Patrolman Justin Hare

There is a silence that falls over the high desert of New Mexico that is both profound and sacred. It is a silence that holds the whispers of the wind through the mesquite, the distant call of a hawk circling above the plains, and the enduring spirit of those who have walked its earth with courage and purpose. Today, that silence is heavy with a profound loss, yet it is also electric with the enduring echo of a life lived with unwavering dedication. This is a tribute, not to an end, but to a magnificent being: Trooper Justin Hare.

To speak of March 15, 2024, is to speak of a fracture in the world, a day where a shadow was cast by an act of incomprehensible cowardice. But we will not give that shadow a name. We will not etch the title of that hollow, wretched, and morally bankrupt individual into this memory. For they possessed nothing worth remembering—no light, no honor, no legacy. They were a void, a fleeting tremor of darkness that could not comprehend, much less extinguish, the enduring sun of a good man’s spirit. They took a life, but they could never take a legacy. They ended a journey, but they could never unravel the countless paths Justin paved for others with his service, his kindness, and his love.

Justin’s story is not defined by its final, brutal page. It is defined by the volume of chapters written with selfless ink. It is written in the quiet confidence he brought to the communities he served, in the safety he provided as a shield for the vulnerable. It is written in the countless acts of service seen and unseen, the traffic stops that became moments of human connection, the crises met with calm resolve, and the unwavering commitment to stand between chaos and order. His was a life of impact, a ripple effect of goodness that spread from the highways of Tucumcari into the hearts of everyone he encountered.

His most profound and beautiful legacy, however, breathes and laughs and dreams in the world today. It lives on in the three daughters who carry his DNA, his smile, his strength, and his unwavering spirit within them. They are his living memory, the greatest testament to the good man he was. In their eyes, we see his joy; in their spirits, we feel his passion. Through them, Justin’s story continues to be written—a story of love, resilience, and a father’s enduring presence. His legacy is not a monument of stone, but of soul, nurtured in the lives of his girls.

We are left with the immense weight of his absence, a chasm that seems impossible to bridge. The pain is visceral, a raw and aching reminder of what was so cruelly stolen. Yet, in this grief, we also find our duty: to ensure that the name Justin Hare is spoken for generations. We must speak it with reverence, with pride, and with a promise to emulate the integrity he wore as naturally as his uniform. His name must be a beacon, a lesson in character, and a standard to which we hold our own lives.

This is not a goodbye to the man, but a heartfelt commitment to his mission. We will carry his torch of service, his compassion, and his dedication in our own ways. We will honor him by choosing kindness in the face of cruelty, courage in the face of fear, and love above all else.

As we try to find the words for a sorrow so deep, the timeless, soul-stirring lyrics of Boyz II Men say what our own hearts often cannot:

And I'll take with me the memories To be my sunshine after the rain It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday.

Trooper Hare, your watch may have ended, but your light will never fade. Your memory is our sunshine. Your legacy is our inspiration. We will remember your name, your service, and your great, good heart—always.

Rest in peace, Trooper. Your community, your state, and a grateful nation hold you in eternal honor.

Harper Dooley
Fellow New Mexican

February 16, 2026