LAFAYETTE — Before the seven-gun salute and the eulogies and the bagpipes, Boulder police Officer Eric Talley’s family stood in the wind and watched officers carefully pull his flag-draped casket from a hearse, one of his youngest sons dressed in a tiny black suit and holding the white-gloved hand of another officer.
Silence fell inside Flatirons Community Church, where hundreds of law enforcement officers from across Colorado and the country gathered Tuesday for Talley’s funeral service — eight days after he was shot and killed charging into a Boulder grocery store in response to a report of an active shooter. He was 51.
Nine others died at the King Soopers before Talley and two other officers arrived, but nobody else was shot after the officers confronted the gunman. Talley’s final sacrifice made sense for a man who was quietly heroic every day, his friends and fellow officers said at the service.
“I would argue that Officer Talley’s life was not taken — it was given,” Rev. Daniel Nolan said during the service.
The talkative father of seven lived enthusiastically and threw himself into every situation, his energy fueled by an eternal sense of optimism and a Mountain Dew habit, friends said. He was a “Stars Wars” fan who was inherently curious about the world and others.
Talley, born in Houston, loved drones and collected hundreds of board games that he brought to friends’ houses and work, charming people into playing. He was a tech guru that dozens of friends and co-workers relied on for help.
“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be the good friend that Eric was for me,” said Chris Turner, one of Talley’s longtime friends.
Calls and letters about Talley and the hundreds of small acts of kindness he did on the job continue to pour into the Boulder Police Department, Chief Maris Herold said. He was an excellent, caring and serious officer, she said, who left a lucrative job in technology to become an officer at the age of 41 out of a desire to serve.
Dozens of residents from Boulder and the surrounding areas also came to the funeral, though they did not know him.
“I wanted to honor him and what he did,” Boulder resident Mary Safranek said. “He makes me want to be a better person.”
Above all, friends said, he loved spending time with his wife Leah and his seven children, ages 7 to 20. Pictures displayed at the funeral showed Talley as the father he was: holding one of his newborn children asleep on his chest, holding a child on a four-wheeler, celebrating birthdays and Christmases, always with a smile in his bright blue eyes. He made sure to spend time with each child individually, Turner said, playing sports or shopping for craft supplies.
Before he died, his children wrote a poem for Talley as a Christmas present. The poem, printed inside the funeral pamphlet, was called “Our Unsung Hero” and thanked him for his love and dedication.
“May the Angels watch over you/And guard you on your way,” the last stanza reads. “May God bless and protect you/And bring you home each day.”
Herold, who lost her father at the age of 13, spoke to Talley’s children, who were seated in the front rows during the service. They will think of him every day of their lives, she said, and she hopes that his bravery in his final moments will serve as a solace.
“Your father was kind,” she said. “Your father died a hero.”
The children already are living out Talley’s teachings, said Boulder police Sgt. Adrian Drelles, Talley’s direct supervisor and friend. After Talley died in the store, Drelles and others from the department drove to his home to tell his family. Drelles was shaking as they approached, but when they arrived, the kids immediately started comforting him and the other officers.
“In the darkest hours of their lives, they made sure we were OK,” Drelles said.
At the end of the service, officers slowly folded the flag draped on his casket. They kneeled before his wife and gave it to her. Then the Boulder Police Department made its final radio call to Talley, signifying his “end of watch.”
“We have the watch from here.”
Source: Read Full Article
