Responding to the call: First responders find help coping with trauma

Early on the morning of February 10, 2025, former Wyoming Division of Criminal Investigation agent Juliet Fish took to sketchy winter roads to visit family in Missoula, Montana. But, as she started heading north out of Powell, Fish had the overwhelming feeling she shouldn’t leave.

“I kept getting this strong impression that I needed to turn around,” she recalled. “I just couldn’t shake it.”

Fish makes the drive to Missoula often, no matter the weather, and was excited to babysit her granddaughter on this particular visit. Yet, the further she got from Powell, the more she had the strange sensation to cancel. She was so concerned by her feelings that she decided to ask God for a sign or confirmation that she should listen to her instincts.

About two and a half hours later, as Fish neared Livingston, Montana, she couldn’t ignore her inner voice any longer and decided to take the next exit. She called her daughter to let her know she couldn’t make it and hastily headed back to Powell.

AT THE HARSHMAN HOME

At about the same time Fish made it back to town, her friends in law enforcement were responding to a call from a desperate mother in Byron, who told dispatch she had killed her children and was threatening to turn the gun on herself.

Big Horn County Sheriff’s Sgt. Jeff Angell was standing at the dispatch desk when the call came in. He thought to himself it “must be a hoax.” But his first instinct didn’t change his response. Angell told Sheriff Ken Blackburn they needed to get to Byron ASAP, and both were quickly out the door and in their trucks speeding west toward the town.

A short time later dispatch alerted the state patrol and Deputy Keri Angell, Jeff’s wife.
The team of officers all arrived at the Harshman residence at about the same time, thanks in part to Jeff’s quick reaction time. After staging their vehicles, Jeff approached the front door, ready to kick it in, with State Trooper Crosby Ralston, Sheriff Blackburn and Keri right behind him.

Before kicking open the door, Jeff thought to check the doorknob first. The door was unlocked. He pushed it open. They didn’t know if there was a person with a gun on the other side of that door or what they would witness as they stepped over the threshold with weapons drawn.

It was worse than they could have imagined.

As Keri and Blackburn cleared the main floor, Jeff went upstairs and immediately found Harshman’s two youngest children dead in their crib; he then found Harshman, who was fatally wounded. Harshman’s two other daughters also suffered mortal wounds.

As Jeff recalled the scene, he fought through the words like each one hurt as it exited his mouth. “It’s just ... it’s just something that I’ll never forget.”

VOLUNTEERING FROM THE HEART

The scene at the Harshman home would take days to process and clear. More than a dozen first responders and officials with DCI worked through the night of February 10, trying to make sense of the horrific scene.

Fish texted Keri as soon as she knew of the incident. She said Keri replied, “It is a mess.”
Glad she had turned around, Fish asked if she could organize some food, drinks and strong coffee for first responders at Byron’s Town Hall, just a few blocks away from the scene. Keri agreed it was a good idea so Fish called Josh Foster at Downrange Warriors, an organization that specializes in free counseling services for first responders, those in military service and veterans.

Fish served in the military before moving into law enforcement and now volunteers for Downrange Warriors. Foster, who founded the group, spent years in law enforcement in the Massachusetts prison system before moving to Lovell to follow his western dreams.

Downrange Warriors’ mission is to prevent suicide by those coping with the adversities of post-traumatic stress experienced by soldiers and first responders that wound the heart, mind and soul. Trauma commonly happens during combat, whether it’s in the military or in communities as first responders. Too often, that trauma is compounded by a series of poor decisions, the organization states. It is as if trauma has reduced the spiritual defense systems and left those in jeopardy vulnerable to myriad more dangerous life choices that may lead to addiction, homelessness or even suicide.

Park County Sheriff Darrell Steward, who has relied on Downrange Warriors for counseling, with his wife, Lynn, now volunteers for the organization when he’s available. He joined Foster and Fish at Town Hall.

In speaking with those who had witnessed the gruesome scene, the volunteers decided there was a need for continued support. First responders participated in debriefings after the incident, and most have insurance policies that will cover at least some mental health treatments.

For many, the opportunity to seek counseling with former military and first responders — some who were already acquaintances through the tight northwest Wyoming law enforcement community — was more attractive, both emotionally and financially, than seeking help from complete strangers.

“I struggled with talking to somebody else that hasn’t been there and doesn’t know me,” Jeff said. “I trust Juliet (Fish) and I trust Josh (Foster).”

