With fond words, the drone of a bagpipe and tears, hundreds of friends and loved ones said good-bye Friday, Feb. 21, to San Diego Sheriff’s Deputy Patrick Steven Coyle and celebrated the blessing he had been in their lives.

Coyle, 42, died Sunday Feb. 16, after the helicopter in which he and pilot Ron Hobson were flying lost power and crashed in Sycamore Canyon, northeast of Santee.

His death marked the first fatality in the 25-year history of the sheriff’s ASTREA helicopter unit.

Coyle, during a funeral Mass in the Immaculata at the University of San Diego, was eulogized as a devoted husband and father who had attained his dream job as a flying sheriff’s deputy.

“Patrick Steven Coyle was a heroic and courageous deputy sheriff who never gave up,” Sheriff Bill Kolender said. “He died with his law enforcement friends – his second family. He was never alone.”

Coyle’s law enforcement family came to honor him, and a procession of black and white cars wound its way from San Diego’s Jack Murphy Stadium to the church. The pews were filled with a sea of deputies in olive drab dress uniforms adorned with black mourning ribbons, and with friends from as far away as Scottsdale, Arizona, and Northern California.

An oversized portrait of a beaming Coyle was in front of the altar, where 20 years before he had graduated from high school. Maybe that smile, described as the kind one could hear, provided some comfort.

Police Chief Mike Poehlman of Oceanside, Coyle’s close friend for 25 years, said Coyle reminded him of the central character in the movie It’s a Wonderful Life. “Coyle was a generous, big-hearted man who was able to touch many people in his short but full life,” he said. He was “a real family person, very devoted to his children and helping young people in the community.”

“All he wanted to be was a street cop,” Poehlman said, “All he wanted to be was where the action was.” Poehlman recalled their start in law enforcement as police cadets in El Cajon, the Catholic faith they shared, and the good times they spent body-surfing on beaches from Ocean Beach to Oceanside.

He talked of the love Coyle had for his wife of 13 years, Jackie; his daughter, Chelsea, 5; and his son, Cory, 9. “I think those (heavenly) hosts are saying here lived a great friend who did his job,” Poehlman said, “Thanks God for sharing him before taking him back to you.” Coyle had worked as a deputy in the Central and Vista jails, on patrol in Fallbrook and recently staffed overtime shifts in San Marcos, where many deputies knew him. “His personality was magnetic,” San Marcos Sheriff’s Sgt. Mark Coppes said. “He was a gentleman and very well respected.”

Sgt. Frank Adams of the Fallbrook Sheriff’s Substation was Coyle’s superior during his two years there. Coyle took routine patrols in Fallbrook and was instrumental in starting the station’s bicycle patrol, Adams said.

Coyle “was a very proactive deputy,” he added. “People enjoyed him. He was the mascot of the station, a big teddy bear and a good guy. You could really depend on him.”

Coyle had a lifelong Interest in flying. had a private pilot license, was instrument certified and was working on a commercial pilot license, Poehlman said. In addition, he was an avid body surfer and had served as a judge several times in the world body surfing championships.

“He was very enthusiastic about his job,” said Sgt. Jack Dunn of the Sheriff’s Aviation Unit Deputy Coyle, an Oceanside resident, was responsible for getting a sheriff’s helicopter dedicated to the North County, he said.

“It’s easy to say something good about someone after they’re gone,” added Dunn, “but he was in fact extremely well liked by the people he worked with.” Coyle was also a parishioner at St. Francis Catholic Church in Vista. Both San Diego natives, Poehlman and Coyle met as 17-year-old high school students in the El Cajon Police Department’s cadets program. “It was there where we became friends,” Poehlman said. “I was the best man at his wedding and he was in my wedding party. I considered him my best friend.”

At age 21, Coyle moved to Northern California to serve as a Solano County Sheriff’s deputy for 12 years, while Poehlman joined the San Diego County Sheriff’s Department. Upon Coyle’s return to San Diego, the two joined forces as deputies and in off-hours activities.

“Pat loved flying, ever since he was in high school,” Poehlman said. “His father was a PSA (Pacific Southwest Airlines) pilot He loved being a sheriff’s deputy and being able to fly every day.”

Poehlman said, “Thank goodness I would talk on the phone with him regularly and we talked last Sunday. I am thankful to the Lord that I did that. He was a good man. I’ll miss him.”

