Rangefinder Magazine
December 2006

Todd Heisler by Judith Bell Turner-Yamamoto
2006 Pulitzer Prize Winner for Feature Photography

When 2nd Lt. James Cathey’s body arrived at the Reno Airport, Marines climbed into the cargo hold of the plane and draped the flag over his casket as passengers watched the family gather on the tarmac. During the arrival of another Marine’s casket last year at Denver International Airport, Major Steve Beck described the scene as one of the most powerful in the process: “See the people in the windows? They’ll sit right there in the plane, watching those Marines. You gotta wonder what’s going through their minds, knowing that they’re on the plane that brought him home,” he said. “They’re going to remember being on that plane for the rest of their lives. They’re going to remember bringing that Marine home. And they should.”

A native of Chicago and a 1994 graduate of Illinois State University, Todd Heisler’s background includes work at a number of community newspapers in suburban Chicago. He became a staff photographer at the Rocky Mountain News in Denver, CO, in 2001. He was a member of the team whose images covering Colorado’s worst wildfire season won the 2003 Pulitzer Prize for Breaking News Photography. Since the inception of the Iraq War, Heisler has made three trips to that country, spending most of his time with U.S. troops.

As his son’s funeral neared, Jeff Cathey’s tears rarely stopped. He often found comfort in the men who shared his son’s uniform. “Someone asked me what I learned from my son,” he said. “He taught me you need more than one friend.”	Jo Burns of Laramie, WY, comforts Corporal Dustin Barker, 22, during a ceremony honoring the actions of fallen Marines on Saturday, April 30, 2005. Jo Burns’ son, Lance Corporal Kyle Burns, was killed in action in Iraq on Nov. 11, 2004. Corporal Barker served with Lance Corporal Burns in Iraq, and was with him when he was killed.

For the past year, Todd Heisler and Rocky Mountain News writer Jim Sheeler followed Major Steve Beck as he took on the most difficult duty of his career: casualty notification for the Marines. Beck and his comrades at Buckley Air Force Base keep constant watch over the caskets of fellow Marines. These men comfort the families of the fallen while dealing with their own grief and fulfilling the tradition that began in 1775: Never leave a Marine behind.

Heisler’s camera reveals that the dreaded knock on the door is only the beginning of a story told over and over through the piercingly clear lens of individual personal loss. His photographs plunge viewers into an immediate experience of the quiet and catastrophic price of war. This piece for Rocky Mountain News, “Final Salute,” won the 2006 Pulitzer Prize for Feature Photography. RF: You began shooting for small suburban papers. What did you take away from that experience?

The day before the funeral of their friend, 2nd Lt. Jon Mueller, left, and 1st Lt. Matthew Baumann practiced for hours folding a flag, making sure there would be no errors the next day. “That will be the last time his flag is folded,” said Maj. Steve Beck as he instructed them. “It has to be perfect.”

At the first sight of her husband’s flag-draped casket, Katherine Cathey broke into uncontrollable sobs, finding support in the arms of Major Steve Beck. When Beck first knocked on her door in Brighton to notify her of her husband’s death, she glared at him, cursed him, and refused to speak to him for more than an hour. Over the next several days, he helped guide her through the grief. By the time they reached the tarmac, she wouldn’t let go.

TH: Very early on, someone told me, “Every story is important to someone; every idea resonates with some part of your readership.” I’m passionate about each assignment. In the end, even the big stories, when they’re told well, are about individuals. They are about how each of us is affected by larger issues. You can discover those stories anywhere.

Marine Major Steve Beck prepares for the final inspection of 2nd Lt. James J. Cathey’s body, only days after notifying Cathey’s wife of the Marine’s death in Iraq. The knock at the door begins a ritual steeped in tradition more than two centuries old, a tradition based on the same tenet: “Never leave a Marine behind.”

Marine Sgt. Jeremy Kocher stands watch near the body of Lance Cpl. Evenor Herrera in Eagle, CO, as children and adults from the area pour in to pay their respects. Like many of the Marines stationed at Buckley Air Force Base in Aurora, CO, Kocher says the funeral detail is the most difficult mission he’s ever done. “I actually start thinking about it the moment I wake up. It’s such an important job that I just don’t want to mess it up,” he said. “I just want it to be perfect.”

RF: Where did this particular story idea come from?

TH: I’d worked with Jim Sheeler on a few other stories. His job was to cover the home front when the Iraq War started. He’d already been working with a number of families. He pursued the Marines and discovered Major Stephen Beck. That’s where the story began. Beck was open to the idea, but was very skeptical at first. He asked Jim to show him prior stories, like “A Tale of Two Tombstones,” which focused on a Marine who carves headstones and the headstones made for Marines who died in Fallujah. Major Beck had actually done the notification for one of those Marines, and the story resonated deeply for him.

RF: What was the original idea of the story?

TH: To follow one Marine from his arrival at the airport to his burial. The story unfolded quickly when a Marine was killed. His family was very private, and they didn’t want us to cover the story the way we wanted, which led us to continue working. But the experience was an opportunity to learn about the process and the Marines.

