2 weeks Ago
ST. JOSEPH — I was standing on the sidewalk outside my home, watching the procession slowly drive by. I was joined by dozens of my neighbors — adults and children — standing quiet and still in the unseasonably warm sunshine on a late October afternoon.
First came the motorcycles. Maybe a hundred or more. I didn’t count.
I was too focused on noticing that these two-wheeled machines were from dozens of different police departments from all over Illinois and beyond. Each motorcycle was sparkling clean and shiny, and the riders all wore dark leather jackets adorned with badges of different shapes and sizes. I couldn’t see their eyes because they all wore sunglasses and they never moved their heads as they rode past me, each officer staring straight ahead like soldiers on a parade ground.
The only sound that could be heard was the roar of the motorcycle engines. The motorcycles were followed by 150 police cars (I counted) from law-enforcement agencies throughout Illinois and the United States. I saw squad cars from New York City, Chicago, Milwaukee and Terre Haute, Ind.
, and many municipalities in between. They each had red and blue lights flashing, but were otherwise silent. Each car was driven by an officer in uniform who, like the motorcycle riders, stared straight ahead, never bothering to look at the crowd standing on the sidewalk, probably because they were lost in their own thoughts about Trooper Corey Thompsen, a motorcycle officer with the Illinois State Police who tragically lost his life while on duty when a truck crashed into him.
Or maybe I didn’t notice any movement because there was something making my eyes water. After the 150 squad cars had passed, there was a delay of about 10 minutes before an even larger display of police vehicles appeared on my street. These squad cars crawled slowly down my street while heading for Patterson Cemetery, the final resting place for Trooper Thompsen, which is within sight of my house.
This time, there were 200 squad cars, most marked with the Illinois State Police symbol on the door. There were SUVs and sedans and one trailer hauling a pristine-looking Illinois State Police motorcycle, which was either Trooper Thompsen’s motorcycle or symbolized his motorcycle. The display of the riderless motorcycle reminded me of President John F.
Kennedy’s funeral, when a riderless horse was led down Pennsylvania Avenue by a solitary soldier, symbolizing a leader who was no longer present. Somewhere in the midst of this parade of respect for Trooper Thompsen was a white hearse bearing a 26-year-old graduate of St. Joseph-Ogden High School who had been married only four months.
Although I couldn’t see them, I’m sure the trooper’s parents and widow were sitting in one of the few non-police vehicles accompanying the hearse. The honor and respect demonstrated by hundreds of law-enforcement officers from jurisdictions far and wide was awe-inspiring to see. It was equally awe-inspiring to see American flags lining the streets of St.
Joseph all the way to the cemetery and watching members of the crowd placing their hand over their hearts while others were holding signs bearing Trooper Thompsen’s badge number (7081) and the words “Never Forgotten.” Why do so many police officers come to a fellow officer’s funeral? Police officers are a close-knit community where the loss of one member affects all of us in law enforcement. Those officers who attended this funeral likely realized that what happened to Trooper Thompsen could just as easily have happened to them.
Police officers recognize that they belong to a very select profession where you could be killed while doing your job. And what about the civilians who were lining the streets of St. Joe as the funeral entourage passed by? Why were they waiting along the street for over an hour? Perhaps it is because the majority of them understand that Corey Thompsen was working to provide protection for them.
And they are grateful..
