They gathered at Shepherd of the Valley Lutheran Church on Friday morning at half past nine. From every corner of the state they came, a slow, solemn procession of men and women, there to pay tribute to one of their own.
There to stand for Phoenix Officer Jason Wolfe.
I wasn't there. The family asked that people in my profession stay away, that we give them some privacy as they bury a husband and father, a son, a grandson, a brother.
It is not so much to ask when you consider what they've given us. And so I didn't go to the funeral of Officer Wolfe.
Instead I went early Friday to a deserted spot at the Capitol. To the Arizona Peace Officers Memorial.
Here, at the bronzed feet of an old Western lawman are the names. Rows and rows of names. A long, proud roll call of courage and dedication to duty that reaches into three centuries.
There is Corney Sage of the Yuma County Sheriff's Office, killed in 1865, and U.S. Marshal George Leihy, killed in 1866, and Cochise County Deputy Sheriff Chauncey Ainsworth, shot to death by cattle rustlers in 1899.
There is Wickenburg Officer Clarence Dotson, killed in 1945, and DPS Officer James Keeton, killed in 1971, and Phoenix Officers Ignacio Conchos and John Davis, killed in 1982 after a barroom shootout with a bank robber.
There is Ak-Chin Officer Milton Anton, killed in 1983, and Phoenix Officer Ken Collings, killed in 1988, and Chandler Officer James Snedigar, killed in 1999 as he led a SWAT team into an apartment where a robbery suspect was waiting with an assault rifle and armor-piercing bullets.
Two hundred and sixty-two names in all, with two more to add.
It was a little before 11 Friday morning when you could see them coming in the distance, lights flashing as they made their way east on Glendale Avenue. An unending string of red and blue, glinting like rubies and sapphires in the hot September sun.
First came the motorcycles, two by two, 190 in all. Then, the hearse and the limousines carrying family. The police cruisers followed. From Phoenix and Show Low, they came. From Flagstaff and Tucson and too many places to count. For 25 minutes they came, a stunning, silent show of force.
"You take them for granted," said Julie McGandy of Scottsdale, who came with her husband, Mike, to watch them pass by.
You do take them for granted until you go through a week such as this, with five officers shot and two dead.
It is painful to stand there and watch them stream by. But inspiring, too, that there are still people such as these. Officers who every day get up and put on a uniform knowing that they may not live to take if off. And yet do it anyway.
They are a special breed, these men and women who walk the streets to keep the peace and sometimes die.
It's easy for people like me to criticize. We sometimes write about bad cops who lie or steal or worse. But the truth is, almost all of the people who carry a badge are the good guys. Guys like Officer Jason Wolfe and Officer Eric White.
That's why I didn't go to the funeral yesterday and why I won't today. The best way to honor these officers, I decided, is to honor the wishes of those who loved them.
Besides, I don't need to see the grief of a young widow to feel some small measure of her sorrow. I don't need to see their young children to know the price, the unbearably high price, they paid.
But I do need to say simply this:
I'm grateful.
Officer Name: Jason Wolfe
Officer City: Phoenix PD, Phoenix, AZ
End of Watch: 9/04
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