Tag: Herb Cooley

Herb Cooley Memorial Scholarship established

February 20, 2026 Zach Cooley No Comments

My father, Herbert Gray Cooley, was born in rural Grayson County on October 25, 1942. He graduated from Galax High School and went on to earn a bachelor’s degree in Criminal Justice from Guilford College in Greensboro, North Carolina, followed by a master’s degree in Criminal Justice Administration from Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond. Before beginning what would become a 45-year career in law enforcement, my father served four years in the United States Coast Guard as a radio operator. In 1966, he joined the High Point Police Department, where he worked his way through the ranks as a patrol officer, traffic officer, detective, and ultimately narcotics sergeant. After eight years with the department, he joined the North Carolina Office of the Public Defender before returning to his Southwest Virginia roots in 1980 to serve as Chief Deputy of the Wythe County Sheriff’s Office. During his 14 years in Wythe County, my father helped shape much of the community we live in today. Many of the initiatives he put in place continue to make Wytheville safer—not just for residents, but for future generations, including his granddaughter Bella, who can walk its streets because of the protections he helped establish. As longtime chairman of the Transportation Safety Commission, he played a critical role in implementing traffic safety ordinances that continue to save lives. As Chief Deputy, he also launched the county’s first D.A.R.E. program, believing that prevention and education in drug resistance were just as important as enforcement. He secured numerous grants to strengthen public safety while conserving taxpayer dollars, a balance he took very seriously. He was also instrumental in bringing the 911 emergency system to Wythe County through his leadership on the Local Emergency Planning Committee. Beyond his professional duties, my father served tirelessly in numerous civic organizations, including the American Cancer Society, the Rural Retreat Lake Authority, the Ivanhoe Civic League, and the Wytheville Masonic Lodge. He chaired committees for the Chautauqua Festival through the Wythe Arts Council and organized and coached men’s and women’s softball teams throughout the county. One of the proudest moments of his career came in 1983, when he graduated from the FBI National Academy, training alongside officers from every U.S. state and 11 foreign countries. Being invited to attend the Academy is an honor; successfully completing it is an even rarer achievement. He later served as president of the Wytheville–Wythe–Bland Chamber of Commerce and a member of the American Legion. In 1994, my father left Wythe County to serve as Chief of Police in Pulaski, a position he held until 2000. He then completed the final 11 years of his career as Chief of Police for the Vinton Police Department. Under his leadership, the department achieved full state accreditation through the Virginia Department of Criminal Justice Services, becoming one of the first police departments in the Commonwealth to earn that distinction. He also served as president of the Virginia Association of Chiefs of Police. In 2011, he retired after a remarkable 45-year career in public service. As a writer, I was honored to publish Herb Cooley: The Law Enforcement Legacy of My Father, an Amazon bestselling biography released to commemorate the 50th anniversary of his entry into law enforcement. In 2024, my father was further honored with his inclusion on the Civic Monument Wall of Honor in Withers Park in Wytheville. When he passed away peacefully on October 26, 2025—one day after his 83rd birthday—I knew immediately that establishing a scholarship would be the most meaningful way to continue his legacy. I contacted Deanna Bradbury, Director of Institutional Advancement at Wytheville Community College, who helped guide me through the process of creating the scholarship. Establishing it at WCC felt especially appropriate, as my father served as a Police Science instructor there in the 1990s. Among his former students is the current Associate Professor of Criminal Justice, Jim Harrington. I am deeply honored to share that the Chief Herbert Gray Cooley Memorial Scholarship for Public Service has now been officially established. The scholarship is designed to assist students at Wytheville Community College who are studying Criminal Justice or pursuing careers in public service, including first responders. It supports students who face financial barriers that could otherwise derail their education, helping cover costs such as textbooks, tuition, and related expenses. Administered through the WCC Educational Foundation, the scholarship provides one-time, non-repayable assistance to students in good academic standing who live within the college’s service region. Award amounts may vary, but the mission remains constant: to keep good people moving forward. This scholarship is a fitting tribute to a man who spent his life opening doors and saving countless lives. I am profoundly grateful to the donors who made this vision a reality: Chief Debra Duncan of the High Point University Campus Police; retired Captain Steve Campbell of the High Point Police Department; Carl and Kimberly Ayers; Bill and Faron Smith; and Kathryn Knack Hagwood, Attorney at Law, PC. Without their generosity, this scholarship would not exist. I am also deeply thankful to Deanna Bradberry and Dr. Dean Sprinkle, President of Wytheville Community College, for helping make the scholarship official. Continued support will be essential to sustain the fund and help students year after year. Through this effort, my mission is simple: to ensure that the sacrifices and service of Herbert Gray Cooley—to this community and many others—are never forgotten.

