THE FINAL RADIO CALL EVERY LINEMAN FEARS - AND AN ENTIRE IBEW CREW BREAKS DOWN

They gather around his truck. Silent. Still. Every man bracing himself for what they’re about to hear.

Then the dispatcher’s voice comes through the radio:

“Clear the airway.”

“This is the last and final call for Kyle Ferree.”

“He has climbed his last pole. His hooks are hung.”

“After six years of service, his work here on earth is done.”

“Kyle, may you rest in peace. Although you are gone, you will never be forgotten.”

“Kyle, you are now clear of duty.”

“Rest in peace, brother. Go with God. We will take it from here.”

And then - one by one - the crew checks out over the radio:

“2:08 checking out.”
“2:11 checking out.”
“2:17 checking out.”
“3:30 checking out, little buddy.”
“3:35 checking out.”
“3:36 checking out.”

And on and on… each man saying goodbye in the only way linemen know how.

Kyle Ferree was an IBEW brother.
A father of two with a third on the way.
A husband. A friend.
Gone in seconds during routine line work.

No reporters.
No speeches.
Just raw loyalty from the workers who climb in storms, ice, and darkness - and know this could have been any one of them.

Who’s really looking out for the people who do this job?