
Scranton Fire Lt. Hopkins remembered as a role model
Lt. Kelly 'Hoppy' Hopkins, 63, died Sunday morning, Fire Chief John Judge said. Hopkins joined the Scranton Fire Department on Jan. 6, 1986, rising through the ranks to become the senior lieutenant, Judge said.
'This is a guy who loved going to work and loved being able to help people,' Judge said. 'He's touched so many people in the community.'
Hopkins was a father, grandfather and second-generation firefighter.
The Scranton fire union, the International Association of Fire Fighters Local 60, announced Hopkins' passing in a statement posted to Facebook on Sunday.
'It is with incredible sadness that SFD Local 60 is announcing the line of duty death (esophageal cancer) of member Lt. Kelly 'Hoppy' Hopkins,' the union wrote. 'Kelly was a firefighter's firefighter. He was a husband, father, leader, and a prominent community figure. You could go almost anywhere in the country and if someone found out you are a Scranton firefighter, they would always immediately ask, 'Do you know Kelly Hopkins?''
In September, the fire union organized a 'Raise some Hell for Hoppy' fundraiser for Hopkins at Montage Mountain Resort following his cancer diagnosis, where Hopkins and his family received an outpouring of support from the community.
'Hoppy was the quintessential friend to anyone and would do anything for those that he loved,' the union post said. 'During Parade Day, Hoppy's favorite, marchers would hear 'HEY HOPPY!' more times than one could count.'
Scranton Fire Department Lt. Kelly Hopkins is all smiles as he marches with the firefighters during the Scranton St. Patrick's Parade on Saturday, March 19, 2022. (TIMES-TRIBUNE FILE)
While firefighters can become proficient in their profession through training, the ability to care like Hopkins can't be taught, Judge said.
'The caring — you either have it or you don't,' he said. 'Kelly had that from day one that he got on here until his final days.'
Hopkins loved his job and was always a positive influence, viewing the Fire Department as a second family, said Judge, who worked with Hopkins for more than two decades.
'He was always smiling,' the fire chief said. 'I don't think I ever saw him angry.'
Judge hopes people will take that mindset and carry it with them.
'The funny thing about Kelly is, everybody here, no matter if it's (Assistant Chief) Jeff White, who's been here 45 years, or the brand new guy who's been here a year, they all had some type of story to remember Kelly by,' Judge said. 'In the culture and the world we live (in) right now, we need more Kellys in the world to keep it a little bit lighter.'
However, when it was time to deal with an emergency, Kelly was a passionate, aggressive, skilled firefighter, Judge said, calling him 'a guy you wanted to be following into places.'
'He was part of the fabric that makes up this community,' he said.
New firefighters took comfort in the fact that Hopkins would make sure they made it home safe at night, Judge said.
When firefighters conclude their careers, they want to be remembered as 'good firefighters,' and everyone will remember Hopkins as one, Judge said.
'He made people feel positive, and not taking themselves too seriously,' he said. 'He didn't do that on purpose — it was just his nature to smile about everything.'
Firefighters will share stories about Hopkins for decades, Judge said.
'To know him well was a gift,' he said. 'His legacy will live on in the stories that we'll tell for years.'
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


Boston Globe
4 days ago
- Boston Globe
‘Just a jumble of bones.' How a baby grave discovery has grown to haunt Ireland
One of the boys, Franny Hopkins, remembers the hollow sound as his feet hit the ground. He and Barry Sweeney pushed back some briars to reveal a concrete slab they pried open. 'There was just a jumble of bones,' Hopkins said. 'We didn't know if we'd found a treasure or a nightmare.' Hopkins didn't realize they'd found a mass unmarked baby grave in a former septic tank — in a town whose name is derived from the Irish word meaning burial place. It took four decades and a persistent local historian to unearth a more troubling truth that led this month to the Advertisement The Tuam grave has compelled a broader reckoning that extends to the highest levels of government in Dublin and the Vatican. Ireland and the Catholic Church, once central to its identity, are grappling with the legacy of ostracizing unmarried women who they believed committed a mortal sin and separating them from children left at the mercy of a cruel system. Word of Hopkins' discovery may never have traveled beyond what is left of the home's walls if not for the work of Catherine Corless, a homemaker with an interest in history. Advertisement Corless, who grew up in town and vividly remembers children from the home being shunned at school, set out to write an article about the site for the local historical society. But she soon found herself chasing ghosts of lost children. 