By Chief Colon
I thought November 11, 2023, would be a typical Saturday. It was Veterans Day, and as an Army veteran, I was planning to enjoy a free lunch somewhere, maybe catch a football game. But that quiet morning took a turn, first in a way I could handle — and then in a way that none of us ever saw coming.
The first jolt came from my 17-year-old daughter. She texted me: “Dad, I need to tell you something, but don’t freak out.” If you’ve got kids, you know that sinking feeling. I immediately thought of her car — we had just bought her a replacement after hers was totaled in a rear-end collision. Sure enough, she said her friend’s older sister had backed into it while it was parked. I gave her the standard dad lecture, reminded her it wasn’t her fault, and decided to shake it off and get on with my day.
But fate had other plans.
A short while later, I got a call from Brian Pacifico, my second-in-command at the department. I could hear it in his voice — tight, stressed, adrenalized. That tone we know all too well in this line of work. He told me there had been a serious accident involving two of our officers and one of our K-9s. It was the kind of call that forever marks a chapter in your department’s story.
The incident
Eric Miller and Alex Butler, both seasoned officers with more than a decade of experience, were on patrol that morning in a Chevy Tahoe. Riding in the back was Fury, Alex’s K-9 partner — a 115-pound German Shepherd with a calm demeanor and commanding presence. Since joining our department in June 2021, Fury had become a beloved figure: a protector in the field and a favorite among local school kids.
As they traveled southwest on South River Street near West 7th, a vehicle came barreling toward them in the wrong lane. Eric tried to swerve, but the oncoming driver mirrored his moves. The 2015 Jeep Patriot struck the Tahoe’s driver-side rear door — directly where Fury was riding. The force of the impact spun their vehicle into a church parking lot.
Eric, acting on instinct, climbed out despite deployed airbags and checked on Alex, who was dazed but okay. Then, without hesitation, he advanced toward the threat. The other driver, later identified as 21-year-old Michael T. Sims of Nicholasville, Kentucky — miles from our town of Franklin, Ohio — had exited his Jeep and began yelling at Eric to shoot him. Eric maintained control, held Sims at gunpoint, and with Alex’s help, took him into custody without further incident.
When Alex turned to check on Fury, he couldn’t open the rear door. He climbed through the front compartment, cut the airbag, and pulled Fury out. The dog was alert, but something was clearly wrong. Fury began to urinate — and there was blood. Medics arrived quickly, and Alex insisted they take Fury to a 24-hour emergency vet. Though medics initially wanted to evaluate Alex first, he made sure Fury was the priority.
Fury was rushed to MedVet, but the injuries were too severe. He didn’t make it. The impact that struck that rear door took more than a window and steel — it took a member of our family.
The aftermath
Sims was transported to the hospital for his own injuries. In a chilling interview with investigators, he admitted he had intended to kill himself by driving head-on into another vehicle. He said he hadn’t meant to hit a police car. Still, it was early on a Saturday morning — what if that had been a family in a compact car instead of two trained officers in a heavily reinforced Tahoe?
Our mayor, Brent Centers, joined me as we headed straight to Miami Valley Hospital. When we arrived, the waiting area was already filled with K-9 handlers from neighboring towns. These officers, some of whom were off-duty, had rushed in to support Alex. That tight-knit community often jokes that K-9 handlers are needier than their dogs — but when one of them is hurting, they show up. Every time.
“He wasn’t ‘just a dog.’ He was a constant presence, a morale booster, and — most of all — a protector.”
Physically, Alex and Eric were going to be okay. They had injuries from the airbags and the crash but walked away with their lives. Emotionally, though, was another story. I hugged Alex, kissed him on the head, and told him we’d get through this together. It wasn’t much, but in that moment, it was all I had.
In over 25 years in this profession, I’d never lost someone on duty — until that day. Fury’s death wasn’t just a loss to Alex; it was a gut-punch to our entire team. He wasn’t “just a dog.” He was a constant presence, a morale booster, and — most of all — a protector. For Alex’s family, Fury was something even more special: born just two days apart from Alex’s daughter, they had grown up together.
