LIMON — They spared no words, no emotions, no honorary trappings as a grieving town and a law enforcement community from far and wide gathered Tuesday to salute the first Limon police officer in history to be slain in the line of duty.

The death of 27-year-old officer Jay Sheridan, one of only five members of the Limon Police Department, brought more than 1,500 people to the town’s high school gymnasium — including Gov. John Hickenlooper — with hundreds of overflow mourners seated in an adjacent gym wired with a video feed of the memorial.

And afterward, a stately black carriage drawn by a single black horse carried his casket to Pershing Memorial Cemetery in a solemn, five-block procession lined on both sides with the flashing lights of police vehicles. Sheridan’s widow, Heather, and 21-month-old daughter, Isabel, rode atop the carriage while officers from dozens of jurisdictions snapped salutes.

Sheridan’s family, friends and others trailed the carriage to the burial, which culminated with the loud report of fireworks against a gray sky following a rifle volley — a finale that brought a look of wonder and delight to his daughter’s eyes.

“Wow!” she said.

But in the packed gym, where officers in shades of blue and brown filled an entire side of bleachers and spilled onto the floor, speakers gave depth to the tragedy that unfolded last Wednesday when Sheridan was shot trying to arrest a man at a local trailer park.

Michael Yowell, a Lincoln County sheriff’s deputy and longtime friend, told of a fun-loving guy who “partied like a rock star” in his college days but settled down to become “one hell of a cop.”

Above all, though, Sheridan valued family.

“His love for you was great,” said Pastor Greg Scherrer, addressing Sheridan’s relatives, “and I know your heart has a bit of a piece missing today, for sure. However, it’s quite evident that what appears to be a missing piece today, if you look closely, it’s a piece that has been made more precious than it ever was before.”

Scherrer related a story about how, on the morning before Sheridan’s last shift, he asked little Isabel for a kiss, and she jokingly refused. Prodded a little more, she complied. But then, as Sheridan was about to go out the door, Sheridan’s father, Tim, asked her if she didn’t have just one more for her dad.

She did, indeed.

“She smooched up the biggest kiss she could provide,” Scherrer recounted. “A very precious goodbye that morning. Somehow the Lord provided that.”

The pastor allowed that he had this “goofy idea” that from now on, instead of waving whenever he sees officers around town, he’ll hail them with his index finger and thumb extended.

“It forms a ‘J,’ ” he said.

Hickenlooper, who had been scheduled to meet Tuesday with Secretary of Homeland Security Janet Napolitano in Denver, noted the irony.

“You look at the condition around the world,” he said, “. . . the violence, the lack of law, and realize that our police officers every day allow us to live the lives we live without thinking. They go to work so we can live in peace and safety. Our lives are richer because of Jay and his service.”

He presented a Colorado state flag to Sheridan’s wife.

Yowell, the nephew of Limon Police Chief Lynn Yowell, explained how tight-knit the local law enforcement community is: There are fewer than 15 people among the Limon police, Lincoln County contingent and regional State Patrol office.

Sheridan’s call number was “Limon-4,” he added. Heather’s was 4.0 and Isabel’s was 4 1/2.

“We, ladies and gentlemen, are a family,” he said. “Welcome to our home.”

He spoke about a weight-loss competition that helped Sheridan shed 40 pounds — and how Sheridan “would appear out of nowhere” whenever Yowell was about to partake of junk food.

He talked of Sheridan’s dislike for paperwork. After busting a suspect for trying to steal some T-shirts, Sheridan’s report misspelled the word “shirt” on every reference, Yowell recalled.

“He left out the ‘r’ every time,” he said.

But Yowell also told the crowd that his friend lost his life doing what he loved.

“It was an honor to stand next to him,” he said.

Then, he spoke directly to members of Sheridan’s family. After prompting every law enforcement officer to rise and salute, he told little Isabel: “You just lost your daddy, but you just inherited everyone on their feet.”

With all of the law enforcement representatives still standing, Yowell addressed the slain officer, whose casket was draped in an American flag that has flown at ground zero in New York City and has been flown all over the U.S. to honor public servants who have died.

“Jay, we were supposed to grow old together on our multimillion-dollar goat farm,” said Yowell, referring to one of Sheridan’s passions, goat ranching. “We were going to watch our kids grow old. But instead, sir, you’ve been promoted.

“I made you a promise that fateful night that I’d take care of your wife and kids,” he continued. “I intend on keeping that promise. But just in case, I brought backup. We’ll take it from here, sir. Godspeed, Jay Sheridan, godspeed.”

As the traditional last radio call crackled over the speakers, some sobbed and others dabbed at their eyes. Then, while the casket made its way out of the gymnasium, a single mourner raised his right hand, thumb and forefinger extended.

Then another, and another, and another joined in the gesture, a silent tribute to “J.”

Kevin Simpson: 303-954-1739 or ksimpson@denverpost.com