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2025 “Strictly Observing” Person of the Year- Hody Viars

December 11, 2025December 11, 2025 Zach Cooley No Comments

After spending many childhood moments together at the Wythe County Sheriff’s Office, with both of our dads serving as Chief Deputy, my lifelong friend Hody Viars was named for that position within days of my father’s passing one day after his 83rd birthday on October 26, 2025. As Hody and Dad shared the same birthday, I could not help but feel he had a hand in making him Chief Deputy from above, keeping the familial atmosphere of the Wythe County Sheriff’s Office alive. Hody brings with him more than a decade of specialized training and will prove to be a legend of local law enforcement in his own right.

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Viars named Wythe Chief Deputy

December 11, 2025December 11, 2025 Zach Cooley No Comments

On December 1, a lifelong friend of mine stepped into a role that holds a deeply personal significance. Hody Viars was named Chief Deputy of the Wythe County Sheriff’s Office—a position my father held for 14 years, and the very reason my family put down roots in Wytheville. Some of my earliest memories are of Hody and me running through the halls of the sheriff’s office as children. We both remember our kindergarten field trip there; we strutted around like we practically owned the place because we knew every officer by name. Back then, the Sheriff’s Office felt like family. Even today, though much larger than it was in the 1990s, that spirit somehow remains intact. Hody says he always knew he wanted to work for the Sheriff’s Office, despite his father—former Chief Deputy Sam Viars—encouraging him to consider another path. “I spent my first semester in college attempting some sort of sports medicine or physical therapy curriculum,” he told me during an interview at my home on December 10, just nine days into his new job. “I knew right away it wasn’t for me, and I immediately called my dad and told him I was changing my major to criminal justice.” After graduating from Radford University, Hody applied for one job and one job only: a patrol deputy position with the Wythe County Sheriff’s Office. He got it in 2014. Four years later, he made the difficult decision to join the Virginia State Police after completing the Southwest Virginia Criminal Justice Academy—an academy led by my uncle, Doug Cooley. “I needed to join the State Police for opportunities for advancement,” he recalled. “I was lucky enough to be assigned to Wythe, Smyth, and Bland counties so I didn’t have to move.” During his time with the State Police, Hody became known for his work with the Honor Guard, performing line-of-duty funeral duties for fallen officers. He was also trained to operate the distracted driving simulator, and in 2022 he was promoted to the Bureau of Criminal Investigations in the Wytheville Field Office. While there, he expanded into bomb and