Zina Baker, widow of Chattanooga Police Sgt. John Allen Baker, with sons Drew and Bradley. Click to enlarge all our photos.
photo by Christian Siebold
Last year in the United States, 150 police officers were killed in the line of duty. They left for work one day, healthy and strong, and they didn’t come home. They met a bullet or a knife or a fugitive’s speeding car, and their life ended. They didn’t die as men should, having lived full lives, surrounded by their children and grandchildren. They died serving and protecting the community. They died on the field of battle. They died heroes.
Zina Baker always knew such a story could be hers. Her husband of 12 years, Sergeant John Allen Baker (“John” to co-workers, “Allen” to friends and family) graduated from the Chattanooga Police Academy while they were still dating. Early in their relationship, Zina and Allen talked about the risk involved with his profession.
“We discussed the dangers of the job from the beginning,” says Zina. “We always made sure we kissed goodbye and left one another on good terms, even if we were just leaving to run down to the store for a few minutes.”
On December 12, 2001, it was not a bullet or a knife that took the life of Sergeant Baker, it was cancer. He did not die on the field of battle, he died in a hospital bed. He was not killed in the line of duty, but to those left behind, he is every bit the hero.
“When we talked about death, he always said he wanted to die in a gunfight or in his sleep. His fear was dying of cancer, but he said he had a feeling that one day he would, never thinking it would be at 36 years old,” says Zina. “Even though we knew the dangers of the job and discussed death, I don’t think anything prepares you for it.”
Zina first met Allen when she was in the 8th grade. Allen’s family - missionaries to
Australia - had just returned to the United States on furlough. During their stay in America, the Bakers attended the same church that Zina and her family attended in Stone Mountain, Georgia.
Allen’s father, John Sr., remembers his son’s struggles during that first visit back to the States. “It can be rough for a kid to adjust when they haven’t been in the school or the youth group,” he says.
Allen’s status as the new kid on the block didn’t bother Zina at all. Even at 14 months his senior, Zina treated Allen with respect, a kindness that was not lost on that young teen.
“Later, after we got together, he said he always remembered that I was nice to him then,” says Zina as she wipes away tears.
After a 21 month furlough, the Bakers returned to their friends and their work in Australia. One of those friends was Mark Cini, a boyhood chum of Allen’s. The boys didn’t live in the same town, but their fathers served in the ministry together, and they would stay in touch through letters and camp outings. “Allen and I would meet up at church camps and always made sure we were in the same room. We caused a lot of trouble for everybody,” Mark remembers with a smile. “We were good mates.”
Allen loved Australia and the work his family did there. John Sr. chuckles at the memory of his son leaving home. “Allen didn’t leave Australia until he was 21, and I had to run him off then. Finally, I just said, ‘Son, you need to start your life.’”
Allen started his life in America attending Tennessee Temple University in Chattanooga. One weekend he visited Zina’s church in Stone Mountain. “I saw him across the church one day and I thought ‘That’s Allen Baker? He’s a nice looking guy!’”
Zina’s family and the Bakers were old friends, and after visiting the Bakers in Chattanooga one weekend, Zina’s mom dropped a bombshell.
“My mom never liked any guy, but after a visit with Allen’s parents, Mom stepped in the door at home and said, ‘That Allen Baker is a nice guy,’” says Zina. “About thirty minutes later she said, ‘Zina, you might want to start a hope chest.’ My jaw hit the floor.”
At the same time, John Sr., talked to Allen about Zina. “Allen and I enjoyed doing things together. We wouldn’t accomplish a whole lot because we just liked talking with each other,” says John. “One day we were under the house bracing the joists and we got to talking. I told him what a nice girl that Zina Cook was. I just planted the seed in his mind, then we left him here and went back to Australia.”
Zina and Allen met for their first date in October of 1988. They were engaged to be married in February of the next year and on June 17, 1989, Zina and Allen stood before friends and family and promised to love, honor and cherish each other until death parted them.
Married life was an adventure for the newlyweds. “Because we were together for such a short time before we were married, we did most of our dating after we got married,” says Zina.
Even after sons Drew, now 7, and Bradley, now 20 months, joined the Baker clan, Zina and Allen made time to nurture their marriage. “We would go on couples retreats, to marriage seminars and on dates - just the two of us.”
In August of 2001, the Bakers took their annual family vacation, this year to Daytona Beach. “Allen taught Drew how to swim under water and retrieve things from the bottom of the pool - it was so much fun,” says Zina. “I’m glad we had that time.”
They returned to Chattanooga on August 12, and the next day celebrated Allen’s 36th birthday. “Allen hated birthdays, so we didn’t do anything really special this year. For dinner we took the boys and went to Provino’s. Allen ordered his favorite - chicken Marsala. I remember thinking that next year I would make it better for him.”
Later that week, Allen began experiencing terrible stomach pains. “The pain had him doubled over,” says Zina. Allen thought it was gallstones, so he went to the doctor where they scheduled an ultrasound. That appointment set off a flurry of tests that all showed a suspicion of cancer.
On August 27, 2001, Allen and Zina heard the news they hoped would never come.
“We were sitting in the doctor’s office when he told us they were almost positive there was cancer in his pancreas. Allen was sitting on the edge of his chair, just gripping the sides of it. He wouldn’t cry - he was so brave. We got up and walked to the elevator, he was squeezing my hand so tight. When we got in the elevator we hugged and cried. As we were walking out to the car, people were looking at us. I know they knew something was wrong, but they didn’t want to stare. Allen would always wait for me to put Bradley in his carseat, then he would open my door and we would kiss and say ‘I love you.’ The kids weren’t there, but when he opened my door, we just stood there, held one another and cried.”
