Fallen officer ‘fought for the people’
Thousands gather in Abbotsford to honour Const. John Davidson
To the city he died protecting, Const. John Davidson was a hero. To his kids, he was a superhero.
Fighting back tears, Davidson’s three children — Drew, Dina and Fay — stood in front of thousands of uniformed officers and mourners at the Abbotsford Centre on Sunday to share their memories of a man no longer with them, but whose voice, with its Scottish burr, will always be cheering them on.
“It’s hard to properly capture in words just how special dad was in a way that will do him justice,” said Fay, the youngest at 19.
“He was strong, intelligent, hilarious, sarcastic, humble, and a real piece of work.
“He was a tough father, but we always knew that he loved us so fiercely.”
Drew, 26, read a poem in his dad’s honour, while Dina, 24, described him as a fun and playful dad who seemed indestructible.
“There was something about the way he protected and cared for us that made him seem invincible,” she said.
But on Nov. 6, life ended for Davidson, among the first police officers to respond to what was, until the first shots were fired, a very ordinary call.
In his eulogy, Abbotsford Police Chief Bob Rich told the hushed crowd the story of a Mustang reported stolen two days before spotted that day at a strip-mall parking lot; of a call to police; of a man drawing a rifle; and of Davidson falling to the ground.
“A shot rings out and John falls,” said Rich. “When that shot rang out, blackness fell on a sunny day in Abbotsford.”
His officer’s death was a darkness that fell upon the city, said the chief, but the darkness was lit up by the actions of the people who provided first aid to Davidson, by the bravery and professionalism of the officers who helped arrest a 65-year-old Alberta man as he tried to flee; and by the outpouring of love and support from a heartbroken community.
“Everybody came to do everything they could for John,” said Rich. Their beacons of light “have overwhelmed the darkness this evil man wrought upon our city.”
In a poignant moment, Kay thanked the first-responders who tried to save her dad’s life. “Please forgive yourself for not being able to change his fate,” she told them.
Rich described Davidson’s widow, Denise, as a portrait of grace, recounting how two days after he delivered the devastating news of her husband’s death, she came up to him and expressed sorrow for what he is going through.
“We will never let you down,” he told her. “The promise that he made we will keep.”
Earlier on Sunday, thousands of mourners lined the procession route on McCallum Road, despite a stiff, gusting breeze and gathering rain. They came from all corners of the Lower Mainland to bear witness and pay their final respects. The wind buffeted oversized Canadian and B.C. flags strung across the road between two Abbotsford fire department ladder trucks that served as a gateway for the procession.
“Devastation, pure devastation,” is the way Harry Weibe described his reaction to hearing about Davidson’s death. “You cannot put it into words, you can’t put it into words, for people that serve us and protect us, and you take them down like it means nothing. It’s very sad.”
Members of Abbotsford’s Sikh temple came out to offer food as part of their community service in honouring the fallen officer.
Vancouver Police Department volunteer Abi Dawebe, dressed formally in a black suit, came with a group all the way out for the procession “because (Davidson) was a hero, he fought for the people.”
The procession, escorted by motorcycles and accompanied by the skirl of at least three pipe bands, made its sombre way down McCallum Road, rolling waves of the RCMP’s red serge and the dark blues of municipal police departments’ formal uniforms.
Inside the arena, up to 8,000 uniformed officers from across Canada and the U.S., and dignitaries, including Premier John Horgan and Abbotsford Mayor Henry Braun, stood silently as eight pallbearers slowly marched down the black-carpeted centre aisle, carrying a flag-draped casket. Many people wiped away tears. Others bowed their heads, their hands over their hearts.
Davidson was accorded a regimental funeral, the highest honour that can be given to a fallen officer. But the pomp and ceremony, while a great honour, was but a consolation.
“Honouring John in this way today is a huge mark of respect for his genuine dedication to doing the right thing in his profession as a police officer,” said Davidson’s brother Keith, who travelled from the U.K. with other siblings. “But just like everyone of you we’d rather have him back than hailed a hero.”
The grief and solemnity inside the arena was cut with moments of lighthearted remembrances.
Const. Renae Williams, Davidson’s partner in the traffic section, joked about J.D.’s perpetual tan, fondness for moisturizer and penchant for going on tirades that started with “back in the U.K.,” where he was born and served as a police officer with the Northumbria Police for 12 years before joining the Abbotsford police in 2006.
Davidson’s family and colleagues described his competitive spirit, love of fitness and his dedication to policing, including his work with youth, and drive to enforce traffic safety.
“He believed there were lessons to be passed on with each traffic stop,” said a tearful Williams. “It was more than enforcement with him. It was an opportunity to make a difference.”
The eulogies were followed by a bugle playing The Last Post and the wail of a bagpipe playing a lament. A slide show was projected on the giant screen above the arena, showing photos from Davidson’s childhood and photos with his family.
Chief Const. Winton Keenan of the Northumbria Police presented a pre-folded Scottish flag to Denise. Rich did the same, kneeling in front of her as he presented her with a folded Canadian flag.
Before the casket was carried out into the rain, an end-of-watch radio call echoed through the arena, a traditional farewell salute to a police officer.
“Tango 3 from Abbotsford. Tango 3 from Abbotsford. Tango 3 Const. Davidson from Abbotsford. Const. Davidson is 10-7.” Static. Then silence.
A shot rings out and John falls. When that shot rang out, blackness fell on a sunny day in Abbotsford.