With Bridgeport draped in blue Saturday to honor slain Chicago police Cmdr. Paul Bauer, the city laid the fallen officer to rest with stories of his selflessness and harsh words for the man charged with his murder.
Thousands attended the funeral at Nativity of Our Lord Catholic Church, where the two-hour service and subsequent procession combined for one of most impressive — and stately — civic farewells in recent memory. Elected officials, department brass and rank-and-file officers from across North America filled the cavernous sanctuary on the South Side, while the Dan Ryan Expressway was closed so hundreds of police vehicles could lead the hearse carrying Bauer’s flag-draped casket to a suburban cemetery.
The mourners were comforted throughout the day by the Bridgeport community, which tied blue ribbons around trees and hung the commander’s photo in storefront windows. Some residents brought doughnuts and coffee to officers standing outside the church in frigid temperatures, while others opened their homes for them to warm up or use the bathroom.
Bridgeport residents Erica and Gerardo Avitia brought their two daughters, 3 and 2, to watch the funeral procession. Holding signs with Bauer’s picture on them, the couple said they wanted to show their support for the city and its grief-stricken Police Department.
“There’s not too many things that unite this city,” Erica Avitia said as she held one of her girls. “This is someone who stood up for values and morals. We’re here to support his family, and the men and women who do this every day.”
To be sure, support for the Chicago Police Department served as a common thread throughout the day. Eulogists repeatedly referred to the department’s heartbroken ranks, and the funeral’s officiant went so far as to say the law did not do enough to protect law-enforcement officers like Bauer.
“Paul did not give his life. His life was taken,” said the Rev. Dan Brandt, who serves as the Police Department’s chaplain. “He fought for his life, and it was stolen by a four-time convicted felon.”
Bauer, 53, was fatally shot Tuesday after he thrust himself into the pursuit of a felon carrying a gun outside the Thompson Center, authorities said.
Shomari Legghette is being held without bond on charges of first-degree murder of a peace officer, armed violence, unlawful use of a weapon by a felon and two counts of possession of a controlled substance. According to prosecutors, Legghette’s extensive criminal history includes convictions in two drug cases, a gun offense, a misdemeanor battery and an armed robbery in the late 1990s in which he and a co-defendant robbed two people at gunpoint before leading police on a high-speed expressway chase. He was sentenced to 16 years in prison for that offense.
He was last paroled from prison in August 2016 after completing a two-year sentence for drug possession, prison officials said.
In a hard-line homily, Brandt likened Legghette to a leper, saying he should have been segregated from society long before the shooting. Jesus had compassion for lepers, but they were still kept from the public during biblical times, he said.
Bauer “encountered the leprosy of our society: one who did spend time away from the camp … in prison … in isolation because of a violent past,” Brandt said. “One who should have never have been out in society, but who was due to a broken system, a system that Paul himself very publicly and loudly spoke out against.”
The comment drew strong applause and a collective “amen” from mourners watching from an overflow room in the church basement.
The rest of the funeral — the city’s first for a slain police officer in more than six years — followed in a more traditional vein, with speakers paying tribute to Bauer’s service and sacrifice. He was remembered as an unassuming kid from Gage Park who wanted to protect his city, an understanding supervisor who cared about the people under his command and a high-ranking official who remained a patrolman at heart.
Indeed, Bauer, who had long ago been promoted above the riskier responsibilities of a street cop, had no official obligation to enter the scuffle with Legghette, authorities said.
“Those who served under him felt like they served alongside him,” Mayor Rahm Emanuel said in a eulogy that often left the hard-boiled politician struggling to maintain his composure.
The traditional Catholic service included several personal stories about Bauer, whose dedication to his family and community has been well-documented in the days since his death. He walked his daughter to school each day, made sure wounded veterans had the best spots for viewing at the annual Air and Water Show, and declined to attend his own promotion ceremony because he disliked the spotlight.
A few days before his death, he purchased a snowblower so he could clear the sidewalks on his block.
“He was a man of faith, and he lived like a man of faith,” said Capt. Mel Roman, who worked closely with Bauer at the Near North District.
Officers patrolling Lower Wacker Drive because of a recent shooting and drug sales approached Legghette on Tuesday afternoon, but he bolted when an officer stepped out of his police vehicle, identified himself as an officer and approached him, authorities said.
The officer gave chase on foot and radioed a description. Bauer, downtown for a meeting with aldermen after attending training for mass shootings earlier in the day, was on duty and in uniform in his police vehicle at Lake and Clark streets when he heard the radio call of a fleeing suspect. Moments later, Bauer saw Legghette running nearby, got out of his vehicle and ran after him.
Bauer chased down Legghette at the top of the stairwell outside the Thompson Center and attempted to detain him, authorities said. But the two struggled, ending up on a landing below. The skirmish continued there. Legghette drew a handgun and fired seven shots, fatally wounding Bauer, prosecutors said.
Bauer’s weapon was still holstered. His police radio and handcuffs were found next to his body.
A few days before his death, Bauer and his family attended a special Mass in memory of fallen police officers. The commander did one of the Bible readings that morning because his 13-year-old daughter, Grace, who typically handled the duties, had a sore throat.
On Saturday, the remarkably composed teen gave the first reading at her father’s funeral. She read from the Book of Isaiah, speaking in a clear, strong voice.
“Since you are precious and honored in my sight, and because I love you, I will give people in exchange for you, nations in exchange for your life,” the passage reads.