All Roads Lead Here: Part 6 - Killed in the Line of Duty

I had known David for five years. We met and became friends after working together at Dillard’s. When I first met David, he was an undercover security officer. Oh how he loved to bust a good shoplifter! His dream was to be a police officer. In 1988 his dream came true. He signed on with the Little Rock Police Department.

David still worked off hours as security, but now he was in uniform. He strutted that uniform proudly. He knew the pretty girls liked men in uniforms and he worked it! He could always be counted on for sound advice…especially the advice he gave me on sucking a penny if I’m ever out drinking and driving.

David would always dance with the girls that went stag to the company Christmas party…I think it was his highlight to go stag himself, just so he could flirt with all of them, and not be tied down to just one date. The last time I saw David before he died, we were working at Dillards and he brought me a Diet Coke and package of Cheez-its. Not because I asked him to, but because he knew I’d be craving them later.

On February 13, 1991 at 2 o’clock in the morning my phone rang. I stumbled to the phone, still in a fog and groggy. I said, ‘hello?’ The voice on the other end was a familiar one. It was Barry, an officer with whom I had been dating. Barry told me a police officer had been shot. I could hear the fear and emotion rising in his voice. He said the officer was not dead as of yet, but it didn’t look good and they were not expecting him to survive. Barry did not know who the officer was who had been shot…his name was not being released to the LRPD yet. Still in a fog, I felt I needed to be more supportive than concerned right now. I did not think the officer would be anyone I knew. I hung up the phone and went back to bed.

Around 3 o’clock in the morning, one hour later, the phone rang again. I knew it wasn’t good. I hesitantly picked up the phone. I didn’t even say, “Hello”. The voice on the other end of the line was Barry’s. He said, “I wouldn’t have called you back this late, but there is something you ought to know.” My stomach knotted up and I took a deep breath. “The police officer died. Trish, he was very close to you. It was David Barnett.” Silence. “Trish, David was shot and killed at Waffle House.” I could not speak. I could not cry. I hung up the phone and lit a cigarette. I felt exhausted, yet could not sleep. I felt numb…I felt like I was floating and watching someone else’s life play out in front of me. Still, I could not cry.

Two days later, I attended the funeral. Elizabeth walked up to me and handed me a card as we were walking into the church. She said it was the Valentines Day card David had picked out for me, that she and he had been shopping the day before he died and he said this one was perfect for me. I opened it and read it. It was one of those hilarious cards. I laughed until tears streamed down my face. Elizabeth said, “David would have wanted it that way.” My tears turned into sobs as I began to cry for the first time. I could not speak or breathe. I felt I might hyperventilate. I tried to stop but couldn’t. I did not want to cry now…not in front of all these people.

The ceremony was beautiful. Every possible officer from all branches attended. Police, fire, MEMS…they were in their ‘Dressed Blues’. It was very proper and respectfully. A guard stood at attention saluting David at the foot of his casket the entire time. David was dressed in his ‘Dressed Blues’. A Medal of Valor was pinned to his breast, and in his white gloves he held a Harley Davidson patch. A flag covered his casket. The Chaplin spoke of hard regards on how this man laid down his life to save a stranger. On the left sat the officers…to the right were the Harley Davidson dudes from his bike club, and in the middle were all the pretty girls that David charmed so well. The horns played “Taps” as the officers slowly exited.

I made my way through all the cameras, television, and news reporters. Finally, I got to my car. Slowly, we assembled our cars in line for the procession to the gravesite. What an unbelievable experience this was… Police cars, fire trucks, MEMS and wreckers all drove with their sirens blaring and lights flashing. State troopers blocked all exits on the freeway for the processional from West Little Rock over the river bridge to North Little Rock. Five o’clock traffic had come to a halt. Some of those in traffic got out of their cars and stood saluting the processional as it went by. Chills ran down my spin. As I rode with Nancy, Wendy and Becca, I looked behind me and saw three miles of procession…and it was still going.

