I would now invite you to stand if you are able for the posting of the colors and remain standing through the national anthem sung by officer David Perry and invocation by Chaplain Rager. Our guard uniforms. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. hard. Uniform personnel present arms. >> Order Mars. Live detail. Retire the colors. Present Mars. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Come on. Come on. Order on rest. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Guard unifor. What so proudly we hailed at the twilight last gleaming whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous night or the ramparts we watched were so gallently streaming and the rockets red glare. The bombs bursting in air gave proof through the night that our flag was still there. Oh, say does that star spangled banner yet wave or the land of the free and the home of the brave. All right. Good afternoon. My name is Ray Turney. I'm a retired Portland police officer and I am chaplain now with the with the bureau. It's the fourth year I've had the privilege of of being with you uh during this time of remembrance and to deliver the invocation. I feel it's incumbent upon me to mention that invocations are often uh part of a tradition, part of the ceremony, and that's uh that's well and good. That's not how I see it. I sincerely mean the words I'm about to share with you. They come from my heart, and they're intentional. Doing so, I stay true to my faith and my conscience. And I said that so I can say this to you that I sincerely invite you to participate as your faith or your conscience might dictate to you. But if you would join me in this moment of invocation. Heavenly Father, we are gathered here this afternoon and thankful for the opportunity to remember and honor our brothers and sisters who've made the ultimate sacrifice in their service to this country country, this city, our country, and the highest ideals of law enforcement. I pray this will be a time of comfort to the families, loved ones, and friends of these officers. I ask you to be present during this time. Protect our brothers and sisters serving even now in the field and those who will be. Let us never forget. And I ask these things in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen. Please take your seats. We are here today to honor the 30 Portland police officers and two police canines who have made the ultimate sacrifice in service to the community. Thank you all for taking the time out of your day to spend it here at the Portland Police Memorial. This is the 34th annual ceremony and it means so much to us that you all took time and effort to attend. Our audience today includes police officers, firefighters, and other public safety personnel, federal law enforcement officers, and elected officials. Family of fallen officers are also here and we want you to know your loved ones legacy is not forgotten and we continue to honor them. Mayor Wilson could not be here today due to ongoing budget process issues at city council. Christopher Taft, senior aid to Mayor Keith Wilson, is here to read the police Memorial Day proclamation. I just want to start off by apologizing for Mayor Wilson's absence. Uh he sends his deep regrets. Whereas 30 Portland police officers have met violent and untimely deaths in the performance of their duties. And whereas their sacrifice resulted in 25 wives becoming widows, one husband, a widowerower, and 57 children growing up without their fathers. And whereas a memorial has been dedicated to commemorate the deaths of those braves brave officers. Now therefore, Keith Wilson, mayor of the city of Portland, Oregon, the city of Roses, hereby proclaims Tuesday, May 19th, 2026 to be police Memorial Day in Portland in recognition of Portland police officers who have given their lives in the line of duty. Thank you, Christopher. Now, I'd like to invite Sergeant Aaron Schmoutz, president of the Portland Police Association to the podium. Good afternoon and thank you for allowing me to stand in front of this hallowed memorial and honor those who paid the ultimate sacrifice to protect strangers. My name is Aaron Schmoutz and I'm the president of the Portland Police Association. Earlier this week, I returned home from Washington, DC, where I play paused to reflect the National Police Memorial during Police Week. I had I've had this honor many times, and each year I find both solace and disruption in my soul as I have sat and witnessed, excuse me, as I have sat and both witnessed firsthand the grief of families impacted by the eternal sacrifice sacrifices paid by our heroes and quietly read the offerings from broken hearts. I walked around the memorial this year and read message after message. I remember it like it was yesterday. We were all I shouldn't have written all this. Um we were all hurting for a long time and I was only seven. I still dream about you. We still love and think about you and I wish it was a dream but I hope I make you proud. I love you. I love you, Dad. I miss you so much, Cadence. I love you, Dad. And I I miss you every day. From three children who all lost their father. Dad, I cannot form into words how much I miss you. I know that you were with me every single day, watching over me and protecting me, your oldest little bub. Not a day goes by that I don't think about you and the relationships we could have had. I hate how much you've had