw during a hearing in Scott Circuit Court, I did not say no.

 

But this is not about me, but it is about all the lawyers out there who do not say no. It was brought to mind by a Facebook post about Tim Nolan, an attorney and former District Court Judge from Campbell County, KY. He recently entered a guilty plea to numerous counts of Human Trafficking that will likely keep him in prison for the rest of his life. But even those we think are the most despicable are entitled to representation. I commend my log-time friend Margo Grubbs for her efforts. She is highly skilled and principled attorney who sets a great example for others in our profession to follow.

 

When I began working on this post, the Parkland School shooting occurred. When Nikolas Cruz made his first court appearance, I was not focusing on him, but rather Melisa McNeil, the Public Defender thrust into this madness and given the task of not only defending Nikolas, but the task of saving his life.

 

So why do we do this. When attorneys from the ACLU first challenged the posting of the Ten Commandments in government buildings they were condemned by many Christian religious leaders. The First Amendment guarantees of separation of church and state is important to all Americans, but it is a 2 way street and we as lawyers swear an oath to uphold the Constitution.

 

But that is often an onerous task. We have to bear the weight of ridicule. It is natural for this work to result in depression. When we win we still lose. We like to think that what we do is important and it is, but it does not equate to happiness. As I pumped gas at Kroger’s this morning I watched a woman get dropped off for work. As she open the door to that little 15’ x 6’ booth where she would spend the next 8 hours I wondered what that must be like. I like many others chose college and law school over manual labor. The difference is that while it may take less of a toll on our bodies it wears so heavy on our psyche. Are the rewards really worth the stress and the depression it conceives?

 

Today is Luke’s birthday. The memories are great. The pride he had in his father comes to mind. The pride I have in him keeps me smiling. Yes. It is worth it.

 

 

I was raised in a good German Lutheran family where eating and drinking liberally were a way of life. Both of my parents worked in Cincinnati, so during the week my father would do most of the cooking because he got home first. Because of that we ate out a lot, particularly on Sundays. Most often we went to Pompilio’s for a dinner that always included antipasto, pasta and lots of bread. Our family was the first in the neighborhood to get pizza from Pasquale’s and we had it fairly regularly. Many of the other kids were in awe that I got to eat pizza, after all pizza in the late 50s in Covington was not that common. Having a Big Boy platter from Frisch’s on Friday was a frequent ritual.

 

Needless to say I was spoiled as a child especially when it came to food. My brother and sister were 16 and 12 years older so I was more like an only child or at least the baby. Thanksgiving was the prime example. I would not eat turkey, dressing, vegetables or even my grandma’s egg noodles. My brother Bill or my brother-in-law Curt would have the task of driving me to downtown Covington to get a bag of White Castle hamburgers, after all they were the only place open on Thanksgiving.

 

My parents were both beer drinkers. There were generally 3 quarts of Schoenling, Hudepohl or Burger in our refrigerator. That was the German lifestyle. Even at our church picnics there was plenty of beer drinking.

 

I myself began drinking beer pretty regularly when I was 14. It was not that difficult to buy in those days. On the last day of school in my freshman year, the annual school trip to Coney Island was cancelled due to the race riots in Cincinnati. 3 of my friends bought a case of beer in Peaselburg and carried it 12 blocks down Madison Avenue at 11:00 a.m. on that Friday to my house. (They covered it with a rug)

 

My brother Bill was much the same as me. He loved to eat, particularly prime rib. Our Christmas Eve gathering were always about eating until you pop. In the late 70s and early 80s Bill and I attended many Kenton County Bar Association functions together. And every time we felt it was our duty to lay waste to the giant mound of shrimp cocktail that our hosts at Ft. Mitchell Country Club, or wherever else, had laid before us.

 

Later in life I came to the conclusions that the old Bubenzer family coat of arms had the motto, “You are allowed to get wasted, but the food isn’t.” I am not sure what the German translation is.

 

Needless to say this was not a good thing. I gained a lot of weight in high school. Diabetes ran in my fathers’ family. When I was about 20 my father had to give up his beer and lose weight. My paternal grandparents both died before I was born. My maternal grandparents both died in their 60s.

