Colleagues and friends remember fallen officer set 'high standard,' even at a summer cookout

Nearly two dozen American flags lined Pittsford Palmyra Road in Fairport Sunday afternoon — behind them men and women standing tall and solemn in blue jeans and leather vests, baseball caps and bright yellow armbands.

They were members of the Patriot Guard Riders, a national organization that honors the lives of fallen veterans and law enforcement officers — their tagline clear: “Standing for those who stood for US.”

And on Sunday, they were there to do just that, as family and friends paid their respects at the calling hours for Officer Anthony "Tony" Mazurkiewicz, a 29-year veteran of the Rochester Police Department, as he lay in honor.

Follow:Live coverage of the funeral for Rochester officer Anthony Mazurkiewicz

Mazurkiewicz, 54, was killed in the line of duty on July 21 while working a surveillance detail on Bauman Street as part of the department’s tactical unit.

Lt. Greg Bello said local, county and state police stepped in to cover shifts so colleagues of Mazurkiewicz could properly mourn; officers from across the country and Canada visited to pay their respects; and local businesses offered free haircuts and made blue ice cream to honor the fallen officer.

“It’s a good reminder to us in law enforcement about how much the community does support us,” Bello said. “Officer Mazurkiewicz lost his life serving our community, so to get a response back is really great to see and really heartwarming.”

But more than just a cop, Mazurkiewicz was a family man and a good friend.

More:Funeral Details

Planning a summer fishing trip

Two weeks before he was killed, Mazurkiewicz held one of his beloved summer cookouts in the backyard of his Fairport home, his former police partner Dennis Cole said. He called Cole — more like a brother than a colleague — and invited him to spend the rest of the day with his family: His wife Lynn, his four children, three grandchildren and other relatives.

Mazurkiewicz took his place at the grill: Chicken was on the menu that afternoon. He and Cole traded updates on their children, promising to send details for upcoming events. And they made plans for next summer, too — a fishing trip along the east coast.

It was a day like so many before.

Because it was the way Mazurkiewicz loved to live.

“He was extremely happy because he was with his family,” Cole said. “And that is something that is very, very important to him — and important to all of us.

“The same way that he lived his life as a professional police officer, he lived his life as a professional dad. A professional grandfather. A professional husband and a professional friend. Everything about him was at such a high standard. There are very, very few people that can ever really understand this loss,” Cole said.

Cole and Mazurkiewicz have been friends for 29 years. They graduated the police academy together in 1993, sat side-by-side in a patrol car on their first assignment — the Goodman section, and were partners off-and-on up until Cole retired in 2018 with 25 years on the job. Cole is expected to give one of several eulogies for Mazurkiewicz Monday, according to the department.

As a young cop, he said, Mazurkiewicz was eager to learn, always seeking mentorship from older officers. And those lessons bode him well: Bello described Mazurkiewicz as the guy that was “always laughing, having a good time,” but always ready to “buckle down” and get the work done the right way.

A month ago the pair worked an assignment together — a tough one, by Bello’s standards — but the lieutenant said he was impressed by the thoughtfulness Mazurkiewicz put into the assignment, asking questions to make sure the unit approached the issue thoroughly.

Bello said Mazurkiewicz’s file is filled with numerous departmental awards during his career — including 17 highly-coveted excellent police service awards, several lifesaving awards and 32 letters of commendation from the chief. On the same note, the officer never received a single sustained complaint.

“If you want to talk about a role model of an officer – Officer Mazurkiewicz is that role model,” Bello said. “He’s one of my role models.”

Bello said Mazurkiewicz will be posthumously awarded the department’s highest honors, the Medal of Valor and Purple Heart.

And Cole said Mazurkiewicz was always the “first one” to get out of a patrol car to strike up casual conversation with members of the community, passionate about showing them that “police officers were actually people.”

“He made all of us better,” Cole said, in part, because of the value he also put on life outside of the department.

An obituary for Mazurkiewicz described him as a man who loved to try new recipes, watch his children and grandchildren play sports, and enjoy an evening cracking jokes beside a backyard bonfire. Cole said Mazurkiewicz was a confidante, someone who would easily listen to a friend’s struggles without judgement.

