Article I helped write for my brother in Coffee Or Die Magazine
Below you'll find excerpts from the article: LINK to Article and below that you can dive deeper with the questions the author asked me to help with this article.
THE LOST BATT BOYS:
THREE FORMER FOSTER CHILDREN ON FINDING FAMILY AS ARMY RANGERS
[Excerpt highlighting Christopher Gathercole]
By Luke Ryan | May 17, 2020
"Some families are born in the loving care of two parents, and some are built through friendships in college or work. Still others are born out of shared hardship — the military, for example, often uses the word “brotherhood” to describe the bond shared between service members. Brothers and sisters not by blood born, but by blood shed.
Among the U.S. armed forces, few are closer to one another than the units who work in the world’s most harrowing environments. U.S. Army Rangers of the 75th Ranger Regiment (sometimes known as “Batt Boys”) execute some of the most dangerous missions in the world. They work outside the protective umbrella of the larger, conventional military, behind enemy lines with little more than the men at their sides.
It’s understandable that, after their selection process, grueling yearly training, and multiple deployments, these Rangers would grow into family.
Rangers come from a wide variety of backgrounds. Some hail from wealthy families with empires in their grasp, others come from poor families who are constantly scraping for their next meal. Some come from no families at all.
There are a number of foster children who have found a home among the Army’s three Ranger battalions. Some of them were only able to shape their definition of a family after finally donning their tan beret and assimilating as a Batt Boy."
"Christopher Gathercole’s childhood was spent with his older brother, Edward, drifting from foster home to foster home, rife with neglect, undernourishment, violence, and abuse of all kinds to include molestation and drug-entrenched environments. All before Christopher was in kindergarten.
As the brothers grew older, they began to spiral out of control. Edward was homeless at 18; Christopher was involved with gangs and other illicit activities. “In as few words as possible, he joined the military for the structure, security, and stability,” Edward said. “He saw the struggles I was enduring with homelessness and lack of support without family.”
When he became a Ranger, Christopher began to realize what a family was.
“His longing [to connect to his biological family] became more expressed when he would come over to visit while enlisted,” Edward said. “He would want to connect with estranged family and build on those bonds. This didn’t really exist in a positive light before his enlistment. The bonds he was making in the military encouraged him to fortify his bonds back home — I directly experienced this as I saw a side of care and concern from my brother that I didn’t have anywhere else in life, and that grew as he became a Ranger.”
As Christopher developed these feelings about family and the importance of his brother, he also began to relate more to those who were deploying alongside him.
“After his first deployment in 2nd Batt, we grew closer but also more distant,” Edward said. “He was going through things that he couldn’t readily express to me, so his connections to his Ranger brothers was crucial and necessary. Joel ‘Rudy’ Rodriguez would often come down on leave with Chris and is like a brother to me, just as many other Ranger brothers are.
When Christopher was killed in action on May 26, 2008 — Memorial Day — Edward realized that Christopher’s newfound family now extended to him. He was a Gold Star brother, and therefore a new brother to every Ranger who served with Christopher.
“The brothers made it feel like we were family, and that continues to be reinforced,” Edward said. “No matter the time or distance, there are brothers I can call who would drop everything for me. In his passing, I felt more support and connection to his Ranger family than biological family that really wasn’t in the picture.”
BEHIND THE SCENES
From Author Luke Ryan: "Edward, My questions would start with these, though I'm not yet sure what excerpts I'll use (but you'll see it long before I submit it, so I can get your approval on quotes)."
"I know you and Chris were family; I definitely don't want to take away from that in any way, nor do I want to insinuate that the only brotherhood he found was in Batt. The overall goal of the article is more of a general positive one, showing (through the very rough stories of many foster kids) the family aspect of Ranger Battalion."
"Thank you in advance! Feel free to be as long or short as needed, or skip whatever you feel you want."
"Tell me about you and your brother's upbringing in regards to the foster care system?"
Edward: "I’ll be as succinct as possible and try to mostly reinforce my brother’s perspective. If you have any questions I can elaborate where needed, there’s so much history I’ll give a rundown by placements he had leading up to enlistment. And then speaking on some of that early history.
Christopher's Obituary LINK to Obituary
Christopher Gathercole: A Journey of Ultimate Resilience
Overcoming more than twelve foster care placements and systemic instability to achieve the elite status of an Army Ranger, Christopher’s life stands as a testament to an unbreakable spirit and the ultimate sacrifice.
