The Inferno Begins
On June 29, 2025, the serene landscapes of Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, were shattered by an unthinkable act of calculated violence. A brush fire was ignited on Canfield Mountain, drawing in firefighters who were unaware they were walking into a deadly trap. As they approached the blaze, gunfire erupted, resulting in the deaths of Battalion Chief John Morrison and Battalion Chief Frank Harwood and critically injuring firefighter Dave Tysdal. The suspected perpetrator, 20-year-old Wess Val Roley, was later found dead from an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound near the scene.
From Aspiring Firefighter to Killer
Wess Roley wasn’t some hardened criminal with a rap sheet a mile long. On paper, he looked like a kid trying to figure life out. The 20-year-old came from a family of arborists and bounced between California, Arizona, and eventually Idaho. He ran track in high school, liked hiking, and had a thing for the outdoors. In 2024, he moved to Idaho, landed his own apartment, and took up work in tree services—just like the rest of his family.
But what set him apart, according to his grandfather, was a deep admiration for firefighters. He didn’t just like them—he wanted to be one. Specifically, he dreamed of joining a forest firefighting crew, heading straight into the flames with a hose in hand and purpose in his heart.
Roley had no criminal record to speak of in Kootenai County. Cops knew who he was—he’d had a few minor run-ins, nothing serious, no arrests. According to his grandfather, he owned a shotgun and a long rifle. Whether those were the weapons he used during the ambush remains under investigation. He wasn’t considered a threat. In fact, family members described him as sociable, not some isolated nutcase stewing in the dark. He stayed in touch with relatives, had friends, and even vacationed in Hawaii with his mother not long before the attack.
Still, cracks in the foundation were there if you looked closely. Roley’s grandfather admitted that the boy could be “nervous,” “high-strung,” and a bit of a loner at times. And though his family painted a picture of a loving home, the court records tell a slightly different story. Back in 2015, Roley’s mother sought a protective order against his father, citing alleged threats and violence. That kind of early instability doesn’t vanish. It tends to burrow deep and fester.
Despite all this, no one close to him saw it coming. There was no beef with local fire crews. No angry manifesto. No past conflict that might explain why he’d suddenly flip from fire chaser to fire starter, luring in the very people he claimed to admire—and gunning them down. The attack blindsided his family as much as it did the community. For a kid who once wanted to run into burning forests to save lives, he died with the blood of his heroes on his hands. And that’s the kind of betrayal that rattles even the toughest among us.
Roley’s Calculated Ambush on Idaho Firefighters
Wess Roley didn’t just snap one day—he planned this attack with chilling precision. On June 29, 2025, he deliberately ignited the fire on Canfield Mountain, just outside Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. This wasn’t some accidental blaze sparked by carelessness. No, this was bait, and Roley was lying in wait. He had armed himself with a high-powered rifle and a shotgun and picked a strategic position in the rugged, wooded terrain. His goal was simple: lure in first responders and open fire before they had a chance to understand what was happening. If that isn’t evil, I don’t know what is.
As firefighters from Coeur d’Alene and Kootenai County rolled in to knock down the flames, Roley waited. About 30 minutes after crews arrived, he launched his ambush. No warning. No chance to respond, and, of course, they weren’t armed. Sheriff Bob Norris later said, “The firefighters did not have a chance.” The attack was fast, brutal, and completely unexpected.
The Inferno Begins
On June 29, 2025, the serene landscapes of Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, were shattered by an unthinkable act of calculated violence. A brush fire was ignited on Canfield Mountain, drawing in firefighters who were unaware they were walking into a deadly trap. As they approached the blaze, gunfire erupted, resulting in the deaths of Battalion Chief John Morrison and Battalion Chief Frank Harwood and critically injuring firefighter Dave Tysdal. The suspected perpetrator, 20-year-old Wess Val Roley, was later found dead from an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound near the scene.
From Aspiring Firefighter to Killer
Wess Roley wasn’t some hardened criminal with a rap sheet a mile long. On paper, he looked like a kid trying to figure life out. The 20-year-old came from a family of arborists and bounced between California, Arizona, and eventually Idaho. He ran track in high school, liked hiking, and had a thing for the outdoors. In 2024, he moved to Idaho, landed his own apartment, and took up work in tree services—just like the rest of his family.
But what set him apart, according to his grandfather, was a deep admiration for firefighters. He didn’t just like them—he wanted to be one. Specifically, he dreamed of joining a forest firefighting crew, heading straight into the flames with a hose in hand and purpose in his heart.