 

My father died of a heart attack at age 76 and Bill had a quintuple bypass in his early 60s.

 

I passed that lust for food and drink on to my children.

 

So where am I going with this.  Luke had a weight issue that he inherited from me but also was exposed to anorexia and bulimia at a young age.

 

Both Luke and I were “fat” in high school. I weighed over 170 when I was 15. Luke was even heavier. I began running track and trimmed down to 130. Luke found wrestling as his love and lead to a dramatic weight loss for him.

 

Luke rarely spoke with me about this affected him, but I am aware that in junior high and high school he faced a lot of teasing and condescending comments because of his weight. Fat shaming can be a form of abuse. We do not usually give it much thought but it is true and it is easy to make fun of fat people.

 

As a result it often leads to extreme dieting that can be dangerous. Extreme weight loss due to depression is far worse. Luke would manifest his depression through his extreme changes in eating habits. We disregard our health and our need to eat. I had an occasion in my life where I lost 20 pounds in a month because of depression.

 

Luke had 3 stages of physique for most of his life, fat Luke, skinny Luke and buff Luke. At the end of May 2016 Luke had lost over 50 pounds from the prior December and was living on Monster drinks and Pedialyte Popsicles. He became emaciated Luke. The comments from many years ago still affected how he thought of himself.

 

Not long ago I was in line at Subway when a rather large young lady ahead of me requested extra mayo on her sub. It was literally smothered in mayonnaise. In my head I was really questioning her choice and eating habits. Later I remembered that I was the kid who used to dip Grippo’s Barbeque potato chips in mayonnaise. Who am I to ridicule another person’s choices, even if just in my own head?

 

We think about trying to get our loved ones or friends to stop taking drugs or drinking through rehab or hospitalization, but how do you make someone eat. The symptoms are so obvious but we feel helpless in trying to get them back to what we think of as a normal diet.

 

Attorneys are constantly in the public eye. Our self-esteem is often related to our personal appearance. We should not be judging and we best be careful of the comments we make, because the impact may be great and very long term.

 

You have not heard from me in a couple of months. Sometimes we get busy. Sometimes we get distracted. Sometimes we try to push things out of our mind. The problem with depression is that those thoughts that make us depressed never really leave our mind. You drive down a particular street. You hear a particular song. You eat in a favorite restaurant. These things stir memories and bring back the barrage of what-ifs. We start to feel more guilt for not taking the time to do what we know needs to be done.

 

I have been distracted. The last few months have brought a combination of all three. My wife, Sharon, my daughter Bethany and my grandchildren are the sources of much joy in my life. For quite some time now my 4 year old granddaughter, Kaitlyn, has been dealing with a serious health issue arising from a non-malignant brain tumor (Hypothalamic Hamartomas) that was causing seizures and affecting her long term quality of life. In September she underwent a five hour plus surgical procedure at Cincinnati Children’s Hospital. The surgery was successful but there will be long-term care including high priced prescription medication and ongoing follow up. The fear of what might happen next to Kaitlyn or anyone else close to creates great stress and depression.

 

But to help others I must put aside the distractions and return to my promise to Luke, to speak for him. Something recently happened that really brought it to my attention. I have met a number a new lawyers recently. Many are very talkative and friendly. Others, more standoffish, as they feel their way through their new profession. I understand. I was them once. But there has been one particular young attorney who I have run into in court on multiple occasions. I have said hello and seem to get a muffled grunt in response. My first impression was to think he was “uppity” and had no time for me. But as this happened a few more times, I go back to a conversation that I had with Judge Kathy Mangeot in the spring of 2016. She spoke to me about Luke and how softly he spoke when he was in her courtroom, as if he had little self-confidence. I know how successful he was in so many areas and confident in his skills, so I could never understand what caused him to be a “shrinking violet” in the courtroom.

 

The bottom line is we cannot judge a young attorney or any other person solely by some brief interactions we have with them. We do not stand in their shoes. We cannot feel what they feel. We need to give them the benefit of the doubt. It is a new world for them and it is up to me and my colleagues to be positive role models and demonstrate that most lawyers really are good guys.

