[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 156 (2010), Part 11]
[Senate]
[Pages 15290-15291]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                REMEMBERING LIEUTENANT STEVEN VELASQUEZ

 Mr. DODD. Mr. President, it is with a heavy heart that I pay 
tribute to LT Steven Velasquez, who sadly lost his life on July 24, 
2010.
  We have all felt our chests tighten and our pulses quicken with 
anxiety at the sound of a fire engine screaming through town. For most 
of us, this signals two important things: There is an emergency 
somewhere nearby, and--more importantly--that help is on the way.
  Of course, for the people riding on those rigs, all the commotion is 
just another day at the office. They are focused solely on the task at 
hand.
  When the unthinkable happens--a devastating hurricane, industrial 
accident, terrorist attack, or three-alarm fire--these brave men and 
women are the first on the scene and the last to leave. In between, 
they give all they have to make sure the emergency is contained and our 
communities are safe.
  They do this every day of the week, every week of the year. Being a 
firefighter certainly isn't a job for the faint of heart. In fact, it 
is not so much a job as it is a calling.
  At least it was for Steven Velasquez. His 20-year career took him 
from a position with the Fire Department of Prince Georges County, MD, 
to the rank of Lieutenant in the Bridgeport Fire Department in my home 
State of Connecticut.
  Along the way, he built a reputation as a tremendously dedicated team 
member and as someone whose discipline and bravery made him a leader. 
This reputation, and the urging of many of his colleagues, helped 
secure him a place on the department's elite Rescue Squad--despite the 
fact that there were others in line for the prestigious assignment 
before him.
  In his 16 years in Bridgeport, Velasquez never took a sick day. He 
was committed to his family, his community, and to his fellow 
firefighters. His attitude and work ethic led to his being awarded the 
Bridgeport Fire Department's third highest honor in 2000, the Medal of 
Merit.
  But awards and accolades were not why Lieutenant Velasquez became a 
firefighter. In fact, he never displayed the many citations he had 
received throughout his career on his uniform. He also turned down a 
job with the New York City Fire Department.
  The reason being?--Bridgeport has more fires.
  For Lieutenant Velasquez, and firefighters all over our Nation, the 
call to serve means facing danger every day. The commotion of an 
emergency becomes secondary to the need to help people, and the dangers 
they personally face must take a backseat to the task at hand.
  That was the case on the afternoon of July 24, 2010, when Lieutenant 
Velasquez and his colleague, Michel Baik, were conducting a search-and-
rescue mission on the third floor of a burning house in Bridgeport. 
They were deep into the blaze, looking for anyone who may need help, 
and trying to ventilate the structure.
  None of the inhabitants of the home were injured. But tragically, 
both of these courageous men lost their lives, despite the quick action 
of their colleagues to pull them out of danger and get them to the 
hospital.
  Tragedies are inherent in this profession, and the risks are shared 
by every single person who has ever gotten the call, rushed to their 
gear, and has run headlong into danger in order to save the life of 
someone else. These shared risks help to bind those called to take them 
together in a solemn way.
  Firefighters will do anything for one another, both on the job, and 
when the worst happens. The more than 7,000 of their fellow 
firefighters--from as far away as western Canada--who attended the 
memorial services for Steven Velasquez and Michel Baik were an 
impressive testament to that bond.
  I believe that the eulogy offered in tribute to Lieutenant Velasquez 
by International Association of Fire Fighters President Harold 
Schaitberger at his memorial service speaks well of this solemn 
commitment. Through these difficult times, the community which Steven 
served, and those he served with, can provide support and comfort to 
his loved ones.
  Of course, no tribute will ever be enough to ease the suffering of 
their families. I offer my deepest condolences to Lieutenant 
Velasquez's wife Marianne, his son Aaron, his daughter Salina, and to 
his entire family. Their sacrifice is unimaginable, and they will 
always be in our thoughts and prayers.
  I know that we can never make this right for them. But we must 
celebrate the life and service of Lieutenant Velasquez and make sure 
that his memory--as a role model and true hero--live on and help to 
inspire others to take up the call to serve.
  I ask to have printed in the Record President Schaitberger's words to 
which I referred.
  The material follows:

               International Association of Fire Fighters

                     President Harold Schaitberger

Eulogy for Lt. Steven Velasquez, Bridgeport Local 834, Friday, July 30, 
                                  2010

