We parked six blocks away from St. Bede’s and followed the others; walking in our small groups of two’s and three’s. As we got closer to the Church something odd happened that I think I only noticed because so many people were in uniform: the small, separate groups all merged slowly forming larger bunches of ten or twelve people.
The Officers wore the dress blue uniforms with formal hat and white gloves. The black mourning band was draped across almost every star.
In the parking lot across the street from St. Bede’s the Officers all gathered and waited for the arrival of Officer Valadez’ body.
At first, I didn’t know what they were doing because from behind it was just a massive wall of blue.
Santos went into the group and we agreed to meet after the service. I walked towards the Church and that’s when I saw the Honor Guard standing in the middle of the street. Perpendicular to them was another line of Officers standing in formation in front of the Church holding the flags from the districts hit hardest by Ofc. Valadez’ death: 7th and 10th.
Standing in front of the Church, I realized that the Officers I left in the parking lot weren’t just standing around — they were standing shoulder to shoulder in a semi-defined formation. They were ominous to see – all wearing dark blue uniforms, white gloves, dark glasses on stern faces.
The choir, in stark contrast, sung beautifully and their music was broadcast over speakers outside the church. The songs helped soothe the heavy, somber feeling that settled in the air above St. Bede’s.
A little girl stood on the corner holding up a poster that thanked the Officers for their work. I overheard a Lieutenant say, “Thank you” to the girl’s father who stood proudly by her side.
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I was inside the church when Ofc. Valadez’ body arrived. The music had stopped. Everyone in the congregation turned towards the main entrance and I felt my insides turn grey. The silence was vast and somewhere in that emptiness… the mother of the fallen officer let out a cry that struck everyone in the heart. It was the howl that can only come from a mother standing over her dead child.
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Fast forward through a typical Catholic service – after the readings, the gospel, the Superintendant, the Mayor, and the Governor… the partner of the fallen officer shared his thoughts about the death of his friend.
I need to point out that Ofc. Vargas struck me as being an incredibly young man. Maybe I’m feeling a little old these days but if you look around at the police officers in this city you’ll see quite a few of them who seem very youthful. Ofc. Valadez was only 27 when he died and apparently he and his partner were constantly being mistaken for each other.
Ofc. Vargas did an amazing job of sharing memories of his slain partner. He had the whole congregation choking back tears… unsuccessfully. He had us chuckling at Ofc. Valadez’ jokes on the job and smiling at some of the once-private thoughts Valadez had about his family members (esp. his sisters).
Ofc. Vargas was incredibly gracious to let us into the private world that’s created between two officers during their tour. He brought all of us closer to the man that is now in the casket.
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There’s nothing more solemn than a Church full of Cops – they packed the pews and lined the walls. Heaven help the next person who threatens one of their own.
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Quite a few people asked if we knew Ofc. Valadez and I had to ask Santos if it was strange that I was going to the funeral of someone I didn’t know personally. He reassured me that it wasn’t odd at all.
So why was I going? I wondered that all day and didn’t realize it until evening.
Officers and their family members always know there’s a chance they may not come back from their tours safely. It’s a feeling we’ve gotten used to and it’s a thought that’s always on the back burner… simmering quietly.
It’s a feeling that makes spending time together a little more precious. It makes sharing a joke and a laugh a little sweeter. It makes me think twice before starting a petty argument with my brother and it’s why I’ve gotten great at not saying things I know I’ll regret. Because of this feeling, I won’t hesitate to go with Santos on a trip to the Philippines or Hong Kong or Boston or New York or even Buffalo Joe’s in Evanston.
We both know (we all know) that tomorrow is never guaranteed.
I may not have personally known Ofc. Valadez or his family but I know all to well the hopes & fears the Valadez family had for Alejandro. I know how proud they are of him.
Our Police Officers have chosen to do a very dangerous job and when one of them goes down, the entire CPD community feels the fall.
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CPD Ofc. Alejandro “Alex” Valadez, Star #9534… End of Watch June 1, 2009…
Thank you for everything and I hope you rest in Peace.
Well written.