Eulogy for Police Officer Rafael Ramos Every  time  I  attend  a  cop’s  funeral,  I  pray  that  it  will  be  the  last. But  I  know  it  won’t. As  I  watch  the  casket  carried  past  all  those  salutes,  I  wish  it  weren’t  real. But it is. And as I look into the faces of the loved ones left behind—whose worst fear has been so suddenly realized—I  silently  hope,  “never  again.” But here we are. My first police funeral was forty-four years ago. On September 24, 1970, Boston Police Department Patrolman Walter Schroeder was ambushed by a violent group of anti-war extremists, shot in the back as he responded to a bank holdup. In 1970, Boston, like America, was a tumultuous place: – protests for civil rights – anti-war demonstrations – anti-government demonstrations – anti-police demonstrations Divisive politics polarized the city and the country. Maybe that sounds familiar. The murder of Officer Schroeder shook the foundations of City Hall and the Boston Police Department. It sowed doubt and fear among officers and citizens alike. We mourned, we vowed never to forget, and we moved forward. Page 1 of 6 Police Commissioner William J. Bratton Eulogy for Police Officer Rafael Ramos And here we are. Here we are to celebrate the life of Police Officer Rafael Ramos, and to honor him. To memorialize the sacrifice he made with his partner that day—with his partner for all time— Officer Wenjian Liu. Here we are to remember. We  remember  what  it  means  to  take  “the  Job.” No other profession will give you as much, or sometimes, take as much. The Job can reward you like no other, but one day it might demand from you everything in return. For the Ramos family, today is that day. And here we are. We’re  in  a  city struggling to define itself, where people are searching for what they stand for and why, where people claim to know  best  what  it’s  like  to  be  everybody  else. But WE know who we are, because we know who Rafael Ramos was. He was a father, a son, a brother, and a husband. He was a New Yorker. He was a New York City Police Officer. And he was—he is—a hero. His sister, Sindy, told me that because his dad died when he was an infant, he took on the father-figure role for the family as he grew. Cops who served with him said you could see that in the way he worked. Justin, Jayden—you got the chance to know your dad, the way  he  didn’t  get  to  know  his. You got to learn from him, the way he taught others. Page 2 of 6 Police Commissioner William J. Bratton Eulogy for Police Officer Rafael Ramos Your aunt said your dad knew a little bit of everything, and he was willing to let you know it. Your mom said he was the type of man who, if he set his mind on something, he went for it and did it. Other cops said the same thing: he came on the Job older, a family man, street smart. He knew how to handle people, and the younger guys looked up to him. He never shirked a task and he never complained. You should be so proud of him, as we all are. But  over  the  last  week,  you’ve  seen  that  the  memorials  and  this  funeral  have  been  about  more   than just your dad. I  know  how  strange  it  is… So comforting on the one hand, to have the whole Department in mourning with you, to feel that solidarity, to know that we will never let you be alone again, that we are YOUR family now, just  as  we  were  your  dad’s. But a burden, too, having something so private for you be so public at the same time. Because here we are. We’re  here  because your dad was assassinated. That’s  a  different  word  than  murdered,  which  is  awful  enough. It speaks of the prominence of the person killed; it makes the crime intentional and symbolic. Your dad was assassinated because he represented something—and that’s  true,  he  did. He represented the men and women of the New York City Police Department. He was the embodiment of our motto: “fidelis  ad  mortem,” “faithful  unto  death.” He represented the blue thread that holds our city together when disorder might pull it apart. Page 3 of 6 Police Commissioner William J. Bratton Eulogy for Police Officer Rafael Ramos He represented the public safety that is the foundation of our democracy. He represented the best of our values—as anyone can see by looking at you, and at your family. But he was also your dad. A good man, who tried hard, and sacrificed, and had a desire to serve. When DHL closed one employment door, that desire led him to a new door with our School Safety Division—where he was assigned to the Rocco Laurie Intermediate School, named for another officer slain with his partner, Gregory Foster, nearly 43 years ago. Like Rafael Ramos and Wenjian Liu, these officers were killed for their color—they were killed because they were blue. And that desire to serve led him to enter the Police Academy at 37 years of age. Your    mom  said  he’d  come  home pretty tired, competing with all those younger recruits. But he passed with flying colors, wearing the gold braid for being in the top of his class. No small feat. And that desire to serve led him to study to be a chaplain. And  I’m  privileged  to  be able  to  tell  you  that  today  I’m  making  him  a  Department  chaplain—a posthumous member of that family within our family, that ministers to us in time of need. Rafael Ramos was assassinated because he represented all of us. Even though, beneath the uniform, he was just a good man. And he was just your dad. And  maybe  that’s  our  challenge… Maybe  that’s  the  reason for  the  struggle  we’re  now  in—as  a  city,  as  a  nation… Maybe  it’s  because  we’ve  ALL  come  to  see  only  what  we  represent,  instead  of  who  we  are. Page 4 of 6 Police Commissioner William J. Bratton Eulogy for Police Officer Rafael Ramos We  don’t  SEE  each  other. The police, the people who are angry at the police, the people who support us but want us to be better, even a madman who assassinated two men because all he could see was two uniforms, even though they were so much more. We  don’t  SEE  each  other. If  we  can… If we  can  learn  to  SEE  each  other…  to see that our cops are people like Rafael Ramos and Wenjian Liu, to see that our communities are filled with  people  just  like  them  too… If we can learn to SEE each other, then WHEN we  see  each  other,  we’ll  heal. We’ll  heal  as  a  Department. We’ll  heal  as  a  city. We’ll  heal  as  a  country. But as Ecclesiastes teaches, there is a time to every purpose under the Heavens. Today, it is time for us to mourn Rafael Ramos. Today, it is time for us to remember Rafael Ramos. And  in  a  few  days,  we’ll  be  here  again,  in  a  different  place  that  is  the  same,  to  celebrate  the  life of Officer Wenjian Liu. That will be a time for sadness, too. But someday the tears will end. The memories will not. We never have and we never will forget. Last  Sunday  at  Saint  Patrick’s,  Cardinal  Dolan  spoke  to  the  police. Page 5 of 6 Police Commissioner William J. Bratton Eulogy for Police Officer Rafael Ramos His cathedral thundered with prayer, he said. And  he  asked  me  to  tell  my  officers  “we  love  them  very  much,  we  mourn  with  them,  we  need   them,  we  respect  them  and  we’re  proud  of  them  and  we  thank  them.” I’m  proud  of  them,  too. And prouder of none more than Police Officers Wenjian Liu and Rafael Ramos, both of whom I promote today to Detective First Grade. Please let us rise and applaud the lives of Detective First Grade Rafael Ramos and Detective First Grade Wenjian Liu, so they can hear us in heaven. Maritza, Justin, Jayden, Julia, Sindy: here we are, today, surrounded by a sea of blue. Our  family  will  always  be  with  yours.  We  don’t  forget. WE. ARE. HERE. For you, and for this city. God bless the New York City Police Department. And God bless you, and God bless Rafael. In life he guarded the streets of this city; in death, he guards the heavenly gates. Grant him rest. Grant him peace. *END* Page 6 of 6 Police Commissioner William J. Bratton