They mourn fallen heroes in blue jeans and leather vests. Who are the Patriot Guard Riders?
Nigel Heaton had a mission Sunday afternoon.
He pulled on a crisp pair of blue jeans, a white T-shirt and a leather vest ― the unofficial uniform of his group, the Patriot Guard Riders, to carry out a tradition he’s performed hundreds of times. He mounted his 2007 Harley-Davidson Softail and rode from his Irondequoit home to a funeral parlor in Fairport, a large American flag steady on the tail of his bike.
And then he stood, solemn and silent, for hours, in a line of flags outside of the wake of Rochester Police Officer Anthony Mazurkiewicz.
His denim and leather were in stark contrast to the dress blues and grays of thousands of law enforcement officers who shuffled in and out of the funeral home.
But their mission was shared: They were there to honor the life of a man who sacrificed his own for others.
Mazurkiewicz, 54, was fatally shot on July 21 while investigating a spate of murders as part of the Rochester Police Department’s tactical unit. He had 29 years on the job, and easily could have retired or elected safer work, but chose not to.
From the funeral:A day of heartbreak and emotion as Rochester pauses to honor an officer and family man
“Most people don’t realize these are regular people doing their jobs,” said Heaton, 69, who serves as the assistant state captain for the Patriot Guard Riders of New York. “This is about honor and respect. Paying it back.”
But who are the Patriot Guard Riders?
Line of defense
The nonprofit organization emerged in Kansas in 2005 in response to protests of military funerals by members of the Westboro Baptist Church. The church claimed the deaths of soldiers were righteous, a sign of God’s wrath toward the growing acceptance of homosexuality in the United States.
A group of motorcyclists countered the movement, creating a line of defense between protesters and mourning families, using American flags and the sound of their bikes to shield against signs and drown out chants of homophobic slurs and anti-military rhetoric.
By 2006, they expanded into New York with a clear mission: To help honor the lives of fallen veterans and first responders by protecting their loved ones from unwelcome visitors. Today, the Patriot Guard Riders have chapters in all 50 states, and a national volunteer membership of close to 300,000, Heaton said.
But who are they, individually? They’re anyone.
While most of the members ride, it’s not a requirement. Many are veterans; others are not. They are attorneys, teachers or, like Heaton, local business owners.
They are old and young; all genders; and politically mixed.
Even the “uniform” isn’t obligatory: Those who ride show up in denim and leather simply because it’s their best riding gear, Heaton said. The group urges comfort, and above all else, respect.
“We are who we are,” he said. “They are Americans who are loyal and patriotic to this country. And they respect our motto: Standing for those who stood for us.”
Heaton joined the group after an unfulfilled dream of joining the Air Force.
“This, for me, is one way I can pay back service to my country,” he said.
"Having someone there"
Their work is full of both sorrow and joy. A “mission” ― a nod to their militaristic beginnings ― can mean many things.
They ride in Veterans Day parades and line the arrival of honor flights when elderly veterans returning home after touring war memorials in Washington, D.C. They pay heating bills or fund home repairs for those in need. They collect unclaimed remains of veterans from local hospitals and perform full military funerals. Last week, they celebrated the 100th birthday of a World War II veteran from Oneida County who served under General George S. Patton in the Battle of the Bulge.
But their primary work is to stand guard in a flag line and offer escorts for funeral services, only at the family’s request.
Those are the heavy days, Heaton said, but the most important ones.
His chapter hasn’t met any protesters in the last decade. But even in the early days, Heaton said, their job wasn’t to start a debate. They were simply there to shield families from the chaos others may cause. To show they are not alone.
“It’s the best family that’s not blood,” Heaton said.
The Patriot Guard Riders were invited by the Rochester Police Department to present flag lines at the wake and funeral for Officer Mazurkiewicz, just as they were his former colleague, Officer Daryl Pierson, who was killed in the line of duty in 2014.
“Their presence reinforces a nationwide commitment to honoring those that have lost their lives in service to our country,” Lt. Greg Bello said.
On Sunday, about 50 members stood watch outside the wake, solemn and silent.
A small group was invited in to pay their respects to the family, blue jeans and all, Heaton said.
They saluted the casket where Mazurkiewicz lay in honor. Tearfully presented his wife Lynn with a plaque and, gracefully provided comfort when she responded with a hug.
“Getting that hug from her ― it’s hard to describe,” Heaton said. “Her hug was very satisfying. Satisfying is probably not the right word, but it works right now. What we do emotionally for a family … it brings a tear to your eye, knowing that on their worst day, they really appreciate having someone there.”
This article originally appeared on Rochester Democrat and Chronicle: Patriot Guard Riders mission is about honor, respect
