A call to help bring calm to chaos.

Byline: Bob Welch / The Register-Guard

Their specialty is emotional first aid for victims of violence or accidents. Once the police leave the crime scene, once we turn off the 11 o'clock news, once the rest of us think some community tragedy is over, they go to work.

Or at least they did for 12 years until July 2004, when the Lane County district attorney's office cut the $62,900 funding for the 24-hour response team, which is made up entirely of volunteers.

Now, they're back, with a "storefront" presence in the Lane County Sheriff's Office. All they need is a few good men and women to help them go where few dare to tread.

"We're sort of like firefighters," says Tammy Donahue, a 12-year veteran who coordinates the volunteers. "We see the stuff people see on TV - only we can't just turn it off when it's too much for us."

They arrive on the scenes of tragedy: Family members huddled together along a roadside at night, flares burning alongside a mangled car. A victim of domestic violence, face beaten, doubled over on a couch. A family wrapped in blankets, looking at their fire-charred house.

"We're the bridge between devastation and the road to healing and hope," Donahue says.

But that bridge was blocked in July 2004 when the team was cut as part of a $425,000 hit in the prosecutor's budget. (The "day" response team survived.) The result? At night, law enforcement officers have been shouldering extra responsibility. And a lot of victims' needs have gone unmet.

Take the case last August where sheriff's deputies killed an Elmira man after he had threatened his wife and was trying to break into their home. "She could have benefited greatly from a victim advocate," Lane County Sheriff Russ Burger says. "We see a lot of post-traumatic stress disorder because there wasn't a lot of intervention early on after violent crimes."

Team members aren't counselors; instead, they're more like human duct tape, on hand in emergencies to help hold together whatever needs holding together. They might find a carpenter to fix a kicked-in door, give victims motel vouchers or help in death notification.

And much more. "Looking back, I don't know what I would have done without their support," says Janet Lovelace, a Pleasant Hill woman whose daughter Katie was killed in a hit-and-run accident in 2000.

As you might expect, given her passion for the program, Donahue never accepted the death of the response team; she kept administering CPR.

The program sputtered back to life when the sheriff's department agreed to allow the team to use an office, cell phones, voice mail and a pool car; in addition, the program will get $1,500 annually. Other departments, such as Eugene and Springfield police, are offering in-kind support.

Now, the program needs volunteers. Donahue, who works for the city of Eugene's Public Works Department, has a core of eight people returning from the 2004 team. She'd like at least another dozen.

But, with no pay or perks, who raises a hand to get called out at 3 in the morning so they can, say, sit with a grieving parent? "We're looking for people who are compassionate and willing to give to their community," Donahue says. "People who listen well." And come without criminal records.

Why does she do it? "I've been through my own tragedies in life. I have the knowledge, experience and stomach, if you will, to deal with people in the ugliness of the world. I have this gift to bring calm to chaos. And it's very rewarding. I feel I can make a difference."

She hopes to begin 20- to 40-hour training sessions in late November and early December and have the program officially revived before the holidays. "You see a rise in domestic violence during the holidays and an increase in suicides," she says. "We want to be there."

Anyone else want to join them?

For an application, leave your name, address and phone number at 682-4086.