Larry Dunn #1

A Life of Quiet Strength

Larry Dunn never set out to be a hero. He didn’t dream of standing in front of cameras or being the face of resilience in the face of hate and violence. For him, service wasn’t about recognition—it was about doing what was right. Larry’s towering frame, at six feet seven inches, made him impossible to miss. People often noticed his height first, but those who knew him well knew there was much more to him. Beneath his physical presence was a quiet empathy and a steady sense of responsibility for the people around him.

Larry was born and raised in Prince George’s County, Maryland, a vibrant community just outside of Washington, D.C. His neighborhood was filled with hardworking families like his own—people who valued family, faith, and perseverance. Larry’s mother was the cornerstone of his life. A single parent, she raised Larry and his siblings with the kind of quiet determination that left an indelible mark on all of them. She worked long hours to provide for her family, but she always made time to teach her children the values that mattered most: kindness, respect, and the importance of standing up for what’s right.

Larry’s mother had a saying: "No matter how tall you are, it’s your heart that people will remember." Those words stuck with Larry throughout his life. Even as a kid, he had an innate sense of fairness. He hated seeing anyone picked on and was often the first to step in if someone was being bullied. His friends from the neighborhood often joked that Larry was like a gentle giant—always quick with a joke but ready to defend someone in need.

Larry’s love of basketball blossomed in middle school. His height made him a natural on the court, and by high school, he had become a standout athlete. He wasn’t just a great player—he was a team leader who lifted up his teammates with his words and his actions. Coaches admired him not only for his talent but for his ability to stay calm under pressure. Larry never let a bad call or a missed shot get to him; he always kept his focus on the bigger picture.

Despite his love for the game, Larry knew that basketball wouldn’t be his forever path. He had bigger dreams—dreams of doing something that mattered. After graduating from James Madison University, where he studied criminal justice, Larry found himself at a crossroads. Many of his friends were pursuing careers in finance, law, and education, but Larry felt a pull toward something else. He wanted to serve. He wanted to protect.

In his mid-twenties, Larry applied to join the United States Capitol Police. The Capitol had always been more than just a building to him—it was a living symbol of democracy. As a kid, he’d visited the Capitol on school field trips, wide-eyed as he walked through its grand halls and learned about the nation’s history. Now, as a young man, he was determined to be one of the people who protected that legacy.

The training was intense. Becoming a Capitol Police officer wasn’t just about patrolling hallways—it was about being prepared to respond to everything from security breaches to terrorist threats. Larry excelled in his training, earning praise from his instructors for his sharp instincts and physical strength. But what set him apart most wasn’t his size or his skill—it was his calm under pressure.

From the moment he put on his uniform, Larry knew he’d found his purpose. His first assignment was on a patrol shift near the Capitol rotunda, where tourists gathered to marvel at the frescoes and statues that told the story of America. Larry loved interacting with the public, answering their questions, and sharing little-known facts about the building’s history. Kids were often awestruck by his height, asking their parents to take pictures with "the really tall officer." Larry always obliged, kneeling down to their level and flashing a warm smile.

But being a Capitol Police officer wasn’t all smiles and photo ops. Larry had also seen the darker side of the job. Over the years, he had been assigned to respond to everything from tense protests to bomb threats. He had escorted lawmakers through angry crowds and defused volatile situations with a mix of strength and diplomacy.

Larry’s colleagues admired his ability to stay composed, even in the most stressful moments. "Larry doesn’t rattle," one officer said. "You could have chaos breaking out all around him, and he’d still be the calmest person in the room."

Yet, despite his professionalism, Larry was no stranger to the complexities of his role as a Black police officer in America. He had experienced racism both on and off duty—subtle slights, loaded assumptions, and, at times, outright hostility. There were moments when he felt like he had to prove himself more than others, just to be seen as equal. But Larry never let bitterness define him. Instead, he channeled those experiences into a deeper commitment to justice.

Larry believed that the Capitol belonged to every American, regardless of race, background, or political beliefs. To him, the building was sacred—not because of its marble pillars or grand architecture, but because of what it represented: the idea that every citizen had a voice.

In the years leading up to January 6, 2021, Larry had worked through some of the most contentious moments in recent political history. He had seen protests and counter-protests flood the National Mall. He had stood guard during tense debates that divided the nation. But nothing in his years of service could have prepared him for what was coming.

That morning, Larry stood at his post, watching as crowds gathered outside the Capitol. At first, it seemed like a typical day of political demonstrations—a few chants, a few signs, the usual media frenzy. But as the hours passed, the atmosphere began to shift. The chants grew louder, the crowd larger and more agitated. Reports came in over the radio about the mob’s size and their aggression near the barricades.

Larry’s instincts kicked in. He’d been a cop long enough to know when things were about to go sideways. And as he listened to the escalating reports of violence, he felt the weight of his duty settle on his shoulders. He tightened his grip on his shield and prepared himself for whatever was about to come.

What Larry didn’t know in that moment was that he was about to face a defining test—not just of his strength, but of his character. When the storm came, Larry Dunn would stand tall. Not because he wanted to be remembered, but because he knew that when chaos threatened everything you believe in, someone has to hold the line.