Back against wall. Head in and hands. Angela runs from kitchen. Mr. Martin, what happened? Dean not answering, not moving. Mr. Martin. Angela drops to her knees. Tell me. Dean lifts his head, face white, eyes empty. Dean Paul, his plane. It’s missing. Angela covers her mouth, hands shaking.
3:00, news channels starting to broadcast. Breaking news. Air Force jet missing over San Bernardino Mountains. Pilot Dean Paul Martin, son of famous singer Dean Martin. Dean sitting at television, not moving. Eyes locked on screen. Helicopter footage. Mountains, snow, forest, search teams. But nothing. No wreckage. No signal. Nothing. 4:00.
Phone rings again. Dean running. Almost falling. Answers. Yes, Mr. Martin. Major Reynolds again. Did you find him? Desperate voice, pleading voice. Not yet, but we found wreckage on the mountain side. Dean hearing the words, but not understanding, brain refusing. Wreckage? Yes, sir. The plane, it crashed into the mountain at high speed.
But my son, where’s Dean Paul? Silence. Very long silence. Mr. Martin, at that speed, chances of survival very low. But you don’t know. Maybe he ejected. Maybe with a parachute. Parachute didn’t deploy, sir. According to radar data, impact was sudden. No reaction time. Dean drops phone. Collapses.
Because he understands. Now he understands. Dean Paul gone. His son gone. Angela comes to him, hugs him. Mr. Martin, maybe he’s alive. No. Dean’s voice dead. He’s gone. My son is gone. 8:00 p.m. Official statement comes. Air Force Captain Dean Paul Martin lost his life today at 1400 hours during a training flight.
He was 35 years old. Dean sitting at television. Here’s announcement, but no reaction. Just sitting, staring, empty stare. Angela crying silently in corner but Dean not crying because he can’t cry can’t feel anything just emptiness huge emptiness next day March 22nd Sunday morning Dean hasn’t slept sat all night hasn’t moved sun rising light coming through window but Dean not seeing phone ringing constantly ringing friends family press everyone calling Angela answering Mr.
Mr. Martin isn’t speaking to anyone. Please understand. Frank Sinatra calls. Angela, I need to see Dean. Mr. Sinatra, he he’s not talking, not moving, just sitting. I’m coming. Coming right now. An hour later, Frank at door. Angela opens. Frank enters, sees Dean in living room. Same spot, same position. Frank approaches, sits next to him, says nothing.
5 minutes silence, 10 minutes, 15 minutes, then Dean speaks. First time speaking, voice whisper broken. Did you know, Frank? What? When Dean Paul wanted to be a pilot, I didn’t want him to. I was scared. I said, “Dangerous. Don’t do it.” He pauses, takes breath, difficult breath. But he insisted, said, “Dad, this is my dream.” And I I let him.
Voice breaking. I gave permission, Frank. I killed him. Frank turns, grabs Dean’s arms. No, you didn’t kill him. The accident killed him. But if I No, Dean Paul made his own choice. You were just a father. A good father. Dean shakes his head. Not good enough because he’s gone and I I can’t bring him back. Silence. Frank hugs. Tight hug.
Two men there crying. 3 days later, March 24th, funeral, Los Angeles National Cemetery, military funeral, full honors. Hundreds of people, family, friends, military personnel, press. But Dean not there. Dean not at ceremony because couldn’t go, couldn’t get up, couldn’t leave house, just stayed home. Looked at his son’s photos. Dean Paul baby.
Dean Paul child. Dean Paul, young man. Dean Paul in pilot uniform. Each photo, a knife, knife stabbing his heart. A week passes, two weeks, 3 weeks. Dean not moving, not eating, not sleeping, not talking, just sitting, staring, staring into space. Friends coming. Dean, go outside. Get air. Take a walk. No answer.
Family coming. His daughters Reachi, Gina, Dana. Dad, please talk to us. Shakes head later. Not now. Manager coming. Dean, shows are canceled, but you can come back. People are waiting. Dean looks long look then speaks. First time speaking clearly. No, I’m never singing again. But Dean, I said no, I’m done. Done with everything.
Manager leaves because he sees in Dean’s eyes. Decision final. won’t change. A month later, April 1987, Dean leaves house first time, gets in car, drives, we’re going Los Angeles Children’s Hospital, hospital he went to every Christmas for 15 years, but didn’t go in 1987 because Dean Paul had died. parks, doesn’t get out, just sits looking at building, remembering those nights, those children, those smiles, but can’t do it anymore because Dean Paul gone and smile gone.
Starts car, goes back home. A year passes, two years, 3 years. Dean never goes on stage, never sings, never goes on television, just stays home, remembers his son. Sammy Davis Jr. dies at funeral. Dean there front row crying but not speaking not singing just sitting because his voice gone. Gone with Dean Paul. December 25th Christmas day.
Dean Martin at home in his bed. 78 years old having trouble breathing. Respiratory failure. Daughters beside him. Reachi holding his hand. Dad, we’re here. We’re with you. Dean opens his eyes looking but not seeing them. Seeing someone else at foot of bed, Dean Paul, 35 years old, in pilot uniform, smiling. Dean smiles.
First time, first time in 8 years. My son, he whispers. You came. Richie looks behind. Nobody there. Dad, who are you talking to? Dean Paul. He’s here waiting for me. Dean reaches out into space to Dean Paul. I’m coming, son. I’m coming. Last breath, long breath, then silence. Dean Martin dies.
Christmas day, the day he saw his son. Funeral, thousands of people. Hollywood there. Music world there. But most important moment, this next to Dean’s casket, Dean Paul’s photo. Two caskets, not side by side, but side by side in hearts. A speaker says Dean Martin died March 21st, 1987, but his heart stopped that day. Eight years later, his body followed because Dean didn’t live without Dean Paul.
Just existed, didn’t sing, didn’t laugh, didn’t entertain, just waited, waited to reunite with his son. And December 25th, 1995, they reunited. Today at Los Angeles National Cemetery, there are two graves. Dean Paul Martin 1951 to 1987. Dean Martin 1917 to 1995. Not side by side but side by side in hearts forever.
Dean Martin lived 78 years but only sang for 70. Because the last 8 years he was just a father. A father who lost his son. And maybe this is life’s most painful truth. Some losses never heal. Dean didn’t heal. never healed. March 21st, 1987. That phone call, that news, that moment, changed everything, changed Dean Martin, silence the music, killed the smile, and eight years later, he joined Dean Paul.