'I thought I was doing a nice story about orphans and all that, and the more I dug, the worse it was getting,' she said. Mother and baby homes were not unique to Ireland, but the church's influence on social values magnified the stigma on women and girls who became pregnant outside marriage. The homes were opened in the 1920s after Ireland won its independence from Britain. Most were run by Catholic nuns. In Tuam's case, the mother and baby home opened in a former workhouse built in the 1840s, for poor Irish where many famine victims died. It had been taken over by British troops during the Irish Civil War of 1922-23. Six members of an Irish Republican Army faction that opposed the treaty ending the war were executed there in 1923. Two years later, the imposing three-story gray buildings on the outskirts of town reopened as a home for expectant and young mothers and orphans. It was run for County Galway by the Bon Secours Sisters, a Catholic order of nuns. Mothers and their children carried that stigma most of their lives. But there was no accountability for the men who got them pregnant, whether by romantic encounter, rape, or incest. Around the time Corless was unearthing the sad history, Anna Corrigan was in Dublin discovering a secret of her own. Advertisement Corrigan, raised as an only child, vaguely remembered a time as a girl when her uncle was angry at her mother and blurted out that she had given birth to two sons. To this day, she's unsure if it's a memory or dream. While researching her late father's traumatic childhood confined in an industrial school for abandoned, orphaned, or troubled children, she asked a woman helping her for any records about her deceased mom. Corrigan was devastated when she got the news: before she was born, her mother had two boys in the Tuam home. 'I cried for brothers I didn't know, because now I had siblings, but I never knew them,' she said. Her mother never spoke a word about it. A 1947 inspection record provided insights to a crowded and deadly environment. Twelve of 31 infants in a nursery were emaciated. Other children were described as 'delicate,' 'wasted,' or with 'wizened limbs.' Corrigan's brother, John Dolan, was described as 'a miserable, emaciated child with voracious appetite and no control over his bodily functions, probably mental defective.' He died two months later in a measles outbreak. Despite a high death rate, the report said infants were well cared for and diets were excellent. Corrigan's brother, William, was born in May 1950 and listed as dying about eight months later. There was no death certificate, though, and his date of birth was altered on the ledger, which was sometimes done to mask adoptions, Corrigan said. In a hunt for graves, the cemetery caretaker led Corless across the street to the neighborhood and playground where the home once stood. A well-tended garden with flowers, a grotto, and Virgin Mary statue was walled off in the corner. It was created by a couple living next door to memorialize the place Hopkins found the bones. Advertisement Some were thought to be famine remains. But that was before Corless discovered the garden sat atop the septic tank installed after the famine. She wondered if the nuns had used the tank as a convenient burial place after it went out of service in 1937, hidden behind the home's 10-foot-high walls. 'It saved them admitting that so, so many babies were dying,' she said. 'Nobody knew what they were doing.' When she published her article in the Journal of the Old Tuam Society in 2012, she braced for outrage. Instead, she heard almost nothing. That changed, though, after Corrigan, who had been busy pursuing records and contacting officials from the prime minister to the police, found Corless. Corrigan connected her with journalist Alison O'Reilly, and the international media took notice after her May 25, 2014, article on the Sunday front page of the Irish Mail with the headline: 'A Mass Grave of 800 Babies.' The article caused a firestorm, followed by some blowback. Some news outlets, including The Associated Press, highlighted sensational reporting and questioned whether a septic tank could have been used as a grave. The Bon Secours sisters hired public relations consultant Terry Prone, who tried to steer journalists away. Despite the doubters, there was widespread outrage. Corless was inundated by people looking for relatives on the list of 796 deaths she compiled. It is expected to take two years to collect bones, many of which are commingled, sort them, and use DNA to try to identify them with relatives like Corrigan. Advertisement Some people in town believe the remains should be left undisturbed. But Corrigan hopes each child is found. 'They were denied dignity in life, and they were denied dignity and respect in death,' she said. 'So we're hoping that today maybe will be the start of hearing them because I think they've been crying for an awful long time to be heard.'
