Loved ones, officials remember slain KC paramedic at funeral: ‘A walking angel‘
The verse, from chapter 7, verse 12, reads: 'So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets.'
Dozens of firefighters and first responders from local agencies, to first responders from as far as California, filled the church and lined the the sanctuary walls Friday to honor Hoffman, who was killed in the line of duty April 27, after he was fatally stabbed by a patient he was treating in an ambulance.
During the public visitation, hundreds paid their respects to Hoffman while the lobby buzzed with first responder brotherhood. Hugs, handshakes, back slaps and well wishes spread throughout the building as attendees coped with the loss of one of their own.
Hoffman's casket was open, with his firefighter jacket and helmet standing up next to him, and an American flag draped over his casket. Flowers, shaped into Kansas City Fire Department insignia, were displayed in the pulpit and on both sides of the casket.
First responders and loved ones signed Kansas City Fire Department signs commemorating Hoffman outside the sanctuary.
During the funeral, Hoffman's older brother, Noah, said he always looked up to his younger brother and recollected on his loving spirit in the family's first public comment since Hoffman's death.
'He is a walking angel,' Noah said during his emotional speech. 'People always say you can give the shirt off his back. He is the person that would have done that.'
The elder sibling recalled how Hoffman was good at everything he did, and was always a competitor in sports.
As kids, the brothers played with each other in sports, like homemade mini golf and wiffleball games, and camped in their backyard, ringing neighbors' doorbells and running away, known to many as the classic game, Ding Dong Ditch.
Kansas City Mayor Quinton Lucas, who spoke first at the funeral, mentioned Hoffman's beaming smile and generous, kind personality that loved ones conveyed to him in the days since Hoffman's death. Lucas was one of several public officials who attended the service, including members of the Kansas City City Council, Jackson County legislature, and prosecutors for Jackson County and Clay County.
'Based on everything I've heard about Graham from those who knew him best, it should not be a challenge to keep his memory alive, and indeed, we all will make sure that we continue to do that,' Lucas said.
Hoffman was 29 years old, and joined the Kansas City Fire Department in 2022. He was stationed at Station 42 in southeast Kansas City and was working overtime in Kansas City's Northland at the time of his death.
Hoffman started his career working for Belton Fire Department, whose officials were in attendance, and joined Kansas City Fire during one of the biggest staffing shortages in department history, Kansas City Fire Chief Ross Grundyson said during his speech.
'I remember getting a call from the Belton chief, and he was grumbling to me that I was taking one of his best young men,' Grundyson said. 'I was so glad to have Graham on our team during his time at KC.'
Hoffman was a skilled paramedic who saved many lives while remaining calm and compassionate, Grundyson said.
On April 27, Hoffman was sent with a partner on a routine call to the area of North Oak Trafficway and MO-152 around 1 a.m. Hoffman was treating the patient in the ambulance on the way to the hospital when he was allegedly stabbed in the heart by the woman they had been called to transport.
The woman, identified as Shanetta Bossell, allegedly also tried to steal the ambulance after the act and bit the police officer who tried to stop her, just days after being arrested for biting another off-duty officer in another incident, for which she was deemed a danger to the public.
Bossell has been charged with first-degree murder, armed criminal action, third-degree assault of a law enforcement officer and resisting arrest in the death of Hoffman in Clay County. Bossell has pleaded not guilty to the charges.
Lucas pledged to get justice for the fallen firefighter, and to make sure Hoffman's name is known.
'Graham, in many ways, is the best of Kansas City,' Lucas said.
Hoffman has already received tributes throughout the state.
On the night of his death, Union Station displayed red, gold, and black, the colors of the Kansas City Fire Department crest. Fundraisers have raised over $100,000 for Hoffman's family.
On Friday, American and Missouri flags were flown at half-staff at government buildings in Cass, Clay, Jackson, and Platte counties, the Fire Fighters Memorial of Missouri in Kingdom City, and firehouses statewide.
Hoffman would have turned 30 on May 9.
Bagpipes and drums from several local and state agencies, including the Olathe Fire Department and the Springfield Fire Department, rang like a chorus throughout the sanctuary as 'Amazing Grace' was played towards the end of the ceremony.
Uniformed officials put on their caps and wiped away their tears during the soulful rendition. The same bagpipes played as Hoffman's casket was walked outside with family and loved ones in front of more than 100 saluting first responders after the service ended.
The casket was placed onto a Station 42 fire truck, the first vehicle to begin the procession that drove under a giant waving American flag outside of the church, held high by two KCFD pumper trucks. The procession, which wound through the metro and passed by Station 42, featured local agencies using flashing lights on their vehicles.
