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Josh kept repeating that he should have been there taking care of him. He had to be with him now. He said he'd been dead ever since he left Iraq.
"His eyes were just dark, and it was like he wasn't really there," Ellen Omvig recalled, her hands hugging her sides, not touching the tears sliding down her face. "I said, 'No! Your dad's counting on you to take care of me if anything happens to him.' And that's when he broke and the pain and the anguish was so clear and he said, 'How can I take care of you when I can't take care of myself?' "
Then a squad car rolled up, Ellen Omvig said. Josh had telephoned police officer Terry Oltman and asked him to be at the Omvig house in 10 minutes. Josh, a reserve officer and volunteer firefighter, knew every cop in town. "Go!" Josh ordered his mother.
Oltman was shouting for Ellen Omvig to get away, but she wouldn't leave her son, and Josh angled his head so the bullet's path wasn't aimed at his mother.
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