'I have to live the rest of my life without him': Mom mourns her son, Andrew Duarte

Nancy Duarte Matarese now wears a piece of jewelry that her son, West York Police Officer Andrew Duarte, wore every day during his career in law enforcement.
It's a medallion of Saint Michael, the patron saint of police officers and other professionals who face danger. His aunt gave it to him upon graduation from the California University of Pennsylvania. It's no longer smooth on the back, which is inscribed with "May God Protect & Shield You Drew," but it survived.
A deputy coroner handed the medallion to her at York Hospital after her son died on Saturday, Feb. 22 following an active shooting with healthcare workers held hostage at UPMC Memorial Hospital. Despite being mortally wounded, Duarte rescued another officer from danger during the attack.
"A lot of times, I have it on the inside next to my skin," she said of the jewelry during an interview in Red Lion.
It didn't surprise her that her mortally wounded son rescued another officer that day. Officers who worked with him have said, "You knew he had your back."
Nancy Duarte Matarese believes every baby is a miracle, but her only child was one all the more. The doctors didn't believe he would survive to be born or live much past birth. He came into the world weighing 3.5 pounds, but what he lacked in size, he made up for in other ways, she said.
He was incredibly intelligent. From a young age, he enjoyed studying and soaked up everything. He knew all of the pieces of construction equipment and how they worked, his mother recalled. He took an interest in reptiles and became a fan of Steve Irwin with his television show "The Crocodile Hunter." He learned about the planes, tanks and guns used in fighting during World War II.
His parents, who divorced and remarried, tried to foster those interests and give him opportunities to learn. They traveled to places, such as Washington, D.C. and the beaches at Normandy, France, to provide him with experiences.
Nancy Duarte Matarese said she and her son were close and always spent time together. As an only child, he participated in the adult world.
She home schooled him for a few years. She served on the planning and parks and recreation commissions while living in Antioch, California, and she'd bring him along to meetings while he waited for his father to pick him up. He'd draw with a pencil or pen on a pad of paper. She keeps one of his drawings of a dump truck in her portfolio.
He graduated in 2013 from Berean Christian High School in Walnut Creek, California.
Andrew Duarte, who liked rules and order, considered going into the military, his mother recalled, but the U.S. Marines were not recruiting for what he wanted at the time. He pivoted to criminal justice.
He started as a seasonal police officer for Ocean City, Md. He underwent an intense six weeks of training before serving on the streets. After graduation from the academy, his mother pinned his police badge on his shirt.
"I can remember my hand shaking when I was trying to pin his badge on," she said, adding she knew it would put her child in the path of danger. "It wasn't lost on me."
After the summer, he finished his final semester at college and graduated summa cum laude in less than four years.
Andrew Duarte, who wanted to be a police officer in a large city, landed a job in Denver, Colorado. It's where he excelled in enforcement of driving under the influence, earning him a Hero Award from Mothers Against Drunk Driving Colorado. It involved working nights and going to court during the day.
His mother traveled out West to see him, and he'd come home for vacation. In Colorado, they spent time visiting places, including Rocky Mountain National Park and the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs.
He also earned his pilot's license and flew small planes, although his mother never had the opportunity to fly with him.
Nancy Duarte Matarese, who has lived in York County for more than a decade, wanted her son to live closer to her.
She worried about her son during the coronavirus pandemic and the national protests following the death of George Floyd. Nancy Duarte Matarese had her son text her every morning when he got home.
For a time, Nancy Duarte Matarese pondered getting a place in Colorado if he decided to put roots down there.
"I didn't want to live the rest of my life apart from him," she said. "... Now I have to live the rest of my life without him."
'He had the heart of a lion': Father of fallen police Officer Andrew Duarte mourns his son
In 2022, Andrew Duarte moved home, taking a position with the West York Borough Police Department.
He lived with his mother for about a year before buying his own home. They'd walk, hike, and play disc golf. They'd go to the grocery store and plan meals for the week.
"I was very happy to have him home," she said.
The last time Nancy Duarte Matarese saw her son alive was on Thursday, Feb. 20 when he came over for breakfast. He was wearing the new clothes and shoes she had bought him for his birthday, which was on Monday, Feb. 17. They were going to take a walk but ran out of time because she needed to go to work.
"I hugged him and kissed him goodbye and I told him to be smart and be safe, which I always did," she said.
His mother said she can see him walking out the driveway and getting into his car. She would always stand on the porch and wave.
Mourners from across the country flew or drove to York County to pay their respects during his funeral service on Friday, Feb. 28 at Living Word Community Church in York Township.
Hundreds of police vehicles participated in his funeral procession.
Nancy Duarte Matarese said she had no idea how many mourners would attend her son's funeral to honor him.
"To really witness the brotherhood of police officers and the fellowship of police officers and how deep that runs, I had no idea," she said. "And I could see why Andrew liked it. Because you know, you've got each other's back and I could see why he liked that. There's something about being part of something like that."
Many people gave of their time and effort to plan the massive funeral in less than a week, she said. They set aside their life for a period of time for her son, who they may not have known.
"Everybody that spoke did such an amazing job, and the service was really amazing," she said.
Nancy Duarte Matarese's home is filled with flowers and artwork created in her son's memory. She also received a prayer shawl and an afghan made by a woman in her 90s.
She said her son was a blessing every day. He had accepted Christ as his savior when he was a teenager.
"I'm not confused about where he is. I know he's in heaven, and there's comfort in that," she said.
This article originally appeared on York Daily Record: Officer Andrew Duarte's mother speaks about his death and her memories

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This is not a formula that allows us to consider how the misogyny that animated many of the serial killers of the 20th century was encouraged or shared by their wider culture. Even Fraser fails to account for this: If elevated lead levels caused the violence, why did it remain skewed along gender lines? (From 1900 to 2010, 88.6 percent of all serial killers, and more than 90 percent of those in the United States, were male; just over 51 percent of their victims, however, were female, though white women were the most likely group to be murdered.) She doesn't fully pursue that question. Nor does she satisfactorily answer why, if industrial pollution was nationwide, there was a serial-killing cluster specifically in the Pacific Northwest. Perhaps my own crazy wall is different. It posits that people who end up killing and people who don't aren't initially that much different from one another, and a confluence of random and semi-random events—broken homes, sexual trauma, poverty—might contribute to future violence, but also might not. My wall craves narrative but also knows that human behavior can be mystifying, and that attempting to make order from chaos is doomed to fail. There is value in seeing a bigger picture, and I'm glad to have followed the threads that Fraser unspooled. But there is equal, if not greater, value in accepting what we don't, and can't, know. And if the horrific uptick in serial killing remains an unexplained phenomenon, yet fewer women and girls today suffer from this unspeakable violence, then I can live with that.