Staring Into Family Eyes, Then Holding the Body

By Cary Smith
President, California Boating Safety Officers Association
Deputy Harbormaster, Pillar Point Harbor


            One evening the night patrol had locked the gates to the Mavericks’ parking lot.  There was a vehicle in the lot.  The morning patrol, when doing his rounds, saw the vehicle in the lot and wrote it a citation.

            Later, the on-duty patrol had opened the gates again and looked at the car.  The morning patrol told his co-worker, a more experienced Harbor Patrol Officer, that the car was there last night and got cited.

            “What do you mean it got sited?  It was there over night?  Did anyone look in the vehicle?  Did anyone run a plate?  Did anyone try to contact anybody?”

            The newer officer answered puzzled, “No.  Why?”

            They got out of their vehicle and looked at the car.  The senior officer told the other it could be a surfer who never made it back to his car.  They looked in the vehicle and saw some beach items.  They noticed that the vehicle had racks on it. 

            Now the junior officer, feeling like he missed something, together with the senior officer contacted the Sheriff’s Office who could run the license plate on the mysterious vehicle.  One of the Sheriff’s
Deputies responded to the parking lot and ended up doing just that.  The vehicle belonged to a young man who lived in Foster City. 

            The next step was to attempt to contact the Foster City Police Department (FCPD) and request they go to the person’s residence as a welfare check or perhaps call the person to whom the vehicle was registered.  This would be normal procedure if the car were stolen or there were some kind of foul play. 

            While the report was being made to the Police Department, almost simultaneously, a person was reported as missing to the FCPD.  The FCPD sent an officer out to the harbor and the FCPD took possession of the vehicle.  They impounded it, towed it to Foster City, and began to gather as much information as possible on the car’s owner. 

            Unfortunately, the FCPD did not pass along their case information to the San Mateo County Sheriff’s Department, who governs the harbor jurisdiction.

            The next day, I reported for duty.  As I was in our Harbor Patrol Office, some people came in. By that time I had heard of the vehicle and the impound.  These people asked if we knew that there was a missing person who was from Foster City.  Surprised that we didn’t, we contacted the Sheriff’s Office and they said they didn’t know someone was missing either.

            It was rumored by a local boat tenant, not the most reliable source, that there was supposedly a guy with a blonde gal at Rossi’s Cove that week.  (Rossi’s Cove is just inside of Maverick’s.)  She reported having seen a backpack on her walk, and saw it again the next day.  Still, nobody really knew anything specific.

            The Sheriff’s Sergeant attempted to contact the Foster City Police Department, and in doing so found out that the officer that had impounded the vehicle had gone on vacation for two weeks.  None of the information was available to anyone at the FCPD.  Until the officer who took the report and impounded the vehicle returned, we had to gather separate information. 

            The Sergeant requested that we do a search of the area inside the harbor.  Being the head of our personal watercraft (PWC) program, I did a search inside the harbor on PWC.  I couldn’t find anything that seemed suspicious or out of the ordinary. 

            I went further and checked the road and the beach on the way to Mavericks in the patrol truck. There was nothing.

            This is when, as a patrol officer, my mind begins to go off of experience to figure out what might possibly be happening and what can we do about it?  So I thought, in hoping for the best, that this person could have left with someone else. 

            There is this point of frustration when we don’t have information.  We know time is of the essence in any rescue or recovery.  When we have to do as much as possible, as fast as possible, and there are so many holes in the information, it makes us be less efficient. 

            The next morning came around and more members of the family with the missing person came into our office.  Here they were, being informed by the FCPD that the car of their family member was found unoccupied in our jurisdiction, and nothing more! 

            I spoke with them briefly.  Our office was busy.  But they wanted to know more.  They wanted to know if a search was being done.  They were looking to search on their own. 

            As I was busy trying to deal with normal weekend traffic at a popular destination for a weekend drive, I was looking into the eyes of family members who were missing someone.  I didn’t have enough information to know where to send them or what else to do.  The puzzle was coming together, at least enough to know someone was really missing.  And I, of all people, was staring his family members in the eyes as they pleaded to know more.

