Idaho Firefighters Ambushed

Cassian Creed
Jul 2
8 min read

The Idaho Firefighters Ambusher Case: A Meticulously Planned Tragedy That Shook the State

A Nightmare on Canfield Mountain: The Idaho Firefighter Ambush That Shocked a Nation

On a quiet Sunday afternoon, June 29, 2025, what should have been a routine wildfire response transformed into one of the most shocking attacks on first responders in American history. The tranquil mountain community of Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, became the setting for an unthinkable tragedy that would leave two heroic firefighters dead, another fighting for his life, and a nation grappling with the growing threat of violence against those who dedicate their lives to protecting others.

The events that unfolded on Canfield Mountain represent more than just another tragic news story—they reveal the calculated evil that can emerge from the most unexpected places, targeting the very people who rush toward danger to keep communities safe.

The Trap is Set

At exactly 1:21 p.m. on that fateful Sunday, dispatchers at the Kootenai County Sheriff's Office received what appeared to be a routine call about a brush fire on the east side of Canfield Mountain. The forested ridgeline, a popular destination for hikers and mountain bikers, offered the perfect cover for what investigators would later determine was a meticulously planned ambush.

Wess Roley, a 20-year-old drifter who had been living out of his vehicle, had deliberately ignited the blaze using a flint striker. This wasn't an accident or a moment of carelessness—it was a calculated act designed to draw firefighters into a deadly trap.

Within minutes, crews from the Coeur d'Alene Fire Department, Kootenai County Fire and Rescue, and Northern Lakes Fire District were racing toward the scene. Among them were three men whose dedication to their profession and community had defined their lives: Battalion Chief Frank Harwood, Battalion Chief John Morrison, and Fire Engineer David Tysdal.

The Ambush Begins

By 2:00 p.m., the nightmare began to unfold. As firefighters worked to contain the blaze, they encountered Roley near the fire's origin point. What happened next would be described by investigators as having the hallmarks of a "brief interaction"—firefighters asking Roley to move his vehicle so they could establish their fire attack position.

Moments later, the mountain erupted in gunfire.

"Everybody's shot up here... send law enforcement now!" came the frantic radio call that would haunt dispatchers and first responders for years to come.

The firefighters found themselves under attack from what initially appeared to be multiple directions. Roley, positioned in an elevated location among the trees, had opened fire with a 12-gauge shotgun loaded with rifled slugs. The dense forest canopy and rugged terrain created an acoustic nightmare, making it nearly impossible for the firefighters to determine the exact location of their attacker.

"I'm pinned down," one firefighter reported over the radio, his voice strained with the realization that dawned on every first responder that day: "The fire was set intentionally to draw us in."

Lives Cut Short, Heroes Fallen

In the chaos that followed, Battalion Chief Frank Harwood and Battalion Chief John Morrison were struck down by the gunfire. Both men were declared dead upon arrival at the hospital, their lives ended while they were doing what they had dedicated their careers to—protecting their community.

Frank Harwood, 42, had served with Kootenai County Fire and Rescue for 17 years. A former Army National Guard combat engineer, he was a shift commander respected by his colleagues and a devoted family man, leaving behind a wife and two children. His fire chief would later describe him as "a leader in our organization" who "did an amazing job."

John Morrison, 52, represented the very best of the firefighting profession. Having started his career with the Coeur d'Alene Fire Department in 1996, he had worked his way up through the ranks—firefighter, engineer, captain, paramedic, and ultimately battalion chief. Over his 28-year career, Morrison had become a cornerstone of the department, known for his dedication to both his profession and his family.

David Tysdal, 47, a 23-year veteran of the department, suffered severe chest trauma and spinal injuries but survived the initial attack. As his colleagues fell around him, Tysdal endured what would become a long and arduous journey to recovery, requiring multiple surgeries and intensive care.

The Manhunt

The attack triggered one of the largest law enforcement responses in Idaho's recent history. More than 300 officers from local, state, and federal agencies converged on Canfield Mountain. The FBI took over evidence processing, while helicopters equipped with snipers circled overhead, ready to neutralize the threat.

"We are actively taking sniper fire as we speak," Sheriff Bob Norris told reporters during an afternoon press conference, his words underscoring the ongoing danger faced by every responder on the mountain.

The search was complicated by the very fire that had started the nightmare. Flames continued to spread through the forest, threatening to consume evidence and forcing rescuers to work under the dual threat of gunfire and advancing wildfire. The tactical team used cell phone data to track a signal that had remained stationary since approximately 3:16 p.m., leading them to a wooded area where they made a grim discovery.

At 7:40 p.m., nearly six hours after the attack began, authorities found Roley's body near the fire's origin point, a firearm nearby. The 20-year-old suspect had apparently taken his own life, ending the manhunt but leaving behind a community devastated and a nation searching for answers.

A Killer's Twisted Path

The investigation into Wess Roley's background revealed a deeply troubled young man whose life had begun to unravel in the months leading up to the attack. Born in California, Roley had lived in multiple states—California, Arizona, and Idaho—before settling in North Idaho in 2024, though the reasons for his presence there remained unclear.

