The Army man solemnly knocked on the door, and when that happens the news isn't good.

Liz Sweet and her daughters were bustling about the kitchen when they heard the rap-rap-rapping, happily unaware of who stood on the other side. It was 1 p.m. Thanksgiving Day. They were busy finishing the dinner preparations. Life was good.

And now who could this be?

They can't remember the officer's name, just the news he delivered. The bombshell.

He fought hard to find the words.

"Your son has been killed," he finally managed.

And just like that, T.J. was gone.

Sgt. Thomas John Sweet II, of Bismarck, died in Iraq on Thanksgiving Day.

His mother and sisters listened to those words for the first time in their living room and reality somehow became unreal. T.J. was dead? No. No!

The mashed potatoes grew cold and were forgotten.

Sweet died in his barracks that morning in Camp Junction City, from a gunshot wound to the head. Evidently, it came from his own weapon, was the report. The official term was "negligent discharge."

The Army, as of Tuesday, still didn't know if it had gone off while Sweet cleaned it, if there was some kind of malfunction or if it was suicide.

Liz Sweet ruled out suicide.

She moved from Bismarck to a Washington, D.C., suburb for a job with the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. She works regularly with clients who think about taking their lives, she said. In the last letter she received from her son, on Nov. 14, he was upbeat, asking about his car and his computer. He wanted them to send him some beef jerky, Kool-Aid and a 20-inch gray shoelace for his boot.

"That's not a message … from a despondent, distraught person who is thinking about ending their own life," Liz Sweet said. "He was very future-looking. There were specific things he was planning."

And, she said, her son had just received some good news. He was being promoted to sergeant. He would have received his stripes that Saturday.

That was a very important goal for the 23-year-old, who had been stationed at Fort Riley, Kan., prior to going to Iraq on Sept. 8.

Sweet, an intensely curious man who loved to read and watch Japanese animation, joined the Army for a number of reasons. Three of them stood out to his mother.

He wanted to outrank his father, Thomas, a Vietnam veteran who had made it to specialist. He also wanted one more marksmanship badge than his dad had received.

He accomplished both.

The third reason was Sweet wanted to learn about explosives for a career after the Army. He wanted to work on a construction crew that imploded buildings.

"His favorite holiday was the Fourth of July," his mother said.

Sweet, who graduated from Bismarck High in 1999, was a member of the 1st Battalion, 5th Field Artillery, 1st Brigade of the 1st Infantry Division. A soldier who served alongside him in Iraq remembered Sweet well.

"He was a good guy, quiet, he worked pretty hard," Sgt. Dennis Robinson, 22, said. "He would make jokes about the hard times, everyday stress. He would make it fun."

Liz Sweet remembers her son's sense of humor. She also remembers his compassion.

One day a few years ago, she went to the south Wendy's in Bismarck for lunch with T.J. and daughter, Laure. It was just them, the employees and an elderly woman, who sat by herself. Before she ordered, the woman went to the restroom. When she came out and went up to the service counter - in Liz Sweet's line of sight but not her son's - she had toilet paper hanging out the back of her pants.

Sweet and her daughter cracked up. They couldn't help themselves. You know how it is. T.J. asked what was so funny. At this point, mom and daughter were in tears. They told T.J. what they were laughing about. He felt bad for the woman and asked his mom to tell her about the toilet paper. She tried, but couldn't. It was too funny.

He got up, went over to her at the drink-filling station and whispered that she had toilet paper hanging out of her pants. She felt around, gasped, and pulled it out. She thanked him and said she was so embarrassed. Sweet returned to his seat.

"I was so proud of him," Liz Sweet said. "I loved him dearly for his compassion. He definitely won't be nominated for sainthood, but he was a compassionate, loving person."

Sweet's body is at Dover Air Force Base in Delaware, and will remain there while the Army investigates his death. It should be another day or two, Liz Sweet said. The funeral is tentatively set for Saturday at Cathedral of the Holy Spirit, in Bismarck. Sweet will be buried at the state Veterans Cemetery in Mandan.

A scholarship fund is being set up in his memory, which would support high school students with learning challenges who desire to attain a higher education.

(Reach Tony Spilde at 250-8260 or tspilde@ndonline.com.)