If something bad happened to a member of your family, who would you want to come?
You would want the officer who would be the first through the door, no questions asked. The officer who, when everyone else scatters at the scene of a difficult and chaotic incident, asks, “Is there anything I can do for you?” The officer who others use as a resource. The officer with patience and compassion. The officer who isn’t in it for the glory, rather for the satisfaction of doing the right thing. The officer who makes the uniform great, and not the other way around. The officer who would give money to an elderly woman for a taxi after having to tow her car and cite her. The officer who, despite exhaustion, would stick around ten hours after the end of his shift to book and log property. The officer who honors and loves his family. The officer who, had he never been a cop, would have been just as special working the counter at Starbucks. You would want Bryan Tuvera to come.
Bryan was not outspoken, and he was slow to take credit. Several years ago, I contacted a sergeant at Park Station to discuss a merchant I knew in his district. The merchant was a victim in a complicated series of incidents, and I told the sergeant that he should get his best report writer to handle the case. The sergeant sent Bryan, still on probation.
Bryan won the respect of both his peers and his superiors. I remember one of the new midnight sergeants coming in to the lieutenant’s office after Bryan and his partner Joe picked up yet another one of those difficult runs that they always seemed to go out of their way to get. The sergeant said, “You know those guys in the 'six car?'” I said, “Bryan and Joe?” She said, “Yeah! I love those guys.” I knew exactly how she felt.
I could not accurately describe Bryan without mentioning the people who profoundly affected Bryan’s life, and made him into the person who touched us all. To Bryan’s mother, Sandy: know that we will never forget your son’s life, and it will be Bryan’s life, and not his death that will continue to inspire us.
To Bryan’s wife Salina: seeing you with your family and friends in the weeks following December 22nd, it was clear to me that your strength and love for Bryan only made him more of the man that he was.
Bryan was a twenty-eight year-old superhero enthusiast with a boyish face and innocent persona. He was the character on the after-school special you rooted for. The guy who would stand up to the bully at school. And the great part of this story is, Bryan got the girl.
We are here to witness the unveiling of Bryan Tuvera’s name on this memorial. This location is very familiar to us. This is the place that we talk about last night’s bust. We wait here for the DA to come and tell us that our case is going forward or it has been pled out or continued. Almost all of us now know someone who has fallen and who is memorialized on this wall. It is our duty to honor the legacies of these brothers, sons, fathers, and husbands. To honor them may not always be easy, but we should always strive to be the officer you would want to come if something bad happened to a member of your family. To do so will honor the people on this wall.
To do so will honor Bryan Tuvera.