FallenOfficers

This page is dedicated to our Nations fallen officers. They are missed, and will forever be in our hearts.

Somebody killed a policeman today,
and a part of America died.
A piece of our country he swore to protect,
will be buried with him at his side.

The suspect that shot him will stand up in court,
with counsel demanding his rights.
While a young widowed mother must work for her kids,
and spend many long, lonely nights.

The beat that he walked was a battle field too,
just as if he'd gone off to war.
Though the flag of our nation won't fly at half mast,
to his name they will add a gold star.

Yes, somebody killed a policeman today,
in your town or mine.
While we slept in comfort behind our locked doors,
a cop put his life on the line.

Now his ghost walks a beat on a dark city street,
and he stands at each new rookie's side.
He answered the call, of himself gave his all,
and a part of America died.

Please click

for the National Law Enforcements Memorial site.

The policeman stood and faced his God,
Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining.
Just as brightly as his brass.

"Step forward now, policeman.
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To My church have you been true?"

The policeman squared his shoulders and said,
"No, Lord, I guess I ain't,
Because those of us who carry badges
can't always be a saint.

I've had to work most Sundays,
and at times my talk was rough,
and sometimes I've been violent,
Because the streets are awfully tough.

But I never took a penny,
That wasn't mine to keep....
Though I worked a lot of overtime
When the bills got just too steep.

And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God forgive me,
I've wept unmanly tears.

I know I don't deserve a place
Among the people here.
They never wanted me around
Except to calm their fear.

If you've a place for me here,
Lord, It needn't be so grand.
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't.....I'll understand.

There was silence all around the throne
Where the saints had often trod.
As the policeman waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God.

"Step forward now, policeman,
You've borne your burdens well.
Come walk a beat on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in hell."

He starts his shift each day
To respond to calls unknown.
He drives a marked patrol car.
A police officer he is known.

He's paid by the citizens' taxes
To make it safe on the streets.
But he usually has a second job
'Cause a waitress has his salary beat.

Now he doesn't know a holiday
'Cause he works all year round.
And when Thanksgiving and Christmas finally arrive
At his home he cannot be found.

He's cursed and assaulted often,
The one whose blood runs blue.
He seldom ever gets a thanks,
To some he's just a fool.

His friends are always other cops
'Cause people just don't understand
That underneath his badge and gun,
He's just another man.

He knows there might not be a tomorrow
In this world of drugs and crime.
And he gets so mad at the court system
'Cause the crooks don't get any time.

And each day when he leaves for work,
He prays to God above.
Please bring me home after my shift
So I can see the ones I love.

But tonight he stops a speeding car,
He's alone down this ole' highway.
It's just a little traffic infraction.
He does it everyday.

Well, he walks up to the driver's window,
And his badge is shining bright.
He asked the guy for a driver's license,
When a shot rang through the night.

Yes, the bullet hit its mark,
Striking the officer in the chest.
But the Department's budget didn't buy
Each officer a bullet-proof vest.

So he lay on the ground bleeding.
His blood wasn't blue - His blood was red.
And briefly he thought of his loved ones
'Cause in a moment the officer was dead.

In the news they told the story
Of how this officer had died.
And some who listened cared less,
But those who loved him cried.

Well, they buried him in uniform
With his badge pinned on his chest.
He even had his revolver,
He died doing his best.

Used with Special Permission of the Author
Copyright © 1999 - All Rights Reserved
and may not be duplicated without permission

My Job

When squad called my unit I would respond.
Whether it was a stabbing, a shooting, or another dead john.
10-4 I would say I am enroute.
Not knowing the situation or what the call was about.

It was my duty to serve and to protect.
A mentor, a counselor, all I asked for was some respect.
At times I was nervous, even a bit scared.
My adrenaline pumping when our sirens blared.

So many killings to them it's a game.
Kids caught in the middle, a bullet knows no name.
So young, so innocent they had so much left to do.
So forgive me if I cry, because I am human too.

Never once did I take something that was not mine
Not a ten, a twenty, not even a dime.
Always tried to show some respect and kindness.
Because I was proud to be one of Chicago's Finest.

Never did I think when I got this call.
That this would be my last job, my last 5-Paul.
When the shots rang out I didn't feel the round.
Until I heard my partner say "Officer Down".

