By Betsy Finklea
Today, August 7th, marks one year since Sheriff Douglas “Humbunny” Pernell died. It was a shocking day for everyone I think. The words of Marion County Sheriff Brian Wallace at a recent memorial for Douglas at the S.C. Sheriff’s Association Summer Banquet echoed with me. It was one of those times when you remember exactly what you were doing when you heard the news. I remember.
I had just gotten home from work, and a storm was brewing. There was expected to be hail, and I wanted to protect my newly painted car from any damage. I got the bright idea that since I didn’t have a car cover that I could cover it with a queen size mattress pad. As I struggled to try to fit this mattress pad onto the car, I noticed my neighbor, a detective with the Sheriff’s Office, fly out of his house, jump into his vehicle, and speed away. It was unusual. Something was going on. By this time, I realized that the genius idea I had to cover my car was not genius at all. It was not going to work so I used it to protect my windshield. I told my sister to get into the car. I needed to go to the store, and I needed to call Douglas to find out what was going on. It might be a big news story. I wanted to know.
But as we started to pull off, I got a text from a friend. “Betsy, what are you doing?” Clearly, the friend picked up quickly that I had not heard the news. After some back and forth texts, the friend said, “I don’t want to tell you.”
Tell me what?, I thought. I started realizing that something was wrong. Someone must be dead or seriously injured. Tell me who, what is going on. All kinds of thoughts started racing through my mind. The reality was not one of my original thoughts I would later find out. And I needed to call Douglas to find out what was going on with the other thing.
Finally, the texter told me that someone was not responsive at Douglas’s house. Who? I still couldn’t understand that it was Douglas, and then I realized the truth.
But this couldn’t be right. I had just talked to him Saturday night. He was having a successful warrant round-up, and he was excited about how well it was going. He gave me a brief news story. It was the last conversation that I would ever have with him. I didn’t know that the last time would be the last time.
I went to the location where my daddy was. He was cooking supper–barbecue chicken. He had worked with Douglas for 17+ years. They were close friends.
I said daddy we have to go to Douglas’ house right now. I think he might be dead. I was still hoping against all hope that the texter was wrong.
Daddy dropped everything, and we got into the car to go to Douglas’ house. On the way, my phone started ringing. It was different people trying to determine if I knew. You need to get to the Sheriff’s house. My phone started going off with text after text with people trying to find out if it was true.
We arrived at the house. We saw one of Douglas’ sisters in the yard. I saw the look on her face. It was true. We hugged her and asked her what happened. We went up to the house and eventually went in. A crowd was standing outside.
The house was full of people, his wife, Cynthia, was sitting on the couch sobbing. Others stood crying or just standing in shocked disbelief. After quite some time, we spoke to Cynthia. She kept telling me he was trying. I knew that–she didn’t have to tell me.
Eventually, we started to leave the house. I looked over and saw Jamie Hamilton standing there. Our eyes met. I looked at him and realized I was looking at the next Sheriff. The look in his eyes let me know that he felt the weight of it all and that he knew that, too.
As we left, the lightning, thunder, and rain started. It somehow seemed appropriate–Douglas’ mighty entrance into heaven.
I just couldn’t believe it. I rode home knowing that my night was just beginning. I was going to have to change the front page of the newspaper for the next day. I felt like I was in a daze.
We got home. As I was walking up the walk to the house, the manager called me. I know you’re going to change the paper. I’ve made the appropriate calls. I couldn’t say a word. You are going to change the paper aren’t you? All I could say was that “he’s dead,” and I burst into tears. Then I said yes and hung up the phone.
I ate supper and then went back to my office. It was about 9:30. I took off news and rearranged the front page. I knew that this would be the story that history would remember. The story that would tell the story of the life and death of Douglas Pernell, our first African-American Sheriff and our first African-American official elected to a countywide office. It had to be one of my finest hours.
I went into the bathroom, looked at myself in the mirror, and tried to pump myself up. You’ve got to do this, and it’s got to be great. It’s got to be great for Douglas. It’s got to be great for his family. It’s got to be great for the community.
I went back out. Sometime during the next hour or so, I spoke to Jamie Hamilton by phone, and then the coroner called and gave me the official notice that Douglas Bryan Pernell, the Sheriff of Dillon County, was dead. It was official now.
I sat back and looked at that blank screen. A co-worker called me. Are you done? Done, I thought. I haven’t even started. I texted her a photo of the blank screen. She called me and tried to talk me through it. We talked for quite a while. After I got off the phone, I started writing. I referred to notes I had made in a recent interview, old political ads, articles I had written or seen. I thought about everything I knew about him…everything he told me. Why didn’t I listen better? I wrote everything I knew the best I could. I sent the article to a friend to proofread. I printed it out and sent it to the press. I called the lady responsible and told her I was finished. Then I re-read it and saw corrections that needed to be made. I texted her to see if they could be made and they were. I had stayed up almost all night and woke up quite a few people in the process. I felt that I had done my best. I think it worked out because many have told me since that it was one of the best things that I have ever written.
What many people didn’t realize is that I just didn’t lose a Sheriff, I had lost a dear friend, and it hurt. We shared a common love for law enforcement and for politics. Sometimes we would talk for a couple of hours about both. I knew I would miss those times, but more than that I felt like the community had lost something because he was just getting started. There was more to do. He had fought so hard to get here. It seemed unfair.
A year later, I feel the same way. Douglas’ death was the community’s loss, but it is all part of God’s plan even though we may not understand it yet.
I have been thinking about Douglas recently as this date of the anniversary of his death neared, and I started thinking about what I learned from him and what the community can learn from him. I think the biggest thing is perseverance. If you have a dream and you keep pushing and keep believing in yourself, things can happen for you. If you get knocked down, get back up. You can achieve your dreams if you persevere. Douglas did, and he became Sheriff after years of trying and disappointment after disappointment.
Another lesson is bloom where you are planted. It was 12 years that Douglas was out of law enforcement and worked at the animal shelter. It may not have been his ideal job, but it was an opportunity to serve. We may not all get to where we think we should be right away so we must do our best with what we are given. That’s what Douglas did. He took on that challenge of the animal shelter and did the best he could for the animals of Dillon County.
A third lesson is that sometimes you have to treat people better than they treat you. Maybe you will win them over or maybe you won’t. He told me when he won Sheriff that he wanted to be “everybody’s Sheriff,” whether they voted for him or not. He needed the public to give him a chance. He told me he would give his best effort to all people, even those who he knew weren’t likely to have voted for him. He believed that doing a good job and showing people who he was would win them over, and if he didn’t, at least he made the effort. He wanted to unify people and have a united community working together for the common good.
The last lesson that I will mention is that when you are given an opportunity, you should do your best. Work hard and give it your all. That’s all anyone can really ask. That’s what Douglas was doing, and it was making a difference.
I am sure that there are many with similar stories and their own lessons learned, but I think that the one common thread is that Douglas is missed and gone too soon. I hope that there are future generations who will learn from his example and keep his memory and his legacy alive.