In a cruel twist of irony, Roley had once aspired to become a firefighter himself. His grandfather, Dale Roley, told investigators that his grandson came from a family of arborists and had been involved in tree service work while contemplating his professional future. "He wanted to be a firefighter—he was involved in tree work and aimed to become a firefighter in the forest," Dale Roley revealed, struggling to comprehend how his grandson could have committed such an act against the very profession he had once hoped to join.

Sheriff Norris noted that Roley had only minor previous contacts with law enforcement, primarily involving trespassing accusations. There was no significant criminal history, no manifesto, and no clear indication of what had driven him to orchestrate such a calculated attack.

"We had no reason to believe he would be involved in something like this," Dale Roley said, echoing the bewilderment felt by many who knew the young man. "He wasn't a loner. Something must have snapped."

The Aftermath: A Community in Grief

The impact of the Canfield Mountain ambush reverberated far beyond the immediate tragedy. The attack represented a disturbing escalation in violence against first responders, joining a growing list of targeted assaults on firefighters and paramedics across the United States.

Governor Brad Little ordered flags across Idaho to be flown at half-staff in honor of the fallen firefighters, calling the shootings "a heinous direct assault on our brave firefighters." The gesture would remain in effect until the day after the firefighters' memorial services.

The fire departments struggled to cope with the loss. "Yesterday was one of the most absolute darkest days that either one of these organizations has ever faced," Coeur d'Alene Fire Chief Tom Greif said during a press conference the day after the attack.

The surviving firefighter, David Tysdal, became a symbol of resilience as he fought to recover from his injuries. After multiple surgeries, he was eventually able to open his eyes and speak, though he faced a long road to recovery with significant spinal injuries.

Emergency Vehicle Processions and Final Farewells

The community's response to the tragedy was immediate and profound. As the bodies of the fallen firefighters were transported to the medical examiner's office in Spokane, community members lined Interstate 90, holding American flags in tribute to the heroes who had given their lives in service.

The departments organized processions of emergency vehicles to honor both Morrison and Harwood, with hundreds of first responders from across the region participating in the solemn ceremonies. The sight of fire trucks, ambulances, and police vehicles stretching for miles served as a powerful reminder of the brotherhood that exists among those who serve.

Gabe Eckert, president of the Coeur d'Alene Firefighters International Association of Fire Fighters Local 710, shared a poignant memory of his last interaction with Morrison just two weeks before the attack. The two had spent time together at the fire station, smoking cigars and talking about being better fathers, leaders, and firefighters.

"I just want to say I am so incredibly grateful that that gets to be my last memory with him," Eckert said. "These were dedicated men, and they were dedicated to this community."

The Broader Implications

The Canfield Mountain ambush highlighted growing concerns about the safety of first responders in an increasingly volatile social environment. Fire chiefs across the country expressed shock and concern about the calculated nature of the attack, with many implementing new safety protocols and urging heightened situational awareness.

"It's cause for us to be more situationally aware," said Alpena Township Fire Chief Tim Baker, reflecting the sentiment of fire departments nationwide. "We have to do that anyways when we get to a call because everyone's safety is a priority."

The attack also raised questions about the adequacy of current threat assessment protocols and the need for enhanced protective measures for first responders operating in remote areas.

A Community's Resilience

Despite the tragedy, the Coeur d'Alene community demonstrated remarkable resilience and unity in the face of unthinkable loss. The fire that had been used as a weapon of destruction was eventually contained to approximately 26 acres, with no structures threatened or evacuations required.

David Tysdal's recovery became a source of hope for the community. After being taken off a ventilator and showing steady improvement, he represented the strength and determination that defines the firefighting profession. His family issued a statement expressing gratitude for the outpouring of support: "We thank everyone for their love and support. Dave is surrounded by his family, and he is able to open his eyes, and his two surgeries have gone well."

Honoring the Fallen

The legacy of Frank Harwood and John Morrison extends far beyond the tragic circumstances of their deaths. Their years of dedicated service, their commitment to their families, and their willingness to put their lives on the line for others represent the very best of the firefighting profession.

The investigation into the attack continues, with authorities working to understand not just what happened on Canfield Mountain, but why it happened. The FBI's involvement ensures that every aspect of the case will be thoroughly examined, from Roley's background and motivations to the tactical response and lessons learned.

As the community continues to heal and the fire service adapts to new realities, the memory of that Sunday afternoon on Canfield Mountain serves as both a sobering reminder of the dangers first responders face and a testament to the courage they display every day.

The names Frank Harwood and John Morrison now join the ranks of firefighters who have made the ultimate sacrifice in service to their communities. Their sacrifice will not be forgotten, and their legacy will continue to inspire future generations of first responders who answer the call to serve, even in the face of unimaginable danger.

In the end, the evil that manifested on Canfield Mountain could not extinguish the light of their service or the bonds of community that hold us together. The fire departments they served with honor will continue their mission, carrying forward the memory of two heroes who gave everything to protect others.

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