Police recall the night that a friend and fellow officer died
Sunday, August 3, 2003
By EDD PRITCHARD Repository staff writer
Saturday marks the one-year anniversary
of the shootout that killed Massillon
Police Officer Eric Taylor and
self-proclaimed Constitutionalist
Donald Matthews. Three officers who were working with Taylor talked to The Repository about that night and about their lives since.
MASSILLON — Kervin Brown heard the phrase “officer down” as he climbed into the cruiser.
As Brown sped toward the corner of Cherry Road and First Street NW, he heard Patrol Officer Tom Solinger’s voice on the radio. He heard Police Officer Ken Smith. He heard Police Officer Tom Rogers.
Police Officer Eric Taylor’s voice was missing.
“As soon as they called it out, I knew who it was,” Brown said. “It hit me like a ton of bricks.”
Moments earlier as Brown wrapped up paperwork, an Ohio Highway Patrol trooper had asked for help with a pursuit. The trooper was chasing a car south on Route 21 toward Massillon.
Taylor, Brown’s best friend, heard the call for help. Taylor stopped pestering Brown and headed for a cruiser.
“The last thing I heard him scream was ‘yahoo’ or something like that, and he took off out the door,” Brown said.
•••
Aug. 9, 2002, already had been a busy day for the Police Department’s second shift.
Nine years on the force gave Brown senior status that afternoon. He was officer in charge.
Taylor and Brown paired up in a cruiser when the shift began.
The two men liked wearing baseball caps on the job. Both had mustaches, similar builds and were about the same height. People often mixed the two up. Taylor hated when someone called him “Kervin.”
“He wanted his own identity,” Brown said.
When Taylor, 31 at the time he died, joined the force in 1998, Brown, now 40, worked as his field training officer. The first night together, Taylor barely said a word.
That didn’t last long. “Once we really started talking, it was an amazing friendship,” Brown said.
Brown’s mother died in March 2000. Taylor stepped in to help his buddy. He called daily, almost too often, to ask how Brown was doing.
When the pair worked the same shift, they rode together.
Early during that Friday afternoon shift, Taylor and Brown found themselves in Schrader’s Fan Foods store parking lot, talking with Solinger and Smith, who had paired up that day.
As the officers talked, a dispatcher tried to reach Taylor. The radio clicked, but the dispatcher’s voice couldn’t be heard. Taylor hated hearing those clicks, Solinger and Brown said. He decided to play with the dispatcher.
“Dispatch, can you check for warrants on Mel Blount?” Taylor also asked about warrants on Tony Dorsett and a few other NFL stars. The officers laughed each time the dispatcher said she had no warrants to match the names.
Taylor liked making his fellow officers laugh. He and Solinger would do a special dance if one of them got overtime. He would leave prank phone messages that had fellow officers howling.
The laughter eased the stress that comes with the job. “It’s how you cope,” Solinger said.
Mid-afternoon found Rogers, Solinger, Smith, Brown and Taylor in one of those unusual, stressful situations officers can’t anticipate.
At a house on 17th Street NW, a woman committed suicide. She had taken hundreds of pills, then left her car running in a closed garage.
Officers had to break a window to enter the garage. Because he was the “little guy,” Rogers climbed in the window. The garage door wiring wouldn’t work. Rogers had to fumble through the fumes and find his way back to the window.
“I almost died twice that day,” Rogers said.
Solinger reached through the window and pulled Rogers back to fresh air. Later, Solinger would help keep Rogers out of the line of fire.
•••
The suicide investigation sent Brown and Taylor in different directions.
Brown stayed at the house to talk with the woman’s family and work with the coroner’s staff. Taylor responded to another call.
Back at the station, Brown attacked the paperwork that goes with a suicide report. Taylor egged him on to hurry. He wanted to get back on the road again.
At about 8:30 p.m., the Highway Patrol asked for help. The pursuit was supposed to be about 3 miles north of town near Butterbridge Road NW in Lawrence Township.
Taylor and Rogers were at the police station. Rogers took his cruiser, cut through parking lots to Lillian Gish Boulevard, then headed north on Route 21. Taylor headed north, going to First Street NW.
Solinger and Smith were patrolling in Walnut Hills. They sped west on Walnut Road SE, then north on Route 21. Solinger hoped to place stop sticks at the Lake Avenue intersection with Route 21.
But the pursuit was closer to town than officers realized.
Rogers saw Trooper Joseph Hershey’s cruiser following a 1992 Taurus down Cherry Road NE. He pulled in behind. As the trooper headed south on First Street NW, Rogers realized no one was in front of the trooper. He stopped after seeing the Taurus had pulled into the gravel lot to his right.
Solinger saw Rogers’ cruiser and turned off Route 21 onto Cherry Road. Shooting already had started as Solinger swung his cruiser in alongside Rogers’.
