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[June 21, 2005] ***Back to top ***Back to top ***Back to top Police groups should join fight against sale of video game ***Back to top [June 14, 2005] ***Back to top [June 7, 2005] June 7, 2005 From: "Randy Pope" <randypope@comcast.net> CALIBRE PRESS © ***Back to top Sent: Tuesday, May 31, 2005 6:36 PM NEWS AND TRAINING: Ohio officer survives harrowing off-duty shooting and urges officers, 'learn from my mistakes' Luketic, FOP changed Ohio state law to protect police families EDITOR'S NOTES: Request for survival stories Ohio officer survives harrowing off-duty shooting and urges officers, 'learn from my mistakes' Tony Luketic was proud to be a police officer. When he wasn't working, he often wore his favorite cap given to him years ago by a Cleveland police officer, bearing the logo of the department's K-9 unit. It didn't dawn on him that wearing it off duty would make him a target for a criminal until one morning 10 years ago when he wore it to the Society National Bank on Waterloo Road in Cleveland . He and his wife were buying a new home, and his parents wanted to help with the down payment. His mother asked him to take her to the bank that morning so she could make the cash withdrawal. It was November 30, 1995. Luketic remembers it like it was yesterday. It was the first time, and the last time, he ever left his home without his gun. "It was cold, and I just put on some sweats, grabbed my favorite cap, and thought it was only a two-minute ride in the car to the bank. I wouldn't need my gun," he said. As his mother was completing her transaction at the counter, a well-dressed man walked up to the teller next to them. He handed her a gym bag. Luketic, then a patrol officer with the University Circle Police Department in Cleveland , knew something wasn't right. "My family had been banking there since I was a kid. Everyone knew I was a police officer. The employees appeared nervous, and then I heard him say, 'No, I want it all!'" Luketic said. He whispered to his mother in Croatian that the bank was being robbed and she should get behind him. Luketic said because he didn't have his gun, he decided being a "good witness" was the best he could do. "As the employees passed the bag down the teller line, one of the women became more scared and nervous. She was having a hard time getting the money together. The guy was getting agitated, and he started yelling and cursing at her. Then he screamed, 'I'm going to blow your f------ head off!'" Luketic watched as the robber's finger moved to the firing position. These Society National Bank video photos show Officer Tony Luketic (left), his mother (center) and the gunman Ollie Tate (right) at the teller station seconds before the shooting started on November 30, 1995. In the photo below, a partially paralyzed Luketic leans against the glass comforting his mother behind him as they await the ambulances. Luketic identified himself as a police officer, lunged toward him and struggled to take the gun. One round went off and hit the wall behind the teller. Another round struck Luketic in the left leg, then the officer knocked the gun out of his hand and it fell to the floor, inches away from his mother. "My mom tried to pick it up, but it was so hot that it burned her hand. He ripped it out of her hand and shot her in the stomach," he said. Luketic, who attended his first Calibre Press Street Survival Seminar two years earlier, said although he doesn't consciously recall hearing the shots as they were being fired, he was counting them, knowing the .38 caliber special had only five rounds. With his mother on the floor behind him, he saw the gunman take aim at her again. He reached up to try to pull him down to the ground, hitting him with his arms and fists. Then, Luketic counted the fourth round as the gun was fired at his mother. He would later learn the bullet went through the shoulder of her coat. "He kept trying to put the gun to my head as I struggled with him. Then he held the gun into my left shoulder and fired, and I became totally disabled," he said. His leather coat and sweatshirt were the only things holding his arm in place. "Then, I remember him standing above me and holding the gun to my head. I had counted five shots," he said. Ollie Tate, a convicted felon who had served 20 years in prison for multiple bank robberies in Ohio and Georgia , put the gun to the officer's head and pulled the trigger. Luketic, who doesn't remember hearing one shot fired, suddenly heard the sound of an empty chamber. "It sounded like a cannon," he said. The gunman took the bag of money, stepped over the officer and grabbed his cap for a souvenir, then fled in a car that was waiting for him outside. "My mom kept saying she was going to die. I just talked to her until the first ambulance came, assuring her that she was going to be okay," Luketic said. Depression as the new enemy A first generation American and the only child of Croatian-born parents who immigrated to the United States before his birth, Tony Luketic grew up in Cleveland wanting to be a police officer. His mother and father, concerned for his safety, didn't like the idea and urged him to go to college. So, he earned a degree in sociology and criminal justice and minored in business. Then, he joined the police department. As he leaned