A Turbulent Foundation (1986–1996)
- 1986–1990 | Early Instability: Born on October 16, 1986. Infancy is marked by immediate systemic intervention, resulting in removal from maternal custody and placement into two emergency foster homes. His biological father initially opts out of adoption plans, eventually regaining custody through the county foster agency and juvenile court system.
- 1990–1995 | Paternal Custody & Crisis: Lives with his biological father until his father's arrest and subsequent long-term incarceration within a treatment facility for the criminally insane. (His father would remain under a conditional release program until his passing in 2020.)
- 1995–1996 | Exposure to Trauma: Following his father's arrest, Christopher is briefly placed with his biological mother for less than a year. During this time, the vulnerable third-grader is exposed to severe neglect, gang violence, and environments entirely unsuited for a child.
- 1996 | Ward of the Court: Officially removed from parental custody and placed into the permanent care of the county as a ward of the court.
Separation and Systemic Navigations (1997–2003)
- 1997 | Separation from Brotherhood: Christopher shares a foster placement with his older brother, Edward, until behavioral crises force Edward’s removal, severing their immediate connection.
- 1997–2000 | Continuous Dislocation: Removed from his existing home and cycled through two additional, separate foster care placements.
- 2000–2001 | Institutional Shelters & Group Homes: Experiences a period of transient living at a county children's shelter before being transferred to a structured group home operated by TLC Child & Family Services.
- 2001–2003 | Brief Reunion: Reunited with his brother, Edward. The siblings navigate two different foster homes together until Edward ages out of the system and emancipates.
- 2003 | Left Behind: Left displaced when his foster family relocates out of the area without including him. He is placed backward into the care of a former foster parent.
Turning Point & The Path to Purpose (2004–2005)
- 2004 | The Precipice: At age 17, facing the compounding weight of systemic trauma, Christopher is allegedly arrested on two felony charges and spends time in juvenile hall. As a ward of the court, he is placed in a rehabilitative group home—a pivot point that begins his turnaround.
- 2005 | Graduation and Grit: Grinds through his final year to graduate high school in August. He transitions into the group home’s independent living program, utilizing the stability to formulate a definitive life plan: enlisting in the United States Army.
- November 2005 | The Departure: Formally steps away from the foster system, processing through the Military Entrance Processing Station (MEPS) in Mountain View, Ca to begin his military service.
Elite Brotherhood & Ultimate Sacrifice (2006–2008)
- 2006 | Becoming a Ranger: Completes Airborne school and endures the grueling Ranger Indoctrination Program (RIP). He is assigned to Charlie Company, 2nd Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment (C/Co 2/75).
- 2006 | The Ranger Tab: Deploys to combat for the first time. To earn his coveted Ranger Tab, Christopher faces a severe knee injury midway through his first attempt at Ranger School, nearly tearing his ACL. Refusing to quit, he recycles, enduring the brutal training a second time to successfully graduate.
- 2007–2008 | Standing with Giants: Hand-selected and assigned to the newly formed Delta Company (D/Co 2/75), serving alongside future Medal of Honor recipient Leroy Petry.
- May 26, 2008 | Killed in Action: Making the ultimate sacrifice for his country and his brothers in arms, Ranger Christopher Gathercole is killed in action, cementing a legacy of profound honor, survival, and duty.
Blood, Bond, and Brotherhood: A Reflection on Christopher Gathercole
By Edward Gathercole
I am 18 months older than my brother, Christopher, who was born on October 16, 1986. Until about 1996 or 1997, we were inseparable. In a world of constant dislocation, our absolute semblance of family was each other. We grew up as wards of the foster care system, punctuated by brief, volatile stints with our biological parents and intermittent connections to an estranged extended family.
None of these early experiences made any sense to us until we were much older—especially the concepts of community and family. Our entry into the system began in the late 1980s through emergency foster care placements. Before we had even reached kindergarten, our lives were defined by a total absence of stability, severe neglect, malnourishment, violence, drug-entrenched environments, and multiple forms of abuse.
Our earliest shared memories exist in fragmented, vivid degrees. I remember a SWAT raid on the drug house where we were living with our biological mother. We were just toddlers, found in abysmal health—dirty, infested with lice, and severely malnourished. Child Protective Services processed us at the county children’s shelter, and we were placed into an emergency foster home. We stayed with that family for over a year and grew deeply attached.
