Fifteen Months After Bloodbath in Iraq, Young Veteran Commits Suicide
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On another level, though, Hogue's decision made sense, his parents said.
After 18 months of college, Hogue was tired of the "party scene" at Chico State, his father said, and the rules and structure of the military appealed to him. His mother said he wanted to carve out his own identity. "It was a way of making his mark in the world," she said.
But as he shipped out to boot camp, knowing he could be sent to war, his family was terrified for him, his sister Tracey said. "It was so hard to say goodbye."
Hogue excelled in his training, winning an award for "outstanding soldier" at boot camp. He trained as a "tanker," but he never got to pilot a tank in Iraq, family members said.
Instead, day after day he patrolled Baghdad's most dangerous neighborhoods in a convoy of Humvees, clearing buildings and "looking for bad guys," said Rod Hogue.
He kept up regular contact with family members, girlfriend Heidi Redmond and others through his MySpace page, e-mail messages and the occasional phone call. When a friend asked if he needed anything, Hogue requested toys and school supplies, which he distributed to Iraqi children. He shared little about his role in the war, but when he phoned his dad after the March 7 tragedy, he gave gory details. "He told me it was the worst day of his life," Rod Hogue said.
By the time he was honorably discharged from the Army and came home, his mother and father had ended 30 years of marriage and t?e family was strained. At first Hogue lived with his sister, then moved in with his mother. He became estranged from his dad.
He drove a shiny white Jeep, which he bought shortly after his discharge, and attached an empty grenade to its gear shift. He enrolled in the California Regional Fire Academy, graduating in January, and was planning to take paramedic training. That plan got sidelined when he was charged with DUI. "He took responsibility for what happened, but he was devastated," Rod Hogue said. He became darker and more introverted.
Hogue went to counseling appointments but was dubious because none of his caregivers had been in combat or fully understood his issues. The medications "make me feel numb, but that's better than how I was feeling before," he told his sister.
Something happened to Hogue, though, in the weeks before his death, loved ones said. He seemed to have achieved some kind of peace. He rode his bicycle, hung out with friends, played his guitar. "He seemed like the old Trevor," his mother said. "Normal as can be."
Perhaps, his sister Tracey said, he was at peace because he had finalized the decision to take his life.
On the day before he died, Hogue wrote a note in his personal journal.
"Please know that I am happy, finally," he said.
His final journal entry was dated June 2, 2009.
"Enjoy the future," he wrote. "I hope hoverboards are invented."
This story was first published by The Sacramento Bee.
See more stories tagged with: iraq, iraq war, army, iraq occupation, u.s. military, trevor hogue, veteran suicides
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