Dear Bulli,
On August 1, 1999, you were shot during an operation in Hagen. A man suddenly drew his pistol during a check. He shot you in the chest. You didn't stand a chance.
You fought like a lion for six days in hospital. Then you died at the age of just 37.
Today, exactly 26 years later, we are thinking of you.
You did what we police officers do every day: go out on patrol, fight crime, help others, resolve situations - simply be there. But you never came back. And since then, everything has changed for us.
You were one of us. And you still are - no matter how much time passes. Your place remains empty, but not forgotten.
Today we wear protective vests. Talk about what weighs us down. Pay even more attention to each other. Also because of you.
Your name comes up regularly - not loudly, but clearly. In conversations with young colleagues. When it comes to courage. Or about the deadly danger during routine operations.
We know: It can happen to any of us. Every day. And you are still a painful reminder of that today.
You are missing, dear Bulli.
For 26 years. And forever.
We carry you on in our thoughts. In our service. In our attitude. In our memories.
Your colleagues from the Hagen police force