But our biological father refused to surrender his parental rights and began taking steps to regain custody. Because the courts and the system decided we would never be legally adopted by our foster parents, they determined we should be moved to a different home.
That forced relocation was profoundly traumatic; we were torn from a comfortable, safe, loving environment and thrown back into the terrifying unknown. Christopher was paralyzed with fear, and I was losing my mind, desperately fixated on a security blanket. We were loaded into the back of a police car and taken back to the children’s shelter. After a few days, we were placed with another foster family, and over the next year, we began the slow reunification process with our father.
We lived with him for a few years until 1995. During that stretch, Christopher and I were still together, but our internal trauma was manifesting outwardly; our behaviors grew increasingly volatile and out of control. When our father was arrested, our stepmother couldn't manage us alongside her own two children. Once again, we found ourselves in the back of a police car, watching the world blur through the wire mesh as we headed back to the shelter.
On Christopher’s Longing for Family
"Did Christopher ever express a longing for family? Or did he struggle with the concept entirely?" — Luke Ryan
His longing for family became much more visible after he enlisted, particularly when he would come home on leave to visit. He developed a deep desire to seek out our estranged biological family and build real bonds with them. A positive framework for family simply hadn’t existed for us before the military.
At a devastatingly young age, the tribal, familial aspect of street and gang culture was alluring to Christopher. It promised the belonging he starved for, but it got him into severe trouble on more than one occasion. The deep, unconditional bonds he finally forged in the military flipped a switch in him—they encouraged him to fortify his relationships back home. I experienced this directly. As Christopher became an Army Ranger, I witnessed a level of fierce care, protectiveness, and concern from him that I had never received from anyone else in my life. I was profoundly grateful to have him as my brother; the very meaning of "family" shifted during his service.
His primary network of genuine support was tight: it was me, Terrence V. our Court Appointed Special Advocate (CASA), and our maternal grandmother, Marianne Haines, to whom he grew very close. True family is supposed to build you up, not tear you down, and navigating those boundaries was a constant struggle for him.
After his first deployment with 2nd Battalion, we grew closer, yet an unspoken distance emerged between us. He was carrying heavy, harrowing experiences that he couldn't readily put into words or express to a civilian. Because of that, his connection to his Ranger brothers was both crucial and life-saving.
His brother-in-arms, Joel “Rudy” Rodriguez, would often come down on leave with Chris, and he became a brother to me, too—as did so many others from Regiment. Brothers like Timothy G., Lio “Rizzo” R., Victor V., Jake B., and Nate N. represent a lifelong extension of Christopher's legacy in my life.
The Most Harrowing Experiences in the System
"What was one of the most harrowing experiences he endured in foster care?" — Luke Ryan
There are far too many to count—from enduring physical violence and molestation to the psychological torture of systemic uncertainty, always keeping a go-bag packed because you never knew if you'd be sleeping in the same bed tomorrow. There was also the degrading awareness of being used as a walking paycheck in the form of a foster care stipend. Ironically, the most harrowing experiences didn't happen at the hands of strangers; they happened when we were placed back with biological family.
A distorted sense of brotherhood took root when Christopher was just nine years old. During a brief, chaotic placement with our biological mother, we were abruptly driven to the Santa Rosa Police Department, dropped off, and ferried away in another squad car to the children's shelter. Christopher actually wrote about his perspective of this specific trauma in his autobiography.
We were just children. For years, I didn't remember the details of being shot at during that time—I always assumed it was local gang members. I didn't find out the truth until after Christopher died, when I received the written therapy records and self-reflections he had completed while living in the rehabilitative group home. Reading those documents shattered me: I discovered it was my own nine-year-old brother who had fired a gun at me.
During that stint with our parent, we were spinning out in entirely separate directions, our behaviors completely unchecked. Christopher thrived in the fierce, protective illusion of gang culture; older peers pushed him to excel, but they were weaponizing his loyalty in the wrong direction. He was getting away with dangerous activities until it culminated in him being taken to a psychiatric hospital after an attempt on his own life. He was only nine years old. That marked the longest separation we had ever endured up to that point—nearly two weeks of absolute silence while he was hospitalized.
