Family, friends and fellow officers laid fallen North Little Rock Police Sgt. J. L. "Buck" Dancy to rest on Tuesday -- nearly a week after he became the first Arkansas police officer to die of covid-19 after contracting the virus while on duty.
Speaking at the funeral, Arkansas Attorney General Leslie Rutledge noted the difference in Dancy's death from other officers who have died in the line of duty.
"And, while we have lost too many officers this year in the line of duty and at any time in the line of duty, it wasn't staring down a firearm," Rutledge said. "It wasn't not knowing who was behind a door. It wasn't not knowing who was in that car, but rather it was this invisible, silent killer that took this incredible servant leader from us."
At the beginning of the service, 130 North Little Rock officers and their families filed into the New Life Church sanctuary in silence as other colleagues and friends of Dancy rose from their seats.
Officers from the Arkansas State Police, the Little Rock Police Department, the Pulaski County sheriff's office, the Jacksonville Police Department, the Maumelle Police Department and Arkansas Game and Fish were present at the funeral.
After the entrance, the Arkansas Game and Fish Pipe and Drum Corp played on the bagpipes as Dancy's family and close friends entered and took their seats.
Rebekah Dancy-Harper, Dancy's daughter, spoke tearfully at the funeral, describing Dancy as more than just a father.
"J. L. Dancy is my best friend, and he's my hero," Dancy-Harper said. "I, like all of you could stand up here and tell you all day and tell you what an amazing man he was."
Dancy-Harper described her father as a strong Christian, a characteristic that he passed along to her.
Rutledge spoke of Dancy's character, saying his fellow officers described him as a role model.
"Even in the midst of a pandemic, even on the cusp of the horizon where he could see his retirement, he never wavered in his commitment," Rutledge said.
Former North Little Rock Chief of Police Mike Davis told attendees stories about Dancy from their careers. He recalled one humorous interaction with a news reporter over a department operation to reduce traffic and loud music violations from teens.
"We worked Friday and Saturday night, and Saturday night, an Arkansas Democrat-Gazette reporter came up," Davis chuckled. "He asked, 'Hey what do you call this operation?' And without a skipping a beat Larry, he replied 'Operation Diaper Rash.' He said, 'Because we're messing with kids and rubbing them the wrong way.'"
The trip to the patrol captain's office the pair made days later was less enjoyable than the joke, Davis said.
The former chief added that Dancy was a pioneer of community policing before the idea was ever named.
"He wanted nothing [more] than for our community to be better for everyone," Davis said. "While on patrol division, Larry worked in community policing before that was even a term that was known to anybody. Larry cared about his community very much so."
Davis previously commended Dancy for not abusing sick leave. He used to describe his dedication to the department.
"In 2019, I sent a letter to Larry for not abusing sick leave," Davis said. "Larry, when he left, he had 5,286 hours of sick time. That's 660 days of sick time that he could have took that he didn't. Larry loved being at work. He loved his job."
Detective Raul Dallas, who said he was considered Dancy's adopted son, said he know the sergeant his entire life.
"He would often tell the story about me as a pudgy little Mexican kid running around headquarters with a proton pack on," Dallas said. "Because before I took up a career as a police officer, I was a ghostbuster and still am."
Through tears, Dallas recalled how he chose to join the homicide unit at Dancy's request.
"As the supervisor of the homicide, major crimes unit, he would always talk about for the past 30 years there has always been a Dallas, a Dancy or both in the homicide unit, and he wanted me there before he retired," Dallas said. "And when I was finally privileged enough to go, honored even to be there, it blows my mind. It's all I ever wanted to do with my life, and it's all I ever will do. To be there under his leadership, I was so grateful for that."
Levy Baptist Church Pastor Steven Tiner said he was not just remembering a member of his congregation, but also a friend. He described Dancy's final texts to him as he began his fatal battle with the virus.
"Tuesday the 17th, he texted me, and he said, 'I tested positive last Tuesday, so, hopefully, I'm at least halfway home,'" Tiner said. "That text has taken on new meaning to me today."
Some of the detectives that worked with Dancy recalled him saying that every victim is "somebody's somebody." Tiner remembered one poignant story that Dancy shared with him about a homicide victim.
"He began searching for the body of this woman who had her life taken from her," Tiner said. "He recovered her body, and he could hardly get the words out when he said to me 'Pastor, I said to her baby girl, if it is the last thing I ever do, I'll find the one who did this to you.' And he did."
After the service, the honor guard, now missing Dancy, who served on the guard before his death, proceeded out the front of the building followed by the family, department members and others.
In formation beneath an American flag hung by two fire engine cranes, the honor guard shot several blanks in honor of the fallen officer.
The guard loaded Dancy's casket into a vehicle, folded the American flag, then one-by-one hugged Dancy-Harper.
The hearse pulled away followed by a convoy of police vehicles, their sirens blaring.