P.J. Farrell had a lot to look forward to on Christmas morning. Getting home, waking up his kids, seeing the excitement wash away the tired in their eyes, and watching as they opened up the tightly wrapped presents underneath the family tree. But instead, at about 5 a.m. as he was finishing up his shift as a part-time newspaper courier for The Spokesman-Review, he got a phone call from his wife, Melinda: The house is on fire, come home now.