Alabama trooper, Autistic child build special relationship after boy’s father killed

When Alabama State Trooper Zack Harrelson met young Austin Kidder on a Sunday morning in March 2012, the circumstances could not have been worse.

Harrelson, who lives in Lee County and works out of the Opelika post, was doing the unpleasant, but required duty of notifying the next of kin of a traffic fatality.

Austin’s father, John Simmons, while walking along U.S. Highway 280 in Salem, Ala., had been struck by a vehicle and killed. When Harrelson got to the home, he found no adult, just a scared and confused 12-year-old Autistic boy who thought he was in trouble because of the trooper’s presence.

Harrelson took Austin to a neighbor’s house across the street where they called the boy’s maternal grandmother in Grand Rapids, Mich. He told the grandmother the situation and she told him that Austin’s mother had relinquished custody of the boy to the dad.

Austin, now 18, remembers it this way.

“It was March 25, 2012,” Austin said Friday via phone from his grandmother’s home where he now lives. “He got down low and said, ‘Son, your dad was killed last night in a car accident.”

Harrelson could have walked away from the situation at that time, and no one would have blamed him or even known the difference. But he didn’t. Over the past five years, Harrelson has become a confidant and surrogate father to the boy, who moved to Michigan to live with his grandmother the day after his father’s death in what is still an unsolved hit-and-run fatality.

News of the trooper’s relationship with Austin became public when a fellow Alabama trooper recently posted on Facebook part of the story with a picture of Austin and Zack at the boy’s high school graduation on Thursday. Harrelson, at his own expense, flew to Grand Rapids to watch Austin, now 18, graduate from Kent Education Center-Beltline, a school for special needs students.

“You have no idea what that meant to Austin,” said the boy’s grandmother, Melanie Wyma.

What is amazing is the relationship that started because of tragedy was forged over the phone, and incredible trust was built between the trooper and the boy.

“I have talked to him quite a bit over the last five years,” Harrelson said Friday.

Getting Harrelson to share the story was not easy. Like many law enforcement officers who do what he does, he wanted no credit and even less attention for his actions.

“I wish you would make this story about Austin,” he said.

And the story is about Austin, who struggled with his father’s death and other trauma in his life. Austin’s story is a positive in part because the boy in Michigan had a lifeline, an Alabama State Trooper willing to pick up the phone and check on him.

“He’s like a father to me,” Austin said.

You ask Harrelson about informing Austin of his father’s death, and he responds, “All death notifications are difficult.”

You press Harrelson a little and you realize they may all be difficult, but some can reach deep inside the heart of a veteran state trooper.

The depth of the relationship comes out when Austin’s grandmother tells of how Harrleson helped shape the boy just by listening and offering sound advice.

“Austin could talk to him about things he could not talk to anybody else about,” Wyma said. “And they talk a lot.”

Austin was flown to Grand Rapids less than 24 hours after being informed of his father’s death so he would not go into the Alabama foster care system, Wyma said. It took him six months to even begin to process it. As he did, he was filled with confusion and rage, his grandmother said.

“Not long after Austin got here, Zack called to check on him,” Wyma said. “He asked if it would be OK if he called from time to time to check in.”

The calls kept coming. And Austin trusted Harrelson, because the trooper took time to help the boy. An example came in the weeks after Austin got to Michigan.

Harrelson helped take care of some unfinished business in Alabama, involving “Miss Kitty,” Austin’s pet. During the calls right after Austin moved to Grand Rapids, Austin expressed concern for his cat back in Alabama.

“Zack is going to kill me for telling you this,” Wyma said. “But he got that cat, got it all of its shots, then got it on a crate and had it sent to Michigan. That is the kind of guy he is. He’s just a good guy.”

The calls continue on a monthly basis, especially on Oct. 9, Austin’s birthday, and March 25, the day Austin’s dad was killed.

It has been a long and difficult journey to get Austin, who functions at about a middle school level, to graduation day, Wyma said.

Thursday’s graduation was another red-letter day for Harrelson and Austin.

Austin knew there was a chance Harrelson would be coming to Michigan.

“When he saw Zack walking up the sidewalk, Austin just started screaming, ‘There’s Officer Zack,’ ” Wyma said.

The day after he graduated, Austin just said, “He made my day.”

For Harrelson, the trip and seeing the boy graduate was also a rewarding experience.

“They treated me like I was part of the family,” he said.

There is a reason for that. For five years, he has been.

This story was originally published June 9, 2017 at 3:53 PM with the headline "Alabama trooper, Autistic child build special relationship after boy’s father killed."