A hero's tragic end

View seven day for previous Winnipeg Free Press stories.

When we initially reported Tim Fraser's suicide, we did not identify him, as is our policy. When his family contacted the Free Press wanting to go public with his story, we made an exception. TIM FRASER was the toast of the town after he rushed into a burning apartment building without his air tank, fought flames and thick smoke and pulled a screaming woman to safety from a third-floor suite where she was trapped.

Yet Fraser never yearned for the limelight and wasn't about to boast about his life-saving actions, although he was awarded a medal of bravery by the city. He calmly waited for family members to learn about the dramatic February 2002 rescue through the front page of the Winnipeg Free Press. Then he shrugged it off as "just part of the job.

" Those closest to Fraser knew this was anything but routine. The young boy who dreamed of growing up to fight fires and save lives had grown into a man and done it. "That's all he ever wanted to do.

It was his ultimate dream to become a firefighter," his brother, Jamie, recalled proudly this week. IN paying tribute to his dead brother, Jamie Fraser offered comfort and companionship to hundreds of families he'll never know. He named his brother Tim's illness.

He discussed his suicide. He made public a tragedy that too often lurks in the shadows as devastated parents, siblings or children feel shame or guilt or an anger they can't properly express while they mourn the sudden stealing of a loved one. Jamie Fraser isn't offering excuses.

He's explaining, in the raw early days of his own sorrow, that Tim Fraser fought and lost a battle that so many others fight. "Regarding the allegations of last Saturday night involving two firefighters, my brother would have been deeply sorry for both their alleged actions and words that were ultimately fuelled by alcohol. Whether the details of these allegations are true or not, after consuming alcohol, people say things and do things out of character and that they don't intend," he wrote.

"Although this incident is related to the unfortunate passing of my brother, there was a long road of mental illness (depression, etc.) leading up to this incident and this is not the only cause but, in my belief, a triggering event." People who battle depression know all about triggering events.

They're usually not as traumatic as a potentially career-ending arrest. They could be any of the bumps and jolts of ordinary life, magnified a hundredfold by an illness that knows and respects no boundaries. And so Tim Fraser wrote a final note, started his car and waited for the fumes to overwhelm him.

Suicide is rarely discussed in polite company. It carries the same stigma as mental illness, an eye-averting confession of frailty. Who knows precisely what led Tim Fraser to reject the counselling offered by his union, to not turn to his family for help, to use as his final solution an act that will forever haunt those who knew and loved him?

Suicide -- and depression -- can claim even the most well-informed, high-achieving individuals. Last September, Marlene Potash, arguably the city's best known advocate for suicide prevention, took her own life. She had started the group SPEAK -- Suicide Prevention Education Awareness Knowledge -- after her 19-year-old son hanged himself in 1999.

Her unflagging efforts to bring suicide into the open, to discuss the raw pain felt by families and the need for intervention, likely saved scores of people. In the end, she couldn't save herself. In sharing his sorrow, Jamie Fraser has done a magnificent thing.

Suicide is never just a pact between one desperate individual and his maker. It destroys families. It creates lengthy lists of "what ifs?

", a kind of morbid accounting by survivors of their own failures to see the warning signs. Those who kill themselves end their own pain. They begin a nightmare for everyone else.

Jamie Fraser brought his brother's illness and suicide into the light. He wanted us to know who his brother really was, the shame he must have felt upon his arrest and the desperation that causes a young man to take his own life. God willing, his words will be enough to lead a stranger to seek help, a family to understand they are not alone in their grieving.

"My brother was fearless on the job. He could be relied on in any situation." But just five years after being on top of the world, Tim Fraser's career seemingly hit rock-bottom this week.

"I'm going to rest and be free," were Fraser's final words in a handwritten suicide note found beside his body just after 5 p.m. Wednesday.

Fraser, 33, died of carbon monoxide poisoning inside the very garage that he and his father proudly built just last year. He leaves behind two parents, a brother and countless friends and colleagues who are stunned by the sudden death and haunted by questions of what went wrong. They decided to keep the Saturday night party going with a trip to a Transcona bar.

Not wanting to drink and drive, they wisely summoned a cab to pick them up. The Unicity driver, a recent immigrant to Canada from India, claims Fraser and the other man began hurling racial insults at him when he demanded they pay their full fare. The hurtful words allegedly turned into violent actions.

The cabbie said his glasses were smashed, a gold chain ripped from his neck and two hands wrapped around his throat. A surveillance camera inside the cab was catching the attack on tape, allegedly prompting Fraser and the other man to smash it with hopes of destroying the evidence. At some point later that morning while being questioned by police -- and told of charges against him and the other firefighter, including assault with a weapon and mischief -- Fraser would have sobered up.

"I had a bad feeling as soon as I read about the two firefighters being charged," Jamie Fraser told the Free Press in an exclusive interview this week. He and his wife, Pam, moved from Winnipeg to Bermuda several years ago but still try to keep on top of the local news. "I go online every day at lunch," Jamie said.

