Just another day on the job for Chris Dorman
Chris Dorman came face-to-face with evil on a Folcroft back street last June, and he still has the scars to prove it.
Chris Dorman came face-toface with evil on a Folcroft back street last June, and he still has the scars to prove it.
Yesterday, he was back in the same room with the man who shot him in the face during a violent encounter.
Dorman didn’t have anything to say to him.
Instead, he trusted Delaware County Common Pleas Court Judge Greg Mallon read his victim impact statement before pronouncing sentence on Donte Island.
In a surprise move, Island pleaded guilty to the violent confrontation that took place after Dorman responded to a report of drug activity in the parking lot of two apartment buildings in the 1500 block of Elmwood Avenue.
That’s where he encountered Island. A struggle ensued.
The next thing Dorman knew, he saw a muzzle flash – and his life flash between his eyes. He had been shot in the face. The young officer was shot several more times, his life likely spared by his bulletproof vest.
He was rushed to the hospital by fellow Folcroft officer Sgt. William Bair. In the meantime, Island engaged in a gun battle with Officer David DiPietro.
Dorman was shot seven times. He was hit in the face, legs and groin. Three other bullets lodged in his vest.
Miraculously Dorman walked out of Penn Presbyterian Hospital three days later. He was given a hero’s welcome – and a new nickname – when he arrived back in Folcroft.
The Delco Legend.
But all Dorman really wanted to do was go back to work, which is exactly what he has done in the months since.
Yesterday he, along with scores of fellow officers, Dorman was back in uniform as he walked into a Delaware County courtroom to see justice delivered to Donte Island.
He wasn’t alone.
“Everyone from Folcroft is going to be there to support Chris,” said Folcroft Sgt. Chris Eiserman. Even officers from Sharon Hill got involved, covering for their brothers in blue so they could attend the court hearing.
In addition to his law enforcement brothers and sisters, Dorman was supported by family members, his father, George, his mother, Jeanne, and a sister Amanda.
Dorman’s mother relayed to the judge the mix of emotions she felt the day after the shooting at the hospital – sadness at seeing the carnage inflicted on her son, but gratitude that she could tell him good morning.
She said hate and fear of police had never entered the small community where her son grew up and wanted to serve as a protector. Island tried to take that away, she said, but he was unable to.
“He didn’t have the power to decide that that was the day my son would die,” she said. “God had that power and he said, ‘Not today.’”
Chris Dorman tries not to dwell on the events of June 24, 2016.
But what happened to him encapsulates the credo every spouse and loved one of a law enforcement officer knows – and fears.
Every day when you say goodbye and that officer heads off to work, you don’t know if they will return safe and sound. Your heart tells you they will; your head – and the headlines – cause you to hug them just a little bit tighter as they head out the door.
You don’t have to explain it to those who know and love Chris Dorman.
He knows that’s part of the job. It’s a part he chooses not to talk about all that much, despite coming eye-to-eye with a bullet with his name on it.
Chris Dorman was looking forward to one part of yesterday’s legal proceedings. It’s his hope that the sentencing for the man who shot him will finally mean “case closed” for his yearlong ordeal.
He doesn’t think the brush with death has changed him – either as a person or the way he goes about his job as a police officer.
“I’ve always just done my job,” he said.
He was doing just that last summer answering a call. He was doing that yesterday in a Delaware County courtroom. And he hopes to do it for a long time donning a badge and uniform.
We hope he does, too.