Legacy Matters

Vicky Armel

Vicky Armel, 40 years old, a loving wife and mother of two, took a job that put her life on the line.

A police officer and a detective, she was murdered last week in a shootout in Fairfax VA. Her killer was a mentally disturbed teen-ager who had recently been arrested for car-jacking.

Villainous Company reports on her funeral.

And as we pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway, I couldn't help noticing that the road was lined with cars. And people. Lots of people.

Lines of police officers, EMTs, and firemen standing at attention by their vehicles. That was moving.

But what really astonished me was car after carful of ordinary families who turned out to pay homage to a slain Fairfax County police detective. These people had to have been standing by the side of the road for hours. We were late getting out of the service. Many had flags or homemade signs or stood silently with hands or caps over their hearts.

Some were saluting, at full attention, ramrod straight.

For mile after mile as we drove, literally every overpass we went under was filled with people, and every single one sported a fire truck, often with an American flag hoisted between two cranes. It is a long, long way from Vienna to Warrenton. I have never seen anything like it - as the landscape slowly changed from concrete highways and skyscrapers to rolling green pastures and horse farms, the only constant was the silent embrace of a community that turned out by the thousands to say goodbye to a fallen officer: black, white, brown, professionals, civilians, young and old. It was something I didn't think existed in this jaded world anymore: a sense of community.

Last week, a friend asked me who I thought was the greatest living American. Without a single conscious thought, the words that came out of my mouth said those whose jobs require them to risk their lives for strangers because they let me live the life I enjoy so much.

After reading about the funeral of Vicky Armel, I realize how many people think the same.

The deepest condolences to her husband and children and may their deep pain be mixed with deeper pride.

The closest bonds we will ever know are the bonds of grief. The deepest community is one of sorrow - Cormac McCarthy.