Deputy Coyle and three others in the ASTREA unit received the department’s Medal of Lifesaving for rescuing five illegal border crossers who had fallen off a 12O-foot cliff near the Otay Lakes Dam in January 1996. The pilots risked their own lives as they rested their helicopters on a single skid in the dark in order to rescue the injured.

Deputy Coyle “was always interested in what he could do for others,” said Poehlman. “He was not in it for himself. He was a very dedicated officer. All he ever wanted to be was a cop.”

At Holy Cross Cemetery in Chollas View, Coyle’s fellow ASTREA deputies carried his flag-draped casket from the hearse to the grave site as Deputy Rob Carroll played “A Welsh Lullaby” on the bagpipe.

After prayers, final remembrances from Coyle’s kindergarten friend Russ Schumacher, San Diego Detective Sharon McNair and a Marine rifle salute, it was time to say good-bye.

Standing over the casket, helicopter deputies carefully smoothed and folded a U.S. flag and a state flag into tight triangle. Don Watkins, chief of the Highway Patrol’s Border Division, gave one flag to Jackie Coyle; Kolender gave the other to Cory along with a kiss on the cheek.

Each pilot removed his white carnation and laid it on the brown country pine casket Then, as the bagpipe played “Amazing Grace,” 20 helicopters in a missing-man formation flew over the cemetery.

Kolender said the ASTREA base in San Marcos will be dedicated to Coyle.

Ofc. Van Derick Johnson died Wednesday, Feb. 5, when he collided with a pickup truck whose driver made a left turn in front of his vehicle while he was chasing a traffic violator. He had been patrolling Koreatown in response to citizen complaints of speeding vehicles and cars making illegal turns.

Johnson, 31, a nine-year veteran of the Los Angeles Police Dept., suffered a “major chest injury,” said Cedars-Sinai Medical spokesman Ron Wise. Johnson was taken to the hospital about 6 p.m. and died two hours later.

Johnson entered the Los Angeles Police Academy on Oct. 13, 1987, where he successfully completed his recruit training.

After establishing himself as a fine officer with tremendous potential at Harbor Division, he went to work at West LA Division, West Traffic Division, South Traffic Division, and finally West Traffic Division. He had obtained his dream of becoming an LAPD motor officer.

Police Chief Willie L. Williams and Police Commissioner Raymond Fisher were with Johnson shortly after the accident, authorities said. Williams eulogized Johnson as “the ultimate cop” who set an example for all.

“In spite of the tears and the hurt,” Williams told mourners at funeral services in Trinity Baptist Church, “it is a glorious day, a very special day, because we are celebrating the life of a Los Angeles Police Department officer.”

Williams said Johnson “exemplified the ideals that we all should emulate …The memory of him will remain with all of you, with all of his colleagues and his friends and his co-workers forever.”

Johnson graduated from Susan Miller Dorsey High School in Los Angeles and attended Long Beach State College. By the time he reached the age of eight, he already knew what his life’s work would be.

According to family members, he decided what he wanted to become and never wavered in his choice. He had a passion for building model police cars and it was obvious that he wanted to be a Los Angeles police officer.

A life-long love of motorcycles lead him to pursue service as a motorcycle officer. To quote Capt. Gary Williams, supervisor of the West Traffic Division, “He loved traffic and he loved motors.”

Throughout his nine-year tenure with LAPD, he received more than 50 commendations and was regarded, according to Captain Williams, as one of LAPD’s best officers. He received the Officer of the Year Award in 1994.

Off-duty Johnson also served as a private duty security officer for well known entertainment personalities, Denzel Washington being among them.

Recreationally, Johnson loved watching old “Three Stooges” films, even going so far as to name his favorite dog “Shemp.” He enjoyed traveling and just recently returned from a trip to Hawaii with his wife and several of their close friends. He was honored to be godfather to Kelsie, the daughter of his life-long best friend, Steve Saito.

Johnson is survived by his wife of six months, LA County Sheriff’s Deputy Felicia Miller Johnson; sisters Jutinna Johnson, Sharon Jackson and Marcia Withers; brothers, Stephen and Michael; grandmother, Beulah Underwood; father and mother-in-law, Willie and Iva Miller; and godmothers, Barttina Wilkin and Mary Ezell.

Two Riverside County sheriff’s deputies investigating a domestic disturbance were ambushed and shot to death Sunday, January 5, 1997.

Deputies James Lehmann Jr., 40, of Apple Valley and Michael P. Haugen, 33, of San Jacinto were gunned down shortly after 3 a.m. as they left their patrol cars at a trailer home in the Whitewater area near Cabazon, stated Riverside Co. Sheriff Larry Smith.