to miss, but I know you're still here whether I see you or not. I'll love you forever and I miss you endlessly. Ella, Dad, it's me, Mark. Now, I seem to go day by day where things mostly go my way. I can't help but think you were doing some ghostly magic and helping me out. I mean, I got good grades. I found love and I lost weight. And it's likely all because you did that. Thanks, Dad. Dear Dad, hi, it's me. I'm 10 now. I wish I could tell you that in person instead of writing this letter and leaving you in leaving it here for you. I want you to know that I still hate getting my hair done and I'm learning new things and trying my best every day. You would be proud of me. Even though I don't get to have you here with me, I still feel you in my heart. I miss playing catch with you, Daddy. I've got really good at playing catch with mommy. Love Henry. These are the voices. These are not abstract. These are not paintings on a wall. These are the sacrifices carved in granite around this country. And these losses are carried by fathers and mothers and daughters and sons and spouses and families represented on this wall and on every wall in every city in America. And yet, right now, at this moment, while I'm standing here and speaking to you, a call is answered. A radio is the pulse of the men and women who protect and serve. And it beats regardless of politics or budgets or the temperance of the time. The cries for help are the constant, and it is born by the willing, by those who stare at a chasm of hate and anger and darkness and answer the call anyway because their number was called. because they believe that answering the call matters. Because they look at a loving family and have the courage to say, "Despite the sacrifice, despite the shifts and missed birthdays, the pain, the injury, the loss, the trauma, the burden, despite the rejection from a body politic who demands perfection and accepts no less, yet refuses to acknowledge its own failures." The answer is yes, I will go today. My hope is twofold. that we honor them. We honor their families gathered and at home. We remember and name them so they are not forgotten. We identify that their names are eternal, carved in stone here in Salem. Here, excuse me, in Salem and DC and in the very hearts of their brothers and sisters. We acknowledge the harm to our heroes and their families exist even when we get lucky. When physical wounds manage to heal, that these scars remain. that we surround our courageous first responder families with the love and the presence they so desperately need, but that we also love those willing enough to step across the threshold to hold the line and say no more. To our leaders, I need you to know that we exist in a time of extreme moral distress. Our first responders are continually asked to do more and to give more, but as we have just discussed, there is just simply no more to give. The willingness of our brothers and sisters to sacrifice everything demands engaged leaders who openly acknowledge the harm and the price of constantly shifting goalposts. I read an article that profoundly discussed the co the human cost >> and we do it anyway. I recently read an article with the profoundly discuss that profoundly discussed the human cost of the continual demand of more with less. The author, Columbia, Missouri Fire Chief Brian Schaefer notes that the impacts of the strain of being p the strain being placed on our first responders and that it often presents itself quietly. Old equipment, clearing a call to go to the nest next only to find out later that a tragedy occurred. Recalibrating responses through acceptable risks which first responders know it just really means that we're compromising our safety for our community and our co-workers. He continues that we that that compromise that we compromise not because we don't care but because we do. Our sacrif our success means people live and our failure means that they may not. This matters. These compromises however accumulate. This moral residue is real and so present that you can see it and touch it. The risks of our public servants and their families excuse me. I'm sorry. The risks that our public servants and their families experience do not vanish if we ignore them. Instead, they become normalized and accepted. We saw this here in Portland this year when two of our officers were brutally ambushed. The silence from some of our elected leadership shocked the conscience. It's an acceptable risk, it seems. Simply put, supporting those who serve costs nothing. It is not political. It is not complicated. Holding that public servants should and are held to the highest of standards is not anathema to our profession. But disregarding the risks and the harm our public servants and their families endure is. So as we have every year we honor these brave souls and the loving family, friends, brothers, sisters, and community that they sacrifice so sacrifice so much for. We promise to meet every year and we speak their names. And may we lead and be led with the conviction that their willingness to sacrifice serves us and compels us to do better. Thank you. >> And now, please welcome Portland Police Chief Bob Day. Thank you, Erin. Thank you, uh, thanks, Ray, for the invocation. Chris, for the words to the mayor, thank you, Dr. Perry, for that beautiful rendition. Last Saturday, I was asked to make a few remarks at an event recognizing the 