In the summer of 1999 Luke and I flew to Phoenix to begin our trip through Arizona to the Grand Canyon and then to Las Vegas. Before the trip I received some information from the Arizona Office of Tourism. They recommended that we stop in a place called Sedona, which I had never heard of.

 

We checked into the Desert Quail Inn and walked across the street to a small strip mall where a man sitting a small desk asked if we were interested in going horseback riding. He told us it would be free if we agreed to go to a 90 minute sales presentation at The Ridge on Sedona Golf Resort. Having never been through a time-share presentation, it sounded like a good deal to us. We were taken by jeep into the desert where we then took a fabulous 2 hour trail ride. As far as the presentation, it was pretty easy because Luke and I had already fallen in love with Sedona. The decision to buy the time-share is one I have never regretted. So when I get these constant calls or letters saying “we can get you out of your time-share” I say “Why?”

 

While we were there we hiked to Bell Rock and around it and the next day we make our first climb up Cathedral Rock, although we managed to stray from the trail for a while, but eventually made it to the top. Sedona became our Zen place. Luke and I returned the following year and brought along my daughter Bethany and their cousin Shea. The four of us have made around 7 trips there together.

 

The hiking is incredible and that is where Bethany first fell in love with yoga. It is a peaceful place that is pretty much void of stressors.

 

Attorneys are constantly under stress battling opposing counsel, trying to meet deadlines and trying to keep clients happy. Too many attorneys are not capable of properly dealing with stress. Some turn to alcohol, some to drugs, some to questionable sexual relationships, others engage in to excessive gambling or uncontrolled spending. In most cases it is not because they are “bad people,” it is because they are looking to get away from the pressure that confronts them daily. And yes, sadly there are lawyers who have no conscience and engage in truly despicable behavior. But it has always been my contention that those individuals are less at risk of harming themselves because their super-egos accept their behavior as appropriate.

 

I just recently returned from another great trip to Sedona. I took my step-son, Nathan, and Bethany’s boyfriend, Brock, for their first visits. They became instant believers in the power of tranquility that one can find there.

And Bethany, Sharon and I once again found that energy and peace that helps us deal with the grief and stress that tries to eat away at us.

 

It is important that we as attorneys find our Zen or our place of calmness. Whether it is in the desert, on a beach or in a church, we have to be able to escape and exhale for a while. But I am afraid too many of us are unable or unwilling to do so. I believe that is the reason most attorneys have difficulty retiring. They do not know what to do with their time. The pressure and stress becomes normal for them. But over time it takes its toll and leads to tragic results.

 

On Tuesday I drove to Owensboro to attend a Memorial Service that is held at the beginning of the Kentucky Bar Convention each year to honor the attorneys who have passed away over the past year. 133 attorneys were on that list and I knew quite a few of them. As I made the drive I thought that the last event I would ever want to have to attend would be a Memorial Service honoring my child.

 

The service was held at St. Stephens Cathedral, which was a beautiful location. I arrived for the reception that was held in the basement prior to the service. What occurred over the next 90 minutes stunned and amazed me and re-enforced my desire to follow this mission I have set myself on. After speaking with a few longtime acquaintances, a young man spoke to me saying that he recognized me from Frankfort. As we sat and talked he told me that his father was one of the attorneys being honored. Without knowing my circumstances he opened up to me about his father’s depression. His father worked in state government and retired last summer. After retirement his father’s depression increased and despite encouragement from his family he would not seek treatment. In November his son attempted to reach him by phone but got no response. He went to his father’s home and found that he had taken his life. I told him about Luke and let him know how much I appreciated him sharing his story.

 

A few minutes later I spoke to an attorney who I knew from Frankfort. We were discussing my reason for being in the service when she told me that she had been practicing in western Kentucky with her husband and that he had taken his own life. With both of these people it was if an instant bond is formed. And in the case of this young lady, she expressed a commitment to become involved and help others. I shall do my best to hold her to that and hope that she will share more with us in future posts.

