On a somber morning in early August 2025, a sea of navy blue uniforms lined the street outside a Bronx mosque. The air was thick with grief and pride as officers unfurled a banner bearing the photograph of Didarul Islam, the first Bangladeshi American officer in the New York Police Department (NYPD) to be killed in the line of duty. Islam, just 36 years old, was one of four people killed on July 28 in a shooting at the Manhattan office tower that houses the National Football League’s headquarters. His funeral drew not only fellow officers but also members of the city’s thriving Bangladeshi community, many of whom have found a new sense of belonging—and purpose—within the NYPD’s ranks.
The funeral was more than just a farewell; it was a powerful testament to the remarkable rise of Bangladeshi Americans in New York’s police force. According to the Bangladeshi American Police Association, more than 1,000 of the NYPD’s roughly 33,000 uniformed members now trace their roots to Bangladesh. Another 1,500 Bangladeshi Americans serve as civilian employees in the department, a far cry from the handful who wore the badge just a few decades ago. The growth is striking, and it’s not by accident.
Many credit this surge to a unique blend of post-9/11 patriotism, targeted recruitment, and word-of-mouth advocacy within the community. After the September 11 attacks, anti-Muslim sentiment in the U.S. was palpable. For some Bangladeshi immigrants, joining the NYPD became both an act of patriotism and a way to challenge stereotypes. Shamsul Haque, a co-founder of the Bangladeshi officers’ group, remembers those early days well. “He actually uplifted our community in a way that was not imaginable before,” Haque said of Islam. “His legacy will endure not only as a hero who gave his life protecting others, but also as a symbol of hope, integrity and the American dream.”
Haque himself is a living example of that dream. He immigrated to the U.S. in 1991, earned a business administration degree, and joined the NYPD in 2004—a move that initially baffled his parents. Back then, Bangladeshi officers were few and far between. Haque’s decision was shaped by a determination to prove that Muslims and immigrants could be just as patriotic and dedicated as anyone else. He rose through the ranks, ultimately becoming the first South Asian and first Muslim to attain the rank of lieutenant commander before retiring earlier this year. “Over the years, people started to realize that we work hard, we are ethical,” Haque recalled. “Although we are immigrants, we are patriotic.”
But the path to a police badge wasn’t always straightforward for Bangladeshi newcomers. Many began their careers in civilian roles within the department—jobs like traffic enforcement officer or school safety agent, which don’t require U.S. citizenship. After five years, once they became citizens, they could apply to the police academy. Haque estimates that about 60% of Bangladeshi heritage officers in the NYPD followed this route, including Didarul Islam himself, who started as a school safety officer 16 years ago after immigrating to the United States.
This approach has paid off, not just in numbers but in leadership. Among the NYPD’s Bangladeshi American officers are 10 detectives, 82 sergeants, 20 lieutenants, and four inspectors, according to Sergeant Ershadur Siddique, the current president of the Bangladeshi American Police Association. The force as a whole is now more diverse than ever: 38% white, 33% Hispanic, 17% Black, and nearly 12% Asian, NYPD data shows. Siddique, who now serves on Mayor Eric Adams’ security detail, never imagined he’d rise so far. “I never dreamt that I would go this far, but I always had an ambition to go somewhere where I can be challenged,” he said. “I always say, ‘Listen, give me a chance, see if I can do better than anybody else,’ you know? Give me a chance.”
At Islam’s funeral, the sense of solidarity was palpable. Some officers wore traditional South Asian attire, their police badges proudly displayed around their necks. Many joined the throngs of mourners who knelt in prayer, a poignant blend of cultural heritage and civic duty. For many in attendance, Islam’s sacrifice was not just a personal loss but a communal one, a reminder of the risks faced by those who protect the city.
For younger officers like Ishmam Chowdhury, Islam’s death was a jarring wake-up call. Chowdhury, just 26, graduated from the police academy in May 2025. Like Islam’s wife—who is expecting their third child—Chowdhury’s own wife is due to give birth soon. The tragedy hit close to home. “It just hit us a little different because like that made us think, what if it happens to me today? It can,” Chowdhury reflected. “So yeah, I guess that’s a wake-up call for us that even though this is a noble job, we are definitely at grave risk.”
Chowdhury’s journey to the NYPD mirrors that of many in his community. He immigrated to the U.S. from Bangladesh in 2019, driven by memories of being robbed as a teenager and a longing to help others. He started as an unarmed volunteer with the NYPD auxiliary program, then worked as a 911 operator in 2021. When the Washington, D.C. police department opened applications to green card holders in 2023, he served there for about a year. But the pull of community and family brought him back to New York after he received his citizenship, and he enrolled in the police academy. “That’s what makes this city, this country, great,” Chowdhury said. “It doesn’t matter where somebody comes from. If somebody really works hard and truly wants to do something, they can do it.”
The growth of Bangladeshi Americans in the NYPD reflects a broader story of immigrant ambition and resilience. It’s reminiscent of earlier waves of Irish, Italian, and Latino officers who once formed the backbone of the force. Today’s Bangladeshi officers are not only serving but leading, helping to shape the department’s future and its relationship with one of New York’s fastest-growing communities.
While Islam’s death is a painful reminder of the dangers police officers face every day, his life and legacy are a testament to the possibilities that exist for those willing to serve. As the city mourns his loss, it also celebrates the enduring spirit of those who continue to protect and uplift their communities, one badge at a time.