Post by Deleted on Sept 21, 2007 12:07:21 GMT -5
TRAGIC OFFICER NOT ONLY FINEST, BUT BRAVEST
September 18, 2007 --
GENERATIONS ago, Presi dent Andrew Jackson told the country: "One man with courage makes a majority." Jackson sure as hell knew what men like slain Police Officer Dillon Stewart were made of.
Yesterday, in an emotion-laden courtroom, Officer Brian Goss recalled the moment Dillon Stewart said, "I'm hit."
Goss quickly led the way to Stewart's car to race him to a hospital.
While speeding to Kings County Hospital, and with his life ebbing away, Stewart seemed unperturbed by his injury. He was still all business.
Goss told the court with admiration for a man who looked death straight in the eye and refused to panic: "He was trying to tell me how to drive and which way to go."
Directly behind me in the Brooklyn courthouse, his loved ones added a hushed little laugh, a wave of the heads and a smile.
Yes, that was typical Dillon Stewart right to the end.
Approaching the hospital, the mortally wounded cop tried to make a call home, but the bullet from the bastard's gun started to beat the body.
"He went down on his knees," Goss said. Goss would pick him up from behind, race him to the emergency room and soon knew that his 35-year-old friend and brother cop would not make it.
The big courthouse was absolutely jammed with cops of every color and ethnicity.
Which only goes to prove they all wear the same color blue and they bleed the same color of blood. After all, they are the Finest.
steve.dunleavy@nypost.com
September 18, 2007 --
GENERATIONS ago, Presi dent Andrew Jackson told the country: "One man with courage makes a majority." Jackson sure as hell knew what men like slain Police Officer Dillon Stewart were made of.
Yesterday, in an emotion-laden courtroom, Officer Brian Goss recalled the moment Dillon Stewart said, "I'm hit."
Goss quickly led the way to Stewart's car to race him to a hospital.
While speeding to Kings County Hospital, and with his life ebbing away, Stewart seemed unperturbed by his injury. He was still all business.
Goss told the court with admiration for a man who looked death straight in the eye and refused to panic: "He was trying to tell me how to drive and which way to go."
Directly behind me in the Brooklyn courthouse, his loved ones added a hushed little laugh, a wave of the heads and a smile.
Yes, that was typical Dillon Stewart right to the end.
Approaching the hospital, the mortally wounded cop tried to make a call home, but the bullet from the bastard's gun started to beat the body.
"He went down on his knees," Goss said. Goss would pick him up from behind, race him to the emergency room and soon knew that his 35-year-old friend and brother cop would not make it.
The big courthouse was absolutely jammed with cops of every color and ethnicity.
Which only goes to prove they all wear the same color blue and they bleed the same color of blood. After all, they are the Finest.
steve.dunleavy@nypost.com
