HUNDREDS OF OFFICERS paid their final respects to Pittsburgh Police Officer Calvin Hall, who was shot multiple times on Sunday, July 14, and succumbed to his injuries three days later.
by Christian Morrow and Rob Taylor Jr., Courier Staff Writers
State Police troopers filled about a quarter of the seats, Pittsburgh Police officers about half, the others were filled with, among others, officers from Allegheny County Police, the Port Authority and the Sheriff’s office—and that was just on the inside.
Outside Soldiers and Sailors Memorial Hall in Oakland, on the morning and into the afternoon of Tuesday, July 23, more officers—in the hundreds—from municipalities like Smithton, Cecil Township, Port Vue, and even Erie, stood at attention, waiting to say farewell to beloved Pittsburgh Officer Calvin Hall. Officer Hall died July 17 after being shot in the back multiple times in Homewood in the early morning hours of Sunday, July 14. Officer Hall was 36 years old.
Pennsylvania Secretary of Corrections John Wetzel made the trip from Harrisburg to attend the ceremony.
“The Pittsburgh Police is a good partner of ours, and Chief Scott Schubert is a friend of mine,” he said. “When one of our officers was killed, everyone came together. So I’m here to show my support.”
The service itself, though mostly somber, was also celebratory—due mostly to Officer Hall’s outgoing personality that was echoed by those who spoke at the funeral. All the speakers; Pittsburgh Mayor Bill Peduto, Public Safety Director Wendell Hissrich, Chief Schubert, Cmdr. Chris Ragland, Sgt. Joe Lewis, and Officer Hall’s partner, Reggie Eiland, commented on his infectious smile, his dedication, and his desire to make a difference in his community.
On the back of the program, with a photo showing Officer Hall in a white suit and hat, was a quote of his before he began each shift at the Northview Heights Public Safety Center: “Gotta go, time to make a difference.”
“It wasn’t just something to say, it was his philosophy,” Sgt. Lewis told the over 1,000 people in attendance at the service. “He loved being a cop and he did it right. He would talk to anyone, about anything, because he wanted to help.”
Officer Hall’s sister, Eugenia Hall Miller, standing with her brother, Curtis, thanked Sgt. Lewis and everyone who stood by Officer Hall as he fought for his life and who have supported their family throughout the ordeal.
“He was the rod in our family. He was the glue that held us together,” Miller said. “And he was determined to build bridges between the community and the police.”
Officer Hall’s father, Curtis Washington, accompanying himself on bass, also sang an original composition dedicated to his son: “I Loved You Before…Even Before You Were Born…”
But Officer Eiland, with his story of meeting Officer Hall and the two eventually becoming partners, injected a welcome dash of humor into the ceremony: “I was coming back from an arrest and a voice says, ‘sup Reg.’ And I turn and see a short, bald old guy (Officer Hall)…later on when we were staffing the Safety Center, Sarge tells me he wants Calvin up there, and to partner with me. And I said, ‘you want to bring the old guy up here? Partner? What did I do to earn this punishment?’”
Little did Officer Eiland know that in time, they would click as partners and become close friends. Officer Eiland’s stern and quiet demeanor, mixed with Officer Hall’s smiling and talkative personality, turned out to be the perfect match.
Officer Eiland told the story about being detailed to a “Cops & Kids” event away from his normal Northview Heights site, beginning July 8. It was to last a few weeks. Thus, Officers Hall and Eiland texted each other throughout the week, culminating with a text Officer Hall sent Officer Eiland on Friday, July 12: “Dude, I need you back up here,” wrote Officer Hall, whom Officer Eiland commonly referred to as “Cal.”
Officer Hall’s text read as a term of endearment; he was missing a partner, a friend, as they’d be separated for the next few weeks until “Cops & Kids” ended.
“Cal and I were not only partners, but brothers who happened to be partners,” Officer Eiland said.
The next evening, Officer Eiland took a trip, three hours away, to attend a bachelor party. Wiping away tears, he told the audience what happened next.
“I got a call from Sgt. Lewis at 2:43 in the morning (July 14). I didn’t answer. He shot me a text saying to call him as soon as possible. At 5:22 in the morning, I called Sgt. Lewis, to which he said Cal was shot multiple times, and is in critical condition.”
Officer Eiland immediately rushed back to Pittsburgh, to UPMC Presbyterian Hospital.
“From that moment until Calvin succumbed to his injuries on July 17, I was at the hospital, day and night by his side, I never left his room. When Calvin died in front of my face, I could not believe it. I lost my partner, and I lost my brother.”
Officer Eiland told the audience he couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, and had various mood swings in the days after Officer Hall’s untimely death.
“As I sit back and think, why him, why Cal, this isn’t fair…how could this happen to such a beautiful person, who only wanted to do right by his community, but the community betrayed him…A wise man told me…you do not realize now what God is doing, but later, you’ll understand. I get lost in this saying because it’s not fair that somebody took his life away from us, but as I sit up here in front of you, crying, I’m here to say that Calvin’s legacy does not end here. Calvin’s legacy continues.”
As the more than 700 police officers and hundreds more supporters looked on, Officer Hall’s casket was carried to the hearse, draped in the American flag. With a heavy police escort, the hearse traveled from Oakland to the Homewood cemetery, where a graveside service was held.
Shortly thereafter, Officer Hall was laid to rest.
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On July 14, when Officer Calvin Hall was shot, and for three days after that, he fought for his life…his death meant something. It meant that peacemakers still survive. That we’re all not about violence, but the heart, the caring heart, still lives. His death meant that in our communities, we must come together, for that was his desire. His death meant that we can still stand, and stand for what’s right.
– Rev. Earlene Coleman
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