He was a great family man, a mentor, a father,

shot and killed by a fugitive he tried to arrest,

a man wanted for attempting to kill police officers

and for domestic violence.

He was a great family man, 53,

Trying to do his job.

 

Men in blue, grim, walk side by side past

flashing lights of squad cars, arrived too late.

One shakes his head, how easily it could have been him.

 

The yellow tape stretched now, from tree to tree,

marks off part of a world that will never see again

the family man, the mentor, the father.

Do not cross, do not cross, it says, do not cross,

as if we, who stand here, might want to pick a fight.

 

An ATF agent reconstructs how it went down.

The crime scene lady with her trim briefcase

steps resolutely forward, ready to do her job.

Voices, fighting tears, ask in whispers,

have they notified his wife?

 

The tape sways in the breeze.