       Lieutenant and IAFF Local 834 member Steven Velasquez--just 
     40 years on this Earth--was taken too soon.
       To Steven's mother, Carol, thank you for giving me the 
     honor of being here today to celebrate your son's life.
       To his bride Marianne, his son Aaron and his daughter 
     Salina, to his sister Cindy and his brother Jason, to his 
     family and friends, to his brothers and sisters in the 
     Bridgeport Fire Department, and to his extended fire fighter 
     family, I have traveled here today to make sure you know that 
     the thoughts and prayers of our General Secretary-Treasurer, 
     our entire International Executive Board, and the more than 
     298,000 members of the International Association of Fire 
     Fighters, the Bravest in North America, are with you today.
       I know that my words won't make you forget your pain or 
     forget your loss.
       But I hope I can help you understand that to those of us 
     who have come from cities and towns across two great 
     countries--``Stevie V.'' was family to us.
       Even though many of us didn't have the privilege of knowing 
     Stevie personally, we know who he was.
       We know him because there is so much about those who enter 
     this profession of ours that are so similar.
       A quiet courage, humble, understated--never wanting to 
     bring attention to themselves or their work.
       Their willingness to serve a community and a public and 
     their readiness to sacrifice--that's how we know who ``Stevie 
     V.'' was.
       Everyone who goes on what we call ``The Job'' becomes part 
     of this extended family.
       We all know what this career can demand and we all know how 
     cruel the consequences can be.
       Everyone who has taken the oath to serve in our profession 
     comes into it knowing the risk, and being here today 
     reaffirms just how dangerous this job is.
       We know when we get into this calling that it could take 
     any one of us at any time.
       It can take us after 30 years on the job or after 30 days.
       That's why we are one big family--no matter where we really 
     call home--because everyone here knows just how rewarding--
     and yet how brutal, this job is.
       And even while we know the consequences nothing prepares us 
     to cope with the grief that we feel when we lose a brother or 
     a sister in the line of duty--let alone two.
       Many of us are together for the first time today.

[[Page 15291]]

       We will come together again this afternoon to honor Mitch 
     Baik.
       We will come together and we will be there for each other 
     because no one in our fire service family should ever have to 
     go through this alone.
       And no family member of a fallen fire fighter should ever 
     have to go through this alone.
       But Mitch's loss and Stevie's loss will not prevent us from 
     celebrating their lives today.
       It will not prevent us from celebrating their service to 
     their community today.
       It will not prevent me from saying that my heart is broken 
     that they are gone but we were blessed to have them in our 
     lives.
       Stevie Velasquez was both a young man and a grizzled 
     veteran.
       At just 40 years of age he already had two decades in the 
     fire station.
       He already was wise beyond his years.
       For 20 years in two departments Stevie demonstrated his 
     work ethic and set an example for others to follow.
       That's why he received the Medal of Merit--the department's 
     third-highest award--in 2000.
       That's why he made lieutenant five months ago.
       Bursting at the seams with enthusiasm ready to hop on a rig 
     and respond to any call afraid of nothing, eager to 
     experience everything, and ready to give everything he had to 
     do The Job.
       He had an efficient, studious approach.
       He understood the importance of training and the importance 
     of being prepared.
       Committed, duty bound, ready to serve in the hardest, most 
     rewarding job imaginable--that's who Stevie was.
       Ready to rush to the aid of strangers, no questions asked--
     that's who he was.
       Ready to protect his community, ready to comfort those in 
     need, ready to lead people to safety who couldn't find their 
     way out--that's who he was.
       A devoted family man standing vigil over his newborn 
     daughter's bedside while she gained the strength she needed 
     to persevere--that's who he was.
       He protected his community and his family--that's who 
     ``Stevie V'' he was.
       Like many of us he probably considered himself lucky to be 
     a fire fighter, lucky to be able to answer the call, lucky to 
     do something he loved.
       But we were the lucky ones.
       The Bridgeport Fire Department, Local 834, the IAFF--we 
     were the lucky ones.
       His brothers and sisters in Prince George's County Maryland 
     where Stevie started his career in the fire service--they 
     were the lucky ones.
       His wife, his children, his parents, his brother and 
     sister--you were the lucky ones.
       That's what I would tell him if he were standing here 
     today.
       We had quite a gift in Lieutenant Steven Velasquez.
       And that's why we feel cheated that we have to give him 
     back to the Lord so soon.
       But we will not forget him.
       How could we?
       A young gun . . . a rising star.
       A shining example of courage, of professionalism.
       Stevie's name will be etched in our Wall of Honor in 
     Colorado Springs.
       His name will remain there forever, engraved in that 
     beautiful granite wall--to be honored every year as part of 
     our Fallen Fire Fighter Memorial service.
       To Stevie's family, we want you to know that you aren't 
     alone.
       You should know that long after the last word of the last 
     eulogy, the IAFF and Local 834 will be here for you. Today, 
     tomorrow, and for years to come.
       To Lieutenant Steven Velasquez, who gave his life so others 
     could live, from your 298,000 brothers and sisters in the 
     IAFF--thank you for the gift of your life. May you rest in 
     peace. God bless you and may God bless the fire fighters on 
     the front lines everywhere.

                          ____________________