 

Prior to the death of my brother Bill, I had given little thought to suicide among attorneys. I do recall the suicide of Bill’s close friend, Marty Mitchell, which I believe was in the late 1980’s. Marty was a brilliant trial attorney and quite the personality, but I always related his death to his “party till you drop” life style. But on Tuesday I was at this KBA service realizing that at least 4 of these deaths within the past year were depression related. And those are just the ones I know about because of chance encounters.

 

As to the service, it was a beautiful, moving ceremony that was well worth attending. I would like to thank the Supreme Court Justices, the KBA, the KBA Board of Governors, the Owensboro clergy who participated and all others involved for putting this together. Special thanks goes to two longtime friends, Gary Sergent and Mickey McGuire, and a new found friend, Doug Farnsley, for their participation.

 

The next day I attended several sessions at the KBA conference. The one that I primarily stayed for was “The Anxious Lawyer.” The presenter was Jeena Cho, a bankruptcy attorney from San Francisco who has written a book with the same title. She shared with us her thoughts on practicing mindfulness and how we as attorneys should address the stress in our practices and lives before it leads to deeper depression. The session was well attended. Thanks to Yvette Hourigan of the KBA Lawyers Assistance Program for her efforts as well in bringing Ms. Cho and for other planned upcoming events.

 

I want to thank all of those who shared their time and thoughts with me and made me feel that I was not alone in this endeavor. You gave me hope that by sharing. You energized me by sharing. Together we can help those who feel that there is no hope and no future to learn and understand there is so much to live for here in the present.

One year ago today, shortly after noon, I found Luke dead in his bed. He looked as if he had gone to sleep and never woke up. I am not sure what the hardest part was, watching him bounce between anger and depression over the final month, and not being able to get through to him, or the shock of finding him, or having to call Bethany and his cousins and his best friend and break the news. Or was it the depression that followed, dragging me to the deepest, darkest places.
But I have survived the unthinkable. I have carried on. I have heard so many stories of people in our profession who have suffered from debilitating depression. Some have survived, some have learned to cope and others have lost the struggle.
I thank all of you who have followed along. I will continue to use this experience to help and guide others the best I can.

I sat down to work on a new post two weeks ago. I was motivated because the past weekend I had prepared Luke’s 2016 tax returns. The last returns he will ever file. I thought back to a year ago when he was volunteering for the VITA (Volunteer Income Tax Assistance) Program at the Franklin County Public Library, preparing tax returns for people who needed assistance. As I have mentioned before Tax Law was one area of practice that Luke truly enjoyed. It was in his “blood.”

 

When my brother Bill graduated from UK College of Law, his first position was with the Internal Revenue Service. In fact it was there he met his bride to be, Lois Luke. For many years, as part of his practiced he prepared tax returns.

 

After my father, Pete, retired from the U.S. Post Office, he became a tax preparer, first for a local tax preparation service at 15^th & Madison in Covington and later operating out of his home. He spent many years volunteering for VITA, first at the Covington Library and later in Gulfport, FL. A solid understanding of Mathematics has been a strong family trait for generations.

 

The premise comes back to the tenet that you should be doing work that you enjoy to make life worth living. I began my practice covering many areas of law, mainly because I needed the money. As I grew older I realized that the grief and stress from certain issues, particularly in the family law area, were keeping me from truly taking joy in the practice of law.

 

After I started writing this point in this post I got stuck and wondered where this was headed. Then as I was leaving Bankruptcy Court in Lexington last week, I learned that Chip Bowles, a well-known and well respected Bankruptcy attorney had chosen to end his life. I did not know Chip well but had heard him speak at numerous Bankruptcy seminars over the past 15 years. I was well aware of his fine reputation. I also know that he was one of those individuals who was usually “the smartest guy in the room.”

 

Why is it that we lose so many of them, the smart ones? What brings these individuals to the point where they lose their love of the practice of law or more importantly their love of life?

 

The same week that I learned of Chip’s death, I spoke to one of my best friends from law school. He is three years older than me. He had a very successful career and poured his passion into the defense of his clients as intensely as any one I have ever known. He retired last year and moved to warmer climes. He told me that he had lost that passion and he knew it was time to give it up. But more than that he understood that there is life after the practice of law.