But if I had to pinpoint the most terrifying experience in terms of how it nearly sabotaged his entire future—and the one that caused him immense agony when he was sweating out his Top Secret security clearance as a Ranger—it relates to how the concept of "family" can leave you utterly vulnerable to predators who do not have your best interests at heart.
Without exposing unnecessary details, an adult family member explicitly groomed and encouraged both of us to participate in illegal activity for their own financial benefit, under the guise that it would help us survive. Christopher was completely convinced, and I only participated out of a desperate love for my brother—and the reality that making money while homeless was a survival necessity. Christopher was still a minor living in a foster home. I was 18, completely homeless, living on the streets while waiting for a vacancy in a supportive housing program for transitional youth.
Christopher genuinely thought this was a way out, a way for us to secure a future together. Instead, the adults who should have been guarding him were actively steering him down a path of absolute destruction. Because of his loyalty to family and a starved need for validation, catastrophic choices were made.
It spiraled until Christopher was arrested on two felony counts at the age of 17. When his foster mother contacted that same family member—the one who had recruited us—that person callously told the foster parent to call the police and wash their hands of him. At 17, Christopher’s entire life hung in the balance because of choices made under the heavy influence of generational trauma and family exploitation.
Ultimately, it was his absolute, unyielding commitment to rehabilitating his behavior, confronting his years of systemic trauma, and accepting legal diversion that prevented those severe consequences from bleeding into his adulthood and destroying his military aspirations.
The Motive to Enlist
"In your opinion, why did Chris join the military?" — Luke Ryan
In as few words as possible: structure, security, and stability.
He watched me endure the brutal realities of homelessness, bouncing around with zero familial support, and he was terrified of falling into those same cyclic pitfalls. His obituary paints a condensed portrait of his calling, but the truth is he always possessed an insatiable love for adventure and a burning desire to make something honorable out of his life. Emancipated from the state with no safety net, living in a transitional group home program, the military was his leverage—the healthiest next step into functional adulthood.
When he finally shipped out, he used to laugh and tell me that boot camp was easy. He called it "a group home with guns." He explicitly understood that he thrived under rigid structure; it fortified his innate discipline. He knew that without that absolute oversight and a collective motivation to excel, there was no one in the civilian world to truly care about his well-being or his survival.
The Drive to Become an Elite Ranger
"What pushed him all the way to becoming an Army Ranger?" — Luke Ryan
One specific catalyst stands out. While he was in Airborne school, he attended a presentation given by operators from Delta Force. That talk lit an absolute inferno inside his soul to become the most lethal, elite version of himself possible.
Christopher completely blossomed in an environment built on intense cooperation and fierce competition. For the first time in his life, he was encouraged to perform at his absolute limit, and that performance was readily, formally validated. He didn't necessarily set out with a calculated plan to join the 75th Ranger Regiment; rather, his performance was so stellar that it served as an explicit invitation.
The validation of his peers, paired with a positive outlet for his natural aggression, fed his passion and perseverance. The brotherhood pushing him from behind gave him the strength to be a cut above the rest. Being part of an elite community brought him immense, pure joy. To Christopher, you were either a Ranger, or you were a “leg.”
There are fascinating, albeit dark, parallels here to the gang culture he flirted with as a child. Gangs mimic the familial structure, but they ultimately degrade human life and tear people down. The 75th Ranger Regiment took those exact same core human desires—the craving for elite status, tight-knit tribal loyalty, organized discipline, and tactical execution—and channeled them into a force for good. I often say the United States military operates with the most highly disciplined aspects of a tribal militia, and that is precisely what magnetized my brother. Real brotherhood uncovered the raw, brilliant gems latent within Christopher, polishing them through rigorous education, shared suffering, and unbreakable bonds. For better or worse, being part of the most badass unit in the world pushed him to become a tabbed, scrolled, combat-tested Army Ranger.
Finding Family in the Regiment
"Do you feel like he found some semblance of family in the Ranger community?" — Luke Ryan
The brotherhood he forged in Charlie Company and later in Delta Company completely reinforced the healthy, sacred aspects of what a family is supposed to be—a far cry from the shadow metrics of the streets.
There is an incident that occurred during his very last leave before that fateful 2008 deployment that still triggers immense grief and lingering guilt inside me. Late one night, he and I got into a massive, emotionally charged argument. Christopher ended up calling a Ranger brother, Mike W, to come pick him up. Even though it was the dead of night, Mike didn't hesitate; he drove out to get him.
