By John Silvester

Deputy Commissioner Rick Nugent congratulates Ron Fenton at his “living wake”.Credit:Nicole Oli

It was a fairly typical police wake. A suburban pub, open-neck shirts, stick-on name tags and a speech from the brass.

The difference was that the man they came to eulogise was not yet horizontal.

Being given up for dead is nothing new for Ron Fenton, for it was nearly 37 years ago police first planned his funeral.

He was given hours to live when he was shot in the head, was touch and go when he broke 37 bones in a motorbike accident, came close to ending it at his own hand while in the depth of depression, was a couple of gasps away from drowning in a raging river and twice diagnosed with terminal cancer.

Assistant Commissioner Mick Grainger (left), Ron Fenton and Deputy Commissioner Rick Nugent.Credit:Nicole Oli

Fenton’s life has been truly remarkable. But he is not ready for it to be told posthumously – not yet.

At 65, he knows he is dying – the cancer has enveloped his liver, the chemo knocks him around and only morphine gives him enough relief to function.

Yet this week he turned up, with nearly 200 friends and former colleagues, at a Point Cook pub to celebrate a life filled with tragedy, love and a steely resolve to survive. It was a living wake where the guest of honour was still about to enjoy the chat, the memories and the plates of sausage rolls.

“This is a chance for me to thank all the people who have helped me get through my life,” he says.

“I have had an amazing life and feel blessed. I’m humbled to see so many people here. I thought we couldn’t fill a shoebox.”

From the moment Ron walked into the Police Academy in 1972 as a 16-year-old cadet he was a star and graduated in 1974 dux of the class. He was the youngest recruit to join Search and Rescue and dux of the sub officers’ course.

And then he was shot.

The gunman was Kai “Matty” Korhonen, a former army reservist trained to use high-powered weapons and mentally wired to use them. On November 21, 1984, armed with a military grade semi-automatic assault rifle and 200 rounds of ammunition, he ambushed security guard Peter Poole, who was sitting in his car.

Shooter Kai Korhonen, then 21.Credit:John Renaud

Sergeant Fenton and his partner Senior Constable Paul Gilbert headed to Fairbanks Road in Clayton and were second on the scene. “It was pretty obvious he was dead,” says Fenton.

When police tried to stop Korhonen’s car at Rickett’s Point, unaware he was a murderer, he blasted them with 20 shots, injuring one officer. “He’s shooting the shit out of the car,” one told D24, the force’s communications centre.

Fenton and Gilbert immediately responded to the call, knowing the offender was almost certainly Poole’s killer.

They went to a nearby park near his abandoned car, hoping to corral him away from houses. But Korhonen emerged from behind a fence and opened fire, hitting the police car 27 times.

Fenton, the driver, opened the door to make a dash for cover. Illuminated by the internal light, he was shot in the back of the head with a military-grade bullet. The car was riddled, including eight bulletholes in the windscreen and seven in the driver’s seat backrest. (The transport branch later sent Fenton a letter to say he was not liable for the damage.)

The homicide report states both police were “miraculously spared by chance”.

Gilbert, bloodied and blinded by shattered glass, huddled on the passenger seat floor and radioed D24.

Police were ordered to remain stationary as “we don’t know that it’s safe to go in”. Gilbert pleaded: “Get an ambulance for my mate. I can hear him but I can’t move.”

Ron Fenton with John Silvester.Credit:Nicole Oli

Sometimes heroism arrives without a brass band. In the radio chatter there is a quiet voice, Sergeant Mick Romeril, who chooses to disobey the order: “We’re in a plain car and we might head up to the injured member and put him in the car.”

And they did just that. Two units with four officers went in to rescue the trapped police.

Listen to the dramatic police audio

Gilbert cradled his partner’s skull after they were dragged out. In the ambulance the paramedics said: “Look, he’s not going to make it.”

First paramedics doubted Fenton would make it to hospital, then his family was told he wouldn’t last three days, then after nearly two weeks in a coma they were told he wouldn’t recover his brain function.

They were wrong.