Yahoo
22-07-2025
- Yahoo
A lifetime of service: remembering Judge John Hatcher
FAYETTEVILLE, WV (WVNS) – Fayette County is remembering a man who lived in service to the people. Oak Hill's new city manager is excited to hit the ground running Retired Circuit Court Judge John Hatcher Jr. passed away peacefully after a lifetime of service to his county, state, and country. Before taking an oath to serve West Virginia's twelfth district, Judge Hatcher took an oath to serve his country as a member of the U.S. Army. He would be commissioned as Captain and serve as a JAG Officer in Vietnam before his honorable discharge. Those who knew him remember Judge Hatcher for his commanding presence and distinct humor.'Oh, Judge Hatcher was awesome! Judge Hatcher was all business,' said Fayette County Assessor Eddie Young. 'He had a sense of humor that was very dry, but it was funny! I always like Judge Hatcher.' Before taking the bench, Judge Hatcher would represent the residents of Fayette County as a member of the House of Delegates. There, he would serve as Chair of the House Judiciary Committee. He would then put his skills to work serving the Twelfth District as Circuit Judge for nearly three decades before announcing his retirement in 2018. Young told 59News it was Judge Hatcher he went to for guidance when he took the assessor role over twenty years ago.'When I first took this office, I went to Judge Hatcher, talked to him and said, 'do you have any advice for me?' He kicked his feet up and started naming off stuff. It seemed like he appreciated me asking him that,' he said. 'I loved Judge Hatcher; he was a good guy.' In lieu of flowers, family members have requested donations be made to the Honorable John W. Hatcher Jr. Memorial Law Scholarship at the West Virginia University College of Law. Friends and loved ones will pay their respects this weekend to a man devoted to family, service and community. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed. Solve the daily Crossword


Newsweek
19-07-2025
- Newsweek
Two Hospitalized in Illinois Train Derailment
Based on facts, either observed and verified firsthand by the reporter, or reported and verified from knowledgeable sources. Newsweek AI is in beta. Translations may contain inaccuracies—please refer to the original content. A train derailment caused a chemical leak and sent two rail workers to the hospital in Wabash County, Illinois, on Friday night. A total of 24 cars derailed, Norfolk Southern said, with two of them damaged and leaking sulfur. The derailment triggered an emergency response involving local, state, and federal agencies, Mount Carmel Mayor Joe Judge told Newsweek in an email Saturday. Norfolk Southern told Newsweek in an emailed statement on Saturday that the workers suffered non-life-threatening injuries. Newsweek has reached out to the Wabash County Sheriff, the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) and Homeland Security via email during non-working hours Saturday for more information. Why It Matters Train derailments can be dangerous for a variety of reasons, and sometimes even deadly. The latest train derailment shut down roadways, airspace and required a Hazmat response, Judge told Newsweek. The potential impacts of being exposed to sulfur range from mild irritation to life-threatening conditions. This is not the first time a Norfolk Southern train has derailed, causing issues. In 2023, a Norfolk Southern freight train in East Palestine, Ohio, derailed with 38 cars coming off the tracks, 11 of which were carrying toxic chemicals. The derailment sparked a large fire, sending toxic gases into the atmosphere and prompting the evacuation of nearly 5,000 people. What To Know Friday's train derailment between Browns and Bellmont near Illinois Route 15 resulted in a "significant hazardous materials spill," according to Judge. Crews on Saturday continued to remove damaged rail cars from the site, Judge told Newsweek. Hazmat teams determined that leaked substances included liquid sulfur and other chemicals. Witnesses said they observed white smoke rising from the area shortly after the derailment, local television station WFIE reported. The derailment drew crews from multiple fire departments—including Browns, Albion, Bellmont, Mt. Carmel, and MABAS 47, along with the Wabash County Sheriff's Department and Homeland Security. It also shutdown roadways in the area and prompted a no-fly zone, according to the mayor, who added that the roads have since been reopened. Residents near the derailment were advised to evacuate temporarily as a precaution, but authorities later noted there was no widespread evacuation order in place. The situation was "contained" as of 5 a.m. local time, according to Judge. A freight train loaded with shipping containers at an inland port, Perak, Malaysia, on July 6, 2024. A freight train loaded with shipping containers at an inland port, Perak, Malaysia, on July 6, 2024. Getty What People Are Saying Mount Carmel Mayor Joe Judge told Newsweek in an email Saturday: "Homeland Security are still on scene while damaged cars are removed for safety precautions." Norfolk Southern said in a statement emailed to Newsweek Saturday: "One of our trains traveling through Browns, Illinois, derailed shortly before 7:00 p.m. July 18. Initial assessments indicate 24 cars derailed, resulting in leaks from two cars carrying molten Sulphur. There is no danger to the public. Two crew members were transported to the hospital for non-life-threatening injuries. Our team is working closely with local first responders to safely manage and mitigate the incident." What Happens Next? The cause of the derailment has not yet been determined. Local authorities and the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) are expected to conduct a full investigation as the site is secured, and clean-up concludes. The Illinois Environmental Protection Agency (IEPA) continues to monitor air quality on-scene and no threat to the general public has been declared. Residents are encouraged to stay alert to official updates and follow all safety directives.