The next 60 seconds are a blur.
Rogers fired four shots from his cruiser, then went out a window. He stayed low and tried to listen, because he couldn’t see anything.
Solinger realized Smith was in the line of fire. He started returning fire at the Taurus, which was circling the cruiser. When Rogers dived from his cruiser, Solinger feared he had shot him. Rogers scrambled for cover and almost passed through Solinger’s line of fire, but Solinger instinctively blocked him out of the way.
Solinger remembers seeing Donald W. Matthews standing less than 20 feet away. He saw the gun’s muzzle flash when Matthews fired. “I don’t know how he missed.” Solinger fired back. Matthews fell.
Brown didn’t arrive until the shooting had stopped. He couldn’t see Taylor, but knew he was hurt.
Smith grabbed Brown and talked to him, but Brown really didn’t hear what he said. He checked Matthews for a pulse and found he was dead. Then, he walked toward his friend.
A nurse had stopped to help Taylor. He was rolled over on his back. He looked at Brown, then took his hand and squeezed. “It was almost like he was trying to tell me something,” Brown said.
Brown whispered in Taylor’s ear, told him to keep breathing, keep fighting. He looked at Taylor’s face.
“I could see in his eyes, he’s not going to make it,” Brown said.
Within seconds, Taylor stopped breathing.
•••
Brown followed the ambulance that took Taylor to Massillon Community Hospital. He saw Police Officer Jason Greenfield and told him Taylor was gone. Greenfield, who traded voice-mail gags with Taylor, didn’t want to hear his friend had died.
When Taylor’s mother arrived from Akron, Brown had to tell her the news. “I couldn’t say anything. All she did was grab me and cry.”
The next week was spent preparing for Taylor’s funeral. Officers focused on arrangements and practicing for the service. It distracted them from the reality.
“We wanted everything to be perfect,” Rogers said.
They stayed strong. Kept a stiff upper lip. Didn’t cry. At least not in public.
As he patrolled Massillon’s streets, Brown did cry. He tried to work through what had happened. He hid in his cruiser.
Brown left town when the funeral was over. He took his wife and children to his hometown in Virginia. He skipped a citywide memorial service at Washington High School because he didn’t want to break down in front of everyone.
In Virginia, Brown considered whether he wanted to continue being a police officer.
Solinger asked himself the same questions during a two-week stint away from work. It wasn’t until after the shooting had ended that Solinger realized Matthews hadn’t missed. A bullet had struck Solinger’s hand.
Solinger talked about the shooting and his job with his father. He wondered how he had been spared. His father had a simple, straightforward answer: Somebody is looking out for you.
Although he has not been a regular at Sunday services, Solinger always has believed in God. “When the Lord calls you home ... it’s your turn to go.”
Aug. 9, 2002, wasn’t Solinger’s day.
Brown also knows it wasn’t his day. He blamed himself, at first, for Taylor’s death. If he had put off the paperwork, he and Taylor might have been riding together. Maybe things would have been different. But God plans for the situation when He wants to bring someone home, Brown said.
After a week in Virginia with his family, Brown headed back to Massillon. Greenfield was to meet him at Cleveland Hopkins International Airport, and Brown was surprised that Rogers and Police Officer Paul Covert also made the trip. The four went to dinner, but afterward Greenfield insisted that Brown call his wife in Virginia.
She had more bad news. Brown’s brother, a truck driver, had been killed that day in a crash. Less than two weeks after losing his best friend, Brown had to bury a brother.
His fellow officers wondered how Brown coped with the losses. Brown threw himself back into his work. Solinger and Rogers did the same.
“This is what I had to do,” Brown said. “This is what God chose me to do.”
The officers credit Police Chief Mark Weldon for giving them time to deal with Taylor’s death and their own brush with death.
When Weldon was an officer with the Perry Township Police Department, he shot and wounded a suspect. He talked with Solinger about shooting Matthews. Weldon explained that every police officer battles the same questions after shooting someone.
Solinger said he debated leaving the department. He finally asked himself, “What would Eric think if I quit?” His answer: “Eric would have wanted me to stay.”
Officers also thank city residents for their support. Too often police officers are dealing with unhappy people in difficult situations. The public’s response reminded officers there are far more good people than bad.
“They were there for us big time,” Brown said.
Rogers realizes the public support helped him take a different approach to his job. He is talking more with people on the street. It’s easier to help them.
The officers know Taylor’s death always will be with them. But so are the memories of his pranks, fun nature and friendship.
Although they knew each other less than five years, Brown thanks God for bringing Taylor into his life. “I guess we couldn’t have asked for a better friend.”
You can reach Repository writer Edd Pritchard at (330) 580-8484 or e-mail:
edd.pritchard@cantonrep.com