arson specialization. “I went to Emmitsburg, Maryland, for two weeks for the National Fire Academy’s arson school,” he said. “Then I spent three weeks in Roanoke at the 1033 training with the Virginia Department of Fire Programs. The bomb side was more strenuous—schools in Alabama, Henrico, all while working murder investigations and other felonies.” Then, the call came from Sheriff Anthony Cline, asking him to serve as his Chief Deputy—a moment Hody describes as the culmination of everything he had worked toward. “My family has more than 90 years of combined service to the Wythe County Sheriff’s Office,” he said. “I knew this was something I definitely wanted to do.” Hody is also a devoted father. He and his wife, Miranda, live in Fort Chiswell with their daughter, Cecilia, who will turn two in March. During our interview, Hody shared something that struck me deeply. “Your dad was my dad’s hero,” he said. As Chief Deputy, my father hired Sam Viars and Hody’s two uncles—Jack and Doug Hudson. Those three men shaped Hody’s lifelong dream of a career in law enforcement. “At every one of my family’s get-togethers at my grandmother’s house, I would see at least one of those guys in uniform,” he told me. “I knew that’s what I wanted to do.” Hody and my father also shared the same birthday, October 25. Dad passed away the day after his birthday this year. In the midst of mourning him fiercely, hearing that my childhood friend had been named Chief Deputy brought me a warmth I desperately needed. I felt—without hesitation—that Dad had a hand in this from above. Hody didn’t disagree. “I always felt close to Herb,” he said. “My dad said Herb made his career and always spoke very highly of him.” Sheriff Cline also expressed unwavering confidence in his new Chief Deputy. “I selected him because we have the same temperament and the same vision for the department,” Sheriff Cline wrote to me in a text message. “We have the same ideals, and we both want what’s best for Wythe County.” Hody believes technology will be a driving force in their leadership. Sheriff Cline recently secured grant funding for new crime scene scanning technology that provides a virtual 360-degree tour—similar to an online real estate walk-through. “This allows us to put a jury inside the crime scene as we found it,” Hody explained. In many ways, this mirrors my father’s approach. He had a remarkable talent for securing grant funding to bring cutting-edge tools to local law enforcement—without burdening taxpayers. Hody shares that philosophy wholeheartedly. “Protecting our children through our school resource officer program is essential,” he told me. “We want to give the county the best product we can offer and keep people safe at the least cost to them.” There is no doubt in my mind that Chief Deputy Hody Viars will go down as a law enforcement leader admired not only for his professionalism, but for the quality of his character. I know I certainly look up to him—and always have.