against the glass of the bank lobby that morning, partially paralyzed from the gunshot wound to his shoulder, his thoughts were of his mother, his family and his future as a police officer. When the second ambulance arrived, paramedics discovered the bullet in his shoulder had hit the artery and he was quickly bleeding out. He was stabilized with three units of blood and transported by helicopter to a nearby trauma hospital. All the while, he asked emergency workers repeatedly how serious his injuries were and whether he would be able to work again. By the time he arrived at the hospital, his wife had notified medical personnel that her husband should be placed on suicide watch. She knew he wouldn't want to live if he thought he couldn't work again as a police officer. She asked his friends to move the weapons in their home from the place where he normally kept them to a different location. "I didn't want to live like that," he told Newsline. "If I couldn't be a police officer, I didn't want to live." When he awoke from surgery, he asked his best friend to shoot him. "I thought about it (suicide) a lot," he said. "I had given up on myself." Depression overwhelmed him for three months and thoughts of suicide were frequent. Looking back, Luketic says he recalls thinking about his wife and daughter, and his parents, and how that decision would impact their lives. Those thoughts kept him from looking for his weapons or overdosing on powerful pain medication. "Then one day my daughter came to me and asked me to put a ribbon in her hair and I couldn't do it. That's when I made up my mind that I wasn't going to let that asshole beat me," he said. The long road back One year and five surgeries later, Officer Luketic went back to work. His wife was supportive, but worried. His parents urged him to consider a different career. His 4-year-old daughter didn't know what all her daddy had been through, but it was unsettling to see him leave the house for work every day. Officer Luketic had been through a life-changing experience. He was a different person and a different kind of police officer. One month after he returned to work, a Cleveland police officer was shot and killed on a traffic stop, and Luketic discovered that the hard, cold edge he once had, which for so long protected him from emotions like grief, had broken down. "Men, and especially police officers, are expected to be stoic. We're not supposed to cry," he said. "But this whole experience softened me quite a bit. I'm more sensitive to the deaths of police officers now, and it effects me more deeply." Luketic worked one year before he had to go through another surgery. Then two more years passed and another operation was required. It seemed that he would return to work just long enough to build up a little sick, vacation and comp time so he could use it during his recovery. When he applied for worker's compensation benefits, the department refused. Because the injuries occurred while he was "off duty," he didn't qualify. (See related story below.) "We came close to losing everything," he said. "If it hadn't been for the support of fellow officers, friends and the FOP, I don't know what we would have done." Despite all the surgical procedures and physical therapy, his left arm won't ever be the same. He will never gain full mobility. As he gets older and arthritis sets in, Luketic says the pain is actually getting worse. Anti-inflammatory medication is part of his daily regimen, and he wakes up in tears from the pain almost every night. It's possible that some day more surgery will be required. His mother, who recovered from her physical injuries, rarely talks about the shooting. When she does, the tears come quickly. Luketic says she is still frightened sometimes to leave the house, which is about 35 minutes away from the home his parents helped him purchase in November 1995. At the time of the shooting, they were sharing a duplex. Luketic said he agreed to allow prosecutors to accept a plea bargain from the gunman in order to spare his mother the pain of reliving the harrowing ordeal during a jury trial. Today, Tate is in an Ohio prison. Now age 73, he will become eligible for parole for the first time in 2007. 'Learn from my mistakes' Luketic, who today works as a parole officer supervising gang members for the State of Ohio, said he wants officers everywhere to learn from his mistakes. This year, his story is part of Calibre Press' Street Survival Seminar. As instructors recount the incident for attendees, they stress the importance of always carrying a weapon and not wearing police clothing off duty. "I want officers to learn from the mistakes that I made," Luketic said. "Don't ever leave home without your weapon, and don't ever mark yourself as a target by wearing police gear off duty." When investigators interviewed Tate after his arrest the day after the shooting, the 63-year-old convicted felon said when he saw the officer's cap, "it gave him the edge to know who to look at," Luketic said. He expected the officer to take action. "Cops always wear police stuff because we're proud of what we do," he said. "We have big egos. We have to because it protects us on the street. But don't identify yourself when you're not prepared to take police action." Luketic attended a Street Survival Seminar in Cleveland on May 17th