Phila. bids farewell to fallen officer

At a Funeral Mass that filled the Cathedral Basilica of SS. Peter and Paul, the family, friends and colleagues of police Officer Isabel Nazario yesterday remembered her as a compassionate, devoted hero who "died performing her duty."

"She was a member of Philadelphia's finest in every sense of the word," Police Commissioner Charles H. Ramsey told the 1,500 mourners shortly before the noon Mass began.

Nazario, 40, was killed Sept. 5 when her patrol car was struck by a stolen car in the city's Mantua section.

In eloquent, emotion-filled remarks, Ramsey sought to console Nazario's mother, daughter, sister and fiance.

"There are no words that can really bring any comfort," he said, but he went on to recall the kindness of the 18-year veteran. He cited the time Nazario spied a boy walking barefoot outside. "Isabel stopped and bought that child a pair of shoes," he said.

He also addressed Nazario's family members by name, acknowledging their loss, and finishing with Nazario's 15-year-old daughter, Jazmin, whom he called "sweetheart."

"I can tell you this," he said. "We'll be with you, today and tomorrow. We'll be with with you always, because you are your mother's daughter."

Ramsey's remarks followed a morning-long viewing in the cathedral's sanctuary that drew thousands of mourners past her open casket.

The coffin was closed shortly after noon and covered with a cream-and-gold drape that matched the vestments of the priests and bishops.

Minutes later, Cardinal Justin Rigali, three bishops, and more than a dozen priests processed up the center aisle for the start of the Mass. The pews were filled to overflowing; hundreds of officers stood outside, watching the service on large screens.

"Once again the tragedy of violence, pain and separation has struck our community, our city, our commonwealth," Rigali said in his homily. He praised Nazario's "daily contribution to her loved ones and the whole community," and the risks and sacrifice that all police officers make.

"For all this we are deeply grateful," said Rigali, who spoke several prayers and a part of the homily in Spanish.

The Gospel reading from Matthew echoed Ramsey's story of Nazario's buying shoes for the barefoot boy. In it, Jesus tells his disciples that those who feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, visit the imprisoned or clothe the naked will "inherit the kingdom" because "you did it for me."

Among those present yesterday was Nazario's patrol partner, Officer Terry Tull, who left the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania, where he was recuperating from severe injuries.

Tull, who suffered broken ribs, a punctured lung and a bruised hip in the fatal vehicle pursuit, was brought to the cathedral by ambulance. He entered in a wheelchair through a side door and was comforted by friends and family members.

City officials, including Mayor Nutter and District Attorney Lynne M. Abraham, sat on the left side of the cathedral. The Nazario family sat on the right, as did her fiance, Philadelphia Police Officer Carlos Buitrago.

Nazario will be buried in her native Puerto Rico.

Members of her family offered the two Scripture readings. Her mother, Patricia Rodriguez Santiago, and her sister, Maritza Mohamad, along with Jazmin and an unidentified family member, presented the wine, water and bread for the Eucharist.

They all held hands as Rigali and the bishops spoke the words of consecration.

"She was a wonderful mother," said a tearful Cathy Santos, who was Jazmin's fifth-grade teacher at St. Hugh of Cluny parochial school in West Kensington. Santos was sitting with about eight other teachers from that school and Franklin Town Charter School, which Jazmin now attends.

At the close of Mass, 130 members of the Police Department's Narcotics Strike Force, of which Nazario was a member, filed past the casket and set four vases of red roses on the Communion rail.

The nine honorary pallbearers were members of the strike force.

As the family followed the coffin at the recession, Tull gripped the hand of Nazario's sister as he was wheeled behind.

Outside by the cathedral steps, both sides of 18th Street were filled with police officers, who carried 37 flags and departmental banners and stood at rigid salute as the coffin emerged. For a half-minute, the only sounds were those of passing cars and the splashing of the Swann Fountain in the distance.

"It's hard," said Officer George Schmid after the dismissal. "She and I worked in the same squad for six years."

Her sudden death was a reminder, Schmid said, of the danger every officer faces.

"Every day you walk out the door to work," he said, "and you never know."