Six years ago today IMPD, and dare I say the majority of Indianapolis, held its breath as we learned that Officer David Moore had been shot and his condition was grave. We held that breath for three days until he passed away on the 26th. I had gotten to know David when he was detailed to my unit for several weeks and he regularly came in on his days off to train. He was as all American as apple pie and came from a wonderful family, his mother is an absolute angel. Anyone who watched his funeral and saw her give his final 10-42 over the radio would agree.
The day he was shot was a long day for IMPD, myself included. I was on the SWAT team and we had staged at North District to be ready if and when the animal who shot him was located. Emotions were high and it was a bit surreal to be standing in a room full of my type A personality team mates and it be so quiet you could hear a pin drop. To say that was unusual would be a huge understatement. We all hung on every word as we listened to the radio traffic, hoping the suspect would be located. We remained in that position for hours.
Finally the call came in that the suspect had been located. We loaded up and headed toward the area. We surrounded the house where the suspect had taken refuge and began making announcements over the P.A.. I remember hearing the helicopters overhead as the door to the house opened and a pair of hands emerged followed by a monster cloaked in the skin of a withered old man. As he began walking toward me I struggled to maintain my composure as my red dot maintained its position on the center of his chest. My thumb and finger wanted so badly to take revenge for what this heathen had done to my friend. My team mates ordered him to his knees and he was taken into custody unharmed, a demonstration of the professionalism I had become so proud to be a part of.
The day David was laid to rest was torture. I don't typically run on emotion and to do so for hours was exhausting. I turned the radio off and drove home in silence, I don't recall having a composed thought, just numbness. I remember it being eerily quiet when I got home and stepped out of my car. The air was still and it seemed the rest of the world was also. As I walked toward my front door the flag which hangs just outside of it moved gently but I swear there was no breeze. The flag was covered with ice and it cracked and popped gently as it moved. I stopped and watched it for a few moments, hypnotized by it. I'm still not sure why but I walked into the house, grabbed my wife's camera and took a picture of it. It remains the best photo I've ever taken, I call it David's flag and I've shared it with many of my coworkers.
I've always wanted to have David's image overlaid on the flag so that it is barely visible. I don't know if these versions of the photos are of high enough quality for this but if someone has the Photoshop skills to do it I would be very appreciative.
I've probably told this story before here and I apologize if I have. I still struggle with it and writing it out is therapeutic. If the photos cannot be combined I'll say thanks in advance for trying and thanks for letting me use INGO as a psychiatrist's couch.
The day he was shot was a long day for IMPD, myself included. I was on the SWAT team and we had staged at North District to be ready if and when the animal who shot him was located. Emotions were high and it was a bit surreal to be standing in a room full of my type A personality team mates and it be so quiet you could hear a pin drop. To say that was unusual would be a huge understatement. We all hung on every word as we listened to the radio traffic, hoping the suspect would be located. We remained in that position for hours.
Finally the call came in that the suspect had been located. We loaded up and headed toward the area. We surrounded the house where the suspect had taken refuge and began making announcements over the P.A.. I remember hearing the helicopters overhead as the door to the house opened and a pair of hands emerged followed by a monster cloaked in the skin of a withered old man. As he began walking toward me I struggled to maintain my composure as my red dot maintained its position on the center of his chest. My thumb and finger wanted so badly to take revenge for what this heathen had done to my friend. My team mates ordered him to his knees and he was taken into custody unharmed, a demonstration of the professionalism I had become so proud to be a part of.
The day David was laid to rest was torture. I don't typically run on emotion and to do so for hours was exhausting. I turned the radio off and drove home in silence, I don't recall having a composed thought, just numbness. I remember it being eerily quiet when I got home and stepped out of my car. The air was still and it seemed the rest of the world was also. As I walked toward my front door the flag which hangs just outside of it moved gently but I swear there was no breeze. The flag was covered with ice and it cracked and popped gently as it moved. I stopped and watched it for a few moments, hypnotized by it. I'm still not sure why but I walked into the house, grabbed my wife's camera and took a picture of it. It remains the best photo I've ever taken, I call it David's flag and I've shared it with many of my coworkers.
I've always wanted to have David's image overlaid on the flag so that it is barely visible. I don't know if these versions of the photos are of high enough quality for this but if someone has the Photoshop skills to do it I would be very appreciative.
I've probably told this story before here and I apologize if I have. I still struggle with it and writing it out is therapeutic. If the photos cannot be combined I'll say thanks in advance for trying and thanks for letting me use INGO as a psychiatrist's couch.
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