FAST ACTING

Foster and Fish immediately organized a weekly group session for those who responded to the killings. The Angells and roughly a dozen others went through Downrange Warriors’ Reboot program, a 12-week course designed to help mitigate stress and emotional trauma from critical incidents.

Jeff and Keri had entered the Harshman front door with no major issues from their decades of service. But they walked out questioning whether the incident forced something evil inside of them, tainting their hearts and souls, or took something out of them that had previously allowed them to manage stress from the job.

“I think it’s a little bit of both,” Jeff said.

“It takes a little bit of your soul,” Keri responded.

“It takes a lot from your soul ... a lot,” Jeff followed.

The Angells, who have been married for 11 years, reacted differently to the incident. Both have their own children from previous marriages, and it wasn’t long before the gravity of the incident came crashing down.

After all the ambulances and first responders had left, Keri looked at her husband and said, “I’m going to throw up.”

It was the first time in decades she had felt ill after processing a scene. Soon after, she became cross.

“I was angry at what happened in that house,” Keri said.

Though anger occasionally still bubbles to the surface, she relies on her Christianity to find peace.

“I’ve always been spiritual, and I always thought you’re placed where you’re meant to be when something happens,” Keri said. “That helped me through the whole thing.”

She remembers the words that Katelynn Blackmer, stepmother to the Harshman/Blackmer children, shared at last year’s celebration of life for 32-year-old Tranyelle Harshman and her four daughters, Brailey Blackmer, 9, Olivia Blackmer, 7, Jordan Harshman, 2, and Brooke Harshman, 2.

“She (Katelynn) said she believes that God put you where you are for a reason,” Keri recalled. “I feel that exact same way.”

Meanwhile, Jeff internalized most of his trauma. He couldn’t sleep and when he did, he had nightmares.

“It was so hard, I can’t even ... it’s hard to describe, but I wasn’t sleeping,” he said.

Despite a full year of counseling, one-on-one sessions with Foster and professional therapy, Jeff still struggles with the emotional trauma of walking up those stairs and finding the children dead.

“Honestly, it hasn’t left my head,” he said. “I don’t know if it ever will.”

After counseling he can sleep better now. But he knows he’s still carrying his memories with him every day. The couple still relies on Downrange Warriors for support. Jeff said he knows it will take more time.

“I’m still not quite there yet,” the 60-year-old said, adding, “I know I’m not myself anymore.”

Both Keri and Jeff dug deep, trying to make sense of the tragedy. Though she has a strong faith in God, none of the answers Keri has found have fully reassured her.

“We have kids and grandkids, and you know, that’s all I could think about. How does this happen?” she said.

Jeff said the futility in trying to answer the question “made both of us angry. You never stop thinking about it,” he said.

The events that led up to last year’s shooting are the subject of ongoing litigation, as Tranyelle Harshman’s family asserts that her extreme actions resulted from the negligent prescription of ketamine. For their parts, the Cody provider, who prescribed the drug and the pharmacy that delivered it have denied any liability, suggesting the deaths may have stemmed from mental illness or pre-existing conditions.

Up until last year’s killings, the Angells were able to separate home life from work life. “When we’re working, we’re working. And when we’re home, we’re home,” Keri said. “People tell us, if I didn’t know you guys were married, I wouldn’t have known.” But now work has crept into their personal lives. Sometimes Keri can sense Jeff is in a bad place.

“There’s been a lot of times I’ve, like, snuck out and called Josh (Foster), or I’ll send him a text saying, ‘Hey, can you call Jeff today?’” she said, admitting it for the first time to Jeff at that moment. “It has been very helpful.”

VOLUNTEER WARRIORS

The organizers at Downrange Warriors felt there was so much need for support they opened a satellite office in Lovell to be more accessible to first responders.

“This put a lot of people over the edge where there was no other place to go,” Foster said. “They were forced to seek out help or they weren’t going to survive.” If not for the assistance, “Some might not be on this earth anymore,” he said. “That’s a fact.”

Foster said that without counseling and therapy — even if you can push down the trauma deep — it will resurface eventually; sometimes decades later.

Fish said she relies on the organization for her family’s needs. She’s also learning to listen to her gut instincts more and trusting God to put her in the right place.

“I’m listening to that inner voice, you know, good and bad,” Fish said. “Sometimes we ignore it, and then we get ourselves in a whole hell of a lot of trouble.”