The FBI released Director Christopher
Wray’s remarks at the Memorial Service for Special Agent Laura Schwartzenberger
at Miami Gardens, Florida on February 6, 2021.
You can read the remarks below:.
Good afternoon. On behalf of
the entire FBI, it’s an honor to be here today to remember Special Agent Laura
Schwartzenberger.
There
are no good words to make sense of a loss like this. No good words for a day
like Tuesday, or like today. There is a heaviness in our hearts—a burden unlike
any other—because there is nothing more devastating to the FBI Family than the
loss of an agent in the line of duty.
It is
the news we pray will never come—and when it does, every FBI employee feels it
deep down in their souls, whether they had the privilege of knowing Laura or
not. Because we all know the risks our agents take, every day, to uphold an
oath taken long ago, knowing that life can change forever in a mere moment.
On
Tuesday, we lost not one of our own, but two. Two warriors who took on one of
the hardest jobs in the FBI, crimes against children. Two best friends who
shared the same passion, the same determination, and—in spite of all they had
witnessed in their extraordinary careers—the same sense of optimism and hope
that comes from work that matters. Two of the very best the FBI had to offer.
It’s
heartbreaking. There’s no other word for it. It’s heartbreaking for the law
enforcement community, for the American people they served, and—most of
all—it’s heartbreaking for Laura’s family.
But,
looking around this stadium, at all the people who have come to honor
Laura—some from every corner of the country—we see the warmth, the support, and
the sheer strength of the greater law enforcement family when it’s needed most.
And I
recognize that far too many of you have felt the pain personally, within your
own police departments, when your own officers have been killed in the line of
duty. So from the bottom of my heart, and on behalf of every member of the FBI
Family, I say thank you to everyone who is here, and all who are watching, for
paying tribute to Laura today—a true American hero. And for the unconditional
support that so many of you continue to provide for Laura’s family.
Being
an FBI special agent is one of the most coveted and prestigious jobs that one
could ever dream of having. It demands the highest levels of academic
fortitude, sound judgment, and—above all—bravery and integrity.
Just
before new special agents walk across the graduation stage at the FBI Academy
in Quantico, they swear an oath confirming who they want to be and the kind of
life they want to lead—one of service over self. To protecting the American
people and upholding the Constitution of the United States.
I
didn’t have the privilege of knowing Laura the way many of you here did, but in
learning about her life over the past few days, it’s clear to me that she
honored that oath, well above and beyond the call of duty. She led a life of
sheer determination, dedication, and courage. Of someone who really loved her
work and the people she worked with. And of a woman who loved her family even
more.
Laura
joined the Bureau in 2005. After graduating from Quantico, she landed in
Albuquerque—her first field office. Laura quickly made an impression. Her supervisors
said she was exactly the kind of new agent you wanted. She volunteered for any
assignment that came up and offered to help anyone who needed it.
In
2007, she applied and became the first ever—and still the only ever—female FBI
SWAT team member in Albuquerque. To qualify, among other things, all potential
SWAT team members must do two pull-ups while wearing a 25-pound weighted vest.
Laura did five.
But
her athleticism and grit were only part of the reason Laura got picked. The
SWAT team also had to consider her personality. Was this someone they could
spent hours, days, or even weeks with, in extremely close contact, during a
crisis? Could they count on her in the most dangerous situations with their
lives? The answer was a resounding yes.
While
in Albuquerque, Laura became pregnant with her first son, Gavin. She continued
to work as hard as ever, but as one of her former colleagues said, it was
wonderful to watch Laura become a mom. The ferocious go-getter softened, but in
the best way. And no matter what was going on in Laura’s life, she did what she
set out to do: she made a positive difference.
In
2010, Laura transferred to Miami where she joined the Violent Crimes Against
Children Squad. It was here, in Miami, that she found her true calling—keeping
kids safe. Laura chose to be part of a team that spends their days in darkness,
confronting the very worst parts of humanity. It’s a job with high stress, high
emotional toll, and high burnout. But Laura never stopped.
She
talked to anybody and everybody about protecting children from predators
online. She gave presentations on sextortion and internet safety in middle
school auditoriums, neighborhood backyards—even a living room packed with a
girls’ softball team.
In one
of her biggest cases, Laura helped put away an evil criminal who exploited
hundreds of teenage boys by tricking them into sharing private images of
themselves. Because of Laura’s work, that man was sent to prison for the rest
of his life and will never harm another child.
Laura
had such a profound impact on the parents of some of the victims that when they
found out that Laura had been killed in the line of duty, they immediately sent
their condolences to the Bureau. And they asked how they could help Laura’s two
boys. That speaks volumes about what Laura meant to this community.
Laura
was solid and dependable—the hallmarks of what makes a great special agent. She
was like a mom to some of the younger agents. She exuded a quiet confidence,
and she instilled that confidence in everyone who worked on her cases. And I
know that Laura and Dan’s squad, Squad C-18, will make her proud in carrying on
her cases with the same tenacity and care that she did, every day.
