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23 January 2012
The streets had been cleared before noon. Cars had been directed out of the area, and barricades erected in anticipation of the members of the public who would want to pay their respects. Hagen had said that in all his time with the Met, he had never seen preparation like it. To put it mildly, DS Joshua Newcastle’s death, and the subsequent investigation and conclusion, had left its mark on the public’s consciousness. There were many questions still being raised... about the ethics of the various departments within the Met, about the age-old debate regarding service weapons and whether officers should carry on the job... There were raging debates going on, in the news and in Parliament, with several MPs pushing for increased restrictions on guns, while others were eager to arm police officers.
None of the politics and debate mattered today, though. Today, one of their own would be laid to rest. Marshall’s services had been understandably quiet when they occurred three days ago, and Corbett’s had been only briefly covered by the media while they were held in his hometown in Yorkshire. Newcastle was born and raised in London, though, and after the media coverage of his death, and the circumstances of his death, it was no surprise that the Met had decided to go big.
Pierce buttoned the last button of his dress uniform, adjusted his cuffs, then picked up his hat. He fingered the brim of the hat for a moment, the emotional roller coaster he’d been on for nearly two weeks threatening to crash. He’d faced worse, though... And, come hell or high water, he was going to get through this...
When he arrived at Westminster, hundreds of officers were already gathered. Pierce noticed fellow detectives and PCs, their uniforms eliminating many of the boundaries of assignment, department, and even rank. They were all simply coppers today, and they were standing in mourning.
Though only immediate family would be permitted inside Southwark Cathedral for the service, enormous screens had been set up for those who wished to attend in spirit. Many members of the public were finding ways to honor the fallen officer, and the police in general. Several pubs throughout the city had set up mini “wakes” in honor of the fallen, with proceeds going directly to the Police Dependents’ Trust. Others had come together to offer food and services to the families of Newcastle and Corbett. Pierce passed several people on his walk to the front of the funeral cortege that were discussing potential events and ways to help.
Reaching the front of the line, as it were, Pierce paused a moment beside the hearse. Newcastle would have appreciated the vintage look of the car, and the blanket of red and white mums was breathtaking. Pierce turned away quickly when he saw the cards nestled amidst the flowers... cards for “Daddy” and “My Love” ... He took a deep breath, and scanned the area for a safe spot to have a calming cigarette. He found it across the street, where some PCs and other affiliated attendees had gathered. Lambeth was represented in the form of Dr. Monaghan and Jimi Khan, and... yes... Kate was over with the smokers, chatting with Owens. Pierce made his way over, pausing to greet Monaghan and Jimi on the way.
Owens spotted him before he got there, and Pierce tried not to laugh at the stiff posture that flowed through the younger officer. Paul really needed to relax...
“Quite a crowd,” Kate commented, gesturing at the mass of police officers gathering there.
“That it is.”
Monaghan walked over to join them, her mobile in hand. “Oh, Sergeant Pierce? I forgot to mention... Mr. Roca’s body was released to his family. The funeral will be this evening, I believe.”
Pierce nodded solemnly. “Thank you.” Monaghan smiled and rejoined Jimi. Reynolds had arrived, and the three were walking briskly to take their place along the route. Owens said a quick goodbye and hurried to join some of the other PCs, leaving Kate and Pierce alone.
“You knew him, didn’t you?” Pierce lit his cigarette and inhaled deeply before answering, the curls of smoke whooshing from his mouth as he did.
“A little. He was Boskovic’s cousin.”
Kate nodded, a tiny frown creasing the space between her eyebrows. “Are you going? To his funeral, that is.”
Pierce was silent for a moment. He hadn’t really thought about it until she asked, but he knew the answer... “Yes. I’ll probably stop on the way to the wake this evening.”
Kate nodded again. The two were silent as they watched PCs hand out the order of service for the funeral, which featured Newcastle’s photo on the front. The Newcastle family were there, and Pierce spotted Jess and the boys getting into the lead car which would follow the hearse. It was nearly time. The motorcycle detail was preparing to roll into their position up at the very front. Ordinarily, these officers would be rolling at the front of Royal Family members... and today they lead the way for a fallen colleague. The Dean of Southwark was stepping to his place in the front...
It was time.
Pierce exhaled and put out his cigarette, then turned and offered Kate a strained smile. “Well, I’ll see you at the wake.”
“Rick... I don’t know what the protocol is here... but I’ll walk with you... if it’s allowed.” Kate eyes were clear and bright, almost too bright, and Pierce could sense she was fighting hard to suppress the overwhelming emotion she must be feeling from everyone and everything. Pierce sighed, smiling broadly and shaking his head.
“Thank you... but I have to go it alone.” He paused a moment, then said, “But...would you come with me after? To Roca’s funeral? If we stand back a bit, you won’t need a head covering.”
Kate smiled. “Of course.” She patted his arm gently, then walked away quickly, presumably to join her co-workers along the line.
Pierce made his own journey to a spot in the cortege... near the front, just in front of the hearse. Calvin Wilcox was there waiting for him... with Newcastle’s hat. Neither man spoke as he handed the hat to Pierce.
Moments later, the motorcycles revved and began to move forward slowly. The funeral cortege’s journey to Southwark Cathedral began, with Pierce carrying the hat of the fallen Newcastle before him. He tried to stay focused on the route ahead, though peripherally he could see the thousands of officers lining the streets along the way, their heads bowed in salute, some of them crying...
There were retired officers and fresh young cadets... members of the ambulance and fire services... tourists saluting and making the sign of the cross as the hearse passed...
As they neared the cathedral, a cadre of pipers began to play, and a pair of Met helicopters flew overhead in a “missing man” formation...
It was sad... and poignant... and, when the cortege reached its destination, Pierce doubted there was a dry eye anywhere... including his own.
It was a sad day, to be sure, but as Pierce looked around at his fellow officers, and the masses of people paying tribute to Newcastle, and through him to the police themselves, he couldn’t help feeling proud to be a Metropolitan Police officer. It was a funny feeling to have at a time like this, but Newcastle would have approved. Pierce carefully laid the hat upon Newcastle’s coffin, patting the top gently.
“Watch is over, mate,” Pierce said quietly. “Take it easy, eh?” He patted it again, then took his place to help carry the coffin into the Cathedral and begin the service.