“We drove home. Drew was in school and Allen’s mom was at the house watching Bradley. He just grabbed my hand and said ‘Let’s go.’ He held his head up high and we went in to tell his mom. That was the longest day of my life.”
On September 7, after two biopsies, the diagnosis was confirmed - cancer of the pancreas that had already spread to the liver. The advanced stage of the cancer excluded certain forms of treatment, Allen excluded others. “Radiation was out from the beginning,” says Zina. “Chemotherapy was an option, but it depresses the immune system and Allen didn’t want the kids to have to stay away from him. And he wanted to stay in touch with his co-workers. He had been praying specifically for the salvation of many of his fellow officers, and even visited some of them before he was physically unable to do it any longer.”
Cancer couldn’t keep Allen from being a father to his two young sons. “He got to see Drew play in his soccer league. He would stand along the sidelines and cheer and then near the end, he had to stay in his seat,” says Zina. “He missed the last few games of the season.”
Allen’s faith was a defining characteristic of his life, and he was determined that it would define his death also. “During his sickness, Allen read the Bible a lot, especially at the beginning. At the end he didn’t read anything. He didn’t have the strength, so he would listen to it on tape. He would always find verses to comfort all of us. His life verse was Job 29:10, ‘But he knoweth the way that I take, and when He hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold.’”
In September, less than three weeks after the diagnosis, Allen spoke at a Fellowship of Christian Peace Officer’s luncheon where 230 of his co-workers came to hear his testimony. “It was supposed to be a testimony, but he preached a sermon is what he did,” says Lieutenant Paul Lee, a friend and fellow officer. “He told everybody what his problem was, what the diagnosis was, and what the outcome, barring a miracle, would be. Then he laid out the plan of salvation. He loved those guys so much, he could not bear the thought of them not having the opportunity to accept Christ. He wanted them to have the same peace he had, even as he was dying.”
Allen shared with Zina the burden he felt for his co-workers. “I’m just praying that God will give me more time. I need to talk to more people about the Lord,” he told Zina. “More than anything, I want to get to Heaven and hear God say, ‘Well done.’”
According to the American Cancer Society, pancreatic cancer will claim nearly 30,000 lives in America this year. The five year survival rate for patients with pancreatic cancer is 4%, making it one of cancer’s deadliest weapons. It took Allen’s 6’0, 165 pound frame and reduced it to a 110 pound prison of pain. “The nurses at the hospital and hospice told us that pancreatic cancer is the most painful and aggressive cancer they work with,” Zina says.
Whenever the conversation turns to Allen’s suffering, Zina’s face clouds with the pain of those memories. But each time she shakes her head - as if clearing the tortured thoughts from her mind - and ends the talk of his suffering with a quiet “...but not anymore.”
On the morning of December 12, Zina called her parents and Allen’s parents from the hospital. “I could just feel it was about the end. The nurses didn’t tell me, I could just feel it.”
John Sr. and Ann, Allen’s mother, brought Drew and Bradley to the hospital to tell their daddy goodbye. “When they came in, Allen opened his eyes and looked at Drew and said, ‘Hey buddy, I love you.’ He could hardly move his hands, but he made sure to put his arm around him and hugged him, and me, and he kissed Bradley.”
The hospital room was crowded with Zina and Allen’s parents and siblings, friends and co-workers, and Mark Cini, Allen’s good “mate” from Australia. As he slipped into eternity, Allen Baker was surrounded by those he loved most.
After drawing his last breath, Zina removed the oxygen tube off the face of the man she loved and whispered in his ear, “Well done, sweetie.”
The faith that sustained her husband through his 3 month battle with cancer would be Zina’s strength as she buried him. “Allen wanted to be healed and to be here with us as a husband and father. I miss him so much my heart aches being without him. At the same time, I’m happy for him. He was in such terrible pain and he suffered so much. God gave Allen the ultimate healing, even though it wasn’t what we asked for.”
It has been nearly a month since Allen passed away. John Sr. and Ann mourn for their son who died too young and too painfully and left too much behind. This father who stood as best man in his son’s wedding talks of the future that was to be. “We were supposed to minister in Liberia, West Africa, next, but that’s on hold for now,” he says, his eyes heavy with sorrow. This faithful missionary couple returned to the States in April of 2001 to prepare for their next mission field. Now, eight months later, they have buried their son.
Zina and her sons spent Christmas this year with her family in Bethlehem, Georgia. She is home now, in the city Allen served, in the house they bought together. There are memories of Allen everywhere here, and that comforts Zina. The pictures he hung, many showing his smiling face. The walls he painted, the bathroom he remodeled, the pantry he built in the kitchen. And Drew and Bradley, the two living memorials to her husband.
“I just wish he had a phone so he could call me and tell me about what he’s doing, what it looks like,” says Zina. In one of their last conversations, Zina gave Allen one final duty to fulfill. “We hadn’t been on one of our dates in awhile - he had been too sick. So I told him, ‘When you get to Heaven, you look around and find the prettiest place, because when I get there, I want a date with you in the most beautiful place in Heaven.”
Two days after his death, the Chattanooga Police Department presented Zina with a plaque. There is a picture of Allen in his uniform and underneath are inscribed the words Zina says best describe her husband’s life. They are the words of St. Paul in the Second Epistle to Timothy.
“I have fought the good fight. I have finished the course. I have kept the faith.”