Laura
and Dan were also on the Miami dive team together. She loved it—even when it
meant searching for evidence with zero visibility in South Florida’s muckiest
swamps and canals. I think it’s pretty safe to say, that’s not something a lot
of us here would be signing up to do.
She
was an athlete in body and mind. Obstacle course races, CrossFit sessions—Laura
was always moving. But she was an athlete in spirit, too. She had a sharp
mental focus, stamina, and sense of teamwork and camaraderie that allowed her
to keep moving forward, case after case and victim after victim.
But as
seriously as she took her work, friends and co-workers remark that Laura was
just fun to be around. Her laugh was infectious. When you heard it—and you
couldn’t mistake it for anyone else’s—you couldn’t help but join in, even if
you had no idea what it was she was laughing about.
Laura
was easygoing, and she brought to Miami a sort of New Mexico laid-back vibe.
There was no empty small talk with Laura. She wasn’t afraid to open up, let
folks in, and really get to know people.
She
was humble. And for a person so accomplished, that’s pretty rare. She never
talked about those many accomplishments, never bragged about them, never
adorned her office with evidence of them.
For
Laura, it was all about the work. And there was always more work to be done,
always more children to save. But there was so much more to Laura than her
work.
Her
priority was her family—her husband Jason and their sons, Gavin and Damon,
affectionately known as “Tank.” She shepherded them to lacrosse games, where
you could see her running between fields, beaming with pride, hoping not to
miss her boys in action.
She
was a great photographer too. Camera in hand, she’d run up and down the
sidelines capturing shots of the kids and sharing those pictures with other
families on the team.
She
knew the importance of family, and she understood the need to take advantage of
every opportunity to find joy. Because the flip side of working the kinds of
cases she did, all day, every day, is that you learn to find joy in the
smallest things. You can create joy in everyone around you. And Laura knew how
to do just that.
I
understand that Laura was a woman of faith—a devout Catholic who attended Mary
Help of Christians church. It was an important part of her life and part of who
she was in everything she did.
No
matter how hard Laura’s days were, no matter how difficult protecting children
from evil became, Laura kept that faith. Just as she kept her faith in the rule
of law, in justice, and in doing what was right. A call to service isn’t designed
for comfort and convenience. True service is a test. It’s an act of faith. And
Laura had faith. She had faith in people. She had faith in the work she was
called to do. She nurtured that faith. She shared it. And she lived it, every
day.
In the
FBI Family, we talk about courage and bravery and selflessness. We talk about
the heroism of law enforcement. But heroism comes in many forms. There’s the
heroism of those who rush headlong into danger without a second thought for
their own well-being. Because every special agent recognizes that making the
choice to be an agent might one day require the ultimate sacrifice for complete
strangers.
But
there’s also a quiet heroism that cannot be discounted. The heroism of the
individual who simply does their job with dignity and dedication, with a
devotion to service. Laura was both. She was brave in pursuit of criminals
seeking to harm the most innocent and vulnerable among us, no matter how
dangerous. And she relied on her heart and compassion in smaller moments, when
it was needed the most.
Back
at FBI Headquarters and in every field office, there is a Wall of Honor, where
the names of fallen agents are inscribed. And in time, we will add Laura’s name
to that wall. And when we look up and see it, we’ll remember Laura, in ways big
and small.
We’ll
remember her love of life, and her bright smile that could light up a room and
warm your heart. We’ll remember her work ethic, her unshakeable integrity, her
confidence, her empathy, and her devotion to justice. And we’ll remember her as
a dedicated agent, a committed public servant, and a courageous leader. Most
importantly, we’ll remember how good it felt to call her a colleague and a
friend.
I
thought it would be fitting to close with a familiar prayer—one that may bring
comfort on such a dark day.
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace;
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope,
Where there is darkness, light;
And where there is sadness, joy.
I know
there is much sadness today. And that sadness will never fully disappear. But
we can find joy knowing that Laura brought hope where there was only despair.
We can find joy knowing that she brought light into some of the darkest places,
and that she died as she lived—making a difference, serving her community, and
keeping kids safe. We can find joy in her strength, her laughter, and her
legacy. And in the fact that the FBI today is better and stronger because of
what Laura gave to all of us.
Jason,
Gavin, and Damon: We know you’ll remember her better than anyone. And you’ll
miss her more than anyone. Thank you for sharing Laura with us for so many
years. Please know that you will always be part of our FBI Family, that we’ll
always honor her ultimate sacrifice and that we’ll always be here for you for
anything you need.
So
today, we remember selfless women and men, like Laura, like Dan. And we take
inspiration from their example and the sacrifices they heroically made for all
of us. We are saying goodbye to a beloved member of the FBI Family taken much
too soon. But we are so fortunate that Laura chose us, and we will forever
remember her as the shining light that she was.
May
the love of friends give you comfort, and may God grant you peace. Thank you.