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Finding blessing amid overwhelming loss

November 15, 2025 Zach Cooley No Comments

Personally, this year has been one of the worst of my life, as I have suffered the greatest loss I have ever had to endure. My father departed this world on October 26th, one day after his 83rd birthday. I am profoundly grateful for his life and for all the things that were shared between us—things that ensured nothing was left undone in our relationship by the time he left this world. However, with the most profound of losses come the greatest blessings in the outpouring of love and condolences my family and I have received over the last month. First of all, I want to thank Shirley Mooney and the wonderful folks at Coal Creek Community Church in Galax, who provided us with a beautiful place to hold his celebration of life and the catered reception afterward. My most sincere thanks also go to the Russell County Sheriff’s Office, whose Honor Guard gave Dad the most beautiful military send-off I have ever witnessed. I am eternally grateful to my friends on the Wythe County Board of Supervisors—Stacy Terry and Chairman Brian W. Vaught—for facilitating and decreeing that the Wythe County flag in front of the courthouse be lowered to half-staff on the day before his funeral. That courthouse holds many memories for me, as I often accompanied my dad to work during his years as Chief Deputy of the Wythe County Sheriff’s Office. My dad’s devotion to Wythe County, to every community he served throughout Southwest Virginia, and to High Point, North Carolina, made each of those places better because of his 45 years of duty as a police officer and, most notably, as a police chief in the towns of Pulaski and Vinton. The lowering of the flag was one of the greatest honors bestowed upon his legacy, and it is a gesture our family will always hold dear. Brian—better known as “Cheese” to his friends—even purchased a copy of Herb Cooley: The Law Enforcement Legacy of my Father, the book I wrote in 2016, and placed it in the Sheriff’s Office display case beside other photos of my Dad and his “Elect Herb Cooley” pencil from his 1991 campaign for Wythe County Clerk of Court. That honor meant more to me than I can articulate. I also express my thanks to Mark Sage, Curtis Hawkins, Debbie Adams, Mike Williams, Jimmy Tomlin, and especially Lindsey Cook of WDBJ7, for their newspaper and television coverage of Dad’s legacy. The day I truly grieve will be the day people forget the sacrifices Herb Cooley made to keep the communities he served as safe as possible. The initiatives he instituted continue to help these communities thrive today. So many personal friends have been extraordinarily generous in their kindness toward our family. My dear friends at the Wytheville Moose Lodge #394—of which I am proud to be a member—sent us a beautiful bouquet, and a beautiful card engraved in gold. Jennifer Bilbrey, Elizabeth Paradise, Cindy Fields, Sandra Carty, Teny Underwood, and Anne B. Crockett-Stark all sent money, food, or flowers to our home—a gesture that means more than I can ever express. My very best friends, though, are the people who showed up to my father’s funeral specifically on my behalf: Jacob Sharitz, and Mr. and Mrs. Greg Taylor. Their support throughout this entire ordeal—indeed, throughout my entire life—is one of the greatest blessings I can claim. This does not diminish the hundreds, if not thousands, of condolences I have received in cards, Facebook comments, messages, and heartfelt words from people all over the area who took the time to tell me how much my dad meant to them. I may not have had the opportunity to personally acknowledge every message, but none of them were lost on me. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart. Even more than these wonderful friends, I am most thankful for the two people on this earth who see me as I truly am—beyond my mangled frame and wheelchair-bound body: my wife, Emily, and my daughter, Bella. Their devotion to me is more than anyone could ever deserve or repay. They are the reasons I can wake in the morning and sleep peacefully at night, knowing I have a life worth living. It is worth living because God placed these two angels in my life. My wife battles many of her own afflictions, including complex PTSD from past trauma and non-compaction cardiomyopathy, yet she is the sole caregiver of an immobile husband with cerebral palsy—one who cannot help her clean the house, buy groceries, or drive our daughter to school. She does all of this and infinitely more, often at the cost of her own physical and mental well-being. There are no words for how much this woman means to me or how precious she is in my sight. My daughter is equally kindhearted and strong in spirit, with the ability to say some of the wisest things I have ever heard from any human being, despite being only eleven years old. She is the joy of our lives and the happiness in my soul each and every day. She makes my broken, blackened heart shimmer with specks of gold. My mother and sister—two women who always brought magic into my life—are now suffering in ways I cannot ease. This year, my sister and I both lost our dogs. Tucker, a Cotoń de Tulear, and Sophie, a Bichon Frise, were not pets; they were our babies. Sophie was my daughter’s sister. And to anyone who dismisses the loss of an animal as mild, I pity that they have never known the kind of love we experienced from our white, fluffy monkeys. They died within a month of each other this past winter at the age of 14, having been with us most of their lives. My dad loved his grand-puppies, and they adored their “Pop.” I know they greeted him at the gates of Heaven, along with his parents and his brother…

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Chief Herb Cooley honored with top-notch life celebration