But before his final journey, those at the funeral were reminded to honor Hoffman by embracing the positivity he was known for, even in this time of tragedy.
Rev. Adam James, a deacon at St. Andrews Episcopal Church, performed a eulogy focused on balancing mournful emotions of rage and anger with Hoffman's love-centered attitude, which James called Christ-like. Hoffman's girlfriend told James that the fallen firefighter would not want people to be angry at Bossell, James said.
'She said, 'You can be mad, but you'll have to let that go. Graham would want you to turn this negative into a positive,' James said.
Hoffman's giving spirit is also reflected in his decision to be an organ donor. His organs, donated through Midwest Transplant Network, are estimated to impact more than 100 lives, Grundyson said.
Noah Hoffman said he never wanted to bury his little brother, but telling people how much Hoffman meant to him was the highlight of his week. He thanked everyone for their love and support.
'Just seeing all you guys look up here, I mean, just makes me feel so good,' Noah said. 'And just having these fleeting moments of bliss are so good for me and my family. So I just want you guys to know how much it means to us all. Everything you guys have all done it's been wonderful.'
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Lorenzo Tugnoli/FTWP At one point, Bahloul said, he saw officers working with Hassan getting ready to film what he characterized as a farce to 'camouflage where [Tice] was arrested and by whom.' Mohammed Makhlouf, an associate of Hassan's, provided the clothing and weapons for the video, Bahloul said, to make security personnel look like militants. The effort failed: Fellow journalists covering Syria immediately found the YouTube video suspicious, a clumsy attempt to pin Tice's abduction on Islamist militants or rebel forces. The U.S. government agreed. An intelligence analysis of the video indicated that it was shot near a regime facility, a former Trump administration official said. Tice's daring escape came after the video was released, U.S. officials believe. In late October 2012, his captors issued a bulletin that circulated internally among security agencies saying Tice was at large. It bore his picture. Two Syrian officials also confirmed that Tice had managed to break out of detention. Then came a stroke of bad luck: Seeking help, Tice knocked on the wrong door, the officials said. Unbeknownst to him, the neighborhood where he had fled was home to top regime officials, including Assad's intelligence chief, Ali Mamlouk, a senior Syrian official said. Tice was swiftly recaptured. Despite denials in Damascus, U.S. officials felt confident that Syrian authorities held Tice. That conviction deepened in November, when someone accessed Tice's Facebook account using the correct password. The log-on was traced by U.S. investigators to a Damascus block that also housed a Syrian military intelligence office, according to a former U.S. official and another person familiar with the matter. Meanwhile, from the first days of Tice's disappearance, there had been strenuous efforts by his family, the U.S. government, McClatchy and The Post to try to secure his release, often working through intermediaries because of the isolation of the Syrian regime. 'We thought it was going to be days at most, then weeks at most,' said Griff Witte, a former editor at The Post. 'No one goes into these things thinking it's going to be 13 years.' 'Hope,' Witte said he had learned, 'can be a dangerous thing.' One moment of raised hopes came in early 2013, when an unofficial back-channel effort to release Tice appeared close to fruition. Witte asked Ryan Crocker, a former U.S. ambassador to Syria, to reach out to Faisal Mekdad, then the country's deputy foreign minister. Crocker agreed to try. The two men spoke on the phone on March 17, Crocker said in an interview. Mekdad said that 'he has instructions from 'the highest levels' to do everything possible,' Crocker recounted in an email to Witte and a senior State Department official. But Mekdad repeated that 'the government knows nothing about the case' and added that 'the important thing is Austin's safety and that nothing be done to jeopardize it.' Mekdad, communicating recently through a family member, emphasized that the Syrian Foreign Ministry in that period relied on the country's security agencies for information on Tice, and their 'consistent response was that these agencies had no information about his whereabouts.' Four days later, Crocker received an email from Witte, who was coordinating The Post's efforts to find Tice. 'The Syrians now say the release will be next week,' Witte wrote. 'No exact date.' Witte was not directly in touch with Syrian officials and was working through a contact at the Liechtenstein Foundation for State Governance, an organization that offers mediation among countries in conflict. Then came delays and excuses, relayed via the foundation's intermediaries. Tice had a fever and needed rest and medical treatment; after he recovered, there would be a lengthy interrogation. Only then would he be released, according to an email Crocker received from Witte. The days and months stretched on without Tice being released. 