Christopher was carrying a crushing amount of psychological weight regarding the upcoming deployment with the newly formed Delta Company—navigating leadership friction, the pain of leaving brothers in Charlie Company who didn't want him to transfer, and deeper tactical anxieties he couldn't share with me. That night, I failed to meet his emotional needs. But his Ranger community did. His brother showed up. That reality heavily impacts my psyche to this day, but it is a pain I treasure because it proves he was loved.
So many Rangers were profoundly broken by Christopher's passing. His first team leader in Charlie Company, Victor V., shared stories with me about picking Chris out of a replacement lineup purely because of his infectious, trademark “shit-eating grin.” Chris would orchestrate elaborate practical jokes, fully aware he was going to get absolutely "smoked" (physically punished) by leadership for it. But to him, the pure joy and laughter it brought to his brothers made the punishment completely worth it. Our Court Appointed Special Advocate captured that beautifully in the formal obituary I asked him to write.
In the devastating aftermath of his death, I felt more genuine, unconditional support and structural connection from his Ranger family—from the brothers who flew across the country to stand by his casket—than I ever did from the biological relatives who were entirely absent from our lives.
An Extended Brotherhood
"Do you feel that that family has extended to you?" — Luke Ryan
Without a doubt. I know with absolute certainty that if I ever find myself in Washington or anywhere across the country where his brothers reside—including Leroy Petry’s home—I have a place to stay.
During Leroy Petry’s Medal of Honor induction week in 2011, he went out of his way to ensure that Christopher’s name, face, and sacrifice were prominently remembered and honored on a national stage. These men made it clear that I am an extension of him, meaning I am family. That bond has never wavered. Regardless of how many years pass or the physical distance between us, there are Rangers I can call at 3:00 AM who would drop everything to help me.
Over Veterans Day weekend in 2018, I was invited out to New York City for the 'Lead the Way Fund' fundraiser, specifically an event called Jimmy’s Run. There, the American Fallen Soldiers Project presented me with a stunning, hand-painted portrait of Christopher.
Once again, I was brought face-to-face with the deeply empathetic, fiercely protective nature of these men—men like the absolute badass, Jason C. I have witnessed an incredible phenomenon that seems unique to elite Rangers: they are some of the most exceptional, lethal warriors on the face of the earth, yet when they are wrapped in the safety of their "Ranger family," they confidently display profound vulnerability. They do not hesitate to shed tears of raw strength and mutual grief, bound by the knowledge that their fallen brother in the sky is fiercely loved and will never be forgotten.
At the brunch reception following the portrait presentation, a few Rangers discovered we were staying right next to the World Trade Center Memorial. They told us we had to visit a historic pub nearby called O’Hara’s to sign the 75th Ranger Regiment unit insignia hung inside in honor of Chris. We had no set itinerary for the evening, but I told the close family friends traveling with me that we needed to make the pilgrimage.
We walked into the pub at dusk. The walls of O'Hara's are completely plastered with hundreds of law enforcement and first responder badges, military patches, and flags. Hanging prominently among them was a massive, white, green-and-blue 75th Ranger Regiment insignia shield. It immediately caught my eye, and I walked over to the booth directly beneath it.
Two men were standing nearby. Noticing the Ranger hat I was wearing, one of them asked what brought me into the pub. I looked up at the shield and said, "I’m here to sign in honor of my brother, Christopher 'Gator' Gathercole."
The man went completely still. It was Ernie Santiago—the exact Ranger who had flown that flag and hung it on the wall, and a man who had personally served alongside my brother. Ten years after Christopher was killed in action, the universe still engineered a direct, serendipitous confirmation that his Ranger family was guarding his memory.
Stories of the Regiment
"Did Chris ever tell you any stories of brotherhood from his time in the military?" — Luke Ryan
In late 2007, I managed to pull off a massive surprise visit to see him in Washington. Because I was completely broke, I had been unable to attend any of his graduations or milestone ceremonies in Georgia or Fort Lewis as he climbed higher into the elite tiers of Regiment. I saved every single cent I had, and with some financial assistance from our childhood CASA, I bought a plane ticket and surprised the absolute hell out of him.