November 15, 2025 Zach Cooley No Comments

It was a beautiful day on Saturday, November 8th, at Coal Creek Community Church in Galax. The adjacent cemetery is a place I visited many times throughout my life, walking beside my father as he told me stories about my grandparents and great-grandparents. I always enjoyed those history lessons. This time, though, I went there with the rest of my family to lay my father to rest. It was a moment I had dreaded my entire life, yet the service could not have been more beautiful or more honoring of him. It was the nicest service I have ever attended, and that felt fitting for the greatest man I have ever known. My sister, Tara Sanchez, designed a breathtaking remembrance table complete with badges, plaques, and photos from his life and career. Her slideshow—more than 600 photos spanning eight decades—was heart-wrenching, as were her beautiful memorial cards. It was the greatest display I have ever seen. Attendees numbered more than 150 family members, friends, and representatives from all four departments where he worked, along with four Wythe County sheriffs, past and present, and the current Vinton chief, whom Dad had hired. My cousin Jane Harrison, one of four sisters my father claimed as his own, officiated the hour-long ceremony. It opened with the eulogy I delivered, as I made good on the promise I once made to him that I would not cry. Oddly enough, I could not shed a single tear throughout the entire service. It seemed my grief ran deeper than anything tears could express. I watched my mother sob in pain. I do not see my mother cry very often, and when I do, it feels as though the world is ending. To see her so undone, so incurably devastated, rendered me the most helpless of sons—especially knowing all of us were experiencing the same heartbreak for the same reason, and that nothing any of us could do would ease the pain. If you read my column last week, then you already know the heart of the tribute I delivered at my father’s celebration of life. “I remember giving my first eulogy for my great-grandmother eleven years ago. My dad was there beside me, helping me turn the pages. I tried so hard not to cry, but when I broke down at the end, he put his arm around me and said, ‘Good job, buddy.’ How I long for his presence and his words of approval today,” I began, ending with these words: “As much as I wish he were standing beside me today, it would only be so that I could put my arm around him and say, ‘You did a good job.’” Steve Campbell is a master orator whom I first met 14 years ago at my father’s retirement banquet. He had worked under my dad at the High Point Police Department in the early 1970s before retiring as a captain. He and my father continued their friendship for the next half century. “He was a leader, not just a capable administrator,” Steve said. “His ability to communicate with people from all walks of life was one of his greatest strengths. He could identify with everyone—from the poverty-stricken to the elite and the elected politicians. Chief Herb Cooley’s steadfast dedication was instrumental in building, maintaining, and preserving professional police services wherever he served.” My cousin Jane next shared her first memory of him, from when she was in the first grade and he was a teenager. “We were in a shed, shielding ourselves from the cold as we waited for the school bus,” she recalled. “This tall teenage boy stood with his back to us, blocking the wind as best he could. I thought he was wonderful, and from that moment on, I always felt that way. He was always our protector, and he spent his life protecting the public.” Her sister Carol then spoke of him in a similar fashion. “We loved him and looked up to him our entire lives,” she stated. “His legacy is one of a life well lived.” It was unexpected when my Uncle Doug Cooley stood to speak. We were fairly certain he had opted out, not believing himself emotionally able, but he did a wonderful job. Not only were they brothers, but Dad was also Doug’s boss for 14 years at the Wythe County Sheriff’s Office. “Everyone who ever worked for him or played on his softball team became his family,” he said. “Everything he did, he turned into a family event.” “In the darkest moments of my life, he gave me a sense of security I’ve never had,” said my wife, his beloved daughter-in-law, through tears. “He knew, both of us having heart conditions, how hard it was to put one foot in front of the other, and he asked about my health even in his last days.” “Herb was a great friend who always gave me much-needed advice,” said Deborah Duncan, High Point University Police Chief. “He told me my job in law enforcement was important and to do it well, but to always remember that family was the most important job.” During the graveside service, Emily sang a beautiful rendition of his favorite song, “The Rose.” My sister also read “You Have Not Lost Me,” a poem by Gemma Russell. However, it was the Russell County Honor Guard that brought the greatest reverence to the ceremony as they marched in to fold the flag, salute his remains, and carry them across the street to his final resting place as we followed. Their 21-gun salute and the bugling of “Taps” were delivered in perfect order as my mom was handed the flag and saluted. It was a moment of indescribable emotion—an honor my father well deserved. Our family is forever indebted to Coal Creek Community Church for the use of their facilities, to Roger Blevins of High Country Funeral Services, and to Galax Cakery for catering our meal afterward. Dad would be proud.

