It was a cold, overcast Saturday in Arlington, Virginia, the kind of morning when the sky seemed to press low over the rooftops as if it, too, understood grief. The sanctuary at First Covenant Church was filled beyond capacity, with uniformed firefighters lining the pews in immaculate dress blues, silver badges catching fractured light from stained glass windows. Polished boots reflected muted color across the tiled floor. Folded flags rested near the altar. Helmets were placed carefully beneath each seat like silent sentinels.
My cousin, Gabriel Navarro, was twenty nine years old.
Three nights earlier he had charged back into a burning townhouse to rescue two children trapped on the second floor. Witnesses said he emerged once through the smoke with a child in each arm. They said he handed them down to waiting paramedics. They said he turned and ran back inside before anyone could stop him.
He never came out again.