'We were very hopeful,' Marc Tice recalled. But as time went by, they came to understand that it was 'misplaced hope,' he said. Tice's abduction came at a time when kidnappings of American and European reporters and aid workers were on the rise. In 2014, three Americans held by the Islamic State - including journalist James Foley - were beheaded, their executions videotaped. The perceived failures in how those cases were handled led Obama to launch a policy review, which culminated in an overhaul of the government's approach to hostage situations. Meanwhile, for the Tice family, it was the beginning of what would become more than a decade of desperate advocacy in the U.S., Europe and the Middle East. 'Our government has not been a good advocate for Austin,' Debra Tice said. Jahi Chikwendiu/The Washington Post In 2014, Debra Tice traveled to Damascus, where she stayed at a small hotel in the center of the city. She handed out fliers about her son and tried to meet with the authorities, largely without success. Sometimes she went to the Czech Embassy to see Filipi, the ambassador. The two women would have lunch and pray together. As the weeks went on, Filipi said, people began approaching Debra Tice with tips about her son and asking for money in exchange. 'They were saying, 'He was in Aleppo, he was in Homs,'' Filipi recalled. She told Debra Tice the information was worthless. 'I said to Debi, it's time to leave.' Filipi continued to press. She met with Assad at least twice, she said in an interview, raising the fate of Tice and several other Americans, dual citizens whose cases have largely not been made public. Assad's response was courteous but noncommittal, Filipi said: He asked where to convey any information he might gather. Debra Tice would return to Damascus in 2015, part of her unrelenting search to find her son. A devout Catholic, she had raised seven children. 'I make amazing chicken soup, and no matter what happens in those baby's diapers, I can make them absolutely white again,' she said. 'That's who I am.' But her son's disappearance also turned her into someone else. Someone who knew the intricacies of the Syrian regime as well as any expert, someone who pounded on any door if she thought it could help. 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If Assad wanted to stick to the story suggested by the 2012 video, namely that Tice had been held by Islamist militants, the U.S. would publicly accept it, diplomats said. In 2015 and 2016, according to two former U.S. intelligence officials, a senior CIA officer traveled to Muscat, the Omani capital, for meetings with Mohammed Dib Zaitoun, then the second-highest-ranking civilian intelligence official in Syria. The officer and his team met with the Syrian official in a government compound near the beach and drank tea in a private room with silk carpets on the floor. The Americans conveyed their concerns about Tice and the anguish of his family. The Syrians didn't want to discuss Tice. When the Americans pressed, the Syrians were adamant: They had no knowledge of Tice's whereabouts. In the end, one of the former intelligence officials said, 'it amounted to a hill of beans.' In 2016, James C. 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But he also raised Tice as a subject of concern to the U.S., according to the former officials. He took back to his superiors in Washington a list of items of interest to Damascus, but for reasons that are unclear, the Trump administration did not pursue the opening, said two former officials. During Trump's first term as president, he showed a keen interest in the plight of American hostages. In 2018, Robert O'Brien became the special envoy for hostage affairs and met early on with the Tice family in a room at the State Department. Debra Tice asked to start with a prayer. O'Brien, who is Mormon, agreed. They all bowed their heads. O'Brien used back channels to communicate with the Syrian regime. In late 2018, the Vatican arranged a dinner in Rome for O'Brien with prominent businesspeople, priests and cardinals. Among them was Suleiman Antoine Frangieh, a Christian politician in Lebanon who had grown up with Assad. At O'Brien's request, Frangieh reached out to Assad, but the Syrian president responded that he did not know where Tice was. Assad added that 'if the Americans want assistance in searching for him, they should make the request openly and not in secret,' Frangieh recalled in a statement to The Post. That same year, CIA Director Gina Haspel created a cell dedicated to determining Tice's status, according to several people familiar with the matter. The team consisted of eight to 10 people - a significant commitment of resources to an intelligence puzzle 'with only cold leads,' recalled one former official. Meanwhile, Debra Tice continued to challenge U.S. officials. If she had gone to Damascus, why couldn't they? In late 2019, two senior White House counterterrorism officials, Christopher Miller and Kash Patel, tried, but once they landed in Beirut, the trip was scuttled because of clashes in Lebanon. By 2020, O'Brien had been elevated to Trump's national security adviser and the moment appeared ripe for a new attempt at high-level diplomacy. U.S. officials believed they had several carrots to offer the Syrians, O'Brien said in an interview. First, Trump was considering withdrawing some troops from Syria. Second, the U.S. was prepared to explore ways to assist Assad's British-born wife, Asma, who was suffering from cancer, by