It looked and felt as if I had accidentally stumbled into a reunion of the cast of a New York cop TV show.
The set, a grungy police station in the bowels of the subway system. The tight hallways filled with guys and gals greeting each other with loud New York “aaaayyyysss” and even the occasional “How you doin’?” always with a hug and several slaps on the back.
The Old Guard had come back to the precinct.
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Amid the returning retirees, the characters looked just like you imagine they would.
There were guys fresh out of the police academy, now responsible for keeping things going and training a new generation. There was the hardened desk sergeant overlooking the whole operation, beat cops getting ready for the day ahead, and a pair of plain-clothes detectives.
‘No ordinary day’
But this was no television drama, and this was no ordinary day.
This was September 11, 2026, and the always-busy police station had become the site of a memorial service honoring two of their own who lost their lives in the 9/11 attacks 25 years ago.
Outside NYPD Transit Police Bureau District 4, located underneath Manhattan’s Union Square Park, a glass-encased board covered in old photos, patches and folded flags honored Police Officers Ramon Suarez and Mark Ellis. While most commuters whiz by with hardly a notice, nearly all of the retirees drift toward the board as they arrive and stop. Many reach out to touch the glass and then cross themselves after a short, silent prayer.
Undercurrent
Inside the station, the reunion continued, but underneath the celebration of reconnecting with old friends, colleagues, and beat partners, there was an undercurrent of melancholy. In the background of the dayroom — filled with bagels, pastries and other goodies — was a large screen on the wall showing live coverage from the World Trade Center Memorial site, just a few subway stops away.
Telling war stories as they go, the old-timers wander through the station, working their way further underground through the maze of lockers. In addition to finding their own, they reverently stop at the lockers of Ellis and Suarez, both perfectly preserved the way they were 25 years ago — time capsules behind sheets of plexiglass.
As I moved from the public lobby into the heart of the precinct, I was struck by a memorial wall dedicated to the police officers from that station who lost their lives in the line of duty.
In the briefing room was a huge painting of a bald eagle carrying an American flag over the New York City skyline, created by an 11-year-old student from a local elementary school. And regardless of where I stood, memories of that fateful September morning are evident.
‘It’s time’
And then, just as I was allowing my mind to normalize what I was seeing, an announcement echoed through the concrete walls… “It’s time! Everyone fall in!”
Within minutes, on-duty officers, retirees, dignitaries from One Police Plaza, and invited guests such as myself assembled in the area outside the station. Rows of uniformed officers — some with special insignia engraved with the letters WTC — snapped to attention as the station’s commanding officer, Deputy Inspector Emmanuel Cabreja, took the podium.
“Today we remember the 25th anniversary of September 11 and the day that changed our city, our nation, and many lives as well. We want to honor those who rush into danger without hesitation. And we especially remember the 23 members of the NYPD that will sacrifice that day, including Ramon Suarez and Mark Ellis,” Cabreja said. “For those of us who wear the uniform today, their courage is more than a part of our history. It’s part of our responsibility. Their example reminds us of what sacrifice and commitment truly mean.”
8:46 a.m.
Silence.
Roll Call.
Sergeant John G. Coughlin… Sergeant Michael S. Curtin… Police Officer John D’Allara… Police Officer Vincent G. Danz… Police Officer Jerome M. Dominguez… Police Officer Stephen P. Driscoll… Police Officer Mark J. Ellis… Police Officer Robert Fazio… Sergeant Rodney C. Gillis… Police Officer Ronald P. Kloepfer… Police Officer Thomas M. Langone… Police Officer James P. Leahy… Police Officer Brian G. McDonnell… Police Officer John W. Perry… Police Officer Glen K. Pettit… Detective Claude D. Richards… Sergeant Timothy A. Roy… Police Officer Moira A. Smith… Police Officer Ramon Suarez… Police Officer Paul Talty… Police Officer Santos Valentin Jr…. Detective Joseph V. Vigiano… Police Officer Walter E. Weaver.
Despite the hum of morning commuters working their way through the subway tunnels, the silence was deafening. And then, NYPD Chief of Transit Joseph Gulotta took the podium.
“About a week after the incident, we were digging through the pile of rubble and found a police car. It was very uncomfortable,” recalled Gulotta, who was a sergeant at the time. “And the chief came to me and said, ‘Sarge, I think it might be the two Transit officers.’”
Fighting back emotion, Gulotta shared that the remains found at the scene ultimately were not the bodies of the missing officers, but civilians. “But that is the gravity of what we had to do.” He added that Suarez and Ellis were finally recovered and identified in December of that year.
“This is a solemn day. My officers, please, do not let this memory die,” he said. “Because you may be called to do the same thing. And I have no doubt in my mind that you will.”
One of the most common questions, after asking about one another’s families, was, “When was the last time you got checked out?” The number of officers able to attend these ceremonies shrinks every year. Some have simply grown too old to make the trip; others have been lost to cancer and other illnesses caused by exposure to toxins while working in the rubble of Ground Zero for months on end. They shared the latest results of their PET scans and recalled the names of those who have been added to the casualty list through the years. In fact, just that week, two more police officers were added to the list of the fallen. For these men and women, 9/11 is not just a day in their past, but part of their present reality.
Almost as suddenly as it had begun, the moment was over.
Time seemed to unfreeze.
Uniformed officers gathered up their gear and headed off to their duty stations while the retirees retreated inside to resume their back-slapping reverie. Eventually they would find themselves at familiar watering holes where the celebrations and the “remember when” stories would continue.
And just as I was preparing to begin my journey back to midtown Manhattan, I heard retired night-shift Police Officer “Moe” Molina exclaim, “I wonder if it is still here?” as she hurriedly led her former colleagues down a nearby subway tunnel. She stopped short, fingers now tracing well-worn stickers, each placed in the center of its own shiny white tile on the wall. “These appeared just days after,” she explained while nodding toward the hundreds of names as the stickers stretched farther and farther down the corridor.
She and the other officers slowly walked the tunnel, looking for names they might recognize. Pausing at those who were familiar. “We don’t know where they came from. We don’t know who did it, but every person who died that day has a sticker on this wall, and it goes on and on.”
I followed the others back toward the station, leaving the stickers behind. Except I couldn’t really leave them behind.
