Morning Routine

“It’s a rough day,” Officer Denora said at his Staten Island home. “But we just have to stay strong.”

The day began like others: his shield, No. 17456, on the dresser by his bed; his service gun, a 9-millimeter Sig Sauer, in a locked steel box. Coffee for himself and his wife, Christina. Formula for 14-month-old Abigail.

Officer Denora never met Officer Holder. The police force has thousands of officers.



But in four years on the job, Officer Denora has done some of the same work Officer Holder had: plainclothes anticrime.

Christina said she tried not to think how each daily goodbye could be their last – that “the worst won’t happen.”

But on this day, she knows there is a family out there without a son.

Suddenly, “O.K., it’s real,” she said. “It’s a tough job.”

A moment passed. Officer Denora looked up.

“A job I love, though,” he said.

His dress-blue uniform shirt hung from the banister of their stairs. Abigail climbed steps nearby. She started walking just days ago.

It is 10:18 a.m. Time to go.

Exchanges of “I love you” and “I’ll call you later.”

“Blow a kiss,” Christina said in the doorway, holding the baby, watching him leave.