The police chief spoke first.
He talked about Marcus's service.
His patience.
His humor.
His stubborn insistence on doing paperwork correctly.
Martinez smiled at that.
The chief spoke about a traffic stop where Marcus had spent forty minutes changing a tire for an elderly woman after writing her a warning.
He talked about how Marcus kept extra children's stickers inside the patrol car because frightened kids trusted police officers more when they received something colorful.
Then he talked about Elena.
About Miguel.
About the fact that Marcus's greatest pride had never been the badge.
It had been his family.
Miguel stood beside his mother.
At first, he listened.
Then he started tugging at Elena's dress.
She bent down.
He whispered something.
Elena shook her head.
Miguel whispered again.
She looked toward Tom.
Then toward the podium.
Miguel's face became serious.
Elena closed her eyes.
Then nodded.
When the chief finished, Elena approached him.
"I'm sorry."
The chief leaned closer.
"What is it?"
"Miguel wants to ask something."
The chief looked at the boy.
Then stepped away from the microphone.
One of the officers lifted Miguel carefully so he could reach it.
The boy looked at the crowd.
Three hundred bikers.
Dozens of officers.
Family.
Neighbors.
Friends.
His little hands gripped the edge of the podium.
"Mr. Scary Man Tom?"
Tom looked up.
"Yes, warrior?"
Miguel swallowed.
"Can you tell the angels Daddy is good?"
Nobody moved.
Miguel continued.
"They'll believe you because you're scary."
Tom's face changed.
Snake looked down.
Martinez covered his mouth.
Tom remained still for several seconds.
This was a man who had been through enough hard years that very little surprised him.
He had lost friends.
Buried family.
Seen good men ruin themselves.
Seen troubled men rebuild.
He understood grief.
Or thought he did.
But nothing had prepared him for a little boy asking him to provide a character reference to heaven.
Tom walked toward the podium.
Miguel reached for him.
Tom lifted the boy onto his hip.
The child immediately wrapped one arm around his shoulders.
Tom leaned toward the microphone.
He looked ridiculous there.
Huge biker.
Leather vest.
Tattoos.
Five-year-old boy in his arms.
Police chief standing to one side.
Hundreds waiting.
Tom cleared his throat.
"Angels."
A few people smiled through tears.
Tom continued.
"This is Officer Marcus Rivera coming your way."
He looked toward the coffin.
"He was a brave man."
Tom paused.
"A father."
Another pause.
"A protector."
Miguel leaned against him.
Tom looked toward the police officers.
"He did his job even when people like us didn't always appreciate being on the receiving end of it."
A quiet laugh moved through the bikers.
Martinez smiled.
Tom continued.
"But I've learned something about Marcus."
He tightened his arm around Miguel.