As people began gathering along Main Street to wait for the funeral procession of Lexington police Officer Bryan J. Durman to pass, I asked why they were there.
The answer was always the same: "I just wanted to pay my respects."
That's why Brad Morris was there, too, along with his wife, Jessica, and their daughters, Grace, 3, and Lucy, 1. But their reason for being there was more personal than most.
Morris had met Durman, 27, the morning of the night he was killed by a hit-and-run driver while investigating a noise complaint on North Limestone.
"We met at the barbershop," Morris said. "I got a haircut in the chair beside him, and 10 hours later he was dead."
A Lexington firefighter for 11 years, Morris knows all too well the ever-present dangers faced by uniformed public safety workers.
Morris was driving an ambulance on Feb. 13, 2004, when he and other firefighters responded to a domestic violence call on Adams Lane in rural southeast Fayette County. A deranged gunman opened fire on them. When the shooting stopped, firefighter Brenda Cowan was dead. Morris took cover behind the ambulance until police officers could escort him to safety.
Officer Durman's procession covered a path 25 miles long, bringing the cortege around Man O' War, down Richmond Road/Main Street past the main police station and the memorials for fallen police and firefighters, and then back down Harrodsburg Road to be buried. All in all, that meant going through over 100 intersections and covering over a quarter of the city along main roads. About 2,000 attended the funeral; 600-1000 vehicles from all over Kentucky and beyond crept along the road, the entire passage taking about forty minutes from beginning to end for an observer at the side. It began shortly before 2 pm and lasted until until 3:30.
I was there. I originally intended to watch from the front lawn of the hospital, but decided I should take an earlier bus to my next job (down Richmond Road) so as not to be caught in the traffic. I had just arrived at the parking lot of the gas station when I heard the first siren. A man near me had brought a large flag to hold during the procession. We lined up along the sidewalk someberly at attention as the first vehicles began.
There were many of them--hundreds, from all over, from cities and counties I recognised and those I did not. But I teared up when the Lexington contingent came by, and by the time the hearse arrived I was crying openly. One of the state trooper cars drove by and I heard my name. One of the officers I see regularly at the store had called to me. I saw the widow as they went by (her son was apparently sick and could not attend the funeral). After the family had passed, I went back up the hill because it was almost time for work. The bus I had been in was still stuck on the other side of Man O'War. I just barely made it. But I'm glad I was able to pay my respects. Later, an officer and his girlfriend or wife, who was still dressed for the funeral, came in. I said I knew it had been a very long day and was very gentle with them. It was so important to honour this young man, but I'm sure it took a toll on those who did.
He was also an Air Force Veteran and was buried with military honours. But the last call from the police radio that they play in one of the videos below choked me up even more than 'Taps' or a gun salute.
The only mar to the thing was that one of the cars across the road which was stopped in traffic was playing its bass a little too loudly. I think they really should have either turned the music down or off out of respect, especially as Officer Durman was killed during a routine noise complaint.
Here's some video about today:
The funeral
During the procession
After the procession
After the burial
Officer Bryan Durman, please rest in peace. And to other officers, like Grace, who called to me, or to my neighbour, let me just say that we appreciate what you do and your willingness to sacrifice so much in order to serve and protect. And you are very much in my thoughts tonight.
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