Honoring Fury
The community’s response was overwhelming. Cards, flowers, paintings, and donations poured in — offers even came from around the country to replace Fury. Some groups offered up to $25,000 for a new dog and training. Our insurance ultimately covered it, but the gesture meant a lot.
Planning Fury’s memorial was uncharted territory. I’d attended funerals for fallen officers, but never a service for a K-9. Thankfully, other departments who had experienced similar losses guided us. We gave Fury the kind of farewell we give our human heroes.
A local pastor offered his church. Fury was escorted from the vet to the crematorium. His remains were given to Alex. The memorial included a slideshow, speeches from the mayor and me, a reading of Fury’s life, a flag presentation to Alex’s family, a final radio call for his “end of watch” and a ceremonial ride through town. Bagpipes played “Amazing Grace.” We closed with a gun salute, “Taps,” and one last patrol.
The streets were lined with citizens, many holding flags. Kids who had met Fury at school stood with their parents. It was a moment I’ll never forget.
Justice, grief and moving forward
We had hoped for more justice in court. The prosecutor sought 25 to 30.5 years for Sims, who was convicted of assaulting Eric and Alex, harming Fury, and damaging property. The court instead sentenced him to five years of community control. All we can do now is hope he gets the help he needs — and that no one else suffers at his hands.
Alex later visited the National Police Canine Memorial in Washington, D.C., and received a special proclamation from the Ohio Attorney General at a private event. In May 2024, he returned to service with a new partner — Asland. They’re back on the streets now, protecting our town like Fury once did.
Lessons in leadership
As a police chief, this tragedy reinforced something every law enforcement leader needs to remember: You must be prepared to lead through the unimaginable.
When chaos erupts, your people will look to you — not just for answers, but for strength. They need your presence, your empathy and your plan. This isn’t just about policies or SOPs — it’s about compassionate leadership. Check on your officers. Stand with them. Don’t send them home after a critical incident and forget about them. Stay connected. Be human.
We were fortunate to have a resource network — including mental health professionals like Dr. Kathy Platoni, a retired Army colonel and psychologist — who helped us navigate the storm. Her care was especially impactful for Alex, and it reminded me how essential that support system is.
I hope no one else has to endure what we went through. But if they do, maybe this story helps. Let it serve as a reminder of how fragile life is, how quickly it can all change — and how critical it is to lead with heart.
Because when the unexpected happens, you won’t have time to get ready — you’ll just have to be ready.
About the author
Chief Colon began his law enforcement career in 1999 when he enlisted in the United States Army as a Military Police Officer. He served as a Patrol Officer, Military Police Investigator, and earned the rank of Sergeant before leaving the military. Chief Colon was hired by the Riverside Police Department as a Patrol Officer in 2006. Chief Colon served as a Patrol Officer and Evidence Technician. In 2012 Chief Colon was promoted to the rank of Sergeant where he was a Road Patrol supervisor. In 2017 Chief Colon was promoted to rank of Major with the Riverside Police Department where he was the Commander of the Criminal Investigation Division and administrative staff. In 2021 Chief Colon became the Road Patrol Commander for the Riverside Police Department, supervising the Road Patrol Sergeants and Patrol Officers.
In September of 2021, Chief Colon was selected to be the Police Chief for the Franklin Division of Police. He is an instructor for Ohio Chief of Police Association Supervisor Training and Education Program (STEP).
Chief Colon has earned an Associate’s Degree in Justice Administration from Hawaii Pacific University, Bachelor of Science Degree in Criminal Justice from Indiana University, and two Masters of Science Degrees, one in Homeland Security and the other in Criminal Justice, both from Tiffin University. He is a graduate of the Supervisory Training Education Program, Police Executive Leadership Course, Certified Law Enforcement Executive course, and FBI National Academy, Session 284.