Fallen heroes

Stop for a moment.

Think about the three police officers’ portraits on the Odessa American’s front page.

Just wait and think.

What if Cpl. Abel Marquez was your daddy who taught you how to ride a bike? What if Cpl. Arlie Jones Jr. was your husband who you shared vows with like Rhonda Jones did on Dec. 13, 1993?

What if Cpl. John Scott Gardner was your brother like he was the brother in blue to every Odessa Police Department employee?

Now cry.

Cry your eyes out for their families. Cry for Police Chief Chris Pipes who had to hand over two intricately folded U.S. flags to grieving families at Jones’ and Gardner’s funerals Wednesday.

He will kneel down again and with white-gloved hands likely give one last flag to Marquez’s family Tuesday at his funeral.

Almost instantly, Pipes lost three friends — not employees — but friends. They share a common experience, and that experience turned wickedly violent for Gardner, Jones and Marquez.

For eight days, it’s been hard to find smiles around the Odessa Police Department.

“Usually, people are cracking jokes at times and smiling,” Pipes said earlier this week. “Normally, humor is a way to relieve tension and stress. I’ve seen none of that this week.”

Three cops pinned silver badges to their left breast pockets one last time Sept. 8, and they didn’t come home. Shotgun blasts at a Ventura Avenue ranch-style home killed all three.

One man, Larry Neil White, accused of three counts of capital murder and three counts of attempted capital murder, is arrested.

Yet, it’s all of Odessa arrested by grief, pinned down in despair.

“It just upset my whole family, the whole town,” Marty Dow said as she waited in an SUV next to Business 20 for Jones’ funeral procession to pass Wednesday.

Families gathered near her waved flags — a small sign of support for Jones.

Odessa residents have stories, endless messages for the families and for each other. Warmed by a reminiscing spirit, this town tries to move on without forgetting.

So the black and blue ribbons went up and the flags went down to half-staff.

The messages on fast-food restaurant signs prayed for the police officers’ grieving families.

“It has touched so many lives,” Rhonda Jones said.

Odessa residents knew Arlie Jones Jr. The bald man with a silly spirit enlivened by God opened his arms and welcomed us to church.

Odessa lifted itself in his spirit.

It brought laughter inside Temple Baptist when the congregation imagined the burly, uniformed officer in the Hula Hoop contest or running outside in the snow with nothing but gym shorts as a teenager.

Odessa is filled with the love of Gardner, a man who dreamed to serve others like his fire-fighting brothers did.

And Odessa wrote prayers on message boards for the Marquez family, who restlessly waited as its son held on to life until Wednesday.

We’re sorry.

We’re saddened.

We’re filled with questions.

How? Why?

Those answers will come, Texas Rangers investigators said.

But for now, mourn these men.

An unknown teenaged police explorer cried uncontrollably at Jones’ funeral.

As the photomontage set to patriotic country music shared snapshot memories of Jones, he lost it — big, deep sobs.

He understood.

Cry with him, Odessa.

It’s OK.