Former Coeur d'Alene police officer, with wife at his side, rebuilds life after near-fatal shooting

To celebrate his 55th birthday last week, Mike Kralicek went golfing for the first time in years.

One-handed. 

“We wanted to try the practice area to see if I could do it,” he said. 

He could. And did.

That Kralicek was able to hit a few shots is in some minds a miracle. In Mike’s, it’s what he’s come to expect of himself. 

“I used to golf righthanded, but now, only my lefthand works,” he said. 

A bearded Kralicek was in good spirits as he and his wife, Carrie, sat down for an interview Thursday at the Kroc Center. 

“I have good days and bad days,” he said. “Right now, I’m doing pretty good.” 

The former Coeur d’Alene police officer celebrated his birthday again Saturday. He’s not wild about birthday parties, but if that’s what friends want to do, perhaps barbecue, then he’s game. 

“It’s just another day,” he said. 

Carrie’s birthday, by the way, is this week.  

“For 10 days we’re the same age,” Mike said, laughing. 

The Kraliceks look young for their age and are young at heart. The conversation between them is easy and relaxed. They joke and glance at each other often.

Carrie recounts a story from a few years ago while they were at the airport. A woman asked, “Do you need any help with your son?” 

“He's always looked young,” Carrie said, shaking her head. “Next time, it’s going to be, ‘Do you need help with your grandson?'” 

That the two are sitting there, among kids and adults coming and going, was a testimony to how far Mike has come since he nearly died almost 20 years ago. 

“I try to blend in,” Mike said with a grin. 

He was a 35-year-old Coeur d’Alene police officer Dec. 28, 2004, when he was shot at close range after responding to a call. The bullet struck him in the right cheek, caused catastrophic injuries and left him permanently disabled. 

For a time, he was in a coma. 

Over the years, gradually, he regained the ability to talk. To walk. To use his left arm.  

The Kraliceks moved to Coos Bay, Ore., to be near his family and where Mike was born and raised. They returned to Coeur d’Alene in 2018 where they live today. 

For about a decade, he and Carrie were motivational speakers, retiring in 2017.

“I'm glad the community has supported me the way they did the last 20 years. I appreciate that," Mike said.

“We have a good community here,” Carrie said. 

Mike, who served four years in the Air Force, was 31 when he became a police officer in Oregon. He loved it from day one. He loved protecting people, making the world a safer place. 

“I liked finding out what people needed and what I could do to help,” he said. 

Mike, a hunter, still likes to get out in the woods, now more for the fresh air, peace and wildlife. 

He’s creative. He likes to look at what they say can’t be done, what hasn’t been done, and figure out a way to do it.  

"I’m hoping to make the public safer through inventions rather than being a cop,” he said. “It’s always in my head. What works. What doesn’t. See it. Try it."

Pretty much the way he recovered after being shot. 

“I like to invent things,” he said. “I love coming up with solutions.” 

Not that he can fix everything.

Today, he can’t use his right arm. 

“Basically useless,” he said. 

He is legally blind in his right eye.  

“I have to make sure everything stays on the left,” he said. 

He walks slowly, with a limp, Carrie at his side.

“I trip over things easily. My balance is a little off,” he said.  

Mornings are tough. 

“It takes a while to get going,” he said. 

Yet, he is positive. Hopeful. Not always, of course, but he doesn't give in to what happened or what could have been. He sees a better way.

How does he do it? 

“I don’t know if I have an answer to that one,” Mike said 

Carrie does. 

She uses the word “determination” to describe her husband.

She said his mindset has been one to "do something. Challenge yourself. Find out what you can do with what you don’t have."

While most wouldn’t know it, Mike is stronger than he was a year ago. He stands taller. He tries new things and opens pathways in his brain, Carrie said. It keeps him moving forward. 

He’s taken up painting. He helps around the house. He cooks.

“I would say he’s very optimistic. He wants to help other people,” Carrie said. “He puts other people first. Mike is more of a humanitarian.” 

Mike listens, then says, “What are you going to do?" 

The Kraliceks met when they were in their early 20s and have been married for 31 years. They have two children. 

From the start, they were best friends after meeting when they were in the Air Force. 

If there was an opportunity for adventure, they took it. 

“We did everything together,” Carrie said. 

Years after the shooting, they faced difficult times. Physical. Financial. Emotional. But they stuck together with love and humor.

Carrie believes in her husband. In fact, she calls him out. 

He was the state secretary for the Fraternal Order of Police for two years before recently resigning. Much of that job was managing finances. 

It was about then she had a thought: This is the guy who’s been saying for 12 years he can’t help with the checking account. 

“You can do it. You’re caught. I don’t want to talk to you right now,” she recalled telling him.

“He does get out of doing dishes,” she added, laughing.

They find amusement amid the stumbles.

“There's some days that are horrible, especially when he slips and falls, and I can’t catch him,” Carrie said. “I keep telling him, ‘I am not 35 or 36 years old anymore. You’ve got to stop falling.'” 

The Kraliceks still get requests to speak. Some they accept and have done about five engagements this year. Carrie said it’s best when they can share their story, take their time and be vulnerable. 

“So other people can get insight on how to not hold it all in," she said.

Mike said he spoke to a logging organization, and many were down about the future of their profession. Mike’s marching orders: Cheer them up. 

He did. 

“It’ll come around,” he told them. “Keep doing what you can.” 

Mike Kralicek should know.