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My father, Chief Herb Cooley, passes away

November 15, 2025 Zach Cooley No Comments

My dad, the strongest, bravest, and toughest man I ever knew, is gone. That’s a reality I never wanted to face. Like he said of his dad, I thought he would live forever. Four decades with him were not enough. My father knew how deeply I loved and admired him, because God allowed him to live long enough until I had the sense to say what truly mattered. I thank Him every day for that blessing. Our last words to each other were “I love you.” So, I can’t ask for more than that. When I got the call from my sister that our father was entering his final days, Emily, Bella, and I raced to Charleston, praying we would arrive in time. We reached town too late that night and couldn’t see him until the next morning. As I finally peered through his door, he was beaming at the sight of us. I had braced myself for the worst, but Dad was doing what he always did—putting his best foot forward for those he loved. He looked great. That was my dad. Whenever someone told him the end was near, he showed them that Chief Cooley was really in charge. His living until the day after he turned 83 is proof positive of that. Twenty years ago, we nearly lost him because of a nicked artery during open-heart surgery. Ever since, we’ve endured countless scares, yet he always bounced back—astounding the doctors at the Medical University of South Carolina, who gave him such exceptional care over the last few years. My father answered to no one. He was the boss—whether it came to family, career, or his own life. Still, as I sat with him that day, I struggled to put my feelings into words. Finally, I said, “I never told you that you were my hero, but you are.” He just rolled his eyes, sighed, reached over, and patted my hand. That was his way of telling me I had left nothing unsaid. He already knew. Fair enough. As our beloved leader, my father was our protector—his towering strength and endless courage a hedge of security around us all. He learned that from his parents: the eldest son of a World War II veteran and a nurturing seamstress and homemaker, both of whom he adored. His bravery was forged during a four-year stint in the United States Coast Guard and a highly decorated law enforcement career that spanned more than half his life. One of my proudest professional achievements was publishing a book about his 45-year career, which I presented to him as a gift. I have countless wonderful memories of going to work with him on weekends and summers. Being the Chief Deputy’s son came with some pretty cool perks. I got to be in every Christmas parade. The year he became Chief in Pulaski, we even led the parade. I beamed with pride when I handed out “Herb Cooley” pencils to my first-grade class during his Clerk of Court campaign, and even more so when he showed up in uniform to read a Berenstain Bears book to my kindergarten class. Dad was also deeply involved in civic programs, serving as President of the Chamber of Commerce and Chairman of the Transportation and Safety Commission. The laws he helped enact and enforce in our hometown are still saving lives today. That’s why I was so thrilled when he was added to the Civic Monument Wall of Honor in Wytheville in March 2024. More than two dozen of his loved ones, including five generations of family, were there. But the real honor for Dad was that family turnout. He loved and was so proud of all his children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and precious Emery, his great-great-granddaughter. Of all the memories I have of him, my favorites are watching him be “Pop” to my daughter, Bella. I remember my mother scolding him after walking into their bedroom to find him crawling on all fours with Bella riding on his back. He helped care for her during her first two weeks of life, her eyes lighting up at the familiar sound of his footsteps. When he no longer felt well enough to be her horse or stay up until two in the morning watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, Bella adapted her games to performing dance routines for Pop or serving him “breakfast” from her imaginary restaurant. At her insistence, these games were played in a room closed off to everyone but the two of them. She loved riding in Pop’s convertible BMW and playing “Dr. Pop,” where he would write a prescription for “one chocolate,” and she would take it to Grandmommy’s pharmacy to be filled. Those memories overflow my heart with joy. My only sadness is that there weren’t enough of them—and that there will be no more. Likewise, there will be no more Saturday breakfasts at Waffle House or weekend Scrabble tournaments—rituals that began as a cure for my loneliness when I wasn’t invited out with friends. Beating Herb Cooley at Scrabble was rare, and he was proud of me the first time I won. After a three-week streak, I asked if he was ready to play again. He replied, “Aren’t your friends coming to take you out tonight?” I’ll miss our trips to the cemeteries of Galax, where he would fill me in on two centuries of family history. If he could have traced our lineage back to Adam—and he nearly did—he would have done so proudly. And no one could cook steak and shrimp like my dad. If I ever had to choose my last meal, it would be one of his steaks. What I will miss most, though, are his witty observations—delivered with a straight face or the trademark raise of a single eyebrow. I’ll miss his pretending to croon like Frank Sinatra and saying to my wife, the true singer of the family, “You’re pretty good. I might let you back me up.” For all…