“That obituary really says exactly who Tony was when we would hang up our equipment in the office and go home,” Cole said. “This was more than just a coworker. This was more than just a friend. And the key for me now is how to live out the life we had talked about.”

He has a good idea where to start.

“In Tony’s honor, please take an extra evening to cancel whatever else you had planned and instead share a good meal, stories and laughs with your family,” Mazurkiewicz’s obituary reads. “What we wouldn’t give to spend even one more night like this with him.”

(NOTE: This story has been updated since it was first published on July 22. The original story begins here.)

He could have retired, but he chose to serve

Anthony "Tony" Mazurkiewicz could have retired.

He had his years in with the Rochester police − 29 total − and many of his colleagues had chosen to retire. There were more guns on the street, more shootings, more risk.

Retire, some friends urged him. But the Rochester police officer opted not to.

"He could have left and he didn't do it," said William Finnerty, who was a partner of Mazurkiewicz for six years. "He didn't need the money. He didn't do it for the money."

"Twenty-nine years on the job and he was still out there at night doing what the tactical unit does," said retired Rochester Deputy Police Chief Scott Peters. "He was in the tac unit most of his career."

The tactical unit collaborates with patrol divisions for specifically-targeted initiatives, including policing high-drug areas or tracking suspects. With the homicide numbers again at record levels, they often search out people suspected of involvement in murders.

Finnerty partnered with Mazurkiewicz first in Clinton Section and then on the tactical unit. One former colleague likened them to "Mutt and Jeff," not because of physical differences but because of their contrasting personalities.

A devoutly religious man, Finnerty left the department in 2013 and is now a senior pastor at Open Door Baptist Church in Chili. Mazurkiewicz could be saltier with his language and demeanor.

"We really didn’t know each other and we come from two different areas," Finnerty said of Mazurkiewicz , a husband and father. "People might have thought we weren't a normal fit, but we were a perfect fit."

Said Peters: "Bill was very much church-centered. Tony had no filter. Tony had a very dry sense of humor. They were both great street cops."

Mazurkiewicz saw the police as an entity that could improve troubled neighborhoods for residents, Finnerty said.

"Some are called to police and some take police as a job, and the difference will show up," Finnerty said.

At no other time during the career of Mazurkiewicz have police-community relations likely been as tense as now. In 2020, the deaths of Black men and women in encounters with police prompted Black Lives Matter protests in Rochester and nationwide. The response from local police is the subject of multiple lawsuits, alleging excessive force and dangerous chemical spraying of protesters.

Mazurkiewicz was one of a number of officers accused of unnecessary force against protesters. The city is challenging the lawsuits and claims against officers.

The controversy over the protests and the schism in the community over the value of policing still did not prompt Mazurkiewicz to retire.

"Why does someone do it?" Finnerty said. "Because it was from his heart. Clearly in this generation you don't do it for accolades."

Though an officer, Mazurkiewicz often assumed more of a leadership role, Peters said.

"He was definitely an informal leader," he said. "If the sergeants were busy or tied up, "Maz" − that's what we called him − would take over. He was never shy to share his opinion, but he wasn't one of those guys who would speak just to hear his voice."

At a news conference Friday morning, Mayor Malik Evans also spoke of Mazurkiewicz's service: "Tony Mazurkiewicz could have said, 'Hey, I've got 20 years in; I'm out of here. It's getting more violent. It's getting more brazen. The rhetoric is hotter.' But he chose to still go on the streets because he didn't want folks in our neighborhoods ... to be held hostage to the very powers that are wreaking havoc in our community."

Even though he did not opt to retire, Mazurkiewicz, because of seniority, could have sought out daytime shifts separate from the tactical unit in neighborhoods with lesser crime. But he didn't.

"The Bible says, 'Blessed are the peacemakers,' " Finnerty said. "He fought for the innocent."

A funeral for Officer Anthony Mazurkiewicz will be held at noon Monday at the Blue Cross Arena in downtown Rochester. The service is only open to family and first responders and will be livestreamed for the public.

This article originally appeared on Rochester Democrat and Chronicle: Anthony Mazurkiewicz, commended officer killed in shooting, remembered