'Off duty, going home': Caleb Eisworth laid to rest as law enforcement honors fallen officer

Hundreds of police motorcycles gleamed under a hot morning sun outside of Istrouma Baptist Church on Saturday.

In front of them — and waiting behind the hearse that would take Sgt. Caleb Eisworth's body to its final resting place — sat the ghost bike: an empty Baton Rouge Police Department patrol motorcycle representing the fallen motorman in his own procession.

His boots, empty, were placed backward on the bike's foot pegs, as is tradition for motorized patrol divisions across the country.

Eisworth served the department for 23 years, joining the motorcycle division in 2008. He received multiple awards for heroism in the line of duty, including the Medal of Valor — the highest honor bestowed by the department — for having pulled a motorist from a crashed vehicle while off-duty.

He was critically injured on June 16 after his motorcycle was rammed by a pickup truck on Joor Road in what police believe was a targeted attack on him for being a law enforcement officer.

After a monthslong fight in the hospital, and some temporary signs of improvement, Eisworth was taken off life support last Sunday, Aug. 10, and later died. He was 44, and is survived by his wife and daughter.

Going home

Inside the church, the central pews were filled with Baton Rouge police officers, with Eisworth's family in the front nearest to his flag-draped casket.

Photos of Eisworth graduating police academy, playing with his daughter, and with his wife on his wedding day sat on a table outside the sanctuary.

Hundreds of law enforcement officers were in attendance, each with a black band around their badge in mourning for Eisworth. The bands each read Eisworth's radio call sign, MC 24.

Police Chief Thomas Morse spoke first, choking up at times as he told those gathered about his many years on the force shared with Eisworth.

He recounted Eisworth's achievements as an officer and motorman, having risen quickly to his place with the BRPD motorcycle division, competing and winning with other motormen at the national level, and having earned himself multiple medals for his bravery and merit.

These included an incident where Eisworth helped to free a trapped motorist from her car while off duty, and an incident where he pursued a stolen vehicle even after the suspect opened fire on officers.

Morse himself was involved in that pursuit, and he and Eisworth were both injured in the shooting. 

"As my heart led me to review the personnel file of Sgt. Caleb Eisworth this week, I found it full of countless letters of commendation and praises from community members and other law enforcement officials," Morse said. He made a note that he would be passing these to Eisworth's wife and daughter, so they would remember "how respected Caleb was as an officer."

This was Morse's 13th funeral for a serviceman lost in the line of duty, but it was the first he had presided over as chief. He said it was his hardest.

"I always knew Caleb was tough, going back to our shared incident in 2004," Morse said. "But the toughness he showed in the final seven weeks of his life was something that I had never seen before."

Photos: Baton Rouge gathers to honor Sgt. Caleb Eisworth Saturday

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Morse said it was one of the highest honors of his life to be in the room with Eisworth's family on Sunday when he drew his final breath.

He described the serene moment after Eisworth had been taken off of life support, when the machines stopped humming and those gathered looked to each other in knowing silence.

Morse looked at his watch in that moment, seeing that the time read 10:42 a.m.

"For the first responders in the room, you will know the significance of that," Morse said. "For in our world, 10-42 means 'I am off duty and going home.'"

Mayor-President Sid Edwards spoke next, saying that while Morse and former Police Chief Jeff LeDuff have witnessed past funerals for fallen policemen, this was his first.

Edwards spoke of having to run from taking care of his son to witness Eisworth's body be escorted out of the hospital. He made it in time, but was just in a T-shirt and shorts. He said some in Baton Rouge had criticized his informal dress.

"The problem with this wretched world is we judge people on what they look like. Caleb was judged by his uniform, not his heart," Edwards said. "We don't see each other for who we are. We focus on the fake."

Edwards compared this to his time starting as football coach at Istrouma High School.

"They saw a white man in the hood," Edwards said. "It took them feeling who I was to see who I am. Caleb didn't get that chance. If Caleb was given that chance, the perpetrator would have understood that this was a good, godly man."

Finally, Brandon O'Neal, president of BRPD's police union, spoke on behalf of the motorcycle division. Its members all stood behind him, some with tears in their eyes.

O'Neal told stories from the men who rode alongside Eisworth on duty, most of them revolving around the love, loyalty and humor he shared with those brothers.

There were pranks Eisworth would pull (like arriving to a party wearing a shirt with an embarrassing childhood photo of a colleague on it), and pranks that were pulled on him (like being tricked into drinking a shot of liquid crab boil).

Among the laughs and tears, one message held true: These motormen were Eisworth's brothers, making Eisworth's family members part of their own family.

"Look up here and and know that you have many uncles that will protect you from the evils of this world," O'Neal said to Eisworth's daughter.

This sentiment was shared by all of the BRPD officers in the sanctuary, and when asked by Mayor-President Edwards who would "stand in the gap" and dance with Eisworth's daughter on her wedding say, the entire force stood up.

'It's an honor'

As Eisworth's casket was lifted by motormen and carried under a massive American flag hanging outside, onlookers could see the diversity of first responder agencies that had come out to mourn him.

The members were from Baker, Zachary and Denham Springs police departments, as well as East Baton Rouge Parish Sheriff's Office, Baton Rouge Fire Department and Louisiana State Police Troop A.

But the support didn't end there. Officers from departments across all corners of Louisiana and the country traveled to honor Eisworth: Rapides, Jefferson, and Calcasieu parish sheriff's offices, among many others. Florida Highway Patrol, and even the Dallas and New York police departments had officers in attendance, all at crisp salute as his body was carried to the hearse.

Many of these distant officers knew Eisworth, or had rode with him, others had made the trip only because they heard an officer had fallen.

Cpl. David Hebert, a 33-year veteran of the Cameron Parish Sheriff's Office, said he has attended hundreds of funerals for fallen servicemen.

"This is the last thing we can do for a fallen officer," Hebert said of serving with the honor guard who watched over Eisworth's body from the moment he passed, until he was buried Saturday afternoon. "This is the last respect we can pay for a police officer who made the ultimate sacrifice."

A bagpiper also led the casket to the hearse, playing a rendition of "Going Home."

The piper, Jimmy Johnson, had also presided over hundreds of servicemen's burials. He said the tradition of piping over a serviceman's burial is one shared by law enforcement officers across the world.

"It's an honor, that's all there is to it. It's an honor, because that man has given his life," Johnson said.

After the casket was loaded into the hearse, a radio issued a final call for Eisworth's call sign, requesting his return to headquarters. The voice on the radio reminded the officers gathered that they now had to continue their work for Eisworth, so that he may never be forgotten.

At the gravesite, Eisworth received the full honors of an officer who died in the line of duty: a flyover, taps being played by Johnson, a 21-gun salute and a flag being awarded to his family with the shells of those rifle-volleys folded in.

But before the hearse could carry Eisworth to his final resting place, a motorcade of almost 200 motorcycles preceded it, from departments far and wide, their helmets and handlebars glimmering under the sun.