            I did the only thing I knew at that point, which was to suggest they walk the cliffs above Rossi’s Cove and the beaches toward the Moss Beach Distillery the best they could.  A lot of hours passed, and no new information was learned.

            Later that evening I was socializing with one of my co-workers outside of work.  We both communicated our frustration with the idea that the only person who knew most of the story was not contactable.  It was saddening to leave the family hanging like that.

            The next day at work was that once-a-week day when we typically have a barbeque day at Pillar Point.  Our Assistant Harbormaster is into hunting and cooking and does a nice lunch for us.  As he was cooking and manning the office, we looked several times in our patrol vehicles throughout the harbor for any clues.  We were out at the point on patrol and saw members of the family walking the area with 8- by 10-inch glossy pictures of the missing man.  We spoke with a few of them and continued to look and listen for more clues. 

            Just as we were about to sit down to have lunch, the family came into our office.  Now I was actually looking at a photo of the guy who was missing and hearing his life story from the people who cared the most.  I felt so sorry.  I felt so helpless. 

            I started hearing the story about his guy, his life, who he was, what he did, how the people cared about him.  He had an auto part repair business where he worked with his brother.  He was doing OK.  He liked adventure.  They tracked down his VISA card.  He had just bought a new wetsuit, snorkel, dive mask and sweatshirt.  He was stressed from working so much and needed a break and was heading out to go diving. 

            That put a red flag up for me.  Rossi’s cove is not the place to go diving.  If you were to go diving you would need fins, possibly a weight belt and some other gear.  That wasn’t what they said that he had.           I was trying to empathize with the family and give them some hope.  We had been out in the area.  There were a lot of other people in the area.  If he had a wetsuit on, most likely he would have had enough flotation to not sink.

            As I was looking at them, looking at the picture, trying to give any possible scenario to them which would keep their hope, and trying to get a bite to eat, a call came in on the radio, audible on my shoulder.  They could hear it.  It was from the Sheriff’s dispatch and stated that a dog walker had spotted a possible body on the beach north of Rossi’s Cove.

            This area is pure cliff.  Access to the place described by the dog walker is brutal.  A personal watercraft was requested to best access the location.  That meant me.

            I acknowledged the call.  I, on PWC, would be the fastest way to the body.  The whole family was looking at me as I was talking on the radio and they were realizing that this was probably their loved one, as was I. 

            I tried to give them some hope and explained that maybe it was just a piece of driftwood, or just a dead seal, or live harbor seal because there are many of those in the area. 

            I then called on the telephone, in an area more private, to the Sheriff’s sergeant to advise them that I had the whole family in the office and if this does turn out to be the person we are looking for, we would need someone at the office to comfort the family. 

            Rushing to the call, I told the family they may also want to be prepared for the worst as this situation might not have a positive outcome. 

            As I put on my wetsuit, I was feeling that this might be the guy.  Here I was one minute looking at his picture.  I was feeling the sadness the family might soon experience knowing that this might be a death of who they love.  The women were screaming and crying profusely.  The brother understood professionally what I was doing.  They were very aware of what was being said on the radio.  It was twice as important for me to do everything right, as the whole family would be hearing this unfold as it happened live.

            This is when the time clock in my head begins to slow down.  Everything becomes very methodical.  It is a routine we are taught as professional lifeguards and harbor patrol.  The exterior of us is operating at an accelerated speed, but our minds are ticking in slow motion as we go through procedures. 

            (There is a section here that will be filled in regarding arriving at the body.  It is a sensitive section and Cary hasn't been able to relive the  whole thing quite yet.)

            When you’re in the moment you’re four steps ahead, with three different scenarios.  When you’re finally there sitting with the body and there’s nothing more you can do, you’re exhausted and feel desperately helpless. 

            What is inevitable is that you reflect on your own life.  You try to figure out what the situation was when this happened.  You ask yourself so much in your mind.  It’s a morbid curiosity.  Why did this happen?  Why am I the person to bring closure to this situation?  Even though you can touch it, you can feel it, you can smell it, you still can’t believe it.  It’s like that unwaning hope inside of you half believes this person’s going to be OK.

            (There is a section here that will be filled in regarding returning the body to the family at the harbor.  It is a sensitive section and Cary hasn't been able to relive the  whole thing quite yet.)