Page 24 of 25 Alive

Clapper went on. “As you all know, when a top cop dies, he usually gets a full military-style funeral. A parade from here to the church and then out to Cypress Lawn in Colma. Everyone wears dress blues. Gun salute. Et cetera. And we wouldlike to do that for Warren. However, the degree of pomp in that level of funeral service is up to the deceased’s family, and in this case, Jacobi preplanned and left his preference with Muriel and his lawyer, who brought this note to me.”

Clapper paused, unfolded a sheet of notepaper.

“Jacobi wrote this:

“To my family, former coworkers, and dear friends who are also my family, these are my long-considered wishes in the event of my death.

“I don’t want a lavish funeral. No parade, no gun salutes, no herd of black cars flying flags making the trip from the Hall to Colma. I’m not that guy. What I’d like is for those who worked, socialized, or shared an elevator with me to please come to St. Mark’s for my funeral service. This is the church that I love and where I have been worshipping since I moved near Hayes Valley.

“It gives me great comfort, as I sit on the sofa with my beloved Muriel, to know that when it’s my time, my funeral will be overseen by Pastor Casey Elliot at St. Mark’s, a beautiful church that is so dear to me. And that you will all be with me in spirit.”

Clapper cleared his throat, folded the paper, and returned it to his inside jacket pocket.

“The funeral service begins at 10 a.m. tomorrow. The church holds fewer than five hundred people but standing room is permitted. What’s important is to say good-bye to a great cop and a great friend.”

CHAPTER37

TODAY WAS THE day.

Brady had hired limos for the top brass—Chief Clapper, District Attorney Len Parisi, and Mayor Costanza—as well as longtimers like Cappy McNeil, who had known and worked with Warren Jacobi for almost twenty years at the Hall.

I rode comfortably out to St. Mark’s Church in Claire’s Escalade. She drove and I sat beside her, while Cindy, Conklin, and Yuki took the back seat. I had never seen inside St. Mark’s before but was familiar with its redbrick exterior, the spiked towers, and the stained-glass “rose” window. Richie was telling Yuki and Cindy something about its architecture, but I blocked out his voice and concentrated on what I would say when it was my turn to get up to speak during the service.

Claire parked in the church lot and then we all went inside the church Jacobi had loved.

The five of us slid into a pew in the second row. Jacobi’s flag-draped coffin rested on a bier at the foot of the altar,and a life-sized photograph of him in his dress-blue uniform rested on an easel behind his casket.

I remembered when that photo was taken. It had been a sunny day at a St. Patrick’s Day parade. Someone had taken the photo of Jacobi, surrounded by fellow cops, as a brass band marched down Market Street toward City Hall.

None of us could have imagined that four years later that photo would be facing out over hundreds of mourners who’d come to say good-bye to a dear friend and great leader taken away far too soon.

After about twenty minutes, during which time the church reached capacity, Pastor Casey Elliot climbed a few steps to the pulpit, gently tapped the mic, and began the funeral service by offering a prayer for Warren Jacobi and speaking of our loss. Behind us in the balcony, the organ played, and a choir sang “Amazing Grace.” The chords and the voices filled the church and settled around our shoulders like a blessing. I lifted my eyes to the arches and to the stained-glass windows, and as if on cue, a beam of sunlight broke through the colored glass and painted the floor with a wash of blue and gold.

When the last notes trailed off, Pastor Elliot called upon Muriel Roth, Jacobi’s love and partner of the last ten years. Muriel rose from where she’d been sitting between her two daughters in the front row.

CHAPTER38

MURIEL ROTH WAS known to soap opera fans as Mrs. Gregory Laughton on a long-running TV show calledDay by Day. She carried herself with the poise of an accomplished actress who had been in front of cameras for many years, but also with the warmth and sweetness that was at her core in real life.

Muriel stood with the pastor as he introduced her, then she thanked him and all of us for coming to St. Mark’s to celebrate Warren Jacobi’s life.

And she spoke of their love, her voice trembling at times, while dabbing at her eyes.

Regaining her composure, Muriel said, “Warren and I met because we were neighbors but also, I think, by divine intervention. What began as comfortable casual meetings grew into caring and affection and friendship, and then so much more. Our friendship became deep love.

“Even though we were not legally married, sitting togetherin this church, sharing our faith and our love over the years, we felt married in the eyes of God.”

After concluding her eulogy, Muriel stepped down from the dais, walked over to the flag-draped coffin, and placed her hand where Warren’s heart would be. She lingered there, looking up at his beaming portrait. Then her knees folded, and her daughters quickly stepped forward to catch her before she dropped to the floor.

Pastor Elliot found me with his eyes.

“Sergeant Boxer, you would like to speak?”

CHAPTER39

YUKI STOOD UP to let me into the aisle when Pastor Elliot called my name. I was unnerved by the gravity of the day, but when she put her hand on my back, I knew that I was at the right place and time and with Jacobi’s friends.

I stood at the altar and began: “I’m Lindsay Boxer. I am so very lucky to have known Warren Jacobi. Since my first week on the force, he was my teacher and my partner—even when I was promoted and he officially reported to me. He was always confident that I had the right skills, and he made sure that I knew it, too. At all times, we had mutual trust and were true friends.

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