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Wythe County sheriff retires

July 30, 2025 Zach Cooley No Comments

In 1987, my father, Herb Cooley, then Chief Deputy of the Wythe County Sheriff’s Office, along with Sheriff Wayne Pike, hired an 18-year-old Wytheville native named Charles Foster as a dispatcher. Now, after a remarkable 38-year career, Foster is retiring as Sheriff of Wythe County—a position he has held for the past four years. Almost immediately after graduating from George Wythe High School, Foster was earning $3.25 an hour working at a local gas station. His father, who had always dreamed of being a police officer himself, encouraged young Charles to speak with Sheriff Pike about a future in law enforcement. “They had me observe Pam Hall, who was a dispatcher at the time,” Foster recalled. “She had a receiver on each ear and a foot pedal to dispatch cars. I was scared to death. I knew I couldn’t do it.” But when Wayne Pike offered to double his salary, Foster agreed to give it a try. “I’ve been here ever since,” he said with a chuckle. “There’s not a job in this department I haven’t done before becoming Sheriff.” In his four years as Sheriff, Charles Foster earned a level of respect and admiration rarely seen in public service. In all my years living in Wytheville, I’ve never heard a single negative word spoken about him. That admiration was reflected at the polls—he won two unopposed elections, and in his first campaign, he even received more votes than gubernatorial candidate Glenn Youngkin. “I couldn’t believe it,” Foster said. “I thought surely somebody had miscounted. But that vote count reflected the kindness and support I’ve been blessed to receive from the citizens of Wythe County—something I will never forget.” Though only 56, Foster says he feels it’s time to step aside and make room for the next generation. “I’m a simple man who likes to fish and spend time with my family,” he said. “You just don’t have time to do things like that when you’re the Sheriff of an entire county.” He praised his interim successor, Chief Deputy Anthony Cline, who will serve until the officially running for the job in November, for his leadership and tireless work securing grants and funding to benefit local children through programs like Shop with a Cop and Pack the Bus—providing Christmas gifts and school supplies for families in need. “I can’t tell you the hours Anthony has spent securing funding,” Foster said. “He’s saved countless lives and helped reduce taxpayer costs. We have everything that the most equipped sheriff’s office in the state has because of Anthony Cline’s dedication.” Foster also extended deep gratitude to the Wythe County Board of Supervisors. “They’ve become part of my extended family in helping me budget for the department,” he said. “I never asked for anything that wasn’t a true need, and they’ve always supported us to make sure we had what was necessary for an effective and professional department.” He credited the citizens of Wythe County for creating a peaceful and cooperative community. “When a community lives peaceably with one another, it gives you more time to focus on improving things—like securing grants and equipment,” Foster said. “Providing our officers with the resources they need has probably been the greatest achievement of my time as Sheriff.” Foster also reflected on the most difficult chapter of his career—the loss of his friend and fellow officer, Cliff Dicker, who was tragically gunned down in 1994 by a 15-year-old assailant. “I don’t recall a word being spoken in the entire department for months,” he said. “It was the saddest, most surreal time of our lives.” That tragedy became a turning point. Foster and other leaders made it a mission to ensure the department offered the best possible wages and support. “Money isn’t the answer to everything,” he acknowledged. “But when you hear other agencies struggling to find people willing to risk their lives for low pay, you realize how important it is to properly compensate those who serve.” His final request to the citizens of Wythe County is simple: continue to pray for the safety of our officers. “My last prayer every night is that none of my officers are hurt or killed on my watch,” he said. “We’re here to keep the peace, not cause trouble.” Foster credited the late Cliff Dicker as a mentor who helped shape him into the leader he became. “You can have all the degrees in the world,” he said, “but you need someone to take you under their wing and teach you how to do the job. Cliff was one of those people.” In a small community like Wythe County, being a sheriff isn’t just about enforcing the law—it’s about being a friend. And in that regard, Wythe County has truly been blessed. It’s hard to imagine a better friend than Charles Foster.

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