Surreal that s the only word I can use to describe the feeling of standing in a place where four officers were murdered. Somehow, the coffee shop where four Lakewood, Wash., police officers lived their final moments was simultaneously filled with a chilling cold and an overwhelming warmth. The wall had been repaired, the blood stained floor already replaced and a partition removed. Considering their memorial service had concluded less than 48 hours before, this was nothing short of amazing. Yet, in spite of the changes, I couldn t help but visualize what had taken place in those fateful moments the awful struggle of life and death that had unfolded within that previously peaceful business.
While I was there, two Lakewood officers came by, their first visit to the shop where four coworkers had died. The faces of the officers bore the shell-shocked look of tragedy beyond what any human being should ever have to bear. A sister of one of the officers was there both comforting others and being comforted herself. Hugs were abundant and given without any thought of embarrassment or lack of macho. Business cards were exchanged, and offers: If there s anything I can do I heard this repeatedly.
Somehow, the warmth of the support and camaraderie, the perseverance and human spirit triumphed over the cold of death and loss. Nonetheless, I will never forget the heaviness on my heart as I walked out the employee door of that little shop that had been changed forever. We must never forget, we must always honor, and we must always be ready. Every officer in this country must clearly understand that police work can be a very, very dangerous profession, and a high price is sometimes paid by those who serve. They will be remembered.