Gilbert, who was at the living wake, recalls the shooting, saying they took up a secure position but moved out to warn another unit to douse their lights.

Paul Gilbert, Ron’s partner when they were under fire.Credit:Nicole Oli

“We were reversing back when all hell broke loose. Shot after shot went into the car. It was a nightmare. The car was full of smoke and I reached out and couldn’t feel Ron. I couldn’t see because of blood in my eyes.”

Gilbert remains amazed at Fenton’s recovery: “The inner strength of the man remains an inspiration to me.”

Fenton left hospital with more than 30 pieces of shrapnel in his skull, told he would never return to even light police duties. Again, they were wrong. He became a respected Police Academy instructor and an inspiration to a generation of police.

(Korhonen, who fired 132 shots in the end, was sentenced to a maximum term of life for the Poole murder plus 88 years for shooting police. He served 15 years – meaning he didn’t do one day’s jail for the attempted police murders.)

Fenton wanted to be fully operational, and after 11 years worked his way back, learning to write and shoot with his non-dominant hand.

Back in the job he loved, he hid the gathering dark clouds, ignoring the signs of building post- traumatic stress. The dam burst after a violent arrest where the offender gloated that he had served time with Korhonen and wanted to get the same gun to finish the job.

“I hit the booze, the pokies and the drugs. I did everything,” Fenton says.

The worst were the night terrors – a recurring nightmare that he was trapped underwater in a fast- flowing river, a flashback to a near-death experience in Search and Rescue.

In 2012 he retired due to ill health, destined to be another dreadful police statistic, one who took his own life due to PTSD: “I’ve tried to top myself five times.”

He was barely surviving with the aid of 17 psychotropic drugs when his life was saved by a crook he’d never met and a dog trained in a jail.

In Bathurst Prison Benni, an inmate serving time for drugs, was training an American Hunting Labrador as a trauma dog.

Yogi was a rescue dog and would have been put down if he couldn’t find a home. Fenton and Yogi saved each other’s life.

Ron Fenton and Yogi.Credit:Chris Hopkins

Benni was briefed on Fenton’s condition and every night in his cell would mimic the policeman’s impairments to train the dog how to intervene.

In 2017 Fenton travelled to Bathurst to meet Benni and Yogi. Yogi now sleeps in the same room with Fenton and if the former policeman’s breathing becomes stressed the dog will use a paw to turn on a night light and jump on the bed to stop night terrors.

Benni and Ron are now friends. They keep in touch and Benni now owns his own business.

“As far as I know no inmate involved in the dog program has reoffended,” Fenton says. “I really hope it is introduced in Victoria.

“Benni is an amazing man. He came to see me last year and Yogi loves him. You can see the bond between them.”

For Fenton that bond is vital. “When I shuffle off this mortal coil, Benni will take Yogi back. It is important I know Yogi will go to someone who loves him. He has taken care of me and he deserves to have someone look after him.

“When I was told I had months to live, the black dog, the suicide dog, jumped off my shoulder and started barking in my face. Yogi stood between us and said, ‘Bugger off, he’s mine’.

“So the brown lab beat the black dog.”

At Fenton’s lowest, when he thought couldn’t get off the couch, Yogi would grab their ball and demand they play: “He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Yogi would grab their ball and demand they play: “He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”Credit:Joe Armao

Yogi and Fenton may have saved each other but they have done more than that.

When Fenton applied to have Yogi’s expenses paid under WorkCover the claim was knocked back, even though the rescue dog saved money as Fenton no longer needs weekly therapy and to fill himself with drugs to survive.

Fenton took them on and won. “Yogi is now considered a legitimate medical expense. I know five cases of first responders with assistance dogs that can now claim.

“Everyone wants to leave their mark on life and getting Yogi’s Law passed is one of the crowning achievements of mine.”

When they thought Ron was about to die from gunshot wounds 37 years ago, they planned his funeral with full police honours. When he finally goes – and knowing him, it will be at a time of his own choosing – does he not deserve that same mark of respect?

Most Viewed in National

Source: Read Full Article