At the gravesite, David’s precinct stood at attention saluting him. On the other side of the creek, stood seven officers holding rifles. I was too far away to hear any of the Chaplin’s words. But I saw and heard the seven officers as they raised their rifles and shot three times. This was David’s twenty-one gun salute. Behind me, men were playing “Amazing Grace” on the bag pipes. The slow eerie-like sounds from the bagpipes chilled my soul. My heart felt heavy and I was having a hard time breathing. I could not bear the thought of David actually being dead, but it finally began to seep in as I saw them lower his casket… was he really in there? This could not be… David was really gone. It was not all a dream.

It was very difficult to talk about David after his death…and it was hard to remove myself from it, as I tend to do sometimes to cope. The media and newspapers kept daily updates on the two men who shot David. We were given interviews from the cook who was working at Waffle House that night…as he recounted the entire event on live T.V. I could not escape the depth of grief that seemed to consume me, of losing this very dear friend.

David was an incredible man. What I remember most about him was his pursuit for happiness and his dream. He dreamed of being a police officer. He thrived and he lived his life to the fullest. He also didn’t think twice about helping those people at Waffle House. He laid down his life for a stranger…something not many of us could or would do.

~“God hath no greater love for a man who layeth his life down for another.” ~

Thank you David for being the man you were and showing me through your life the purpose in pursuing our dreams. I’ll always take that with me.

(Below is one of many articles that appeared in the newspaper after David’s death.)

Slain Little Rock police officer David Barnett was honored posthumously Friday night with the department's highest honor, the Medal of Valor. The award was presented to Barnett's mother, Rita Barnett of North Little Rock, by Police Chief Louie Caudell. The ceremony was held at the lodge of the Little Rock Chapter of the Fraternal Order of Police. Barnett was killed Feb. 13 at the Waffle House at Interstate 30 and Scott Hamilton Drive when he tried to stop a robbery. Two Little Rock teen-agers were arrested within two days of the shooting and charged with capital murder. " None of us wants to dwell on the incident that took David from us," Caudell said. " But tonight we want to focus on a different aspect David's bravery. " The Medal of Valor is the department's highest award for service above and beyond the call of duty, and there certainly can't have been a situation where it was more deeply deserved.(" The FOP also honored Barnett with the Supreme Sacrifice Medal of Honor, the highest award given by the FOP. Sgt. Farris Hensley, FOP president, presented the medal to Rita Barnett. " The police officers have been absolutely fantastic," Rita Barnett said after the ceremony, which she attended with Barnett's brothers, Allen and Phillip. " They've been there for us every single day. They've helped the whole family," she said. Barnett was buried wearing his Medal of Valor ribbon, and his mother said it was a fitting tribute. " I first saw it when I saw David at the funeral home, and they asked me if I wanted the ribbon," she said. " But he lived and died for that medal, so his valor ribbon stayed where it belonged, on his shirt.I was proud of David. We were all proud of David.(" Rita Barnett said that David died doing what he always wanted to do be a cop. " I remember when he was a senior in high school and he came into my room one night and I asked him what he was going to do with his life," she said. " He said he was going to join the Marines to get all the skills he could, and when he got out he was going to join the police force.(" After 4 1/2 years in the Marine Corps, where he became a sergeant, he worked different jobs, including being a paramedic, before signing on with the police department in 1988. " He was thrilled to death when he was finally able to do what he always wanted to do," she said. Rita Barnett said that it had been hard to accept the loss of her son. " You try to do what the person would want you to do," she said." We've all tried real hard to be what David would want us to be. " It's difficult to talk about. It's hard to describe to people the things that you're feeling inside and put them into words.(" Phillip Barnett said that news stories about his brother that quoted his co-workers and friends had done a good job in capturing his brother. Rita Barnett said that even though David was only 33 years old when he was killed, "he lived a lot in his life and he did a lot of good for a lot of people. And a lot of people did good for him. He had a lot of good friends.”