A toy police car and dinosaur rest near the grave site of North Hampton police officer Peter Cormier, the father of now 4-year-old twins Brooklyn and Logan. [Deb Cram/Fosters.com and Seacoastonline]

'Tears from heaven'

Police officer's heart attack left Shelby Cormier a single mom of twins

BY HADLEY BARNDOLLAR - PHOTOS AND VIDEO BY DEB CRAM

Published April 20, 2019

DOVER — Coming off a several-day melting period in March, the cemetery grounds were soaked, the air smelling of mud. An afternoon sun cast down on 4-year-old Brooklyn Cormier, her sneakers squashing the waterlogged grass with each step, as she maneuvered her walker through the early spring sludge.

It was beginning to get warmer, the days longer.

After a few serious moments shared with their mother, Shelby Cormier, at Pete’s gravesite, twins Brooklyn and Logan broke into a game of hide and seek. Brooklyn picked the largest headstones to mask her walker, while Logan crouched behind smaller ones. Somehow, a somber visit to see the father they’d shared so little time with turned into a scene of giggles and games.

Shelby smirked from afar. "Typical," she said.

It was at the Rockingham Mall in Salem, inside the children’s clothing store Gymboree, when Shelby got the first phone notification. She couldn't forget the time and place if she tried.

First from her husband’s mother, then his brother. Shelby and her mom, Nancy Fontaine, were doing their early Christmas shopping marathon on Oct. 3, 2015.

"The whole world stopped," she said. "He was gone."

Pete Cormier, her husband of five years, had died without warning at age 46 of a heart attack. The veteran police officer, working for the town of North Hampton, left behind his wife, and twins Logan and Brooklyn; the latter of whom was just merely beginning her journey with cerebral palsy, a permanent movement disorder, at 17 months old.

Pete spent 18 years with the North Hampton Police Department, served in the Air National Guard and was a sniper team leader on the Seacoast Emergency Response Team. He and Shelby married in 2010, and the twins were born in May 2014.

"I think I blacked out that day," Shelby, 42, said of Pete’s funeral, which drew hundreds of members of law enforcement and then-Gov. Maggie Hassan. Roads in Dover, leading to his final resting place on Dover Point Road, were shut down that day for the procession. The sky poured.

"Some people felt like that was a metaphor or something, that Pete would have been devastated and crying," Shelby said. "That was his tears from heaven."

Today, Shelby remains a single mother, now living at her parents’ house in Eliot, Maine, the home where she grew up. She works full-time as a teacher at Oyster River Middle School, while caring for her twins. Brooklyn’s medical needs have grown exponentially; to physical therapy five days a week, and a second specialized surgery on the horizon. Presently, Brooklyn crawls at home and uses a walker to get around in public, but is able to take some steps independently.

Pete was a 1987 graduate of Spaulding High School, according to his obituary. He served in the Army, and then with the Air National Guard at Pease, retiring in 2009 as master sergeant. He’d been deployed to Saudi Arabia, Spain and Italy, as well as during Hurricane Katrina. He began his law enforcement career with the Newington Police Department, and joined North Hampton in 1997.

The obituary refers to Shelby as "the love of his life."

Shelby said her mom “single-handedly” cleaned out her and Pete’s entire home after he died. "I could barely step foot in that house," she said. "I’m fortunate that my parents are retired and close by."

Fontaine said, even into her retirement, she never got away from taking care of kids, being a grandmother to seven, so quickly becoming a second live-in mom of sorts to Brooklyn and Logan, who call her "Mema," was fine. It was the pain of watching Shelby re-navigate life that took its toll.

"It was horrifying, obviously," Fontaine said. "It was heartbreaking. It’s something no mother wants for their daughter. There’s no other way to describe it. It was heartbreaking to watch what she had to go through, and know she was trying to be so strong for the kids."

Pete's mother, Gerry Defeo, was at the house visiting with Pete and the twins when he met his final moments that October day. He didn't make any noise, she said, "he just went and I knew." She scrambled to put Brooklyn and Logan in another room while she called 911.

"It was devastating because he was such a light everywhere he went," Defeo said.

Defeo, who lives in Dover, described her son as always helpful and friendly, who even as a young boy demonstrated "an appetite for something more." He had a wonderful career in the military and law enforcement, she said, but his life with Shelby and ultimately the birth of his children were the grandest chapter of his story.

When it came to having kids, Defeo said, Pete was "the bridesmaid who always wanted to be the bride;" he watched everyone else around him have families, while he patiently waited his turn. "When he met Shelby, and they had those babies, he had a smile on his face until he died," Defeo said. "He just loved it. He couldn’t wait to be their dad, take care of them, and show them off. Family was the ultimate for him."