where attendees honored him for his sacrifice and celebrated his survival. Lt. Jim Glennon, a seminar instructor and police veteran of more than 20 years, said it was an emotional time. "Tony is an exceptional officer whose story of survival inspires all of us not only to be better police officers, but to be better human beings," Glennon said. "His willingness to sacrifice his own safety to protect others is heroic, and he is one of the reasons our profession continues to be the most honorable on earth." Finally, Luketic says to officers, "Don't ever give up. Find a reason to stay!" Today, the Luketics have two daughters, and he smiles whenever he's asked to tie a ribbon in their hair. Luketic, FOP changed Ohio state law to protect police families As a five-year patrolman working in the most honorable of professions, Tony Luketic always thought that if something bad ever happened to him that his department would take care of him and his family. On the morning he almost lost his life, he was only 28 years old. As he leaned up against the glass of a neighborhood bank lobby, bleeding out from a gunshot wound to the artery in his shoulder, it never crossed his mind that he might find himself in courtrooms years later fighting for the benefits his family needed to make ends meet. But, Luketic's employer, University Circle Police Department in Cleveland , Ohio , said that since the officer was off duty at the time he was shot in November 1995, he wasn't eligible to receive worker's compensation benefits. Luketic hired a lawyer and began the arduous process of appeals that took him from one court to the next, all the way to the Ohio Supreme Court. Finally, five years after the shooting that left him with permanent injuries, the Supreme Court ruled the state owed the officer worker's compensation benefits. He said the few thousand dollars he received was virtually insignificant considering the financial loss his family suffered during the first year after the incident. During that time, he underwent five surgeries. In the following three years, two more operations were required. Each time, he used all of his vacation, sick leave and comp time. "How could someone expect a policeman to stand there and watch somebody else get hurt, when they could possibly help? Most police officers feel they're on duty 24 hours a day. We would never stand by and watch a crime happen without acting," said Luketic, now 38. "My parents instilled in me good morals and values, and I couldn't have done that." But the truth is, if he had not taken action, he would have been in violation of the state's Dereliction of Duty Law, which requires police officers to act when they observe a life-threatening crime in progress. "Citizens expect emergency service personnel to jump on the grenade. But after we take the hit, we become expendable," said Richard Flaherty, former president of the Fraternal Order of Police Ohio Lodge #124. "What this case did was open the eyes of officers everywhere who put their lives on the line every day. "It all sounded a little ridiculous to us," said Flaherty, a Sergeant with Cleveland State University Police Department. At the time of the shooting, he was serving as Secretary for Lodge #124. "Here was an officer who was sworn to do his duty and his duty was right in front of him. He had no choice but to act, and his department turned its back on him." University Circle PD is a proprietary police force run by a non-profit corporation whose board members are appointed rather than elected by the community. It was created to take care of a small cultural arts neighborhood within the City of Cleveland . It has fewer than 25 officers, and the department shares jurisdiction with the Cleveland Police Department. Flaherty said when state FOP leaders heard what happened to Luketic, they went to work to change state law to prevent another officer from falling through the cracks. He said while most large agencies would likely take care of their officers in similar situations, the law needed to be changed to protect those in smaller departments and proprietary agencies. "When state lawmakers learned the law didn't cover police officers acting off duty, they were stunned," Flaherty said. "I watched them as they listened to Tony tell his story, and they were riveted to their seats. State lawmakers, moved by Luketic's story, unanimously passed House Bill 558 in 1998. The legislation was named the Luketic Law in honor of the sacrifice made by Officer Luketic. Off-duty fire fighters and emergency medical personnel are also covered by the legislation. "The law couldn't help me, but I didn't want any other police officer, fire fighter or emergency worker to have to go through what we went through," Luketic said. Flaherty said FOP leaders in Michigan and New York have contacted him over the years about the Luketic Law, expressing an interest in passing similar legislation in their states. Luketic said his family wouldn't have survived had it not been for the outpouring of support they received from fellow officers and the FOP. At the time of the shooting, he had been a member for about five years. To make matters even more difficult for the Luketic family, the day of the shooting was his father's last day of work. The plant where he had worked for years shut down that day. So, while her husband and