Fax: (434) 924-4552
Saferide: (434) 242-1122
2304 Ivy Road
P.O. Box 400214
Charlottesville, VA 22903-44790
This page was created for those officers who made the ultimate sacrifice for their communities. This department wants to show its respect for the fallen officers and their families in creating this home page. Listed below are officers who served the University of Virginia with distinction and are no longer with us. We will never forget them. Unless otherwise noted, all these officers listed below died as a result of natural causes, medical problems, or accidents and not in the line of duty.
The fallen Officers of the U.Va. Police Department
Canine Zander (Retired) Died 12-23-11
Sgt. James H. "Jim" Batten Jr. (Retired) Died 10-30-10
Off. Lee Benson: (Retired) Died 7-1-03.
Sgt. J. J. Aikins: (Retired) Died 12-9-00.
Off. Garnett "Andy" Shumaker: Died 9-9-99.
Sgt. Stanley Crickenbarger: (Retired) Died 12-30-98.
Off. Howard Thorne: (Retired) Died 3-15-98.
Capt. William Morris: (Retired) Died 4-29-96.
Off. Harlen "Blacky" Wood: (Retired) Died 10-11-96
Capt. Robert Dunn: (Retired) Died 11-25-94.
A Part Of America Died:
Somebody killed a police officer today, and a part of America died. A piece of our country he swore to protect will be buried with him at his side. The suspect who shot him will stand up in court with counsel demanding his rights. While a young widowed mother must work for her kids and spend alone many long nights. The beat that he walked was a battlefield too, just as if he'd gone off to war. Though the flag of our nation won't fly at half-mast, to his name they will add a gold star. It happened in your town or mine. While we slept in comfort behind our locked doors, a cop put his life on the line. Now his ghost walks a beat on a dark city street, and he stands at each new rookie's side. He answered the call and gave us his all, and a part of America died.
Dear God, I Miss My Daddy:
My daddy is a policeman, he wears a suit of blue. He didn't come home from work last night, mommy says he's in heaven with you. I'm worried about my daddy Lord, he's never been away this long before, mommy cried when she told me that we wouldn't see daddy no more. I don't know what it was that mommy was trying to explain, she said the police were after a bad man, and somehow my daddy was slain. Now I don't know what that means Lord, all I know is we miss daddy a lot, because tomorrow is my birthday, and I sure hope he hasn't forgot. Lord if my daddy is up there in heaven, please tell him as soon as he is free, to hurry back home as fast as he can, because we miss him.....mommy and me. Thank you God, Amen.
I'm A Policeman:
I'm a policeman, Oh why? you may ask. It's not that the pay is well worth the task. It's something deep down, it's something inside. It's not just a job where you're there for the ride. The dangers we face, we know they're for real. But it's not just a job, it's something you feel. We're out on the beat, it's late at night. This is the time when families fight. Shouting and cursing, then comes a hit. A loud screaming child, a mad raging fit. We come on the scene there's not a set play. We have to assess with our fears pushed away. There's darting eyes and another door. Can we see all the people or are there more? A bang and a crash come from the back. Is someone else there to take a crack? We take control but it's never easy. The mess and the people can make you fell queasy. We return to the beat and hope it's all right. But we know we'll be back for the very next fight. A stoplight runner and a simple chase. But we never know what we may face. Another bad drunk? A kid on a high? Or something much worse to give us a try? We can't take it easy, we can't take a chance. Always a new tune, always a new dance. There's racial tensions and rights to uphold. We have to show patience but yet appear bold. It's easier to say that "all must be fair." When you're not on the street, when you're not the one there. Those feelings of pressure we must put aside. With our actions up front and keeping our pride. It's harder on family than it is on me. Their imagined worst fears are all that they see. I'm on the job and handling it well. But they're safe at home imagining hell. When the telephone rings and it's late at night. They wake in a sweat with a terrible fright. But their awful thoughts I must leave at the station. Cause they might dull my senses and force hesitation. So why do I do it? Where is the joy? There's people who smile, a found little boy. There's laughter and friendship with people who care. There's knowing a difference just 'cause we're there. There's sunshine and sadness and having the nerve. To get up each morning and say that "I serve."