Deputy Wilburn Junior Agy Gone but Never Forgotten
It’s been more than 16 years since I stood over the lifeless body of my friend, partner and mentor, Will Agy, laying on the floor of that video store where he had stopped by, while making his rounds on an extra job. Two lowlife and cowardly robbers had entered the store while Will was talking to the clerk; one of whom had grabbed Will from behind and wrestled him to the ground, before shooting him in the back of the head without having given him a chance to defend himself.
I was called by the extra job coordinator, who told me that he could not get in contact with Will and had heard that there was an officer-involved shooting at the EJ. I told him that I would head to the shopping center to find out what was going on, secure in the knowledge that if it was an OIS, Will would come out on top, as he was the most officer-safety conscious cop I knew.
As I drew closer to the scene, I was contacted by the coordinator again, and he told me that it was the officer who had been shot and that Lifeflight was en route to the location. I felt my heart in my throat and I increased my speed nearly twofold.
I was nearing the scene when I was contacted one last time by the coordinator; this time to tell me that Lifeflight had been canceled. I, in my naivete, thought that this was good news, as they must have canceled Lifeflight because he wasn’t hurt as bad as they had initially thought.
When I arrived on location, the first thing I saw was the large crowd of bystanders around the crime scene tape, which was strung liberally around the scene. I identified myself to the cop at the barricade, and as I walked towards the front door of the store, I finally recognized the look the cop had given me for what it was, a look of sympathy and shared emotions.
As I sorted the meaning of the cop’s reaction, I got my first glimpse into the store, where I was only able to see a pair of legs stretched out on the floor. My heart quickened and seemed to beat so loudly I could hear it, as I recognized the shoes of the body on the floor; the same ratty pair of black sneakers Will wore, despite the hard times I gave him about the condition of the shoes and the green tongues they had.
I walked into the store and I looked down at the a scene which is forever etched into my memory, Will lying on his back, with his arms pulled in front of his body, the large pool of blood and cerebral fluid which surrounded his head like a scarlet halo. Will’s uniform shirt opened by a well-intentioned Samaritan who had made a sincere, but vain attempt at CPR. Will’s ubiquitous flashlight lying near his head, his duty holster empty, as the murderers had robbed him of his duty weapon as he lay dying on the floor.
The next week was a blur; preparations for the funeral, which had to be moved to Mont Belvieu, as the church in Dayton was too small to handle the crowd, visiting with Will’s wife and kids, Tracy and Ali.
I remember standing honor guard next to Will’s coffin before the service, ramrod-straight and poker-faced until I was relieved by the next officer, at which point I broke down in tears as I walked away from my post. I remember Tracy Agy, thirteen years old, walking to the coffin and bending down to give her dad one last kiss on his forehead before the coffin was closed.
I have been to many other police officer’s funerals since then, unfortunately, but this is the one that brought home the reality of the job; this wasn’t a name in the paper, this was a man I looked up to and considered a friend and teacher. Nothing would ever be the same for me and there is not a day that goes by that Will isn’t in my thoughts.
“Thou wert my guide, philosopher, and friend.”- Alexander Pope
Written by Corporal Frank Longoria
Liberty Police Department