Roley had no criminal record to speak of in Kootenai County. Cops knew who he was—he’d had a few minor run-ins, nothing serious, no arrests. According to his grandfather, he owned a shotgun and a long rifle. Whether those were the weapons he used during the ambush remains under investigation. He wasn’t considered a threat. In fact, family members described him as sociable, not some isolated nutcase stewing in the dark. He stayed in touch with relatives, had friends, and even vacationed in Hawaii with his mother not long before the attack.
Still, cracks in the foundation were there if you looked closely. Roley’s grandfather admitted that the boy could be “nervous,” “high-strung,” and a bit of a loner at times. And though his family painted a picture of a loving home, the court records tell a slightly different story. Back in 2015, Roley’s mother sought a protective order against his father, citing alleged threats and violence. That kind of early instability doesn’t vanish. It tends to burrow deep and fester.
Despite all this, no one close to him saw it coming. There was no beef with local fire crews. No angry manifesto. No past conflict that might explain why he’d suddenly flip from fire chaser to fire starter, luring in the very people he claimed to admire—and gunning them down. The attack blindsided his family as much as it did the community. For a kid who once wanted to run into burning forests to save lives, he died with the blood of his heroes on his hands. And that’s the kind of betrayal that rattles even the toughest among us.
Roley’s Calculated Ambush on Idaho Firefighters
Wess Roley didn’t just snap one day—he planned this attack with chilling precision. On June 29, 2025, he deliberately ignited the fire on Canfield Mountain, just outside Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. This wasn’t some accidental blaze sparked by carelessness. No, this was bait, and Roley was lying in wait. He had armed himself with a high-powered rifle and a shotgun and picked a strategic position in the rugged, wooded terrain. His goal was simple: lure in first responders and open fire before they had a chance to understand what was happening. If that isn’t evil, I don’t know what is.
As firefighters from Coeur d’Alene and Kootenai County rolled in to knock down the flames, Roley waited. About 30 minutes after crews arrived, he launched his ambush. No warning. No chance to respond, and, of course, they weren’t armed. Sheriff Bob Norris later said, “The firefighters did not have a chance.” The attack was fast, brutal, and completely unexpected.
Radio calls from the scene told the story: “Everyone’s shot up here… send law enforcement immediately.”
It was chaos.
Two firefighters were killed almost instantly. A third was critically wounded and rushed into emergency surgery. This wasn’t a shootout—it was a slaughter. Law enforcement swarmed the area, over 300 strong, turning the mountain into a massive tactical operation. They disabled fire engines and removed Roley’s car, making sure he couldn’t escape if he tried to bolt.
Officers eventually tracked him using his cell phone signal and found his body hours later, along with his weapons. The sheriff’s office believes he acted alone. The precise cause of death is still under investigation, but suicide seems to be the obvious cause of death.
What makes this even more disturbing is the warning Roley left on social media before the carnage began. He posted a photo of himself dressed in camouflage wearing a belt of shotgun shells, captioned: “I’m going hunting.” The image was backed by a haunting Björk song—just one more layer of premeditation in a story that already reads like a nightmare.
In short, this was a cold, calculated attack on public servants doing their job. Wess Roley set that fire not to burn land, but to draw in heroes and gun them down. They never stood a chance.
Searching for Motive
The motive behind Roley’s actions remains elusive. Authorities have found no manifesto or clear ideological affiliations. However, his online presence raised concerns. A now-deleted TikTok account attributed to Roley featured disturbing content, including claims of selling organs on the black market and a bio stating, “My Tik is to make fear”. Digital breadcrumbs like this suggest Roley was dealing with some serious inner demons.
When questioned, Roley’s grandfather specifically expressed confusion, saying, “He loved firefighters. It didn’t make sense that he was shooting firefighters. Maybe he got rejected or something,” but this was speculation and not based on any documented incident.
Community in Mourning
The Coeur d’Alene community is reeling from the loss. Governor Brad Little condemned the ambush as an “evil attack on the people who dedicate their lives to protecting and serving our communities” and ordered flags to be flown at half-staff.
Fire Chief Christopher Way expressed profound sorrow, stating, “Our hearts and spirits are broken for the lost and hurting, and for our own loss as well“. Memorials and tributes have been held across the region to honor the fallen heroes.
Reflections on a Tragedy
The ambush on Canfield Mountain is a dark reminder of the unpredictable nature of human violence and the vulnerabilities of those who serve.
As investigators continue to piece together Roley’s motives, the community grapples with grief and seeks solace in unity.
As far as the late Wess Roley goes: You don’t get to call yourself a hunter when your prey is carrying a firehose instead of a gun. What Roley did was an act of pure cowardice wrapped in smoke and madness.
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