A Story From MercyOne
A few weeks into the semester in September, I was driving home from class when I passed a Des Moines Police patrol car with a familiar face behind the wheel. I immediately recognized none other than DMPD legend Vinnie Quang, someone I had the privilege of working alongside a few years ago during one of the more difficult chapters of my life.
Naturally, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to say hello. When we met at a stoplight, I motioned for him to roll down his window and called out, “Well, if it isn’t the man, the myth, the legend!”
It was a brief interaction, but one that brought back so many memories – I had no idea it would be the last time I’d see him.
Vinnie meant so much to so many people throughout the Des Moines community. To some, he was a familiar face in uniform. To others, he was a friend, a colleague, or someone they could count on when they needed help. To me, he was someone who showed me what it meant to take another person’s safety and dignity seriously, even when that person was a complete stranger.
I first met Vinnie while working as a medical screener at MercyOne during the COVID-19 pandemic. It was a difficult time for everyone, especially in hospitals. Families were separated from loved ones, visitors were frustrated by restrictions, and emotions often ran high. My coworkers and I were responsible for checking temperatures, providing masks, and enforcing hospital policies that we had no part in creating.
Most people understood that we were simply doing our jobs. Others weren’t so understanding.
I remember one particular incident when an uncooperative individual became increasingly aggressive toward a coworker and me. What began as frustration over hospital policies escalated into a threat against our lives.
The person told us they would kill us.
I was only 23 years old at the time. I had recently left college and was trying to figure out what came next. I was going to therapy, working on my mental health, and doing my best to find some sense of purpose in an uncertain chapter of my life. Working at the hospital was one small way I felt I could contribute something positive to the world, even when I was struggling to find my own footing.
When the threat happened, part of me wanted to brush it off. I told myself the person was probably just angry, that people said things they didn’t mean, and that it wasn’t worth making a big deal over.
But Vinnie didn’t see it that way.
When security was called and Vinnie became involved, he took what happened seriously. He didn’t dismiss the threat as just another frustrated person having a bad day. He recognized that two people who had simply shown up to work deserved to feel safe while doing their jobs.
And he made sure the person responsible was held accountable.
The incident ultimately led to charges being pressed against the individual who threatened us. What I had initially wanted to dismiss as just another difficult day at work, Vinnie recognized as something that mattered.
I don’t think he ever realized how much that meant to me.
At 23, I was still learning how to stand up for myself. I was learning that my voice mattered, that my safety mattered, and that I didn’t have to minimize something frightening just because someone else might think I was overreacting.
Vinnie reminded me of that through his actions.
I’ve thought about that experience many times over the years, not because of the person who threatened us, but because of the person who stepped in and made us feel protected.
That’s what I’ll remember most about Vinnie. Not just the uniform he wore or the badge he carried, but the way he treated people. He understood that serving a community meant more than responding to emergencies. Sometimes it meant recognizing when someone needed to be taken seriously, standing up for them when they weren’t quite sure how to stand up for themselves, and making sure they knew they weren’t alone.
Years later, when I saw him at that stoplight, I was no longer the 23-year-old trying to figure out her place in the world. I had returned to college, was working toward finishing my degree, and had experienced so much life in between. Yet there he was, the same familiar face I remembered from those long days at MercyOne.
I wish I had known that would be our last interaction. I would have kept that window-down conversation going a little longer. I would have thanked him for what he did for my coworker and me all those years ago. I would have told him that the kindness and care he showed us had stayed with me long after we stopped working together.
But perhaps that’s one of the hardest things about losing someone unexpectedly. We don’t always realize that an ordinary moment will become a memory we wish we could return to.
My heart goes out to Vinnie’s family, friends, fellow officers, and everyone whose life was made better simply by knowing him.
I know my experience is just one of countless stories about the person Vinnie was. And I hope that, as people share their memories of him, his family can find some comfort in knowing how deeply he was respected, appreciated, and loved.
Vinnie, thank you for looking out for two hospital workers during a time when the world felt especially uncertain. Thank you for reminding me that kindness and accountability can go hand in hand. And thank you for the years you dedicated to serving a community that will undoubtedly feel your absence.
I’ll forever be grateful that, a few months ago, life gave me one more chance to roll down my window and say hello to the man, the myth, the legend.
Rest easy, Vinnie. You made a difference in more lives than you probably ever knew.
Victoria P.