He gave me a full tour of Fort Lewis and the 2nd Battalion barracks. Getting to see his world firsthand allowed me to witness his standing within that brotherhood. He was easily one of the most popular, magnetic, and hilarious figures in his battalion.
One legendary story he told me involved tobacco dip and a severe "smoking." During physical training (PT), if a Ranger is caught with dip in his mouth, standard operating procedure is that you are forced to swallow it. One morning, Chris was caught red-handed. The team leader ordered him to swallow the dip, which normally would signify the end of the punishment before transitioning back into standard running and exercises.
However, the team leader looked at him and asked, "Do you have any more dip on you, Gathercole?"
Chris, with total honesty, pulled out his log of tobacco. The leader ordered him to swallow the remaining contents of the half-full can. At this point, his surrounding Ranger brothers were bursting into laughter—that classic, contagious Christopher energy turning a brutal situation into a bonding moment.
After choking down the half-can, the leader asked again, "Do you have any more?"
Chris grinned and said, "Sir, I’ve got a brand-new, unopened can sitting right back in my locker."
The leader ordered him to go get it. Chris ran all the way back to the barracks, vomiting multiple times along the path, and returned to the formation with a fresh tin. He was ordered to swallow the entire thing. He cracked the seal, opened it up, and with his signature, defiant, shit-eating grin, he swallowed the tobacco whole. He then wiped his mouth, continued through the rest of the grueling PT session, vomiting intermittently alongside his laughing brothers. That was how he bonded.
I also had the chance to connect with Mat Best and discuss the brief but memorable impression Christopher left on him when they hung out and had drinks together in early 2008, just before Chris deployed for the last time. Years later, I was able to bring Mat's independent film, Range 15, to a screening in Santa Rosa, California, which allowed us to honor that connection.
Incredibly, Christopher's brotherhood continues to expand even among men who never met him alive. I frequently connect with modern Rangers at the Santa Rosa Memorial Park where Chris is buried, men who have officially had Christopher assigned to them as their "Airborne Ranger in the Sky."
One of those brothers, Trey W, recently reached out to check on me during the Sonoma County wildfires. For the past few Memorial Day weekends—the anniversary of when Chris was killed in 2008—Trey has flown out to California specifically to visit Christopher’s resting place. Trey never knew my brother in life, but the weight of the Regiment scroll created an instantaneous, lifelong responsibility to carry the memory of a fallen brother. Meeting me brought the entire experience full circle for him as he stood before the custom grave marker I designed for Chris. Time and again, the unifying framework of this family validates itself.
The Legend of the "Butter-Knife Ninja"
During his first combat deployment, Christopher’s element was conducting high-risk, black-out night raids targeting high-value targets. During a chaotic entry into an incredibly tight, closed-quarter space, Christopher breached a room and was instantly confronted by an enemy combatant.
Because of the extreme proximity and the positioning of his fellow Rangers in the fatal funnel, Chris realized instantly that firing his primary weapon carried an incredibly high risk of a ricochet or a friendly-fire tragedy hitting one of his brothers.
Thinking at the speed of instinct, Chris bypassed his firearm, grabbed a heavy kitchen butter knife off a nearby surface, and used it to physically subdue and neutralize the combatant hand-to-hand, clearing the room without a single drop of friendly blood spilled. From that night forward, his company affectionately dubbed him the "Butter-Knife Ninja."
How the Definition of "Family" Transformed Him
"Do you feel like Chris' thoughts on the word 'family' changed after he became a Ranger?" — Luke Ryan
It completely revolutionized his thoughts and his actions in a beautiful, healthy direction. As a boy, his desperate starvation for family made him highly susceptible to paths that designed his destruction—like street culture. The Regiment taught him what family actually required: accountability, sacrifice, and unconditional love.
He began to display a profound, protective compassion toward his peers, strangers, and friends that completely transcended biological bloodlines. Growing up, he didn't have a traditional family he could rely on, save for the unbreakable bond he and I shared, our dedicated volunteer CASA worker, and our late grandmother, Marianne. In fact, when I met his Ranger brothers after he was killed, many of them were shocked to learn he even had a sister or an extended family—he simply never spoke of them. To Christopher, family was no longer an accident of birth or something you either passively had or lacked; it was something you actively built, earned, validated, and fiercely protected.
