In Loving Memory of Officer Malissa Torres, Badge #18548
Today, a deep and profound sadness hangs over the city of Chicago. A city that Officer Malissa Torres served with strength, courage, and quiet resilience is now left grappling with the unbearable news of her passing. Officer Torres, just 34 years old, took her own life inside the 018th District – Near North Station. And with that devastating loss, another piece of our collective heart has been torn away.
For those who knew her, who stood beside her on long shifts, who shared the same locker room, the same late-night radio calls, and the same mission — this loss is unspeakable. It’s more than a tragedy; it’s a wound that cuts deep, leaving behind echoes of pain, disbelief, and sorrow.
Another part of my heart is ripped away upon hearing of her death. And I know I’m not alone.
Malissa Torres was more than a badge. She was a daughter, a friend, a colleague, a protector. She wore her uniform with pride, not for recognition, but because she believed in what it stood for — in protecting people, in showing up, in making a difference. And for years, that’s exactly what she did.
But beneath the uniform, there was also a person — a young woman who, like so many in this line of work, carried the heavy emotional weight that comes with the job. The silent battles, the trauma absorbed shift after shift, the pressure to always be strong, even when the soul is tired — these are the unseen wounds that officers bear.
In the early hours of Thursday morning, inside the very place where she had devoted so much of her life, Malissa’s pain overcame her. And we are left trying to understand how someone so committed to protecting others could feel so alone.
Her death is a painful reminder that mental health — especially among first responders — cannot be an afterthought. It must be a priority. These brave men and women stand on the front lines for us every day, but who stands for them? Who listens when the silence is loudest? Who notices when a smile is hiding something deeper?
Malissa’s passing cannot — and must not — be in vain. We owe it to her, and to every officer struggling quietly, to break the stigma around mental health. To create spaces where vulnerability is not seen as weakness, but as courage. To talk about the things we so often keep buried. To make it okay to ask for help.
She was 34. Her life had so much ahead. And while her watch has ended, the impact of her service — and the heartbreak of her loss — will remain with us always.
To her fellow officers, we mourn with you. To her family, we extend our deepest condolences. To her friends, may her memory bring moments of light in this time of darkness. And to Officer Malissa Torres — thank you. Thank you for your service, your sacrifice, and your heart.
May you rest in peace, wrapped in the love that this world sometimes failed to show you. You are not forgotten. You are deeply missed.