Behind the front lines: TPD's Victim Advocate Unit is loved ones' light in the darkness

After talking with her son who called to let her know he was on his way home, Tracey Biggins hung up the phone and waited patiently.

Mere minutes later, her phone rang a second time. In 10 panic-inducing words, the caller said her 10-year-old son, who was riding with his best friend and his mother, would most likely never come home.

"Ma'am, your son has been injured in a car accident," an officer said.

Biggins lost her son Tyler over 11 years ago to a driver under the influence, but her shoulder to cry on ― her Tallahassee Police Department victim advocate — remains in her life to this day.

"I don't know what my husband and I would have done without her," Biggins said.

What is the TPD Victim Advocate Unit?

While investigators assess a crime scene, TPD's Victim Advocate Unit is sent to gather the pieces of loved ones' shattered hearts.

Biggins credits Fawn Bascom, TPD's now victim advocate supervisor, with putting her on a path to healing after living through a parent's worst nightmare.

She had a strong support system within her family, but Bascom provided her something nobody else could: guidance.

Bascom walked with the Biggins family throughout the entire legal process from the moment they got the call to the day the driver was sentenced to 22 years behind bars.

As a parent, there's this need to put up a strong front for your family, Biggins said, but with Bascom, she was able to let her emotions flow unfiltered. Whenever Biggins needed her, Bascom was there.

"I never felt that she wasn't accessible," Biggins said. "Anytime I called her, she answered, and if she didn't answer she called me back immediately. I don't know how she did it, but she somehow made it happen."

Victims mount amid summer spike of crime

TPD's Victim Advocate Unit has four advocates that split up the cases officers respond to. But, a summer surge in violence has been testing them.

"Sometimes things are happening so fast that there is no time to think — we just do the work," Bascom said.

Having multiple cases requires a high level of focus and ability to "triage and prioritize" the needs of each case, she said.

Though they have structured the unit to work well with the few hands they have, they could always use more, Bascom said.

Utilizing volunteers is something Bascom hopes will come into play in the future, but donations, whether it be money or items, are always appreciated, she said.

Advocates like to have blankets, gas or gift cards, toiletries and toys, crayons and coloring books for kids on hand.

The capital city and county has been grappling with a spike in violence, especially involving guns, since the beginning of summer. Tallahassee has endured three separate double homicides and three murders in a single 24-hour span.

Overall, there have been at least 74 shootings resulting in 19 deaths — 14 of them since June — and at least 60 injuries, according to a Tallahassee Democrat analysis of gun violence.

Since the beginning of September, five people have been either accidentally or inadvertently shot. Four of the shootings involved children or minors, and three were fatal.

"This has been a very busy year for us in general so I don’t think the events this summer have had an effect on us," Bascom said. "However, dealing with multiple cases that sometimes involved multiple deaths can be emotionally exhausting for victim advocates."

Bascom is a big proponent of self-care. It's important to take care of yourself off the clock, know your limits and leave work behind when you go home, she said.

'With people during one of the worst times of their life'

From the time of the incident to the time of arrest, advocates are there, Bascom said. After the arrest and once court proceedings begin, they turn the case over to the State Attorney's Office victim advocates.

But even if she technically is no longer assigned to the case, Bascom cares.

Biggins said Bascom would periodically check on them, and even now years later, still calls on the important holidays and the anniversary of her son's death.

In her 15-year career as a victim advocate, Bascom said every victim she has helped has left an unshakable impact on her, each experience making her a better advocate.

Bascom's hard and fast rule is to be honest no matter how painful the information is.

"I'm with people during one of the worst times of their life," she said. "What I say or what I do can influence the way they heal and deal with that trauma."

The most important thing is to fill in the gaps in whatever way the family needs, she said. She is there to answer any questions they may have about the investigation, arrest and court process, or simply be a listening ear while they grieve.

Each advocate is trained in crisis intervention and has a degree in social work, criminology or a related field, but all the training in the world doesn't mean the job is for everyone.

"It takes a very unique person to want to be surrounded by trauma and grief all the time," she said.

The hardest and best part of the job

Like any job, there are good and bad parts, but the good ones make it worthwhile. Delivering a death notification — the worst news of somebody's life — is the hardest part of her job, she said.

"They are absolutely terrible," Bascom said. "As a new advocate when I would do it, I would have a physical reaction."

But getting to call the family after an arrest has been made is the best part of her job. That call brings a sense of justice.

Getting to be involved in a victim's story is the reason she fell in love with her work. Before becoming a victim advocate, Bascom was briefly in the police academy and also worked as a 911 dispatcher.

After a caller hung up, she had no idea what happened to the person, and Bascom knew she wanted to be more involved.

Her attention to each case and how much she genuinely cares is why Biggins will always sing the praises of TPD's Victim Advocate Unit.

Even with a good support system, accepting the victim advocate's help is a must, Biggins said.

After the son of her friend Tori Hannah was shot and killed, Bascom was assigned to the case and Biggins urged Hannah to lean into the resource.

"She is the best," Biggins told Hannah.

Hannah's world was turned upside down almost nine years ago when she lost her 17-year-old son to gun violence. But Bascom got her through, and she couldn't have done it without her, she said.

"She kept me updated on court dates, what was going on with the case step by step," Hannah said. "She was great."

Biggins still vividly remembers the whirlwind as her and her husband raced to the hospital after the car accident claimed the lives of her son, his best friend and his mother. Her mind fogged, and she went into a nervous panic as she stared a horrible future in the face.

But Bascom was the light in the darkness.

While Biggins lost a piece of herself that day, she also gained a friend.

"When your case is over, your hearing is over — everybody is there in the beginning ― but after that everybody goes away," Biggins said. "But she never did."

Elena Barrera can be reached at ebarrera@tallahassee.com. Follow her on Twitter @elenabarreraaa.

This article originally appeared on Tallahassee Democrat: Tallahassee Police Victim Advocate Unit helps with grief, healing