On Good Friday, April 18, the LifePoint Church sanctuary in Daisetta was filled with first responders, family, and friends who gathered to honor the life of Austin Wingate—Batson VFD Firefighter 4122 and Devers VFD Firefighter 7523—a man remembered not only for his service, but for the quiet joy, determination, and deep faith he carried into every part of his life.
The funeral, held on a day marked by sacrifice and remembrance in the Christian faith, offered a poignant reflection of Austin’s own legacy—a life spent helping others, often without fanfare, always with heart.
“Austin didn’t just do this job. It was who he was,” said Kayla Johnson, EMS captain for Batson Volunteer Fire Department. “Even when his health challenged him, he didn’t let it hold him back. He showed up again and again—not for recognition, but because it mattered to him. Because we mattered to him.”
Johnson said there is now a visible emptiness at the fire station and in the hearts of those who served alongside him. But, she added, his presence lingers in every uniform worn, every truck started, every call answered.
“This is not goodbye. This is see you later,” she said. “Rest easy, Firefighter 4122. We’ll miss you always and will carry you with us. We’ll take it from here.”
Former Daisetta Fire Chief Benny Carroll, one of Austin’s closest friends, added to the chorus of laughter with stories only someone who knew Austin well could tell.
“I lost my best friend when Austin died,” Carroll said. “At Madden Football, Austin was supposed to be the prime, number one heavyweight champion of the world. So we put that to the test. He wasn’t all that—but he was pretty good. He gave you a little competition.”
Carroll described how Austin would visit the Devers station, kick back in a leather chair with a Dr. Pepper, and wait for a call from one department or the other.
“He did that for years,” Carroll said with a smile.
He also recalled late-night phone calls from Austin—always eager to share updates about new fire department gear.
“He called me at 2:30 in the morning once to talk about a new truck Batson was getting,” Carroll said. “I told him, ‘Austin, it’s 2 o’clock in the morning. Tell me tomorrow about the new truck.’”
But he just kept on talking.
Batson Fire Capt. Sam Lewis also shared deeply personal memories, revealing how Austin’s faith left a lasting impact not only on the department—but on him, personally.
“Austin had a lot of respect for Rev. Lonnie Jordan, and he invited me to go hear him preach,” Lewis said. “I said, ‘Well, Austin, I have to work.’ And Austin said, ‘Well, that’s not very nice.’”
That simple, humorous moment sparked a transformation.
“Eventually, my dad and I started attending church—and we got baptized,” Lewis said.
The room filled with laughter as Lewis recounted a trip to the Livingston Area Fire School, where he and others attempted to prank Austin during an overnight stay at an old house by pretending it was haunted. Their plan to draw on his face while he slept quickly unraveled when, as they approached, Austin’s eyes popped open—unable to sleep in the creaky old house.
Lewis closed his remarks with a reflection on legacy.
“I can sit up here all day and go over story after story of Austin,” he said. “The memories he made with each and every one of us… the legacy that he leaves—it’s a footprint in our hearts.”
“A legacy,” he added, “is like a birthright or an inheritance. It’s not something we earn or even deserve. It’s something that’s given to us because of what we are to someone else.”
Reflecting on the meaning of Good Friday, Lewis drew a powerful comparison to the disciples’ grief following Christ’s crucifixion—until they discovered that the tomb was empty.
“They were nearly destroyed. But then something incredible happened,” he said. “He had risen.”
Before leading a prayer, Lewis bowed his head and said, “God, we’re here to just honor the life of Austin Wingate. We thank you for every moment—for every ounce of joy that Austin was able to share on this earth. We cherish every moment that we got to spend with him. Touch each and every individual in this house today.”
As the service concluded, Austin’s casket was placed atop a fire truck and carried through a solemn procession to Guedry Cemetery in Batson. The route passed beneath two ladder truck arches draping large U.S flags —a powerful tribute witnessed by members of approximately 20 fire departments who had come to pay their respects.
At the cemetery, firefighters lined the path to his final resting place, forming an honor wall as Austin was laid to rest. His bunker gear and boots were placed atop his casket and buried with him—his final call answered.
The service concluded with a flyover by medical helicopters—one last salute for a young man whose legacy will be felt by many for years to come.