facilitating access to medical equipment that might be difficult to import because of sanctions. Meanwhile, some Persian Gulf Arab countries were starting to restore relations with Damascus. The U.S. asked those countries to make the reopening of their embassies in Syria contingent on Tice's return. In August 2020, U.S. officials made another push on Damascus. Patel and Roger Carstens, a former Special Forces officer who a few months before had been appointed envoy for hostage affairs, flew to Beirut in a second attempt to reach the Syrian capital. They were greeted by Abbas Ibrahim, Lebanon's intelligence chief. The following morning, they rode in Ibrahim's armored BMW, accompanied by several security vehicles, in a convoy to Damascus. There they met with Mamlouk, Assad's national intelligence chief and one of his closest advisers, for roughly two hours at Mamlouk's office on the outskirts of the city. At one point, Carstens said in an interview, Mamlouk made clear that the regime had three priorities: withdrawal of U.S. troops, lifting of sanctions and reestablishment of diplomatic relations. That gave Carstens an opening. He explained that those were significant requests that could take time and might involve seeking approval from Congress. But there might be a way to speed things up. Mamlouk was intrigued: How? By providing information about Tice and several other Americans believed to be held by the regime, Carstens said. They included Majd Kamalmaz, a psychotherapist who traveled to Syria in 2017 and was later confirmed killed. Carstens and Patel asked Mamlouk for proof that Tice was still alive. The Syrians stonewalled, saying their own demands would need to be met first. Carstens and Patel returned to Washington empty-handed. The FBI, which Patel now leads, declined to comment about the meeting. The following month, Trump called into 'Fox & Friends.' Early in his term, Trump said, he had wanted to assassinate Assad, but Defense Secretary Jim Mattis opposed the step. 'I would have rather taken him out, I had him all set,' Trump said on the show. Assad considered the comments an insult, Ibrahim said, and with Trump focused on his reelection campaign, further talks would have to wait for outreach by a new administration. In May 2022, Biden met with Debra and Marc Tice at the White House, two days after their son's plight was highlighted at a White House Correspondents' Association dinner where Biden was in attendance. During the meeting in the Oval Office, Biden told the Tices that the administration would do everything it could, including making a push for direct meetings with the Syrians, recalled a former U.S. official familiar with the meeting. But Biden was also careful to add that the family had to be prepared for the possibility that Tice might ''no longer be with us,' the former official recalled. By then, the U.S. government, led by the FBI, had interviewed witnesses, pursued leads, surged intelligence efforts and pressed for direct talks, but had not been able, officials say, to obtain confirmed evidence of Tice's status. That gap made Tice's case different from those of dozens of Americans whom the U.S. had successfully freed around the world. In February 2023, two senior Biden officials, Joshua Geltzer and Brett McGurk, traveled to Oman for talks with the Syrians. They made clear in advance that the goal was to find out what had happened to Tice, having set the agenda with the sultan of Oman, who brokered the talks, according to two former U.S. officials familiar with the matter. On the other side of the table was Imad Moustapha, an urbane veteran diplomat who was formerly Syria's ambassador to the U.S. and China, and three other Syrian officials. Before the meeting in Muscat, Moustapha had met with Assad, a former Syrian official said. The president was categorical about the message to be conveyed: We don't know where Tice is and don't have him. During the meeting, Geltzer pushed a copy of a document across the table, according to the former U.S. officials. It was the 'Wanted' bulletin issued by the government when Tice escaped from detention in late October 2012. Moustapha, genial but disciplined, made clear he did not have a mandate to engage. 'It was like pushing a wet noodle across the table,' said one of the former officials. There was one small opening. The Syrians were interested in visiting oil and gas fields in rebel-held areas. Geltzer and McGurk agreed to raise the idea with Washington and report back in exchange for the Syrians helping with information about Tice's status. Assad, meanwhile, was furious that Moustapha had even discussed Tice, the former Syrian official said. 'Who gave you the mandate to discuss anything?'' Assad asked, according to the official. Deep down, the former Syrian official suspected there was a simple reason for Assad's obstinacy: He knew what had happened to Tice. 