mother-in-law were recovering from their injuries, Mrs. Luketic became the sole provider for her family and her husband's parents. Flaherty said the state FOP Lodge took Luketic's story to the National FOP Convention in 1997, and lodges across the country contributed more than $40,000 to help pay the family's bills and "keep them afloat." And when doctors prescribed a hot tub for continuing therapy and the insurance company wouldn't pay, FOP bought the hot tub. Flaherty, a 29-year law enforcement veteran, said he and Luketic have a "kinship" in that they share similar survival experiences. In 1990, five years before Luketic was shot in the bank heist, Flaherty was crushed by a car on the university campus. He sustained life-threatening injuries to his kidney and suffered several broken bones, including his hip. Doctors said he wouldn't survive. "I told them to do their jobs and I would do the rest," Flaherty said. He was in the intensive care unit for one month and had to learn how to walk again. "I have so many metal plates and screws in me that I set off the alarms in the airport," he laughed. Because he was standing six inches away from the curb when he was run down, it was rumored that the university would deny his worker's compensation claim. The university police department is also a proprietary department, but it is governed by a state agency. Flaherty says he believes that's why the university took care of him. When Flaherty was in the hospital, Luketic came to visit him. "He didn't know me. We had never met. He only knew me as one of the Executive Board members," Flaherty said. "That meant a lot to me." On the day Luketic was shot five years later, Flaherty was with another University Circle officer when he received the news. Flaherty, who by then had been elected President, was at his friend's bedside within hours. Over the years, the two officers have developed a close friendship. Luketic remains an active member of FOP Lodge #124, and Flaherty says his friend volunteers so much time to FOP charitable events that he doesn't know how he has time for anything else. Together, the officers encouraged police officers everywhere to learn more about their agency's policy and state law regarding off-duty injuries incurred while taking lifesaving police action. "It sounds like something that would, or should be, covered. But, if something happens off duty, some will fight to the death to keep from having to pay. It's a monetary issue, and it all comes down to that -- the human side is gone," Luketic said. "When we first get into this business, we think if something bad happens we're going to be taken care of, that our employer won't let us twist in the wind. But, that's just not always the case and officers need to know the truth," Flaherty added. Luketic, who left University Circle PD in 2000 after he won the worker's compensation case, is now a parole officer for the State of Ohio and his caseload is comprised mostly of gang members. Earlier this year, he was instrumental in the capture of 487 fugitive gang members in Northeast Ohio as part of Operation Falcon, a joint effort with the U.S. Marshall's Office. Stay Safe! Shelly Wilkison, Editor shelly@calibrepress.com ***Back to top From: "Randy Pope" <randypope@comcast.net> Why We Are Cops Officers' brutal murders prove there's no such thing as a 'routine' traffic stop EDITOR'S NOTES: Remembering the heroes Why We Are Cops By Raimondo DeCunto Street Survival Instructor After the opening video of the Street Survival Seminar and the introduction of the first instructor, seminar attendees are asked, "With a show of hands, how many have 20 plus years?" There is always a small percentage that raises their hands. The instructor compliments the veteran law enforcement officers -- the hardened warriors -- and the class applauds. Then comes the next question, "How many rookies in the group?" Usually, there is a slight pause while friends and partners pressure some to raise their hands as others are proud to speak up, "I'm a rookie and damn glad to be here!" Once the rookies are located, they are asked to stand as their peers acknowledge them, knowing inside as they watch the rookies, "I remember that day." The rookies are asked one by one, "Why did you become a cop?" The answer is unanimous, it's textbook, "I want to help people." The entire class of law enforcement officers laughs at the textbook answer, but is it? It takes a certain breed of men and women to choose this profession, this way of life, and unless you have made that commitment and walked in the shoes of a law enforcement officer, you will not understand. This is one hell of a job, or should I say one hell of an adventure. It's safe to say that one of the reasons we choose this profession is the excitement, the danger. "It's cool." I still fall back to that rookie, who is all of us at one point in time, and think of that textbook answer, "I want to help people." On February 9th, I was in Atlanta , Georgia , instructing a Street Survival Seminar. It was brought to my attention by one of the attendees that a deputy sheriff in Lake County Florida, Deputy Wayne Koester, was killed during a domestic disturbance and two other deputies were wounded. On February 22nd, I was in Panama City Beach , Florida , instructing another Street Survival Seminar hosted by the Panama City