Off Wing Opinion

Roddy Burke, June 1997.

...To everyone who has written me to express their condolences on the death of my old college buddy, Roddy Burke. It's been a very difficult few days for Roddy's family and friends here in Washington, and I ask that you keep them in your prayers for another few days. Tonight, the family is heading back to Long Island for another memorial service, and they're going to need all the strength that they can get.

Today's service was incredible, and it helped to know that plenty of other folks felt the same way about Roddy, and how much we already miss him.

The toughest part of today's service came at the conclusion, as Roddy's casket was carried from the church. It was ironic in a way, as Roddy wasn't the sort of person who would want anyone to make a fuss over him -- and doesn't it seem that's always the case with a person who deserves that kind of sendoff?

There were rows of officers in dress uniform from all over the Washington metro area, so many it took about 10 minutes for all of them to file out of the church and onto the street outside. There was the playing of Taps and volleys of rifle fire. There was a helicopter fly-by. But most poigiant of all, there was a recording of the call Roddy made to 911 to report a stolen vehicle -- the start of the sequence that led to his death last Thursday night.

Trust me when I say it's one thing to read about the last moments of your friend's life. But it's another thing entirely to listen to it yourself.

I've written so much about Roddy over the past few days because I don't want the world to forget who he was. I'm glad to see that the Metropolitan Police Department will be doing their part to make that happen. They'll be retiring Roddy's badge, and renaming a police substation in his honor. And the next class of the department's police academy that begins next month will be dedicated to his memory.

And after talking to some of my former classmates, and making some initial inquiries with our alma mater, it looks like we'll be creating something more permanent as well. According to the folks at Catholic University, it will take $50,000 to fund a scholarship in perpituity to Roddy's memory, and a number of us will be moving quickly in the next two weeks in order to get the ball rolling. If you're interested in helping out, please send me an email.

Thanks for listening and for your good wishes. Now back to regularly scheduled sports blogging, already in progress...

UPDATE: Click here for the Washington Post account of Roddy's service. And be sure to sign the guest book at Legacy.com. And for more memories of Roddy from the people he worked with, stop by the Yahoo message board for the MPD's 3D Substation. Here's just one:

Sgt. Gerard W. Burke, Jr. was indeed a dedicated MPD Officer. He was dedicated to his work and was a friend of those who reside in the Park View Community and beyond. Sgt. Burke attended many of the neighborhood meetings in the Park View Neighborhood. He responded in a positive manner to "all" of our requests and concerns. He definitely understood the meaning of "Community Policing." He fully understood the importance of the community and the Metropolitan Police Department working together on issues that affected the residents. It was indeed a pleasure working with Sgt. Burke. He will surely be missed. Buddy Moore

Thanks to Columbia Heights News for the pointer.

Once again, thanks to all of Rod's brother officers for all they've done in the past few days for his family and friends, and for all that they continue to do on the streets of the city.

UPDATE: For some reason, the Washington Post link to Roddy's Legacy page isn't working. Click here for the Newsday version.

If you haven't figured it out already, we're going to be a little light on the sports for the next day or so, as I use the blog to let folks know about my college buddy Roddy Burke. The folks at the pub formerly known as Ireland's Four Provinces, have posted the details on the viewing and funeral services for Roddy back on Long Island:

On Wednesday, March 29, there will be a visitation from 2 to 4 p.m. and 7 to 9 p.m. at Maloney's Funeral Home, Lake Ronkonkoma, NY. On Thursday, March 30, Mass of Christian Burial will be held at 9:45 a.m. at the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary Roman Catholic Church, Crown Acres Rd., Centereach, NY. Interment to follow.

If you know anyone on Long Island who is a member of a police Emerald Society, please pass this information on to them. I know cops will always show for one of their own, and I think Roddy deserves a great sendoff.

And for anyone in D.C. who knew Roddy, I'm getting together with friends at Roddy's favorite pub tonight at 9:00 p.m. to drink a toast to our old pal. Please feel free to come by and share your memories.

More from the Officer Down Memorial Page. You can leave your own rememberances (up to 3 pages already) here.

UPDATE: And finally, some pics of Roddy and the old gang from Flickr.

Thanks to everyone who has written in over the last 24 hours about my old buddy Roddy Burke. It's been a real help.

My friend Bill Mills has passed along word about services for Roddy. There will be a viewing tomorrow at St. Patrick Catholic Church from 2:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. The funeral mass will be held Tuesday morning at 9:30 a.m.

The church is located in the District at 619 10th St., N.W. at the corner of 10th and G Streets. Metro Center is the closest Metro Stop. Click here for directions.

Here's a citation that Roddy was awarded for an arrest he made in August 2002. Another college buddy of mine, Marc Masferrer, has noted Roddy's passing as well. For my original post on Roddy, click here.

I've had a number of conversations with folks who want to know how to help, and I'm kicking around the idea of working with Catholic University to endow a scholarship in Roddy's name for students who want to pursue a career in law enforcement. If you'd like to help, send me a note.

UPDATE: Here are some memories from Pat Dowd, another of our mates from CUA in the late 80s:

What can we say about Roddy? Actually, I think I can say a lot.

We were roommates in college -- and friends.

Roddy was serious about having fun, and committed to being a police officer, even then.

We shared books, meals and our firm plans for the future.

I knew I wanted to be in broadcast journalism ('cept I didn't know the first thing about TV and ended up as an online editor at an upstate New York newspaper) and he knew he wanted to be a police officer.

I couldn't fathom it. Why be a cop? Why not a psychologist or a woodworker or something else.

He joked that he wanted to be "in charge" and that was the only way he knew how.

But, he said, with that serious look, he really wanted to serve the community.

We had many conversations, but none quite as deep as that one.

