Felicia Reilly was a strong woman who could carry her own, and in death she arranged to be carried by the people whose careers she always wanted to build up: Fellow women St. Paul officers were her pallbearers.

Reilly died March 1, nearly 15 years after she responded to a 911 call and a man assaulted her. She sustained a traumatic brain injury that worsened as the years went on, and she wasn’t able to return to work as an officer.

Her last wish was for a line-of-duty funeral, which was held Monday.

A large American flag hung from two St. Paul Fire Department ladder trucks outside Gustavus Adolphus Lutheran Church in St. Paul as officers, family and friends filed inside.

“Every culture has had a place of honor for those who fall in defense of others,” Police Chief Axel Henry said at Reilly’s service. “There is no doubt that Felicia has earned her right to sit in that sacred and holy place … with our other fallen warriors and guardians.”

“… We will never forget,” he continued. “Felicia, your life may have been cut short, but your impact certainly was not. Rest easy, our brave friend. We’ll take it from here.”

‘Only thing in this world that matters is people’

Reilly, 67, was a mother of five and her oldest son, Matthew Reilly II, gave a eulogy on behalf of the family.

“There are a lot of people in this room who could tell you stories about Officer Reilly,” he told the hundreds in attendance. “There are people in this room who could tell you about Felicia. I’m going to tell you about mom,” who he said taught her children a sense of wonder.

One Christmas, when four of Reilly’s kids were in the home, she decided to make gingerbread, but she thought, “There’s no way this recipe that says eight gingerbread men is going to be enough,” her son remembered.

“Somewhere between the ounces and the cups and the tablespoons, things got confused,” he said. “Like a bad ‘I Love Lucy’ episode, we had over 167 gingerbread men. … I don’t think any of us even liked gingerbread but I tell you what, for the next week, you really liked those gingerbread men and that was all there was to it. But that was our life, there was always room for more.”

Reilly had a rule that anytime she made dinner, she made enough to put out an extra place setting, in case someone turned up to join them. “Even in times when we had a hard time making sure there was enough,” Matthew Reilly said.

“She was compassionate and she was true to herself,” he said. “She never made a promise, no matter how small, that she did not keep.”

One day when she was on patrol, she saw a boy on St. Paul’s East Side when he was supposed to be in school. He confided in Reilly that his mother told him he needed to say goodbye to a litter of kittens that his cat had. He couldn’t bear them going to a shelter, so he’d loaded them into a box and was trying to find homes for them.

He had one kitten left and “he was inconsolable” because he said it was “the best of the lot,” Matthew Reilly said. “And he wanted to make sure this little kitten found the best home he could.”

Felicia Reilly told the child she’d take the kitten home. She named the cat “Donut” and Matthew Reilly took the cat with him when he moved out of his parents’ house. His roommate was a veteran who served in Iraq; Donut helped him acclimate back into civilian life and became his cat.

Donut lived to age 17 because Reilly “kept a promise to a small boy who wouldn’t know any better if she did or didn’t,” her son said. “She showed compassion. … My mom always said, ‘The only thing in this world that matters is people.’”

At attacker’s sentencing, she offered forgiveness

Reilly’s injury caused debilitating headaches and pain, and she lost the ability to walk.

Her husband of 47 years, Matt Reilly, would wheel her into church services, and “to see her excitement and her joy to be in the house of the Lord was truly inspiring,” said Pastor Justin Petrali.

“If there’s ever a person that I could think of that has the right to be bitter or angry for what had happened to her, it’s Felicia,” Petrali said. “But she chose to forgive. She chose not to hold onto bitterness or anger.”

In March 2010, Reilly responded to a 911 call from Thomas Jerard Swenson’s parents’ home. She encountered Swenson, “who was erratic and threatening” and she “intervened to detain the son to keep the elderly couple safe,” Henry wrote in a commendation.

Swenson kicked Reilly in the head repeatedly. She used her Taser and baton, and was able to detain Swenson until backup arrived and took him into custody. A jury found Swenson guilty of first-degree assault.

During Reilly’s funeral, Petrali read from the victim statement that she gave in court in 2013 when Swenson was sentenced to 8 1/2 years in prison. She addressed Swenson: “On the day I met you, I lost my career, my health and much of my life as I knew it. I have been suffering in anguish ever since that day.

“Oftentimes, I wish you would’ve killed me that day for my sake, but for your sake, I’m glad you didn’t. … Jesus tells us to forgive and pray for our enemies, so dear God, watch over Thomas wherever he goes,” Petrali continued, reading from Reilly’s words.

Medal of Valor

As Chief Henry thought about what to say at Reilly’s funeral, he “originally went to a place of anger” over what happened to her, but then he said he thought, “What a blessing to have known her, what a blessing to have been able to work with a person like her.”

Reilly joined the St. Paul Police Department in 1996 and, in 2010, with officers bidding their shifts by seniority, she chose to work on the East Side.

“That shift filled up before every other shift in the city, which meant only the most senior people could get on it,” Henry said. “And they didn’t go there cause it was easy. They didn’t go there cause the crime rate was lower there. They went there because (they) … really wanted to make a difference. Felicia was one of those people. She didn’t take the easy path, but she took the one of great honor and of great service.”

On the day Reilly was assaulted, Henry was a patrol supervisor in the Eastern District and was among the first five squads to arrive after she was hurt. He knows that he and his co-workers “probably couldn’t have prevented it,” but “I think we will never be able to forgive ourselves for not getting there sooner,” he said.

“We have that nagging feeling in our hearts: There must have been something we could have done,” Henry said. “Could I have canceled her (going) to that call? … Could I have finished the call I was on (previously) quick enough to get there?”

For anyone who’s ever had to be in a fight, “you know that a 90-second fight is an eternity,” Henry said. “What about a 15-year fight? … Sure, it’s brave. Sure, it takes courage. … But I can’t even come up with a word that describes that.”

Then, Henry said a word popped into his head: Valor.

He said he wishes he could change what happened, but knowing he can’t, “We can recognize her and we should. For her efforts, her actions, her sacrifices, her grace and her beauty.”

Henry announced that he was posthumously awarding Reilly with the police department’s Medal of Valor, its highest honor, for her actions on March 24, 2010. “If I’m being honest, this is long overdue,” he said, and soon after gave the medal to Reilly’s husband.

‘Tragic milestone’

St. Paul Mayor Melvin Carter said Reilly’s death “marks a tragic milestone,” as she is the first female officer in St. Paul killed in the line of duty.

Gov. Tim Walz also attended Reilly’s funeral, as did Attorney General Keith Ellison, Public Safety Commissioner Bob Jacobson, Ramsey and Washington County Sheriffs Bob Fletcher and Dan Starry, and Minneapolis Police Chief Brian O’Hara, among others.

After the funeral service, a law enforcement procession headed to Roselawn Cemetery in Roseville for interment.

The St. Paul Police Department encouraged the community to line the procession route from Reilly’s funeral to Roselawn Cemetery and people with American flags were outside the cemetery as the procession arrived.

At the cemetery, a memorial bell was rung 17 times — one for each of Reilly’s years of service.

St. Paul Police Sgt. Amy Boyer was one of Reilly’s pallbearers and was a police academy classmate of hers. The women pallbearers were from various ranks in the police department.

“She was a big proponent of getting women into law enforcement,” Boyer said. “She started her career much later in life” — Reilly was 39 when she became a police officer. “She already had a family and this was a dream of hers.”