Beach Police Department. I dedicated the two-day seminar to Deputy Koester and the blood sacrifice he made protecting the citizens in his county. About a month later on March 29, 2005, I was preparing to leave for another Street Survival Seminar in Kansas City , Kansas , when I received an e-mail from Chief Harding of the Panama City Beach Police Department telling me he lost a sergeant who was shot and killed during a traffic stop. Sgt. Kevin Kight was a six-year veteran. I was saddened to read this e-mail and a feeling came over me as if one of my own relatives had died. I had an uncontrollable feeling of a great loss, and realized a family member did die -- a brother law enforcement officer, a father and a husband. I expressed to Chief Harding my sympathy and regrets, and he replied with much appreciation and thanked me for my support. He added, "Sgt. Kight was not at the Street Survival Seminar in Panama City Beach . I wish he had been there." During the two-day seminar in Kansas , I spoke of Sgt. Kight and the tragic event that cost him his life. Again, I reflect back to the rookie's answer, "I want to help people." On April 10th, I was reviewing the Officer Down Memorial Page (www.odmp.org) and noticed the death of a deputy in Kansas . Deputy Kurt Ford of Harvey County Sheriff's Office was killed the day before by a barricaded subject. The tragedy started as a domestic argument. Deputy Ford was killed just nine days after the Kansas City , Kansas , Street Survival Seminar. Even though I didn't personally know the aforementioned law enforcement officers, it doesn't lessen the sorrow felt from losing a brother and makes you realize the sacrifice that we make every day. On April 24th, while again reviewing the Officer Down Memorial Page I noticed an Atlanta police officer had been shot and killed in the line of duty. When I clicked on the name, Mark Cross, and viewed the photograph, I froze. I was looking at the photograph of an officer I personally knew. I met him during tactical narcotics training in Forsyth , Georgia . He attended two separate classes I instructed. In the short time I knew Mark I could tell he was a tactically sound young man and a true professional. Fate was against him that Saturday evening, April 23, 2005. He will truly be missed. Sacrifice and freedom are two words that are very well known to law enforcement officers throughout the world. We must not forget right now in Iraq and Afghanistan , thousands of American soldiers -- mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, sons and daughters -- are fighting for our freedom. Some paying in blood their sacrifice so we can be free here at home. Now I ask, "Who keeps us free from our own country's violence?" We do. On average, one police officer dies every two days in this country, sacrificing themselves for freedom. As of Tuesday, 53 officers had been killed in the line of duty so far this year. I remember reading a reflection from the death of a narcotics detective some 21 years ago that stated, "Freedom is a sacrifice the protected will never know." The protected, the people we want to help. The next time you hear a rookie say the reason they became a police officer is, "to help people," you're going to laugh and say, "yeah, right" and that's okay because only those who fight for freedom really understand the meaning behind this statement. It's a sacrifice made every day by law enforcement officers in this country. In conclusion, I want to say having nearly completed my 24th year in this profession, the desire to chase felons and dance with the day-to-day dangers involved with law enforcement is still as strong as ever. I still feel like a rookie at heart and believe it or not, I still want to help people. ***Back to top This article is dedicated to all law enforcement officers who have sacrificed in blood so the protected remain free. Thank you, and stay safe!. -- Ray DeCunto Raimondo DeCunto, a 24-year police veteran, works narcotics for the Pinellas County Sheriff's Office in Florida . A certified instructor since 1990, his areas of expertise include firearms and defensive tactics, defensive driving, expandable baton, chemical agents, narcotics investigations and tactics. A Calibre Press Street Survival instructor since 2003, DeCunto has taught tactical survival courses to law enforcement and military personnel in the United States and abroad, and is also an instructor with the Multi-jurisdictional Counter Drug Task Force Training Program. He holds narcotics training certification through the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center . Officers' brutal murders prove there's no such thing as a 'routine' traffic stop Routine. The word should be added to law enforcement's list of unacceptable words and expressions, right up there with those of the commonly-used but unsanctioned four-letter variety. There's nothing routine about police work and the word certainly has no place in the vocabulary of police public information officers or administrators who routinely feed stories to the media. Street officers know there's nothing routine about a traffic stop, and the mainstream press should be ashamed of itself for using the R-word to describe the final police action taken by two of America 's Finest last week. And the police officials who used the word to describe the ultimate sacrifice of these officers should sign up today to attend the next Calibre Press Street Survival Seminar. Andy Taylor, a deputy sheriff in Llano County , Texas , was about to be married. His wedding day was just weeks away and he was excited about starting a new life and raising a family in the same small town where he was born and raised. Taylor had been on the job three years and was living with his grandparents, taking care of them when he wasn't on duty at the sheriff's office or on call with the fire department where he served as a volunteer firefighter. On May 12th, his hometown closed down to attend his funeral at the junior high school. Hundreds of people filled the gymnasium and spilled out into the street to pay tribute to a hero whose final act was to pull over a car on a rural, blacktop road just before midnight on May 8th. Officials say he obtained the driver's license and called dispatch to run a check. Soon after he made the call, the driver shot the officer in the head and fled. As a resident left his home minutes later, he saw the deputy laying in the road and yelled for neighbors to call for help. Eric Wolfe, who prison officials say violated his parole last month, was found the following day at a campground about eight miles away with a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. He died later at an area hospital. On May 10th, two days later and hundreds of miles away from Central Texas , Phoenix Police Officer David Uribe pulled over a car and ran a license plate that turned out to be stolen. He couldn't have known that among the three men inside was an 18-year-old who frequently talked about his desire to kill a police officer. While the driver held his hands out of the vehicle for the officer to see, the killer picked up a gun and shot the officer in the head and neck. Officer Uribe was left to die in the roadway. It took authorities two days to find Donald Delahanty, 18, and Chris Wilson, 27. A third man is being questioned by police. Officer Uribe, 48, chose to spend his entire 22-year career on patrol. He was married to a police dispatcher and had five children and two step-children. One son, Adam, is a Phoenix police officer. Officer Uribe's funeral was Tuesday in Surprise, Arizona . "Local news organizations reported both traffic stops as 'routine,' while law enforcement officers searched tirelessly in two states for cold-blooded killers," said Dave Smith, a former officer with the Arizona State Police and the Tucson Police Department who now serves as lead instructor for Calibre Press' Street Survival Seminar. "To use the word 'routine' in reports about these brutal murders is heartless, and belittles and trivializes the sacrifices the officers made in service to their communities." Smith said traffic stops are unpredictable and officers should always be prepared for unknown risks. He suggested the safest area from which to approach a driver may be the "Crisis Zone" as defined in the book, The Tactical Edge, Surviving High-Risk Patrol by Charles Remsberg. The "Crisis Zone" is a strip about 20 inches wide that starts at the rear bumper and ends about 10 inches away from the driver's window. If passengers are in the back seat, however, it ends about 10 inches from the passenger window. ***Back to top Threat Zones In the image above, one can see an officer's vulnerability to attack when approaching a vehicle on a traffic stop. According to Tactical Edge, Surviving High-Risk Patrol, officers are most vulnerable in the Target Zone and Point Reflex Zone. The Crisis Zone, about 20 inches wide that extends from the vehicle's rear bumper to about 10 inches away from the driver's window, may be the safest area. The Reach Zone extends forward an arm's length from where the Crisis Zone ends. "By approaching from this area, an offender would have to work harder to get to you," Smith said. "Moving out further from the vehicle puts an officer in a more dangerous threat zone." Tactical Edge also suggests keeping one hand casually on top of the gun while approaching a vehicle. While procedures for making traffic stops may vary by agency, Street Survival instructors stress the importance of being able to see the hands at all times. "If you can see the hands, they can't hurt you," Smith said. "Above all, officers should be mentally prepared for the worst. Stay focused on the stop and avoid the distractions that routine puts in the way, like what's going on at home or what's going to happen after the shift," he said. "There is no such thing as a routine traffic stop." Stay Safe! Shelly Wilkison Newsline Editor shelly@calibrepress.com To find out more about assessing risks and safety tactics in conducting traffic stops, order your copy today of the Calibre Press text The Tactical Edge, Surviving High-Risk Patrol by Charles Remsberg. Honoring the heroes Humble, human suffering in order to achieve things for others still matters. Regardless of how cold and heartless the world has become. The hundreds of fallen officers honored during National Police Memorial Week this week are heroes, and have been given back to the earth with all the honors that we can give them. Their sacrifices turned to triumph because in that enormous moment before eternity they knew all things and they gave their lives willingly.
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