Derek Owens Fallen Hero

 

 In my nearly 18 years as a policeman, I’ve been to my share of police funerals. Ten of those years have been spent as a police supervisor and I’ve had one constant prayer. “Please God, don’t let me have to bury one of my own.” This Friday morning, I’ll be doing exactly that. And not just one of my own but one of my very best.

Patrol Officer Derek Owens # 746 with his partner Robert Goines #461 were investigating four males who were drinking in the garage of an abandoned house Friday evening when the men took off running. The officers gave chase and one of the four turned and shot at the officers striking Officer Owens in the abdomen. Both officers returned fire and other officers responded to assist.

Officer Owens was rushed to the hospital in a patrol car and, in keeping true to his good nature, he joked with the officers about their driving while en route. While spirits were high and hopeful early-on, Derek succumbed to his injuries and died shortly after 12:30 Saturday morning.

Although it has been some time since I have been Derek’s supervisor, we still greeted each other nearly every day. From where I sit, at a borrowed desk in the Detective Section, I can see straight down the main hall of the second floor. There, I would see the officers come in from the stairwell and come down the hall, to the locker room, at change of shift. Derek was always on time for duty and always came bouncing (we short people have a tendency to walk tip-toe) toward me with a big smile and a friendly wave. ”Hey L.T.”  I already miss our daily visits. Brief as they were, they were a reminder of better days for me.

I saw a tv show where kids lost a friend to death and were instructed to deal with their grief by writing a letter to the departed. I thought I’d try it myself. You are encouraged to do the same in your comments.

Derek, 

You served with the greatest honor and bravery. I am proud to have been allowed to work with you. I can’t imagine the pain and loss faced by your beautiful children and wife. I hope you know we’re there for them Derek.
On Friday we’ll lay your earthly remains in the ground. You weren’t Irish, but there will be bagpipes playing anyway. I hope you like that; it’s tradition. When you hear the 21 gun salute, know that you earned it Derek. On Friday morning, grown men will cry. Brave men with guns and badges and broken hearts. We will cry. Then Friday afternoon, we’ll make you proud!
In this life you always called me L.T. in defference to my rank. In the next, I hope you’ll call me Mike.