Now as I lay here trying to be strong.
How could things have gone so wrong.
Not knowing that tomorrow was never on it's way.
The lord had something else in mind, for me that fateful day.

This can't be happening; I'm too young to die.
To my family, my friends, I don't want to say good-bye.
You didn't have to shoot, my life you didn't have to rob.
Because I was just doing what was my job.

By E. DeLeon

I have been where you fear to be,
I have seen what you fear to see,
I have done what you fear to do,
All these things I have done for you.

I am the person you lean upon,
The one you cast your scorn upon,
The one you bring your troubles to,
All these people I've been for you.

The one you ask to stand apart,
The one you feel should have no heart,
The one you call "The Officer in Blue,"
But I'm just a person, just like you.

And through the years I've come to see,
That I am not always what you ask of me;
So, take this badge ... take this gun ...
Will you take it ... will anyone?

And when you watch a person die
And hear a battered baby cry,
Then do you think that you can be
All these things you ask of me?

First he takes the oath.
Now look at all he takes -
He takes it in stride when people call him pig.
He takes time to stop and talk to children.
He takes your verbal abuse while giving you a ticket you really deserve.
He takes on creeps you would be afraid to even look at.
He takes time away from his family to keep you safe.
He takes your injured children to the hospital.
He takes the graveyard shift without complaint because it's his turn.
He takes his life into his hands daily.
He takes you home when your car breaks down.
He takes time to explain why both you headlights have to work.
He takes the job no one else wants - telling you a loved one has died.
He takes criminals to jail.
He takes in sights that would make you cry.
Sometimes he cries too, but He takes it anyway because someone has to.
If he is lucky, He takes retirement.
He takes memories to bed each night that you couldn't bear for even one day.
Sometimes, He Takes a bullet.
And, yes, occasionally he may take a free cup of coffee.
Then one day he pays for all he has taken,
and God takes him.

I never dreamed it would be me
My name for all eternity
Recorded here at this hallowed place
Alas, my name, no more my face

"In the line of duty" I hear them say
My family now the price will pay
My folded flag stained with their tears
We only had those few short years

The badge no longer on my chest
I sleep now in eternal rest
My sword I pass to those behind
And pray they keep this thought in mind

I never dreamed it would be me
And with heavy heart and bended knee
I ask for all here from the past
Dear God, let my name be the last

When the Lord was creating peace officers, he was into his sixth day of overtime when an angel appeared and said, "You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one."

And the Lord said, "Have you read the spec on this order? A peace officer has to be able to run five miles through alleys in the dark, scale walls, enter homes the health inspector wouldn't touch, and not wrinkle his uniform.

"He has to be able to sit in an undercover car all day on a stakeout, cover a homicide scene that night, canvass the neighborhood for witnesses, and testify in court the next day.

"He has to be in top physical condition at all times, running on black coffee and half-eaten meals. And he has to have six pairs of hands."

"It's not the hands that are causing me problems," said the Lord, "it's the three pairs of eyes an officer has to have."

The Lord nodded. One pair that sees through a bulge in a pocket before he asks, "May I see what's in there, sir?" (When he already knows and wishes he'd taken that accounting job.) "Another pair here in the side of his head for his partners' safety. And another pair of eyes here in front that can look reassuringly at a bleeding victim and say, 'You'll be all right ma'am, when he knows it isn't so."

"Lord," said the angel, touching his sleeve, "rest and work on this tomorrow."

"I can't," said the Lord, "I already have a model that can talk a 250 pound drunk into a patrol car without incident and feed a family of five on a civil service paycheck."

The angel circled the model of the peace officer very slowly, "Can it think?" she asked.

"You bet," said the Lord. "It can tell you the elements of a hundred crimes; recite Miranda warnings in its sleep; detain, investigate, search, and arrest a gang member on the street in less time than it takes five learned judges to debate the legality of the stop... and still it keeps its sense of humor.

This officer also has phenomenal personal control. He can deal with crime scenes painted in hell, coax a confession from a child abuser, comfort a murder victim's family, and then read in the daily paper how law enforcement isn't sensitive to the rights of criminal suspects."

Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek of the peace officer. "There's a leak," she pronounced. "I told you that you were trying to put too much into this model."

"It's for bottled-up emotions, for fallen comrades, for commitment to that funny piece of cloth called the American flag, for justice."