Seeking heaven while living through hell

POWELL — From a distance it may have seemed like a fairly easy hunt.

Not far off the road a nice pronghorn buck was spotted in an agricultural field near Heart Mountain. A group of three men, experienced in successfully hunting North America’s fastest land mammal, guided a nonresident hunter to within 100 yards of the target.

It’s a fairly typical scene during hunting season in northwestern Wyoming. This picturesque region full of trophy big game animals is at the top of most hunters’ bucket lists.

For the 44-year-old retired Marine Corps Cpl. Chad Morrow, living long enough to prepare a list is a minor miracle.

Morrow was a special kind of Marine, never turning down an opportunity to test his mettle.

“I loved the Marine Corps, man. I’d love to go through boot camp again,” he said while setting up for his hunt near daybreak. “Like, I absolutely loved it.”

Soon after boot camp he made his way to Afghanistan. The enemy, often indiscernible from the general population, was always near. Marines are always close to danger in the fight for global security. Yet after four years in harm’s way, Morrow never came as close to death abroad as he did near his home in Arkansas.

This part of the Ozarks, with its southern border along the Arkansas River, is largely remote and the perfect place to avoid detection by law enforcement.

Based in Clarksville, Morrow accepted a job as a deputy sheriff in Johnson County, Arkansas, soon securing a position on an elite fugitive apprehension task force for the U.S. Marshals.

“I don’t know if I’m ever coming home,” the 1966 anti-war song warns.

The same could be said of most days on the job for Morrow. On a day in 2018, the last day of his career, he barely made it home.

The attack

There was only one deputy on duty. Morrow was in the office processing evidence to take to the crime lab. A young lady hurried through the doors, claiming her boyfriend had beat her. She didn’t want to press charges, but the suspect had the keys to her apartment. Morrow decided to follow her to the scene.

“She had warned me they had been on meth and shooting up. I wasn’t too worried about it at the time,” Morrow said.

For about the first 10 minutes on the scene everything was fine and the suspect was cooperating. Suddenly he took off running back to the house, kicking the door in an attempt to quickly get inside.

“I caught up with him at the door,” Morrow said, his voice shaking as he recounted the moment. “Somebody opened the door, and we tumbled in.”

Suddenly another man inside jumped on his back and Morrow was in a struggle for his life, fighting with both men at the same time. Despite the brawl he had still not drawn his gun. He was punched in the jaw by one man and cracked in the back of the skull with a heavy metal candlestick by the other.

“My eyes went shut and I remember telling myself if I didn’t open my eyes I was gonna die here on Highway 352,” he said.

A rush of adrenaline took over. Morrow put one of the suspects on the wall, using his left forearm on his throat. Then he felt the other man attempting to pull his duty weapon from its holster.

“That changed the scenario drastically,” he said. “I slammed my pistol back in the holster, grabbed him under the chin and I threw him as hard as I could.”

The man flew into the kitchen, hitting hard and letting out a “death gurgle.”

The other man escaped Morrow’s grip, which was weakened by a shattered clavicle, a damaged humerus and six vertebrae, and ran.

Morrow chased after him, finding him reaching for a gun under the mattress. It wasn’t until that moment that Morrow realized his arm was badly injured.

“I wanted to grab [my gun], but my arm didn’t work, so I just jumped and hit him, and we went through the bathroom wall,” he said.

Miraculously, Morrow managed to get the man in cuffs, and then he said things got “comical.”

“I get him to the car, and his mom comes out with a cordless phone while I’m stuffing him in the car. I hadn’t got the door shut and she starts pounding on the back of my head with the phone,” he recounted.

While getting the woman under control the man escaped and ran to his dog, trying to unhook his dog and yelling “sic him.”

“I love dogs more than I love most people, so I didn’t want the dog to get loose because I didn’t want to have to hurt a dog,” he said.

He made it to the man before he could untie the angry dog and secured the scene. Backup arrived, along with an ambulance. The emergency medical technicians wanted to treat Morrow, but he refused to stand down until the scene was cleared.

“They [the perps] aren’t gonna watch me go away in an ambulance. We’re gonna sit right here until y’all take them away, and then I’ll drive myself to the hospital,” he told the crew.

Since the attack, the officer has had 39 surgeries to date, with two more already on the books before the end of the year.

His spine, right shoulder, jaw and right knee all needed to be surgically repaired. He also needed stomach surgery after being stabbed in a separate, earlier incident.

“Sometimes I love law enforcement. Other times I hate it,” Morrow said.

