Saturday, August 6, 2011

In Memory of Officer Richard E. Huerta #47, 1935-1970

In Memory of Officer Richard Eugene Huerta #47
Last Watch: Killed in the Line of Duty- August 6, 1970











Today, we remember one of our own,                                   
gunned down on a warm summers eve,
leaving us all to grieve.

Today, Officer Richard Eugene Huerta,
forever standing tall,
ended his watch with his last call.

Today, we the citizens past and present,
yet to live or about to die,
will cry for Officer Huerta and ask why?
Why did Officer Huerta have to die?

I say he gave his life for the badge on his chest,
he lived his life and gave his best.

Paul Sprague
Retired, SJFD



"The Badge"

He starts his shift each day,
to respond to calls unknown,
he drives a marked patrol car,
a police officer he is known.

He's paid by the citizens' taxes,
to make it safe on the streets,
but he usually has a second job,
cause a waitress has his salary beat.

Now he doesn't know a holiday,
cause he works all year round,
and when Thanksgiving and Christmas finally arrive,
at his home he cannot be found.

He's cursed and assaulted often,
the one who's blood runs blue,
he seldom ever gets a thanks,
to some he's just a fool.

His friends are always other cops,
cause people just don't understand,
that underneath his badge and gun,
he's just another man.

He knows there might not be a tomorrow,
in this world of drugs and crime,
and he gets so mad at the court system,
cause the crooks don't get any time.

And each day when he leaves for work,
he prays to God above,
please bring me home after my shift,
so I can see the ones I love.

But tonight he stops a speeding car,
he's alone down this ole' highway,
it's just an infraction,
he does it everyday.

Well, he walks up to the driver's window,
and his badge is shining bright,
he asked the guy for a driver's license,
when a shot rang through the night.

Yes, the bullet hit it's mark,
striking the officer in the chest,
but the departments budget didn't buy,
each officer a bullet proof vest.

So he lay on the ground bleeding,
his blood wasn't blue - his blood was red,
and briefly he thought of his loved ones,
cause in a moment the officer was dead.

In the news they told the story,
of how this officer died,
and some who listened cared less,
but those who loved him cried.

Well, they buried him in uniform,
with his badge pinned to his chest,
he even had his revolver,
he died doing his best.

Written by:
David L. Bell
Sergeant
Richland County Sheriff's Department
Columbia, South Carolina

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