What he read this past Tuesday left him sick to his stomach. The age of one of the arrested men was the same as Tim's. "I tried calling him right away, not saying anything but left a message telling him that I hoped he was OK, sorry we didn't have our usual talk on the weekend and that I hoped to hear from him soon," Jamie said.

Jamie's phone rang later that same day. It was his parents confirming his fears. Tim had been arrested.

Jamie Fraser holds Bullard Save A Life Award brother Tim received for rescuing woman in a Feb. 5, 2002 fire, and the Free Press story on his heroism. The United Fire Fighters of Winnipeg were also concerned.

They reached out to Tim after his arrest, briefly discussing the situation on Monday. President Alex Forrest clearly told him there was help available if he wanted it. Maybe a counsellor to talk to, just to make sure things were OK.

Tim said he would be fine. The discussion was over. By Wednesday, Jamie, his parents, aunt and many friends had repeatedly tried to get hold of Tim without success.

There was still no answer, just voice mail. Jamie left another message, careful not to leave the impression that something was wrong. But Jamie knew the truth.

Something was wrong. Nobody had heard from or seen him in the past few days. Everyone was concerned.

"I told them I thought something was wrong and asked them to go check on him. I told them to check the house, check the garage. If there's no answer, I told them to kick the doors in," Jamie said.

Millar Block at Sargent Avenue and Young Street burns on Feb. 5, 2002. Firefighter Tim Fraser rescued a woman trapped in third-floor apartment.

As he sat in his home, waiting for an update, Jamie said he knew and dreaded what was coming. And just as it had earlier in the week, the phone rang again with news he didn't want to hear. "He left a note for his family behind.

It started off saying that he was incredibly sorry for leaving us," Jamie told the Free Press, his voice cracking with emotion. "He said he loved our parents more than we will ever know. And he said that he loved me more than just a brother.

I was always there for him." "Tim was as proud a firefighter as you'll ever meet and would have felt that this incident last weekend was an embarrassment, not only for him and the family, but for the fire department," he said. "Firefighters have a persona that society expects them to live up to, but they are human like all of us and make mistakes in life.

Tim knew that." Jamie doesn't dispute the cab driver's version of events, but says his brother isn't a racist. Some of Tim's closest friends belong to visible minorities, including the son of Manitoba's chief medical examiner, Dr.

Thambirajah Balachandra. Tim also appreciated the risks associated with driving a cab, Jamie said. "Cabbies are a lot like firefighters, in that they are involved in risky situations.

To me, this entire thing was fuelled by alcohol. This was about unwinding..

. having a few drinks and then things went wrong..

. Anything racist he said wouldn't be his true feelings," Jamie said. "Alcohol was not a friend of Tim's.

And there had been a long road of struggles, with depression and regards to relationships, things like that. I don't think Tim probably even realized some of the demons he was dealing with throughout a lot of his life. Mental illness is not very well understood or accepted, even in today's society.

" Tim was married in 2002, only to watch it fall apart less than two years later. Jamie said the breakup had a deep impact on Tim, as did two catastrophic events related to his profession. The Sept.

11, 2001 terrorist attacks in the United States made firefighters international heroes, but the scores of colleagues' deaths left their mark on Tim Fraser. He was part of a delegation of Winnipeg firefighters who attended a memorial service in New York City for those who lost their lives. He was moved by what he saw and the people he met, including a Brooklyn firefighter named Tom who would become a good friend.

Tim went to visit the man later in 2004 and spent a number of nights in New York fire halls doing ride-alongs in Brooklyn and Lower Manhattan near Ground Zero, where the twin towers of the World Trade Center once stood, Jamie said. More recently came the tragic deaths of two Winnipeg fire captains who were overcome by a flashover while battling a St. Boniface house fire.

Jamie said his brother talked extensively about the February incident. One of the men who died was his former captain. "Tim was very good about covering his emotions up, but I know that really bothered him," he said.

"I think this arrest was a triggering event for him." "I respect his decision. I am not angry with my brother, as I know he is in a better place and at peace after years of struggling to find true happiness in life.

"...

But I think it was just too much. I think he took this pretty hard. Once the realization of what had happened hit, I think he was gone.

" Jamie believes his brother likely began drinking shortly after police released him on a promise to appear in court, culminating in his suicide probably Monday night or early Tuesday morning. He also isn't surprised to hear his brother had declined offers of assistance from his union. His family had tried to reach out to Tim in the past with similar results.

"He would always turn down help, as this was the way he dealt with things," Jamie said. He hopes that by speaking out publicly, people will see the true character of his brother -- the caring, compassionate and dedicated real-life "superhero" whose swift fall from grace has left so many people numb. "His pride of being a firefighter is what did him in," Jamie said.

"Go rest and be free, my brother." View seven day for previous Winnipeg Free Press stories.