We were at one time in the apartment we shared with Ken Wilcox, and I remember another very telling moment.

We were discussing plans for the evening -- and it involved a CUA-sponsored party and a lot of friends -- and I was considering whether to go.

I was tired, I was studying, and I was not at all convinced.

Roddy teased me by saying that I had to go, that I'd regret it for the rest of my life.

He persuaded me to go -- I'm sure it wasn't too hard of a time to convince me -- and you know what? Now I am glad that I went. It wasn't anything earth-shaking at that spring party, but we hung around, commented on the lasses that passed us and had a good time with each other.

He was right, of course. I wouldn't have wanted to miss that for the world.

Godspeed, Roddy. Save us a place at the table next to you.

I had a similar experience with Roddy, but unlike Pat, I'm experiencing regret. It was October, and Roddy had organized a paint ball war with another dorm. He was billed as the company commander, and thanks to my position as editor of the school paper, I was shipping out as the war correspondent.

Unfortunately, I had a deadline for a paper creep up on me, and I remember thinking I needed to get started that weekend if I wanted to avoid a rush. So I sent Roddy my regrets.

He badgered me, and gave me the same line he delivered to Pat. But I resisted, and I spent an afternoon working on a paper that I can hardly recall.

It wasn't worth it. I hope somebody else learns from my lesson.

LATE UPDATE: It looks like Roddy's family will be having a funeral in New York following Tuesday's service here in D.C.

From today's Washington Post:

Driving through his neighborhood on his day off, D.C. police Sgt. Gerard W. Burke Jr. spotted something suspicious about a tan Honda Civic traveling down Kenyon Street in Northwest Washington.

Burke, who was on his way to catch a plane to New York for a funeral, did not hesitate Thursday night.

He picked up his cellphone and called a dispatcher, saying he thought the car was stolen and being driven by someone who looked 14 years old. He asked for help because he couldn't pull the car over in his personal Ford Explorer.

"He doesn't know I'm behind him yet," Burke, 39, said as he told the dispatcher his location on 11th Street NW about 5:15 p.m., according to an audiotape of the 911 call released yesterday by police.

A few seconds later, Burke can be heard gasping. Static fills the line.

With that, Officer Burke, who friends from his days at Catholic University knew as "Roddy," slumped against the wheel as his SUV crashed into some parked cars. He was later pronounced dead at Washington Hospital Center. He was 39.

I'm having a very hard time putting my thoughts into words right now, other than I'm filled with grief for Roddy's family and friends. I've spent the afternoon talking with some of them, and it's been awfully tough. He loved being a cop, and reading the article about his death, it's clear his neighbors appreciated his efforts:

Burke was named sergeant of the year in the 3rd Police District in 2005 and lived in the police service area where he was assigned.

Cmdr. Larry McCoy and other officers praised Burke's instincts in noticing the car, which wasn't reported stolen to police until three hours after the crash, they said.

The Civic was recovered about 1:20 a.m. yesterday in the 1300 block of Spring Road NW, police said.

McCoy said that several years ago he needed help squelching problems in another area of town. He tapped Burke to supervise officers in those neighborhoods. Burke took the assignment without complaint, but community leaders and residents in the area he left grumbled about the move.

"I got a flood of calls from people asking me why I was taking Sergeant Burke away from them," McCoy said.

It's a question I'm asking too. Why take him away from us now?

UPDATE: Andrew Sullivan takes note of Roddy's passing.

ANOTHER UPDATE: It's been a few hours, and a lot of the good memories are beginning to flood back, and in spades. During my Junior year at CUA, I lived next door to Roddy, who was the Resident Assistant for the first floor of Ryan Hall.

As such, he was responsible for organizing social activities for a floor full of college kids. It was a challenge Roddy embraced with vigor. Sure, we had our share of normal college activities, but it was only Roddy Burke who could march 30 kids down to the main dining hall for a "Viking Feast". It looked like a normal night at the cafeteria, until that is, we started eating without forks, knives or napkins.

It caused quite a scene. Trust me on this.

As RA, Roddy also served as a surrogate big brother for those who slipped into difficulty. I watched once as he talked a student off a figurative ledge after the poor kid had become convinced he'd gotten his girlfriend pregnant.

There was another time when a sophomore had scammed a couple of freshman kids out of some cash with a cheap card trick. Roddy came to me, let me in on the mechanics of the scheme, and then induced the perpetrator to try it on me.

I still remember Roddy stifling a smile as the kid's trick went horribly wrong, and I won back all the money he'd taken from everyone else.

"You can't scam a scammer," he stammered in a Louisiana drawl.

"Actually we just did," said Roddy, as he rolled on a bunk bed before collapsing into convulsive laughter.

There are other moments that seem all the more precious now. Slinging the bull while a bunch of guys played Fortress America; helping Roddy put a Marilyn Monroe poster into a new frame; and rushing to RFK Stadium 10 minutes into the first quarter of a strike game between the Redskins and the Cardinals.

On the way out of the stadium, I had snatched a stack of free scorecards, thinking that one day they might make interesting souveniers. On the subway ride home, a father asked us if he could have one for his kid. Before I even had a chance to open my mouth, Roddy had grabbed one of the cards from my stash and handed it over to the kid.

What could I say, it was the right thing to do.

Even then, you could see Roddy developing the habits of a good cop. We took more trips to the 7-11 than I could ever count, and I seem to recall buying Roddy more polish sausages covered with chili and cheese than I could ever count either.

But while all the other kids just paid for their stuff and left, Roddy never missed an opportunity to talk up the owner, Mr. Godette. Roddy would always ask him how things were in the neighborhood, and how Mr. Godette's daughter was doing at Penn State -- just the sort of questions a good beat cop would ask as part of the job.