1994 genocide against the Tootszie in Rwanda where 1 million people were killed in a 100 days. And the event is called Queibbuka which means to remember in Swahili. And as I listened to the survivors speak about that time and they talked about the importance of remembering they said we remember to honor those who died. We remember to honor those who survived. and we remember so that it is never repeated. I feel similar about today. The handling of the flag, the dress uniforms, the 21 gun salute, all are meant to honor the brave men and women of the Portland Police Bureau who made the ultimate sacrifice for their city. And although we've added some new names that have occurred over the years, fortunately since 2002, we have not added a name to this wall. But this conversation is not abstract for me. There's three names on this wall. Thomas Jeff, Colleen Wyel, and Kirk Huffsler that I worked with, that I sat in roll calls with. This is not some conversation that's just happening in the ether. This is real families represented by it today. At the same time, we must remember and honor those who lived. President Kennedy once said, "Without belittling the courage with which men have died, we should not forget those act of courage by which men have lived." Just this past year, we had four officers who were in a fight for their lives. two who were attacked in a park in northeast Portland and had to wait six minutes for cover to arrive. Earlier this year, two more who were shot, ambushed on a subject stop in both cases. Thank you, DA Vasquez. Both were charged with attempted murder. These threats are real. And then finally, we remember so that these events are not repeated. That's why we invest in training. That's why we invest in equipment. That's why we invest in personnel. Last year and consistently for over a decade, more than 200,000 Portlanders called upon PP at their worst possible time, at their worst possible moment. When they had no other option, they called for the Portland Police Bureau. And as Aaron already mentioned, they went. They went. Despite what the call might have said, despite the uncertainty, despite the complexity, those men and women went. One of my favorite days of the year is also one of my hardest. I get to stand before a group of new officers on their first day, asking them to raise their right hand and take an oath. It's an incredible privilege and one that I do with a great amount of pride. I'm proud for the police bureau. I'm proud for them, for their families, for their future, for the service they're about to give. But every time there's a quiet voice in my head that recalls the names on this wall. And I quietly pray that we as an organization do everything possible to ensure that their names are never added to it. More than any other bureau, we stand in the gap during moments of crisis, bringing bridging divides with both compassion and strength. Many who are quick to dismiss us are also the first to call when their safety is threatened and we answer. This past year's officers showed up during intense moments of conflict surrounding immigration enforcement and public order events. They work long hours navigating tension, uncertainty while keeping our community safe. Public safety remains a cornerstone. Policing remains a cornerstone at the free of a free and prosperous city. But we do not have to wait until the second week of May each year to remember. I close with a quote from a recent author. Our memories are not formed from our experiences alone. Our memories are formed from the retelling of events. In other words, the stories we tell ourselves and others are what shape our memory. So, as we leave here today, let us tell those stories. Those stories of the brave men and women represented on this wall and those stories of the brave men and women who stand before you today. And let's remember, we honor those who died when we remember. We honor those who survived when we remember. And by remembering, we are remembering, we are committing ourselves to protecting those who protect us. And we can help ensure no new names added to this wall. Please be safe. Thank you, Chief. Portland Police Honor Guard officers will now read the names of our fallen officers. >> Thomas G. Okconor >> Charles F. Chopa >> Samuel S. Young >> Albert W. Mo >> James R. White >> Ralph H. Stall >> James C. Gil >> John J. McCarthy >> Andrew J. Logos >> Glenn L. Litenberg, >> Jerome Palmer, >> James D. Wright, >> Robert E. Drake, >> Charles M. White, >> Philillip R. Johnson, >> Charles E. Vincent, >> James A. Hines, >> Gilbert H. Horton, >> Roy E. Meisner, >> Vernon J. Stroer >> Roger L. Davies >> Robert P. Murray >> Robert R. Faren Jr. >> Steven M. Owens >> Dennis A. Darden >> David W. Crowther >> Stanley D. Pounds >> K9 Argos >> Thomas L. Jeff, >> Colleen A. Wyel, >> Kirk R. Huffstetler, >> K9 Mick. Now, I'd like to ask you all to stand if you're able and turn toward the Wamut River for a 21 gun salute by the Honor Guard and a water display from Portland Fire and Rescue. Guard personnel rifle me. Hey, ready. Hey, Firearm uniforms. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. Heat. firearm. This is This concludes our formal ceremony. Please join us for a reception at the Portland Police Museum located at the Justice Center. A special thank you to all who made today possible planning and coordinating this ceremony. Thank you again for attending.