Lebanon — Correction Officer Jeramie Dewaine kissed his wife goodbye on Monday, Feb. 25, and worked his shift as a key and tool man at Corrigan-Radgowski Correctional Institution the way he always did, despite what his family describes as chronic, excruciating physical and mental pain.

The 42-year-old married father of two and grandfather of two seemed OK at work, according to his coworkers. But he broke from his steadfast routine that afternoon. He didn't leave his lunch box on the kitchen counter, take a shower and go to bed.

Instead, Dewaine went home, left his cellphone on the bed and took his pistol out of a safe. Still wearing his correction officer uniform, he drove to the Johnson Cemetery in nearby Bozrah. His body was found a few hours later by state police. The cause of death was a gunshot wound to the torso, and the manner of death suicide, according to the state Office of the Chief Medical Examiner.

Dewaine didn't leave a note, his wife, Rebecca "Becky" Desrosiers Dewaine said during an interview Tuesday afternoon at the dining room table of the family's cozy split-level ranch.

Though Dewaine suffered from depression for years, Rebecca and her children, 20-year-old Michael and 23-year-old Kara, think his suicide was an impulsive act and that he couldn't have — wouldn't have — gone through with it had he taken the time to write a note.

Hundreds attended his funeral service Monday at the Sacred Heart Church in Taftville, many of them dressed in sweatshirts with the logo of the "Boots on the Ground" organization.  He was involved with the Waterford chapter of the international support group for military and law enforcement officers struggling with depression and post-traumatic stress disorder.

"It meant a lot to him," said his friend Calvin Reynoso, a correction officer and veteran who co-founded the local chapter of Boots on the Ground with Thomas Hume, a retired correction officer. "He found he wasn't alone. He was like, 'Dude, I know you struggle, too.' We found a common bond. He told me, 'It's good to know I'm not alone.' I don't think I failed him. I just think peole didn't know how bad he was suffering."

Correction officers, who are sometimes left out of the conversation because much of their work is done out of the public eye, work in a violent and often negative environment and are at high risk of experiencing depression, PTSD, substance abuse and suicidal thoughts, according to several studies.

Dewaine's wife, Rebecca, said her husband had a tumultuous childhood and experienced a number of serious health problems as an adult, including hemophilia, slipped disks in his back, a rare blood disorder and a hematoma stuck between his colon and bladder. Still, he got up and went to work every day — putting his boots on the ground, she said — to support his family.

Dewaine's correction officer brothers were family, too, she said, but the negativity he witnessed on the job took its toll. He cut down inmates who hanged themselves, broke up fights and was assaulted. He didn't talk about it with his family.

"I remember days he would come home and something bad had happened," said his son, Michael. "You could see it in his face, his demeanor. You could see mentally and physically that something was off."

Like his coworkers, Dewaine was always on guard, even when he wasn't working, his wife said. He always sat facing the door in a restaurant and was selective about whom he allowed into his personal life.

Though the Department of Correction has been wonderful to her family, Rebecca Dewaine said she wishes there had been a way for her to notify his employer that he was struggling without the fear of him losing his job. She said it would be helpful if the DOC offered spouses of employees advice on how to help their loved one cope with the trauma they experience. Despite being on the state health insurance plan, Rebecca Dewaine said, her husband never received the coordinated and attentive medical care that might have helped him stay healthy. She said after a surgery, he became dependent on opioid painkillers, and doctors prescribed more pills when he asked for help weaning off them. He had been opioid-free since 2013, and was taking an antidepressant, Effexor, but his doctor failed to notice when Dewaine stopped taking the pills.

Department of Correction Commissioner Rollin Cook and other members of the DOC's executive team went to Corrigan the day after Dewaine's death to lend support to the staff and express their sympathy.

"Our collective hearts are heavy with the loss of a member of our correctional family, our thoughts and prayers are with his loved ones," Cook said in a statement. "Words cannot adequately suffice to express my heartfelt sorrow, but through my actions I will work to ensure that those suffering within our ranks get the help they need."

The department has a Critical Incident Stress Response Team of trained staff that went to Corrigan to support the staff, and its contractor, K-9 First Responders, brought a therapy dog, Spartacus, to Dewaine's funeral. Just the mention of Spartacus brought Rebecca Dewaine to tears Tuesday. It turned out the Dewaine family Rottweiler, Mira, had collapsed in the yard on the Friday before Dewaine's death and had to be euthanized. She said she and her husband went out to breakfast that Saturday and were puppy-shopping the day before his death. They were laughing together, and he didn't seem to be any worse than usual the last time she saw him on Monday morning.

The Department of Correction also has an employee assistance program to help staff who are struggling, though some staff members say the stigma of admitting they are depressed prevents them from seeking help.

"I think they should start a confidential hotline," said Kevin Skulczyck, a retired correction officer, former state representative and former first selectman of Griswold. "It's not about suicide. It's about needing help. There's not one guy I know who ever went through an EAP program voluntarily. They were pushed into it."

Skulczyck sent out an emotional text the morning of Dewaine's funeral, offering his phone number to any correction staff who need to talk. He said he, too, has struggled with depression and has found it helpful to talk to his peers.

The correctional staff rallied around the Dewaine family, who said they know they just need to ask for help. On Friday, March 1, the department held a "pay to park" event at all of its state facilities, collecting cash from employees as they drove in to work. They raised $20,000, which will be turned over to the Dewaine family.

The grieving Dewaine family is facing financial devastation along with its grief. A human resources officer from the Department of Correction went to the family home in the days after Dewaine's death and cried as she told his widow their health insurance would be cut off as of March 1. Dewaine had a life insurance policy through his job, but Rebecca Dewaine said she cannot collect it because of a clause that prevents disbursement if the insured person died by suicide. Though he had worked for the DOC for 13 years, she said she won't be able to collect even a partial pension.

k.florin@theday.com