For Whom The Bell Tolls

After everyone had settled back in, the chief of detectives stood up. “Every day, in every city around the world, the worst of human nature is exposed to our children. A cop isn’t just your father, your mother, your brother, or your sister, they are not just your husband, your wife, your son or your daughter. A cop is a faceless, nameless entity that the citizens of any city call when in need. In effect, they are our saviors, the incarnations of supermen and women. Every cop, from the green rookie on his first ride along to the most seasoned detective working the impossible case, wakes each morning to a face a job that’ll never end.

“Every day we put ourselves at risk to protect the innocent and to protect our brothers and sisters in uniform. Each and everyone of us desire the luxury of dying at a ripe old age, surrounded by those that we love and those who love us. Unfortunately that isn’t always the case. The man lying before us died doing a job that he both loved and hated.

“Its said that it takes a special breed of cop to work the cases that can be found in the Special Victims Unit case files. Many detectives, and beat cops, seasoned by personal experience on the job, have left the force or just the squad due to the nature of their victims. But this man here, willingly, was able to shoulder the burden and duty required of him by the very nature of the perpetrators committing the most heinous crimes human nature could conceive of.

“Here lies the earthly remains of a true hero, one none here shall soon forget. May he forever be with us in spirit and in our dreams.” As the chief spoke, the crowd absentmindedly nodded their heads. “Manhattan, New York, Special Victims Unit code one-four-three; signifies the loss of life in the-line-of-duty. Today, we ring out that code for Detective ........” Loud sobs ripped through the mourners as the deceased name was spoke aloud.

The Minstrel boy to war has gone
In the ranks of Death you’ll find him
His father’s sword he hath gilded on
And his wild harp slung behind him
Land of Song, said the warrior bard, though all the world betrays thee
One sword at least thy rights shall guard
One faithful harp shall praise thee........

(Irish bard)


The casket was lowered into the waiting grave, all but two of its mourners had returned to the SVU squad room and the wake. The wind played through her hair as she stared at the casket six feet beneath the ground. “Did you know him well?”

His soft voice startled her from her thoughts. “Yes, he was my best friend. You know, he never treated me like I was a lowly beat cop or anything. I was always an equal in his eyes, few detectives treat you like that.” Sniffling, “I wasn’t some girl encroaching on the boys’ territory. I WAS one of the boys.” She smiled warmly at him, “how did you know him?”

He wanted to say that he was the widowed lover, he wanted to. Instead, “I was his partner.”

“Funny, you’re a lot cuter then he’d said you were.” She said with a sly smile, “he’d been so happy these couple of years with you.” He stared at her speechless, unable to form a single thought. Turning to the grave, she let the white rose bud fall from her hands. “Goodbye Munchkin.”

Their arms linked together on common ground, the pair slowly walked away from the grave. Their voices mingled together as stories were shared, the grave diggers sighed as they began their labor; filling the grave.


FINI

A/N

A tradition brought to the US by Irish immigrants, who eventually made up the vast majority of New York City’s first police officers, the Irish bagpipes were played to commemorate the loss of an officer. However, since the Scottish bagpipe proved to have the best quality of sound, they have been used since. Traditionally, the pipers and drummers played “Coming Home,” however in 1747 the song was changed to “Amazing Grace.”

According to Jewish religious law, the body of the deceased is watched over until burial. Also, according with their laws, the body is buried no more then two days after the passing. (For a great website on Judaism 101 I suggest you go to http://www.jewfaq.org) I was going to go into more detail on the burial practices but I couldn’t find a suitable way of writing this story without giving away the identity of the character.

Also, the simple casket.........Jews who are both “rich” and “poor” are buried the same. Same clothes and type of casket so that in death no matter the class of a person in life, they are all equals in death.

The ringing of a bell, is a firefighter burial tradition, but I thought that it might as well extended to their brethren in the Law Enforcement as well. I actually got the idea for it after watching the movie “Backdraft” for the millionth time one night as I was finishing this story.

Writing chapter 10 was the most difficult for me. I wanted to express the feelings of loss that all the character’s felt about Detective John Munch, without giving away who it was. Thus I couldn’t very well put too descriptive details on Fin, Munch’s family and those he worked with in Baltimore.

Also I wanted to be able to tie up all the loose ends from previous chapters and not take anything away from that moment when the reader learns who it is being laid to rest. I hope that you can forgive me for “prolonging” the “agony” of the reader.

I hope you enjoyed reading the story as I did writing it. It was suggested during the poll that I publish all three versions of the story. However at this time, I feel that to do so, would take away from this one.