NYPD Police Commissioner Brattons Remarks at the Funeral of Detective First Grade Wenjian Liu: Police Officer Wenjian Liu believed in possibility. Like his partner that day, Rafael Ramos, his partner now for all time, Officer Liu believed in the possibility of making a safer world. All cops do. It’s why we do what we do. It’s why we run forward, toward the danger, when others run away. We believe in the possibility of keeping disorder controlled. We believe in the possibility of a city free from fear. Over the last 22 years, the men and women of this Department have made those possibilities reality, through the work of cops like Wenjian Liu and Rafael Ramos. I knew I wanted to be a cop since my childhood. Wenjian and Rafael both heard the call later in life, but the pull was just as strong—because we all believe in the possibility of being part of something larger than ourselves. Officer Liu left China when he was twelve. His parents, Wei Tang Lui and Xiu Yan Li, found work, and worked hard, and he worked hard, too. He helped them when he could, he studied hard at school. He called himself “Joe.” For a while, he was on the path to becoming an accountant. But 9/11 changed those plans, as it changed so many things for so many of us. Some people witnessed that horrible day and were paralyzed. Officer Liu witnessed it and saw the possibility of service, the possibility of being part of something that would help others. For 170 years, immigrants to this city have found a home in the NYPD, to help others, to have a life of significance. Only the homelands have changed. First it was the Irish. And then the Italians— like Lieutenant Giuseppe Petrosino, who called himself “Joe,” too, and was murdered by the mafia while on assignment in Italy. And now our cops are from everywhere. The NYPD looks a lot more like the city it serves than some people think. More than half of our officers call New York City home, and live within its five boroughs, just like Wenjian Liu and Rafael Ramos. And our heroes are from everywhere, too—like Haitian-born James Nemorin, who was murdered with his partner Rodney Andrews in 2003. And Eugene Marshalik, who fled the war in Chechnya, and was murdered with his partner, too, Nicholas Pekearo, in 2007. These men—and now thousands of women—come to follow the American dream. They come to this greatest of cities and join this greatest of Departments because it represents what they came here for. Everyone who comes here is from someplace where opportunity is more rare. Someplace where fear is more common. Someplace less free. And if you come from such a place, is it any wonder you’d want to join the profession that helps make America so different? Because without public safety there is no possibility of free government. Everything that our government promises—freedom of speech, freedom of worship, freedom from want, freedom from fear—everything starts with public safety. It starts with us. Officer Liu believed this. He joined the NYPD first as an Auxiliary officer—an unpaid volunteer with no gun, just a uniform and a star-shaped shield and the belief that it’s possible to make a difference. The belief that public safety is everyone’s responsibility. When two of his Auxiliary brothers were murdered by a madman in Greenwich Village, he could have turned away. He could have said it wasn’t worth it. Instead, four months later, he took the oath to become a New York City police officer. For seven years, he kept the streets of Brooklyn safe, first in Brownsville, then in Downtown Brooklyn. For seven years, he sought out the suffering, the disturbed, the injured, and tried to bring them comfort. You heard the mayor’s story. That is the police we want. That is the police we have. And for that—not for how he died, but for how he lived and performed his duty— for that, I am so honored to posthumously promote Wenjian LIU to Detective First Grade. But as amazing as his story is, his refusal to be dissuaded or daunted, his dedication, it’s hardly unique. It’s what cops do. In the days after Detectives Liu and Ramos were assassinated, murdered for their color, slain because they were blue, I visited their families and learned what profoundly good men they were. And I found myself wondering “why do we always lose the good ones?” Until I realized: it’s the law of averages. Almost all of them are the good ones. Our cops are people just like Wenjian and Rafael. They, too, share a belief in what’s possible and a desire to serve. Detective Liu led a responsible, compassionate life. He loved his wife, Pei Xia Chen, Sanny, his longtime sweetheart but only just married. Just starting out. He cooked for his parents—made a great soup, I’m told; knew how to buy a good vegetable. He enjoyed simple things: an avid fisherman who loved to show off his catches to his friends. He loved his family, and they loved him, as we see from so many who have come from so far away. And at the end of every tour, he would call his father to let him know he was safe. At the end of every tour but one. He had wisdom, and ethics, and humanity. On our Department’s website, people who worked with him have been writing remembrances. They all recount his happiness and humor, his outlook, his righteous intentions. In those comments, and in the words of friends—as well as the clear example of his choosing to be a cop—I’ve seen proof of his ethical conduct. I’ve seen it in stories of his speech and action, and from the livelihood he chose. He was persistent in his efforts, and mindful of his obligations. He was patient. He shared his culture. He was, after all, a good man. A humane man. He was a New York City cop. And he knew what all cops know—he knew how hard the Job could be. Every day we face problems that would require days of deliberation in a judge’s chambers, and we have but an instant to decide. Because every day we face people who need help, or people who are hurting. And we help them. Sometimes we face people who are hurting others, or would hurt us. And we try to help them, too, and stop them if we must. We answer four-and-a-half million radio runs a year. Nearly four hundred thousand arrests. And for good or ill, only a tiny handful make the news. And the millions—literally millions—of the rest go unnoticed. We do this because we took an oath. We do this because we believe in possibility. This is what we signed up for. The possibility of helping people. The possibility of making a safer, fairer city. To Wenjian’s and Rafael’s brothers and sisters in blue, I want you to know: I am so proud of you. Proud of you for making those possibilities a reality for so many in this city. Even after forty-four years, I am so proud to be one of you. We’re cops. We hold the line. We don’t quit when things are hard, because when aren’t they? We took this Job to prevent crime and disorder. Over the past twenty-two years, this Department has reminded the world of how that’s done. The mission has not changed. The belief in possibility has not changed. And a much larger part of this city, of this country, a much larger part than you think is proud of you, too. There are people who need us. We will not abandon them. To do so would be to dishonor the memories of Wenjian Liu and Rafael Ramos. It would dishonor the others killed with their partners. A lot of those partners were as different as Wenjian Liu and Rafael Ramos—different races, different upbringings, different languages. Because every police car holds a little bit of the city. More than 130 officers have been killed in the line of duty in the last forty-five years, and it would dishonor them, too. So we cannot falter, we cannot flag. We will move forward, for we carry the possibility of all those dead, and all those who have worn the uniform before us. It’s the possibility of making a better world. And it’s impossible to let their sacrifices and their efforts be in vain. But today we say farewell to Detective First Grade Wenjian Liu, as we said farewell to Detective Rafael Ramos. We thank the Liu family for sharing him with us. As their guests, we mourn with them. We take comfort in the Buddha’s words, that even when death comes, the lessons of goodness do not perish. And as cops, we celebrate his life, and that of Detective Ramos, and honor what they accomplished for so many.
Posted on: Sun, 04 Jan 2015 21:50:53 +0000
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