Manchester buries its 'real thief-taker'
Eye witness: The funeral of DC Oake
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A trumpet sounded through the sun-bathed cloisters of Manchester Cathedral as the coffin of Stephen Oake was borne in by six pallbearers. The Special Branch detective constable would have most definitely approved.
Not only did the instrument accompany an opening hymn chosen for the detective constable's own wedding 20 years ago – "Praise my Soul the King of Heaven" – but it was played by members of the same Baptist church musical group that had come to appreciate his own Sunday morning trumpet-playing – and all its little imperfections.
In the week before he died, DC Oake, the 40-year-old officer killed on an anti-terrorism raid 12 days ago, had bought a new trumpet. He played it in the church on the last Sunday of his life and, according to the musicians who played at yesterday's 90-minute service at the sandstone cathedral Church of St Mary, St Denys and St George, it made a world of difference.
There could barely have been a greater contrast between the manner of DC Oake's death – in a frenetic scramble with a knife in Manchester's late afternoon gloom – and the way his life was commemorated, among friends and colleagues in a 19th-century cathedral illuminated with shafts of light from an azure sky, filled with music and full to a capacity of more than 1,000.
The service yesterday blended police traditions with modern, Baptist evangelism. Though it caused many stony-faced police officers to wipe away tears, its intentional sense of fun never allowed the many intimacies it delivered to become maudlin.
A congregation that included Tony and Cherie Blair, three officers of the New York Police Department and a representative of the Earl and Countess of Wessex, who were protected by DC Oake at last summer's Commonwealth Games, heard the prayers of his wife, Lesley, and daughters Becki, 14, and 12-year-old Corrine.
"You made us laugh by saying funny things, totally unrelated to what we were talking about," said Becki's prayer, read by the Oakes' parish priest Rob White.
"You will always remain my dad – a smiley, jolly, fun man," added Corrine – Cozzie, as her father called her. "Goodbye amazing, awesome and superb dad – for now."
There were other indications of how much DC Oake was loved. Such as Mr White's disclosure of how, when he suggested that the officer had had imperfections at a memorial service last week, Mrs Oake had called out "amen"; and Becki's recollections of her father falling asleep over the dinner table after working the early shift. On one occasion, she disappeared to the kitchen, returned with two aluminium pan lids and sounded an impromptu alarm call.
And Chief Constable Michael Todd, who has received 2,000 emails about the death, shared the DC's reasons for joining the police, detailed on his application form 19 years ago, with the congregation. "I feel it is a way of contributing to the community. I enjoy helping others with any problems they may have," he said. His chief constable shared descriptions of DC Oake: "real thief-taker", "first-class officer" and "completely dedicated and professional" – even if he wasn't so wild about the paperwork.
Mrs Oake's own prayer for her husband touched on the occasional imperfections of their marriage. "[As in] all marriages, they proved to make us grow stronger," she said. Her favourite moments had come in recent years when, during the end-of-day reflections, "Steve paid me the best compliment: not only was I his wife, but he would call me his best friend."
Mrs Oake professed to be pleased that she now had "a friend in influential places." Her husband might ensure that Chelsea would win the FA Cup for his family, her prayer suggested. "And save us some seats."
Mr White compared DC Oake's spirit to the candle that has been burning at the cathedral since the death – barely visible in the light of every day but bright in the darkness. In the same way, DC Oake's extraordinary qualities, hidden in the light of his day-to-day service, had been highlighted by his death. Watched from the front row of the right-hand aisle by Mr Blair, the priest said: "This nation is sick of darkness. This nation is longing for light."
Outside, hundreds of people gathered to hear the service on a public address system – among them, 68-year-old former 1st Battalion Manchester Regiment soldier Alan Harkin, wearing medals and regimental tie. "These police officers are like soldiers these days," he said. "I'm here to remember him."
With helicopters buzzing overhead – security was intense, though discreet – the coffin covered with the black Greater Manchester Police flag and two bouquets of red and white carnations and forget-me-nots was carried out into the sunshine and down the Cathedral Yard, above which the flag St George was at half mast.
Many bystanders wept and faces were etched with emotion but the trumpet overcame the sense of grief, playing movements from Jeremiah Clarke's "Suite in D Major" as the coffin left. DC Oake had processed from his wedding to the same, triumphant tune.