He is unlikely to be going back to work anytime soon. He hasn’t lost hope, but has already prepared a bucket list.

The hunt

On the hunt, Wyoming Disabled Hunters volunteers Lance Mathess and Brian Peters helped locate a nice buck. The hunt was fairly quick. It had to be. When Morrow climbed out of the truck to set up his gun on a tripod he warned Mathess he only had about five minutes in him to stand for the shot.

Morrow had a seizure on the way to Wyoming and his entire body trembled as he lined up the shot. The shaking wasn’t from adrenaline, but rather from already being completely worn out and in pain from the trip and the early morning hunt.

He pulled the trigger as soon as the buck exposed his broadside. The shot was nearly perfect, dispatching the prey quickly. He managed to get some photos taken with his trophy buck — not the biggest buck, but a fine, big-bodied Park County pronghorn — before he was “done for the day.”

The volunteers were as excited by the hunt as Morrow.

“I’ve only done this a couple years. I find it to be completely rewarding to do this kind of stuff,” Mathess said. “I like to give back to the community when I can.”

He was invited to join the nonprofit organization by Peters, who has been with the organization (founded in 2008) for years.

But it’s not just companion hunters that make the adventures for 20 disabled hunters work. There are many volunteers, from cooks, bookkeepers and those who help to schedule the hunts, to leadership positions and even those volunteering their facilities to help keep the hunts affordable for the group, like Bull Moose Retreat owners Rick and Linda Hordichok.

Wyoming Disabled Hunters is funded by individual donations and, one of its largest sources of revenue, the charity auction of commissioners’ tags to the highest bidder, including one from Park County Commissioner Ashlee Lundvall.

Morrow said hunting has healed his heart and brought him closer to God. It wasn’t always that way.

“I’ve had a turbulent relationship with God. I’ve seen babies murdered,” he said.

That anger lasted for years, but recently he had a “come to Jesus” moment after returning from the woods. He prayed. He suddenly felt a tranquility he had never felt before. At that moment his anger with God ended and a new relationship began.

“Out there with nobody around and you don’t have a rumbling in your ears, you can hear the birds, feel the wind and watch the wildlife,” he said. “It’s where I have my deepest talks with God. And it just brings me peace. Nature is my church.”

Local volunteers

Volunteers can only offer the experience, not guarantee success. However, they have a very high rate of harvest, with few hunters leaving the Cody Region without meat for their freezer.

Yet that success isn’t made in a couple weekends of work, said outgoing organization President Terry Skinner.

Skinner has been the president for the past four years, working year-round with logistics volunteers to get all of the many moving pieces in place to make the events seamless once the hunters arrive.

Interestingly, Skinner doesn’t hunt. He simply wants to help people find the healing properties of Mother Nature in a beautiful place few can walk away from without being inspired.

But, like many of the volunteers, Skinner is retired. He is stepping down at the end of the year, and the board will be looking for a replacement.

“They are some big shoes to fill,” said Powell resident Bryce Fauskee, who is the current vice-president. Fauskee is intent on helping to fill three vacancies on the organization’s board as soon as possible.

“We need a lot of help with administration type stuff, like planning and logistics,” he said while helping hunters prepare for their hunts. “It’s really fulfilling when you finally have the hunters coming out and to see their excitement when they come back with a trophy and they’re all jazzed up and telling stories from the hunt. That’s the big payoff for us every year.”

Fauskee and his parents, Bonnie and Bruce, have been volunteers since the group’s first hunts. Bryce said he considers the group his extended family, one that meets and exceeds expectations year after year while developing a love for each other as they put in the hard work.

“We all get along and meet every month. Everybody is glad to see each other,” he said.

Hunters are also invited to be part of the happy family, Skinner said.

“There’s a lot of friendships that last well beyond our hunts,” he said.

Skinner will still help out with the two hunts that he leads in the middle of November, but he feels like it’s time for some “new blood” to lead the group, he said while looking at Bryce.

“There’s nothing about [the vice president taking over] in our constitution,” Bryce said with a panicked smile on his face after the comment.

“It has been a blessing,” Skinner said. “You do it because seeing the joy in [the hunters’] faces. That’s why you do it. That’s why everybody does it.”

Morrow credits time in nature for bringing him out of his shell.

“I was quiet after I got hurt. I didn’t go nowhere. I didn’t go to Walmart, I didn’t go nowhere. Hunting has brought me out of it since then,” he said.

But he said the Wyoming Disabled Hunters gave him an opportunity he hasn’t had anywhere else.

“Around home you don’t have this fellowship,” he said. “This [program] is just awesome.”