
May 2, 2008
Remarks of Troy A. Eid, U.S. Attorney for Colorado At the Colorado Law Enforcement Memorial Ceremony
Camp George West Golden, Colorado
“It means so much to me that my Dad hasn’t been forgotten.”
The words of a loving daughter, mourning the murder of a heroic father.
The daughter is Nicole Bantau of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Her Dad was the late Detective Mike Thomas of the Aurora Police Department. A decorated 24-year veteran of the force, Mike was gunned down in the fall of 2006 while stopped in his car at the intersection of Peoria Street and Montview Blvd. His alleged killer, Brian Washington, had a long rap sheet. At the time of Mike Thomas’ murder, Washington was a fugitive – wanted for shooting a woman just 2 days before. He’s scheduled to stand trial this September 29th for first-degree murder.
“It means so much to me that my Dad hasn’t been forgotten.”
Like thousands of other Coloradans, I stood outside the Heritage Christian Center in Aurora on the morning of Mike Thomas’ funeral. The officers and their families who processed into the church hailed from the four corners of Colorado and beyond – police officers, sheriffs’ deputies, state troopers, federal agents, prosecutors and the lines stretched across the parking lot. It didn’t seem like any church, even a mega-church, could possibly hold them all. Yet finally there we were, and the hall fell silent, and the dignitaries faded away, and there she was – Mike’s daughter Nicole and the rest of the Thomas family and their closest friends. Real people in an unwanted spotlight, bearing unimaginable grief, carrying all of Colorado – all that is good and pure and right – on their shoulders.
“It means so much to me that my Dad hasn’t been forgotten.”
I’ve never met Nicole Bantau, or even knew her name that day at her father’s funeral. So I was a little surprised to get an email from her a couple months ago. At the time, I was up early on a Saturday morning getting ready to go to court. The U.S. Attorney’s office handles thousands of cases each year, including about 100 appeals from the U.S. District Court in Denver to the 10th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals. One of those cases had caught my eye. Aurora Police officers had responded to a reported hostage situation in July 2006 and confronted an assailant believed to be armed and dangerous.
One of the officers who responded on that scorching summer day, and who later questioned the suspect, was Detective Mike Thomas. The suspect later challenged the validity of his arrest and sought to suppress the evidence from the search, which included fraudulent checks and fake IDs, along with identity theft-related paraphernalia, related to a methamphetamine ring. When the District Court Judge ruled for the defendant, we decided to appeal his decision to exclude or suppress that evidence.
As I was preparing for the oral argument in the case last March, I read through the entire record of the case. The Mike Thomas I was never privileged to meet came alive as I read through the detective’s reports and other evidence. I was struck by a simple act of human kindness. It was a hot day, and the defendant didn’t want just any drink – he specifically requested a Mountain Dew. Somehow, Mike Thomas managed to find him the soft drink of his choice. At every step in a difficult investigation, Mike was a consummate professional.
I thought about what Mike and his colleagues faced on that sweltering day: A potentially methed up suspect in an apartment, reportedly armed and with a hostage. Just another day on the job, while lawyers like me sit in air-conditioned offices with nice views. The rest of us only get to do what we enjoy because of Mike’s sacrifices – and yours.
As I was contemplating all this, here comes that unsolicited email from Pittsburgh. From Nicole. Thanking me of all people for arguing a case involving her rather.
“It means so much to me that my Dad hasn’t been forgotten.”
We honor those officers memorialized on this wall – and rightly so. But we cannot begin to consecrate this ground without also paying tribute to their families.
These are not easy times to be a law enforcement officer – or an officer’s loved one. According to the National Law Enforcement Memorial Fund, fatal police shootings increased 54% across the United States last year alone. In Colorado as elsewhere, officers report confronting more combative and better-armed suspects who are more willing to escalate a confrontation with lethal force. Even what used to be called “routine” traffic stops can quickly spiral into life-or-death situations – as Colorado Springs Police officer Ken Jordan tragically learned when Marco Reiner Lee allegedly gunned him down not long after Mike Thomas’ death. Lee had 3 prior traffic stops that year alone. During the first, he tore up his speeding ticket and threw it at the officer. Only after Ken Jordan’s murder did we all see Lee’s website, modeling a bulletproof vest and holding a gun.
Yes, these are not easy times for law enforcement officers and their families. Yet this day, this memorial, remind us that this road to justice has never been easy. No one is strong enough to go it alone. The officers named here, and the families who made their lives worth living, are what Colorado is all about.
And so it is written on our hearts, as it is chiseled in this wall:
No, Nicole, we will not forget. Your father – and your family – will never be forgotten.
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