 

I know many attorneys who continue practicing into their 80’s. Like my friend I will not be one of them. It is a profession that takes its toll on us. But it is a profession, not the only aspect of our life. We have to know the difference and we have to know that when one takes too much of a toll upon the other it is time to walk away and savor life.

 

Earlier this week an elderly woman called my office and asked me about problems she was having with some creditors. After a brief rundown of her situation I told her that because of her situation there was very little her creditors could do other than call and harass her. At the end of our conversation she told me that I was her hero of the day and she thanked me for the advice. That is what makes this work worthwhile.

As attorneys we are expected to be knowledgeable. We are expected to be confident. We are expected to be the champions for our clients. We are expected to be heroes. But what happens when a client becomes a hero to us.

Previously I wrote about compassion fatigue and how we as lawyers are not trained to deal with the considerable trauma that we confront on a daily basis. Often we are on the periphery but other times it smacks us hard.

A friend posted on Facebook not long ago, “Do you know someone who would take a bullet for you?” I have been blessed with many good friends in my life. Many of them have helped me out in many ways. But I only know of two people who I believed would “take a bullet for me.” Sadly over the past 9 months I lost both of them. The first was Luke. We had our disagreements at times but the love between us was never in doubt and he had a toughness unlike many people I have known. Despite the clashes, I knew he was there for me. He was my champion.

The second was Kenny Perkins. We had not only an attorney-client relationship for 15 years, but also a friendship and a level of trust between us that was maintained at a high level.

Interestingly, Kenny had taken a bullet before, in fact he was shot 5 or 6 times back in 2002 during a failed robbery attempt by four thugs. Even after being shot he ran them off with a tire tool and delivered some serious pain. They all wound up with long prison sentences.

I first met Kenny around 1997. I needed a jump so I called AAA and Kenny showed up to start my car. Over the next few years I ran into him on occasion but never really got to know him well until shortly after he recovered from the shooting. He came to see me a about a case in District Court. His attorney was retiring and he needed representation.

I am not sure why we hit it off and became close, but there was an openness and honesty that created a special bond. I knew he was always there for me and I was always ready to help him. I once said that if my car broke down in Arizona all I had to do was call and he would come get me. Every conversation we had ended with Kenny saying “Call me if you need me.”

After Luke died, Kenny was there for me, as he always was. When we finally were able to gather ourselves enough to clean out Luke’s apartment, Kenny showed up with a truck & trailer and his cousin to do the moving. After he moved everything to Julia’s (Luke’s mom) home, Kenny went back and cleaned up the apartment. Kenny never asked for anything in return.

We spoke several days later and Kenny told me that he knew Luke had been using Xanax bars again. There were several times when Luke had driven to Lexington and had tire issues and Kenny had to go rescue him late at night. I asked why he never told me. I already had enough guilt not being able to prevent Luke’s death and this just made me feel worse. He said that Luke was worried about me being ashamed of him. He also said that he felt the need to have Luke’s trust or Luke would not have called him in a time of need. I became angry at Kenny for the first time in my life. I had difficulty dealing with the fact that Kenny and Luke had kept this from me. After several months I told Kenny how I felt and he said he fully understood but felt it was more important not to betray Luke’s trust. It was difficult but I understood. I was disappointed at myself for having been mad at him.

In November, Kenny told me that he was having stomach problems and was going to have tests done in Lexington. This was pretty surprising because even after the shooting, he left the hospital before his doctor was ready to discharge him. A few weeks later it was confirmed that he had cancer. Over the next 4 weeks we had the most serious conversations we had ever had and while I will not tell the details suffice it to say that he considered me one of his closest friends and appreciated everything I had done for him. I told him as well how much he meant to me not only for what he had done for me but for what he had done for Luke. Kenny Perkins was probably the hardest working man I ever met. He lived hard and he loved hard. Just as with Luke his life ended way to soon with so many dreams left to be fulfilled.

I am sad but I am left with great memories of these 2 men who have reminded me that I must go on being someone’s hero.