NFPA Journal - May/June 2019 - 40

SAFD
officials deal with contracts. "Our management/labor relationship is not that
strong, but we get stuff done," he says.
A low point for Hood and the department took place on May 18, 2017. That
evening, an arsonist hoping to collect
insurance money set fire to his gym
inside a strip mall on the northwest
side of the city. Unsure if anyone was
trapped inside, firefighters Scott Deem
and Brad Phipps entered the structure
to conduct a search-and-rescue operation, but became disoriented when high
winds escalated the blaze. A mayday
was sounded, and rapid-intervention
teams were sent to look for the missing
firefighters. They returned with Phipps
before being called back due to untenable fire conditions. Deem, 31, died at the
scene, leaving behind two children and a
wife who was six months pregnant.
The Texas State Fire Marshal launched
an investigation soon after the incident,
concluding that Deem's death was preventable and identifying 10 mistakes
in SAFD's tactics that contributed to
the fatality. Upon receiving the report,
Hood insisted that the fire marshal add
one more-he believed firefighters freelancing at the scene was a factor that
the report omitted. Some city leaders
questioned why the fire chief would
add to the list of his own department's
mistakes. "I wanted it in there for transparency," Hood says. "I promised that
whatever happened we would learn from
it. We owe that to Scott."
There are reminders of Deem everywhere in SAFD facilities, including a
photo outside Hood's office and a quote
on the wall about faith and forgiveness
that Deem's wife said meant a lot to her
husband. When I ask Hood about Deem's
death almost two years later, we are
seated at the conference table in his office.
He speaks low and slow for more than
10 uninterrupted minutes, his eyes well
with tears, but his voice never wavers.
"It shook us to the core-it plunged a
knife into my heart," he tells me. "In the
history of this department, since 1891, we
never lost a firefighter in a building and
couldn't get them out. And it happened to
me, the guy who brought a risk-managed
philosophy of fireground safety here."
Since Deem's death, the department has redoubled its safety efforts

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to correct the mistakes and prepare
members for similar situations. An old
warehouse in an industrial section of
the city's east side has been converted
into the Scott Deem Training Facility,
where firefighters practice rescuing
their own in mayday situations amid
heavy simulated smoke and maze-like
interiors that can be easily reconfigured. The trainings are run and
organized by the officers who were on
scene the night Deem died, and each
tells me that the responsibility has
helped them heal from the tragedy.

THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Hood takes me

With the gusto of a tour guide, he
points out restaurants, a historic
brewery that's been renovated into an
elegant hotel, and places where the
city's famed River Walk was recently
extended. Eventually, we turn down a
quiet, tree-lined street not far from fire
department headquarters, and we slow
as we approach our destination.
Hood points to a large, white-cladded building, which he says was once
a home for troubled boys. The fire
department recently purchased the
historic building for $3.5 million and
will soon convert it into its new Life
Safety Building, housing the department's growing roster of firefighter
wellness, safety, and fire prevention
programs. "It's going to take a couple
years to get it done, but we're going
to build something really nice," Hood
says, gazing at the building through
the driver's side window.
Although Hood has shown me a staggering number of new facilities over
the last two days, his satisfaction with
this project is especially evident as he
talks. He envisions an attractive, inviting
space where firefighters will be able to
exercise, receive medical checkups, visit
the athletic trainer and staff psychologist, and relax on the front porch and
grassy yard. In some ways, it feels like
Hood is showing off a culmination of the
vision he's been preaching since the day
he arrived in San Antonio more than a
dozen years ago.
"As soon as I got here, I started
preaching my philosophy to everyone I
saw about taking care of your folks and
building relationships with them, and
that the most important customer is us,
and what my expectations are in terms
of how we treat each other," Hood says
proudly as we sit in the idling truck. "It
all started with that, and today, if you're
a battalion chief or an officer-anyone
who has gotten that far in our organization-you understand the importance of
that, and treating people the right way.
I'm proud of that and I think there's no
doubt that, when I leave, those pieces
will stay ingrained in this culture."
A moment later, he hits the gas, and
we're off again to the next new project.

on a short drive around downtown San
Antonio in his white Ford Expedition.

JESSE ROMAN is associate editor of NFPA Journal.

"In the history of this
department, since
1891, we never lost a
firefighter in a building
and couldn't get them
out. And it happened
to me, the guy who
brought a riskmanaged philosophy
of fireground
safety here."

Several people, including SAFD members and city manager Sculley, have
said that the department has grown
closer since Deem died, in large part
because of Hood's efforts to preach
self-forgiveness across the organization, to heal wounds, and honor
Deem's memory by fixing the mistakes
that led to his death.
Hood has to forgive himself, too.
"I have to remind myself that good
fire chiefs lose firefighters," he tells
me, staring blankly ahead. "Did we
intend it? No. Have we done everything we humanly can to make sure
it won't happen again? Yes. But that
doesn't mean it won't. It's been the
hardest thing I've ever had to do
professionally."
NFPA Journal - May/June 2019

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