Every May the police department here honors the ones who have died in the line of duty. My great great grandfather is at the top of the list, the first to be recognized as his killing took place in 1865. A young man with one child and a pregnant wife, murdered as he was getting off duty, shortly after he came home from the Civil War, when angry men were roaming the streets. Occasionally that happens to law enforcement officers today. But here we are over 150 years later, his descendants, honoring his life. This is my cousin and me at the ceremony.
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