Pete and his younger brother, James Cormier, a Greenland police officer, were on scene together when Greenland Police Chief Michael Maloney was killed while serving a drug-related search warrant in April 2012, shaking the entire New Hampshire law enforcement community. It prompted many officers to write down their wishes for their funerals, James said, just in case. Three years later, "a flicker of a light, and there goes my brother, my best friend, a husband, a father," he said.

"All we could do after that was honor his achievements throughout life and look out for the kids," he said. "His whole life was to give to the community and give to his country. That was my focus, to cope with it."

Today, Logan loves his toy guns, and he has “blue in his blood,” like his father, Shelby said. He even talks about "going to war," exhibiting striking similarities to Pete she can't describe.

In recalling the pain, Shelby’s demeanor is placid and stoic. Pete’s death is finite, and she’s left with his two greatest joys to care for. That is her focus. She doesn’t have a choice about whether or not to get up in the morning.

"He was so excited to finally be a dad," Shelby said. "It didn’t come easy for us, in terms of having children. To finally have his family, have twins, his little girl, and then to have that ripped away so suddenly."

Fontaine added, "You go to thinking what he’s missing, and that’s so hard. I'm a believer in whatever there is afterwards, and I think he’s watching over them and he’s right there with them."

The Oyster River Cooperative School District granted Shelby a leave of absence for the remainder of the 2015-16 school year, and fellow staff and students rallied around their beloved teacher and her children. The high school held a benefit one month after Pete’s death. “You don’t realize who you’ve touched and connected with until something horrible happens,” Shelby said, resting her chin on her hand.

Because Pete died off duty at his home, his family didn't receive line-of-duty death benefits, leaving them without any financial security. An ongoing GoFundMe page established shortly after Pete’s death to support Shelby and the kids has raised more than $71,000 to date.

Defeo said some organizations collected money for Brooklyn and Logan's future college educations, and even physical therapy services were donated. "The generosity of people was amazing, people who hardly knew our family," she said.

Shelby said she has "fallen and stumbled a lot," but with the strength of her nearby family, from her parents, both sisters living less than a mile in each direction, and some steadfast friends, she's been able to continue on.

"I don’t really have any choice but to figure it out and move forward ... to get back up and keep moving," she said. "Pete would want us to."

Shelby will not rest until Brooklyn walks, Defeo said. "She is totally tireless, and her parents are the same way," she said. "It’s just remarkable how she can be both parents."

Shelby's older sister, Stephanie Tarr, called Shelby, "Resilient, stronger than anybody I think I’ve ever met."

"What she’s been through, what she pushes through for those two," Tarr said. "Everything she does is for those two, and to keep Pete’s memory alive. I’m in awe of her strength."

Fontaine said her daughter fights through whatever is thrown at her, "whether it's insurance-related, medical, while she’s taking care of the kids, working full-time."

"Amazing," she continued. "Just absolutely amazing."

The widow and children of a police officer garner a lot of attention in the beginning, soon after the loss, Shelby noted. But she's worried as the years go on, her children will fade to the background in the minds of others.

"I don’t want people to forget us," she said. "Everybody is there for you in the beginning, and as time passes and goes by, naturally people go back to their own lives and I get that; life is busy. But I don’t want people to forget Pete’s kids."

While visiting the cemetery that early evening in March, Shelby asked Brooklyn, “Can you give Daddy a kiss?” Leaning forward from her walker, Shelby holding her waist, Brooklyn bent from the hips to give a laminated photo of her dad, displayed on a stake, a soft brush.

Pete’s stone reads, “There is no greater honor than to dedicate one’s life in service to others.” Resting at his grave are a toy police car and dinosaur figurines. A plastic "best dad ever" trophy sits on top of an adjacent foot stone.

Shelby visits the cemetery on holidays, birthdays and other milestones. It’s hard to go there.

"The grief is never going to go away," she said. "I’m never going to get over it."

In designing Pete’s gravestone, she was able to incorporate the American flag as an overlay image. The stone, though black, has faint stars and stripes amid the inscriptions.

"They have decided the American flag is Daddy’s flag," Shelby said. “So whenever we’re driving somewhere, they play 'find the Daddy flag.'"

During an evening at home, with Brooklyn sitting on her knee, Shelby said quietly, “Tell them about Daddy.”

The little girl stuttered, beginning with several "umms," but ultimately formed a perfect sentence.

"He died a long time ago because his heart got sick," Brooklyn said. Shelby paused, took a breath, and followed up. "What do you remember about Daddy?"

"That he was a good man," Brooklyn answered. "That he helped us and took care of us."

Her voice tapered off.

This story is Part 2 of 3. See Part 1 "Will to Walk" and Part 3 "She rises" in menu at top of page.

HOW TO HELP: gofundme.com/help-brooklyn-walk

Four-year-old Brooklyn Cormier and her twin brother, Logan, chase each other during a visit to St. Mary's Cemetery in Dover, where their father, Peter Cormier, is buried. [Deb Cram/Fosters.com and Seacoastonline]