04/28/2026
Thirty years ago last week, the Mississippi fire service was shattered by an unthinkable tragedy. On April 24, 1996, a firefighter walked into the Jackson Fire Department headquarters and opened fire on his own colleagues. In the span of a few horrific moments, four dedicated fire service leaders—Captain Stanley C. Adams, District Chief W. Dwight Craft, Captain Meredith “Don” Moree, and District Chief John “Rick” Robbins—were murdered. The shooter had also taken the life of his estranged wife, Glenda, earlier that morning.
My thoughts remain with those who still mourn. For three decades, the families, friends, and colleagues of those lost have carried the heavy burden of that day. It was a nightmare made real, a tragedy that rewrote the history of the Jackson Fire Department and sent shockwaves through every firehouse in our state. We lost good men to a senseless act of violence perpetrated by one of our own.
Yet, as we pause to remember the horrific events of 1996, we must also confront a painful reality about where we stand today in 2026. Thirty years later, the mourning continues—not just for the firefighters who needlessly lost their lives then, but for the firefighters we continue to lose today. Over the past year alone, we have lost six firefighters in Mississippi who needlessly took their own lives.
Nationally, the statistics are staggering. We lose more firefighters to su***de each year than we do to line-of-duty deaths. The Firefighter Behavioral Health Alliance estimates that only a fraction of these tragedies are ever reported. We are fantastic at caring for the public. When the alarm sounds, we do not hesitate to run toward danger to save strangers. But we are our own worst enemies when it comes to taking care of ourselves and each other.
The trauma exposure inherent in our profession is cumulative. The things we see, the tragedies we mitigate, and the physical toll of the job do not simply vanish when our shift ends. Yet, too often, we meet these challenges with a proudful avoidance of asking for help. We suffer in silence, fearing that admitting we are struggling is a sign of weakness. It is not. It is a fatal flaw in our culture that we must actively dismantle.
We cannot change what happened thirty years ago in Jackson, but we have absolute control over how we respond to the crisis in front of us today. We must prioritize mental health and behavioral wellness with the same urgency and funding that we apply to our apparatus and turnout gear. We must check on our personnel, have the difficult conversations, and ensure that every firefighter knows that reaching out for help is the bravest call they will ever make.
If you are struggling, please know that you are not alone and that your life has immense value. Resources are available right now. You can call or text the 988 Su***de & Crisis Lifeline, or reach out to the Fire/EMS Helpline at 1-888-731-FIRE (3473).
As we honor the memory of Captain Adams, Chief Craft, Captain Moree, and Chief Robbins, let us commit to honoring them through our actions. Let us build a fire service culture where no one suffers in silence, where we protect our own with the same fierce dedication we offer the public, and where we finally put an end to the needless loss of our brothers and sisters.
