Duxbury officer recalled as 'all heart'
Marine was dedicated to community
MARSHFIELD - Under the honey-golden glow that shot through the stained-glass windows of St. Christine's Church yesterday, family, friends, and community members remembered fallen Duxbury Officer Melvin Dyer as a man who "was all heart" with the ability to size up a person through a handshake.
His wife, Bonnie, and two grown children, Melissa and Michael, listened from the first pew as the Rev. Paul Clifford tried to distill his 67-year life in a two-hour funeral. He was a Marine who served two tours in Vietnam, a Plymouth County sheriff's deputy, and, most recently, a Duxbury police officer. He was a husband, a father, a grandfather, an uncle, and a brother.
He died Aug. 16 after a car hit him while he was directing traffic near the Marshfield Fair.
When Jesus died on the cross, onlookers did not know what to do, what to say, Clifford, chaplain of the Massachusetts Police Association, said.
"Isn't that how we feel, at least in some way, today?" Clifford asked the congregants, among them Governor Deval Patrick. "We don't know what to do, what to say."
Dyer returned from Vietnam with a number of honors to his name, among them the Purple Heart, Clifford said. "Good luck to you if you were the one who could get him to talk about it . . . His kids were where you got him to talk with a great deal of pride."
Just seven years ago, Dyer battled lung cancer. He survived, but with only one lung. His was a story of perseverance, Clifford said. He had "a passion to succeed and move forward. I think that's one of the reasons we're so jarred."
Police identified the driver that allegedly hit Dyer as 26-year-old Kristen Wusteney of Marshfield. She has been cited with misdemeanor motor vehicle homicide, speeding, operating negligently, and failing to stop for a police officer.
Bonnie Dyer held a white tissue, neatly folded into a rectangle, as Clifford spoke about her husband. Occasionally, she brought it to her eyes. As those gathered recited "The Lord's Prayer," Bonnie held on tightly to her daughter's hand.
Duxbury Police Chief Mark DeLuca also took a few moments to remember Dyer. DeLuca said that he lost his own father when he was a young boy, and that it's only natural to think about the "what ifs." What if, for instance, Dyer hadn't gone to work that night.
"I don't have answers to those questions," DeLuca said. "This is what I do know. Mel was a good and decent man . . . He dedicated his life to loving and protecting his family, his community, and his country."
Of the many things he'll remember about Dyer, DeLuca said, his handshake stood out.
When you took Dyer's hand in your own, he would give you a once-over. His eyes would fall to your feet and slowly climb to your own.
If you passed inspection, DeLuca said, Dyer would flash a knowing grin.
"Make no mistake about it," DeLuca said. "Mel Dyer was all heart."
The end of the funeral echoed its beginning.
Men in pressed blue police uniforms collected the casket and placed an American flag over it. Bonnie followed after, clutching her two children's hands. Outside they were met by the same police honor guard and the same flapping flags that had greeted their motorcade just hours earlier. A single bagpipe began to play "Amazing Grace." Soon others joined in its melody.
A police car left the parking lot, its sirens screaming, fading, then gone.
The hearse followed. 