I watched this ethos manifest in his behavior, especially in his willingness to act as a peacemaker. Before he deployed, I told our biological father during one of his brief releases from prison that I had learned to survive without him and had no desire to keep him in my life. But Christopher possessed a grander, universal vision of family. It was paramount to him to know that his family back home was healing while he was fighting overseas. For Christopher's sake, I swallowed my pride and made the effort to see our father.
To this day, his example inspires me to maintain the expansive, boundaryless definition of family he discovered in Regiment. Since his sacrifice, I continue to make the hard, conscious effort to reach out and maintain ties with our relatives and extended relatives who never played a consistent or positive role in our childhood. I do it because Christopher would have done it.
Final Thoughts
I always feel like so much is left out, but I hope this captures a true, unfiltered portrait of my brother and the colossal weight of the brotherhood that saved him.
There is an incredible, dark postscript to his story from the Global War on Terrorism that remains largely undocumented by the mainstream media. In 2015, a specialized operation resulted in the tracking and high-profile capture of the specific enemy combatants who had escaped the fateful May 2008 fire-fight where Christopher was killed. The sheer operational drama and poetic justice of that multi-year manhunt trip me out completely—it reads exactly like an epic movie script.
I was officially notified of the captures by Leroy Petry, as well as by an FBI Special Agent and close friend, Dave O., who had personally worked Christopher's case and assisted in the arrests. Both Leroy and Dave explicitly confirmed to me that the fallen Ranger cited in the classification documents was Christopher, and they wanted to notify me immediately in case the media floodgates opened. The press never picked it up, but the file exists. Maybe one day we’ll write that script.
He was also present in the Fort Lewis barracks during the notorious "Ranger bank robbery" scandal in 2006, meaning he lived through some of the wildest, most intense eras of modern military history. He was a character, a warrior, and my brother.
Links: Two Yemeni Nationals Charged with Conspiring to Murder United States Nationals Abroad and Providing Material Support to Al-Qaeda
The Burden of the Next of Kin
On a deeply personal note, Christopher designated me as his primary next of kin. Because of that, the crushing weight of being the sole point person fell entirely on my shoulders. I was the one who had to decide the devastating logistical details—which airport his casket would fly into from Dover Air Force Base, the cemetery where he would finally rest, and how he would be laid to rest.
But there was another profound responsibility locked away in a box during his final deployment: the high probability that Christopher had a daughter.
Being the only one intimately involved in his final affairs, the duty to find the truth became mine alone. I was authorized by the military to coordinate DNA testing using the genetic samples the Army maintained. In 2009, I successfully finalized those arrangements. The test was positive. It secured his daughter’s rightful place as the beneficiary of her late father.
She had been born in February 2008, just three months before he was killed in action. Throughout that entire grueling process, I received absolutely zero support from our biological family. My only lifelines were the United States Military and his Ranger brothers.
Grief, Materialism, and False Pretenses
I work hard every day to release resentment, but it still pains me to witness how other relatives have since tried to maneuver their way into the Ranger family. They share in the public grief, take photos, talk about how much they loved him, and post pictures of his Ranger challenge coins—acting as though they were a vibrant part of Christopher’s life when the truth is so different. I aim to let it go, though it is incredibly challenging.
The Rangers and the military helped me bury my brother, while our biological family wanted his things. In the end, I simply gave his possessions away—including his dog tags. I parted with the material items because I knew I already possessed what they never could: a deep, unbroken, intimate bond with my younger brother. It was the exact same bond he shared with his Ranger brothers.
The few material pieces I did save are locked away for my niece—his daughter. Because of this history, sharing a space of mutual grief with biological family feels deeply uncomfortable at times; it feels founded on false pretenses.
This distortion was amplified by the media's portrayal of a fallen soldier, which heavily highlighted our biological mother’s grief in published photographs. There were people at the service who explicitly did not want her there, feeling strongly that Christopher would not have wanted her at his funeral. But I was the one who invited her. I did it because I believe a grander act of forgiveness is exactly what my brother would have extended to family. I chose grace over holding onto a resentment that amounts to drinking poison and hoping the other person dies.
A Legacy of Universal Family
Today, I spend my days reflecting on the virtuous attributes of my younger brother. His memory encourages me to have the courage to be an example to the world—to treat all of humanity as one universal family.
...Unless they are a terrorist. Then they get a butter knife to the gut.
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