PC Tom Clough, 38, had a habit of shrinking his own importance. Colleagues knew him as Tommy. He had served six years in the Army, including Iraq and Afghanistan with the 11th Explosive Ordnance Disposal and Search Regiment of the Royal Logistic Corps, then moved through the Civil Nuclear Constabulary and British Transport Police before joining Cleveland as an armed-response officer.
He was a partner, a brother, a son, and a man who, his family made a point of saying, loved his sausage dog Frank with a seriousness he did not always grant himself. He used to tell his partner that nobody would come to his funeral. On Thursday 10 September, Kirkleatham Walled Gardens in Redcar proved him wrong in the most public way possible. Hundreds of officers lined the route. Standard-bearers from every force dipped their flags. Four mounted officers led the cortege. Veterans wore medals. His coffin went under a Union Flag with a police helmet on top.
A lone piper played the Skye Boat Song. Former comrades from the Army, the Civil Nuclear Constabulary and British Transport Police stood with fire, ambulance and NHS staff. Policing minister Sarah Jones, Redcar MP and Home Office minister Anna Turley, Tees Valley Mayor Ben Houchen and Chief Constable Victoria Fuller attended. Chief Superintendent Richard Clark, who had commanded him at Sellafield Operational Policing Unit, called him the epitome of professionalism. Lauren Somerville said his partner had drawn strength from the public and that Tom gave everyone his everything. He had proudly served to make the world better before he put on a Cleveland uniform. On 14 September his family released a statement through the force.
They thanked the people of Redcar, Cleveland and beyond. They thanked those who lined the route from the funeral home and clapped as he pᴀssed. They thanked drivers whose journeys were interrupted and who still got out, stood by their cars and bowed their heads. They thanked neighbours. They said the support meant the world and that they will never forget it. Tom, they said, would have been amazed and so grateful. The man who bet against a crowd received a town that stopped a Thursday for him. The joke about empty pews is now the hardest line in the story, because the pews were not empty, the road was not empty, and the people who never met him still understood what the helmet on the coffin meant.
Source: https://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/home-news/pc-matthew-blades-funeral-a66-𝔠r𝘢sh-police-middlesbrough-b3047302.html
