JOINT BASE ANACOSTIA-BOLLING, Washington, D.C. –
The quiet Airman shows up, smiles through their anxiety, and isolates during a period of burnout, silently convincing themselves that they are not the only one with too much on their plate. Then one day they don’t report for duty, and everyone scrambles to figure out why, completely unaware of the unseen war of internal turmoil.
Each September, the U.S. Air Force recognizes National Suicide Prevention Awareness Month to raise awareness and spark meaningful action on the topic.
For U.S. Air Force Senior Master Sgt. Capri Vasquez, first sergeant for the Defense Threat Reduction Agency at Fort Belvoir, Va., suicide prevention hits close to home. She has dealt with both the personal experience of her 17-year-old son attempting to take his own life, as well as the professional intervention of a colleague’s public suicide.
As the wife of an active-duty service member and mother of four, Vasquez knows the challenge of balancing her home and work life in a dual-military household. In April 2019, her resolve was put to the test.
Juggling a recent permanent change of station to Joint Base Andrews, Md. as the first sergeant for the then-11th Security Support Squadron, and her husband's overseas tour to Turkey, her two older children stayed with Vasquez’s mother to complete the school year in Woodbridge, Va. Vasquez stayed near JBA with her youngest daughter during weekdays and commuted back to Woodbridge every weekend to be with the rest of her family.
“There were a lot of changes, but we were managing,” she said.
Even while enduring the stress of the transition, she could not have predicted the family crisis that was looming.
“It was just a normal day until around 2:30 a.m.,” Vasquez said. “My cell phone just kept going off.”
Her mother was on the other end, urging her to get to the hospital immediately. Her eldest son, Elijah-Mikkel Shand-Vasquez, had been admitted.
“I was driving as fast as I could with my daughter in the back seat. Every possible worst-case scenario was racing through my mind,” Vasquez said, as she recalled feeling consumed with uncertainty.
When she arrived, she learned her son had overdosed on pills and doctors were flushing his stomach.
“My mom was crying, and my other son was silently sitting, shell-shocked, in the waiting room,” Vasquez said. “The first thing that came to mind was, ‘What signs did I miss?’”
As a first sergeant, Vasquez was trained to recognize warning signs of distress in Airmen. In that moment, she could feel the tension between her training and her role as a mother.
“I’m a first sergeant, I’m trained for this,” she recalled.
Vasquez recalled that between managing her new position, her husband being away, and managing her life between two households, she was stretched thin.
Her son survived and was transferred to a youth mental health facility for 30 days. She advocated for her husband to return from his overseas tour early to support the family and it was granted. The Vasquez family became a united front in the mission to provide aftercare and support for Elijah. During her son’s inpatient treatment, Vasquez balanced daily visits with her son and her duties at Andrews.
“I didn’t want to ask for leave that early. I had just arrived three weeks prior,” she said, describing her decision to continue reporting for work while visiting her son at night. “I just told my commander that my son was sick.”
When Elijah returned home, Vasquez locked up the medications, checked on him frequently, and committed to creating open channels of communication with him.
“We were nervous to leave him alone,” Vasquez said. “He asked if we were mad at him often. We always assured him we weren’t.”
She emphasized that her message to her children is now consistent: “Regardless of what you do, I’m going to be proud of you. There’s nothing wrong with admitting that you need help.”
Elijah later reflected on that season of his life.
“At 17, I thought my story was ending but my family reminded me that I had a reason and that I was loved, flaws and all,” he said. “Recovery showed me that the darkest moments don’t define us and with support, hope and purpose comes back stronger than ever.”
Elijah’s recovery marked a turning point for the Vasquez family and for Capri herself as a leader. Having navigated the uncertainty of a midnight distress call as a parent, she came into her duties with a deeper insight of how fragile life could feel for those in distress.
Two years later as a seasoned first sergeant, she would be called on again, this time for an Airman in need.
At that time, one of the Airmen under Vasquez’s responsibility was a flight attendant, whose duties often kept him on the road.
“The flight attendants are close,” Vasquez shared. “There’s very few of them and they are close-knit since they travel together a lot. His presence was felt strongly within the squadron community.”
On Monday, Nov. 8, 2021, her work phone began to ring.
“One of the flight attendant’s close friends was on the other line,” she said. “They were concerned about a disturbing Facebook post he had made.”
Vasquez’s first instinct was to drive to the Airman’s home, but when she checked the recall roster, she realized the address on file was no longer current.
“I remembered he had just moved into a condo in D.C. but the recall roster still had a Maryland address,” she explained. “A lot of people showed up at the wrong house.”
That gap meant wasted time during a critical moment.
Fortunately, a close friend had the new address and shared it. By the time they arrived at the correct address, he was nowhere to be found, she said.
Her phone rang again.
“I got a call from the law enforcement desk at JBA,” she said. “There was a report that someone at the National Mall had a self-inflicted gunshot wound, but they couldn’t confirm who it was.”
Vasquez later received another call confirming it was her Airman and that he was transported to a hospital in Washington, D.C. and had been confirmed dead.
As the news spread about the Airman, there was an outpouring of base-wide support. Many of his colleagues, friends, and leadership members came to the hospital to show their support for him, his family and each other.
“We needed to do a commander’s call,” she said. “We had on-base counselors out there, chaplains, mental health, and our wing command chief stayed with us the entire day.”
Whether it is parents creating safety nets at home or commanders activating resources for a unit, the mission remains the same: connection saves lives.
“There’s nothing wrong with getting help,” Vasquez said. “I’ve talked to mental health myself plenty of times. People think it will do damage to their career, which is not the case. You are not alone.”
This sentiment is echoed by the Department of the Air Force.
ACE in action
The DAF uses the ACE model—Ask, Care, Escort—as its primary framework for suicide prevention. ACE is designed for Airmen, Guardians, and military family members to use when they see someone in distress and is a simple and effective way to remind people how to look out for each other.
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Escort: Take the individual to the chaplain, Military and Family Life Counseling office, mental health, or emergency care. Do not leave them alone.
Vasquez said her family continues to apply these same steps by maintaining open communication, removing immediate risks, and normalizing asking for help. For Airmen, the model provides a simple, immediate way to act in line with the Air Force’s commitment to care for its people.
Suicide prevention in the Air Force is both a mission and a personal charge.
For Vasquez, the work has never been theoretical. It has meant late night drives to the hospital, difficult conversations at home, and standing beside Airmen during their hardest hours. Her story underscores the principle that prevention does not happen from a distance. It happens when leaders, peers and families step forward together.
For those struggling or who know someone struggling with thoughts of suicide, please use the resources below for assistance: