RAWDAWG
03-06-2008, 21:22
11:51 PM CST on Friday, February 29, 2008
By STEVE THOMPSON / The Dallas Morning News
stevethompson@dallasnews.com
The line of police motorcycles rumbled loudly and stretched long Friday in front of Prestonwood Baptist Church in Plano.
Video
Funeral held for Dallas police Senior Cpl. Victor Lozada
02/29/2008
The officers came from small towns in Texas and big cities as far away as New Orleans and Baltimore, streaming into the church in rivulets of dark uniforms to honor a fallen Dallas police officer.
Senior Cpl. Victor Lozada, a 20-year department veteran, was killed Feb. 22 at the age of 49 as he helped escort the motorcade of Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton.
Among the 4,500 in attendance was Mrs. Clinton herself.
Cpl. Lozada's casket rested before them, draped in an American flag by a stage back-lighted with a soft, blue glow. His helmet, his boots and his photograph sat on a table.
"Farewell, my brother, your tour of duty on this earth is done, and may God reward you with his loving care forever," said Michael Walton, representing the Fraternal Order of Police.
Senior Cpl. Robert Garcia delivered the eulogy. He told the audience about his friend's roots, how he was born in Mexico City and grew up in Houston, the youngest of eight children raised by a strong-willed mother.
"The entire family was guided, mentored and always motivated to be top gun," he said. "She was so proud and honored to be here in this country."
Cpl. Garcia also spoke of when he and Cpl. Lozada used to be partners in the department's community policing unit.
He recalled long, hot days spent rounding up dozens of stolen and abandoned shopping carts.
"Believe me, it was not a very good job, – very dirty, very stinky," he said. "But somebody had to do it."
Other days they would drive the department's low-rider – a marked squad car equipped with hydraulics – to parades and other events. It captured the attention of the sometimes at-risk kids whom the officers wanted to reach out to, particularly when they jammed to the tune "Bad Boys" on its stereo.
In Cpl. Lozada's honor, the Chevy Impala was refurbished by volunteers at L.M. Customs car shop. It appeared in the church's parking lot, bouncing and twisting along with other low riders from the community, its hood emblazoned with an airbrush painting of Cpl. Lozada's badge.
The car brought back memories, Cpl. Garcia said. "He was the master blaster at the controls. I can still see him making all kinds of gyrations, and hopping, and whatever."
Later, Cpl. Lozada joined the traffic unit, and finally, a little more than a month before his death, he became a "motor jockey."
Many times after a long day, he would work in an off-duty detail at Target.
"He did it for you, Theresa. He did it for you, Victor Jr., Lisa, Stephanie, David," Cpl. Garcia said, addressing his fallen colleague's wife and children.
He closed his remarks with a final sign-off for Cpl. Lozada: "Dallas police badge 5761 on the double six, end of tour – for the last time."
It was a stirring moment, but no words spoken Friday could match the tribute Victor Lozada Jr. soon paid his father with an echoing, seemingly perfect-pitch performance of "Ave Maria."
For several minutes, the church was filled with the voice of Cpl. Lozada's 22-year-old son, who studies classical singing at the University of North Texas
Afterward, he told the audience simply, "Please remember to do what makes you happy."
It was advice his father had always given him.
The Catholic service ended shortly before 1 p.m., as the funeral-goers filed past the coffin. Many of the officers saluted; others made the sign of the cross over their chests.
Later at Restland Memorial Park cemetery, a carriage drawn by two dark horses carried Cpl. Lozada's casket to the grave.
It was shaded by the branches of an oak tree, and situated next to a memorial to all of Dallas County's police officers and firefighters who have given, as it is inscribed, "the last full measure of duty."
A line of riflemen fired in salute. A pair of trumpeters played taps.
Then a moment of silence succumbed to a rumble in the distance.
As the crowd members turned their heads skyward, five helicopters appeared in formation.
One peeled away.
The American flag that draped the coffin was folded, and Police Chief David Kunkle handed it to Mrs. Lozada.
Finally, the mournful sounds of bagpipes were replaced by the livelier notes of a mariachi band.
Those who knew Cpl. Lozada best tossed handfuls of sand, and he was lowered into the ground.
By STEVE THOMPSON / The Dallas Morning News
stevethompson@dallasnews.com
The line of police motorcycles rumbled loudly and stretched long Friday in front of Prestonwood Baptist Church in Plano.
Video
Funeral held for Dallas police Senior Cpl. Victor Lozada
02/29/2008
The officers came from small towns in Texas and big cities as far away as New Orleans and Baltimore, streaming into the church in rivulets of dark uniforms to honor a fallen Dallas police officer.
Senior Cpl. Victor Lozada, a 20-year department veteran, was killed Feb. 22 at the age of 49 as he helped escort the motorcade of Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton.
Among the 4,500 in attendance was Mrs. Clinton herself.
Cpl. Lozada's casket rested before them, draped in an American flag by a stage back-lighted with a soft, blue glow. His helmet, his boots and his photograph sat on a table.
"Farewell, my brother, your tour of duty on this earth is done, and may God reward you with his loving care forever," said Michael Walton, representing the Fraternal Order of Police.
Senior Cpl. Robert Garcia delivered the eulogy. He told the audience about his friend's roots, how he was born in Mexico City and grew up in Houston, the youngest of eight children raised by a strong-willed mother.
"The entire family was guided, mentored and always motivated to be top gun," he said. "She was so proud and honored to be here in this country."
Cpl. Garcia also spoke of when he and Cpl. Lozada used to be partners in the department's community policing unit.
He recalled long, hot days spent rounding up dozens of stolen and abandoned shopping carts.
"Believe me, it was not a very good job, – very dirty, very stinky," he said. "But somebody had to do it."
Other days they would drive the department's low-rider – a marked squad car equipped with hydraulics – to parades and other events. It captured the attention of the sometimes at-risk kids whom the officers wanted to reach out to, particularly when they jammed to the tune "Bad Boys" on its stereo.
In Cpl. Lozada's honor, the Chevy Impala was refurbished by volunteers at L.M. Customs car shop. It appeared in the church's parking lot, bouncing and twisting along with other low riders from the community, its hood emblazoned with an airbrush painting of Cpl. Lozada's badge.
The car brought back memories, Cpl. Garcia said. "He was the master blaster at the controls. I can still see him making all kinds of gyrations, and hopping, and whatever."
Later, Cpl. Lozada joined the traffic unit, and finally, a little more than a month before his death, he became a "motor jockey."
Many times after a long day, he would work in an off-duty detail at Target.
"He did it for you, Theresa. He did it for you, Victor Jr., Lisa, Stephanie, David," Cpl. Garcia said, addressing his fallen colleague's wife and children.
He closed his remarks with a final sign-off for Cpl. Lozada: "Dallas police badge 5761 on the double six, end of tour – for the last time."
It was a stirring moment, but no words spoken Friday could match the tribute Victor Lozada Jr. soon paid his father with an echoing, seemingly perfect-pitch performance of "Ave Maria."
For several minutes, the church was filled with the voice of Cpl. Lozada's 22-year-old son, who studies classical singing at the University of North Texas
Afterward, he told the audience simply, "Please remember to do what makes you happy."
It was advice his father had always given him.
The Catholic service ended shortly before 1 p.m., as the funeral-goers filed past the coffin. Many of the officers saluted; others made the sign of the cross over their chests.
Later at Restland Memorial Park cemetery, a carriage drawn by two dark horses carried Cpl. Lozada's casket to the grave.
It was shaded by the branches of an oak tree, and situated next to a memorial to all of Dallas County's police officers and firefighters who have given, as it is inscribed, "the last full measure of duty."
A line of riflemen fired in salute. A pair of trumpeters played taps.
Then a moment of silence succumbed to a rumble in the distance.
As the crowd members turned their heads skyward, five helicopters appeared in formation.
One peeled away.
The American flag that draped the coffin was folded, and Police Chief David Kunkle handed it to Mrs. Lozada.
Finally, the mournful sounds of bagpipes were replaced by the livelier notes of a mariachi band.
Those who knew Cpl. Lozada best tossed handfuls of sand, and he was lowered into the ground.