'This is why he is categorically refusing to engage,' the official said. The teams returned to Oman three months later. The Americans offered to facilitate access to the energy facilities but met a brick wall about Tice. The meeting ended quickly. Inside the U.S. government, the agencies trying to find Tice could reach no definitive conclusion on his fate. Since at least 2016, the intelligence community had assessed that Tice was alive, although with low confidence. However, after Assad was toppled in late 2024 and weeks went by with no breakthroughs - despite the government offering a $10 million reward for information - the CIA changed its assessment, saying Tice was probably dead, but again, with low confidence. None of the alleged sightings of Tice after the 2012 video were ever verified by U.S. officials. Neither, however, were the reports of his death. As recently as last year, the leader of a Syrian rebel group approached Mouaz Moustafa, executive director of the Syrian Emergency Task Force, a Washington-based advocacy group, to tell him that he had found the spot in Damascus where Tice was buried. The rebel leader smuggled a decaying foot from the grave to the Tanf U.S. military base in Syria, Moustafa and another person familiar with the matter said. The FBI tested the sample. It wasn't Tice. Part Four: A shocking account The interrogation took place over several days in April in Beirut. Hassan, the Syrian official who had held Tice not long after his capture, spoke with CIA officers and FBI agents, who questioned him about the Assad regime, its ties to Iran and Tice's fate. Hassan said that Assad ordered him to have Tice killed in 2013 and that he tried to dissuade Assad, according to U.S. officials and another person familiar with the matter. Hassan said he had Tice killed by a subordinate, the U.S. officials and other people familiar with the interview said. Attempts to reach Hassan by phone, email and through a close relative were unsuccessful. The Post reached the subordinate, an officer who reported to Hassan and left Syria after the fall of the Assad regime. He agreed to speak on the condition that this name and whereabouts not be published. 'I have never met Austin Tice, and I did not kill Austin Tice,' he said. U.S. officials have not corroborated Hassan's story. Their counterparts in the new Syrian government don't believe his account. A senior Syrian security official noted that Hassan went to Iran after the Assad regime fell and that the Iranian government facilitated his travel to Lebanon, raising the prospect that his story could be disinformation. Hassan described to U.S. officials a place where Tice's remains could be found. But months later, the location remains unsearched by U.S. or Syrian officials. The Tices say U.S. officials told them they needed time to determine the equipment necessary to properly excavate it. Privately , U.S. officials also cite security concerns. The Syrian security official said there had been delays in coordinating a visit to the site. The FBI declined to comment, saying the investigation 'remains ongoing.' Some of those involved in the search for Tice say it is possible there will never be definitive proof of his fate. They likened it to the quest to find Robert Levinson, a retired FBI agent who vanished in Iran in 2007. It was not until 13 years later that the U.S. government concluded Levinson was dead. His family is still seeking his remains. Trump, for his part, has sounded a cautionary tone. 'There's been virtually no sign … of Austin,' he said in late March. 'It's been a long time. It's been many, many years. … So, you know, a lot of bad things happen, but we will never - until we find out something definitive one way or the other - we will never stop looking for him.'' Anna Kelly, a White House spokeswoman, said this week that while the Trump administration has 'no new details to share, our search for Austin will not end until his case is resolved.' The new Syrian government, led by former militant Ahmed al-Sharaa - formerly known by his nom de guerre, Abu Mohammed al-Jolani - is cooperating with U.S. efforts to locate Tice. A senior Syrian security official said investigators are pursuing a new lead based on recent interviews with two of Hassan's associates. His former office manager and a close friend told them that in 2013 Tice was taken from Hassan's compound by a high-level operative of Hezbollah, the Lebanese militia allied with Assad and Iran. Then the trail goes cold, the official said. The U.S. government has no corroboration of that account. In April, the Trump administration allowed Debra and Marc Tice to review declassified secret intelligence collected in the search for their son, according to a person familiar with the matter. The Office of the Director of National Intelligence, in an email to The Post, called it a 'special and unprecedented briefing' and said the records were not cleared for public release. But for the Tices, access to the information only deepened their disillusionment with U.S. efforts. 'It's been a charade,' Debra Tice said. 'Our government has not been a good advocate for Austin.' Earlier this year, Debra Tice returned to Damascus, where she met for more than an hour with Sharaa in a formal reception room. Sharaa, whom she had met before, once told her a story. Back when he was a young militant imprisoned in Iraq, he was reported dead. His mother refused to believe it. Even when others questioned her mental state, Sharaa's mother bought clothes for her son and insisted he was alive. 'That's very, very inspirational to me,' Debra Tice said. 'My son's not dead. He's walking around somewhere.' Nakashima and Schaffer reported from Washington, and Slater from Williamstown, Massachusetts. Karen DeYoung in Washington, Mohamad El Chamaa and Suzan Haidamous in Beirut, and Fakhr Al Ayoubi in Syria contributed to this report.