Jo Burns cries as she and her husband, Bob, open the boxes containing their son’s uniforms from Iraq—boxes delivered by Maj. Steve Beck. “For me, having all this back is a good thing,” she said a few minutes later. “I want to remember. I don’t ever want to forget, or to stop feeling.” Bob Burns then took her hand. “I don’t want to forget either,” he said. “I just don’t want to hurt.”

RF: Such as?

TH: I saw the dedication they exhibited toward the family and the protocol and ceremony involved in each step. That experience also gave me the opportunity to talk with Major Beck and hear his insights. For example, when asked by someone, “When are they going to move the body?” Beck answered, “That’s not a body. The body has a name, and his name is Greg.”

RF: Looking at the images of Katherine Cathey, widow of Second Lieutenant James Cathey, I was shattered by their impact. How many funerals had you already covered at this point?

TH: I had gone to probably ten. I had different access for each one. The process gave me an emotional understanding. It put me in a place. If I’d met Katherine in December ’04 when we first started, instead of August ’05, I don’t think I would have seen a lot of the pictures that I saw. Katherine ended up being the biggest part comof the story. She gave us the most access of anyone.

Katherine Cathey pressed her pregnant belly to her husband’s casket, moaning softly. The baby, due Jan. 1, will be named James Jeffrey Cathey Jr.

RF: Why do you think she did that?

TH: She wanted Jimmy, her son, to have this documented so he would know who his dad was and what the loss meant to the family. We talked with her and the family for hours a day or so after the notification. Jim [Sheeler] is a great listener. He really cares, and that resonated with her. When we told them we wanted to go to Reno with her and follow her through the process, she was totally open.

RF: That image of the plane, the people looking out the windows, did you see that immediately?

TH: That scene is a blur. I’d photographed similar moments on several other occasions. The other times, I wasn’t able to meet the families beforehand, and I was relegated to the side and never able to get the right angle on the passengers. Major Beck said, “They’ll remember this moment for the rest of their life, and they should.” That’s the moment I was able to capture.

We actually rode to the airport in the limousine with Katherine. I was standing next to her when she saw the casket. I saw the people. I was on my knees making the frames. It was terribly emotionally wrenching. She began screaming the moment she saw the casket. I had no idea what I’d shot until I got back to the hotel room and downloaded the images. I had shot probably 30 frames. You can see the scene unfold. The faces start looking, but the Marines aren’t in position with the casket yet. And then when the hand touches the casket, everything came together.

RF: The image of Katherine sleeping beside her husband’s casket is so incredibly moving.

Blanca Stibbs [center] rests her head on her husband David Stibbs’ shoulder as a Marine honor guard folds the flag that draped their son Lance Corporal Evenor Herrera’s casket during a burial service at Sunset View Cemetery in Eagle, CO, on Friday, August 19, 2005.

TH: That’s the one that stayed with me the most. That was the day before the burial; we’d been working two or three days straight. There was the Mass and the visitation. The Marines spent the night with the casket. My original idea was to spend the night with these Marines who were all friends of Jim [Cathey]. Each of them sat down with writer Jim Sheeler, and very raw thoughts and emotions came out.

They just stood there in the dark, processing being a Marine, an upcoming tour of duty in Iraq, and the death of a friend. I didn’t know if I could photograph Katherine at this moment. We kept telling her, “If at any point you don’t want us there, just put your hand up.” She never did. We asked a number of times, until she finally told us to stop asking.

As I made my frames, I remember sitting in the back of that chapel. There was a window there. If someone walked down the street, you would be able to see inside. People outside were just going about their lives; they had no idea of the power of what was going on inside the chapel.

RF: How does immersing yourself in something like this change the way you will approach photojournalism in the future?

The night before the burial of her husband’s body, Katherine Cathey refused to leave the casket, asking to sleep next to his body for the last time. The Marines made a bed for her, tucking in the sheets below the flag. Before she fell asleep, she opened her laptop computer and played songs that reminded her of “Cat,” and one of the Marines asked if she wanted them to continue standing watch as she slept. “I think it would be kind of nice if you kept doing it,” she said. “I think that’s what he would have wanted.”

TH: I really want to get close to my subjects. I never knew how close I would get to this when we started. It pushes me. I want to say more with my work, to find subjects that encourage this level of depth. This story really impacted how I approach people in my work.

RF: There are so many different areas of concentration within photography— why photojournalism? What’s important about it for you?

TH: It’s important to me to make beautiful pictures that also have meaning and content. The world is moving so fast that we’re bombarded with imagery. I want to make people stop, to reflect and think about what’s happening in their communities, in their own lives. A lot of Marine parents have told me they felt this story was about their children, even if they weren’t actually in it. I had a father tell me that when he saw the casket photo, he was finally able to experience the moment of his son’s body coming home. If I can make someone stop, make them feel and think even for a moment, then I’ve done my job.

Judith Bell Turner-Yamamoto is an art historian and critic based in Richmond, VA. Her work has appeared in American Photo, Art & Antiques, The Boston Globe Sunday Magazine and Elle, among other publications.