Her fallen dad would be proud
Daughter of slain HPD officer marries as his colleagues in blue turn out in force
A few months ago, Daniel Florek climbed the steps of the Houston Police Officer Memorial and ran his finger over Richard K. Martin’s name.
Daniel prayed, asking the fallen officer for a blessing he could not seek in person: His only daughter’s hand in marriage.
“It’s a tricky thing,” said Daniel, 28. “Her dad is literally a superhero. … So I feel I have to work every day to ensure I’m the kind of man her dad would approve of, the kind of man her dad would trust to spend the rest of her life with.”
Daniel Florek and Cynthia Martin married at the memorial Saturday morning, surrounded by dozens of HPD officers standing in for Richard Martin, who was killed just over two years ago as he laid spike strips to stop a carjacker fleeing police.
His fellow officers have sup-
ported the family of the 47-year-old U.S. Air Force veteran ever since. They escorted his body back to his native Oklahoma. They stood guard at the funeral.
“They have not left us to this day,” said Martin’s widow, Kim.
On Saturday, Houston police assembled again, the happy occasion made bittersweet by Richard’s absence.
The officers arrived early in the morning, lining up 40 white folding chairs near an ivy-covered trellis at the foot of the granite stepped memorial.
Around 10 a.m., the rumble of 32 motorcycles pierced the sticky air. Caravans ferried dozens of officers and cadets to the site.
“It’s a blessing to be here,” one officer said. BBB
Cynthia, 24, met Daniel 11 months ago.
They were at an AA meeting, confronting addiction and determined to stay sober. She complimented his socks. They found each other on Facebook later that day and chatted into the night.
He wasn’t looking for a relationship, but her joy captivated him — even more so when he learned about her dad.
“For her to be able to laugh as hard as she can after being through the experiences she’s been through — this is the strongest person I’ve met in my entire life,” Daniel said.
After he prayed at the memorial, he called Kim to ask for her blessing. “He was so excited, he cried with me,” she said. “It just let us know how much he loved her.”
The ring came weeks later. He wanted to make a grand gesture, but couldn’t wait. Cynthia was getting ready to take a shower and noticed him standing around, fretting.
Then, he blurted it out. BBB
The memorial seemed like the natural place for the wedding.
“In honor of my father,” Cynthia said, “because he can’t be there.”
Her family hoped many officers would attend.
Her dad’s colleagues went far beyond that. They secured the permit to hold the wedding at the memorial.
They put a call out to officers to show up Saturday. They hauled dozens of chairs, directed traffic and assembled in their finest.
“Cynthia has a lot of dads who wear uniforms,” the chaplain said.
Daniel waited eagerly beneath the ivy-covered trellis. The groom was dressed in a black suit with a blue and purple striped tie.
Cynthia had been preparing for hours. She was wearing her mom’s wedding dress, its hem shortened to fit her 4-foot-11 frame.
Blue and purple roses dotted the circlet on her head and filled her bouquet. She carried one made of the light blue cloth of her father’s uniform.
A miniature version of her dad’s badge, #5413, hung from her neck. She never takes it off.
She often thinks of him and of what he would say if he were alive. She has been sober for a year. She and Daniel work at a sober-living facility helping others walk the same path.
She’s getting married and has a baby on the way. On Monday, they’ll learn whether it’s a boy or a girl.
“He would be proud,” she said.
Moments before the ceremony, more than 100 officers and cadets formed two lines facing each other on the slope down to the memorial.
Cynthia and Daniel’s relatives sat at its base. Her 14-year-old brother, Tyler, waited with their rings. Several curious onlookers huddled beneath the pink crepe myrtles that circle the memorial, their morning workouts forgotten.
At 10:29 a.m., Cynthia walked into view, an officer at her side.
“She’s ready!” someone called.
The lines snapped to attention.
The bride stepped forward.