Beach loses a defender; family loses a father and a husband

Where were you Thursday night at about 11:15?

In bed? Watching television? Walking the dog?

I was in my kitchen, putting the finishing touches on curtains for my daughter's college dorm room. She was at the Dave Matthews concert. The rest of the family was home.

Like most residents of the resort city, we feel secure here. We know that in the unlikely event of an emergency - I'm thinking heart attack, not violent attack - we'll call 911, and help will arrive.

Virginia Beach officials like to boast that we live in one of the safest cities of its size in America. It feels that way. Outside of the occasional bike theft, graffiti incident or garbage-can toppling, most neighborhoods are relatively crime-free.

Yet in our snug, suburban cocoons, we often forget that cities such as the Beach have low rates of violent crime in part because an army of astonishingly underpaid folks put on badges every day and do battle with the bad guys on our behalf.

Once the sun goes down, police officers wade into the shadowy, crime-infested pockets of the city. From the resort strip to the city line, they disrupt drug deals, prostitution rings and gang activity.

In Virginia Beach, there are 818 of these sworn officers. Make that 817.

On Thursday night, while the rest of the city relaxed, Detective Michael Smith Phillips, 37, was gunned down near a 7-Eleven in Green Run. The six-year veteran of the force was shot three times at close range and died at the scene.

It appears he was working undercover, about to make a drug bust, when a thug walked up to his pickup and blasted away.

Two men with criminal records have been arrested and charged with first-degree murder. One had gotten out of jail earlier in the day.

Not long after, the detective's wife got the dreaded knock on the door. The one where the chief and a chaplain stand on the porch, with grief etched on their faces.

In cases such as these, they usually stay with the spouses until family or friends can get to their side.

It's likely that the next morning this newly minted widow had the heartbreaking task of waking her two boys - ages 10 and 7 - and telling them that their daddy wasn't coming home. Ever.

She probably reminded them that he was one of the good guys. That he'd died doing what he loved. That he'd been trying to rid the streets of drug dealers so that the world would be a safer place for them and their friends.

I'm sure she told them he loved them.

I hope she also mentioned to these young boys that it's only because of police officers like their brave father that the rest of the city sleeps peacefully at night.

Kerry Dougherty, (757) 446-2306, kerry.dougherty@cox.net