The deputies were struck several times by shots fired from about 50 yards away and died at the scene, Smith said. “Both deputies were approaching on foot, so as not to alert the suspect, reported Smith. “He obviously was lying in wait.”

Shots were also fired at a sergeant who arrived to check out the scene when the deputies failed to call in. The gunman fired sporadically at other deputies who arrived to cordon off the area.

Timothy Russell, 36, was arrested a quarter-mile from the home about 7:30 a.m. He was booked for investigation of murder. It took several hours to apprehend the gunman, Smith reported.

“He came walking toward deputies. They yelled out to him and then he ran” but then lay down and surrendered, said Mark Lohman, sheriff’s spokesman.

Russell was unarmed but an M-1 military rifle was later recovered. He has no felony criminal record, though he does have a record for misdemeanor arrests, including one for domestic violence.

Russell’s wife made the domestic violence call from a neighbor’s home. She stated that he had assaulted her and that he might be under the influence of methamphetamines. She was not seriously injured.

Deputies had little prior contact with Russell. He was arrested in the 1980s for investigation of spousal abuse but was not convicted.

Sheriff Smith said that a domestic violence call is “probably the most dangerous call that a deputy sheriff can go on.” “You don’t know what you’re facing. These deputies took every precaution, but there’s only so much you can do to defend yourself against somebody that’s out to ambush you,” Smith said. “Their commander described both these deputies as very hard working, very productive, very interested in doing their public safety job.”

Deputy Michael P. Haugen:

Michael Haugen was remembered during his funeral service as a loving husband, a devoted father and a good cop who paid the ultimate price for wearing the badge.

Banning sheriff’s Capt. Stan Sniff told more than 3,100 mourners at Harvest Christian Fellowship that Haugen and his partner, James W. Lehmann, died doing the job that they loved and did well.

“It is not surprising that, in their last act on Earth, they did it as a team,” Sniff said. “Even in the face of mortal danger, to the end, they remained together. They were selfless, Michael and Jim were truly great men.”

The funeral service began with hundreds of law enforcement officers in dress uniform standing at attention on each side of the church entrance. Many wiped away tears as six sheriff’s deputies slowly carried Haugen’s flag-draped coffin into the church.

They were followed by Haugen’s family and close friends, including his wife Elizabeth and 9-year-old son, Stephen. He is also survived by a 16-month-old daughter, Catherine.

Almost 2,000 law enforcement officers representing more than 120 agencies from San Jose to San Diego filled the 2,850-seat Harvest Christian Fellowship, one of the largest churches in Riverside County.

About 200 people jammed the entrance hall, where photographs of Haugen’s life and family were on display. Others listened to the service via loudspeakers outside the church.

Mourners included all five Riverside County supervisors and Rep. Sonny Bono, R-Palm Springs.

Sheriff Smith called Haugen’s death a terrible loss to the community and fellow law enforcement officers. “We must pray for strength,” Smith said. “The same kind of strength Michael had.” Smith said the names of Haugen and Lehmann, will soon be added to the memorial near his Riverside office that pays homage to 32 county law enforcement officers who have died in the line-of-duty.” Now Michael’s name and the name of his partner, James Lehmann, will be carved on that memorial, as well as in the memory of all the people here today,” Smith said. “And now that he has laid down the burdens of this life, let us hope Michael’s name is the last one entered on that memorial.”

Banning police Cpl. Susan Ladd, whose office is near the Banning sheriff’s station where Haugen and Lehmann worked, remembered Haugen as “an awesome cop and an awesome father as well.” She told of meeting Haugen in the field and watching in delight as the officer she knew as a consummate professional wrote a report using a pen in the shape of a Dalmatian dog. He told Ladd he was using it because his son had asked him to. Ladd was among the officers called to the shooting scene. She remembers waiting with other officers in a drizzling rain, “doing our best but all feeling helpless.”.

As dawn broke, Ladd said she saw two rainbows “on the very spot where Michael and James lay.” “They disappeared into heaven,” Ladd said, “as if angels had come to show them the way.”

Late in the 80-minute service, when Capt. Sniff had finished speaking, Haugen’s 9-year-old son stepped up to the podium. There, with Stephen Haugen proudly looking on, Sniff read a book the boy wrote and illustrated in honor of his father, “Me and My Dad.”

“I remember when my dad cheered for my hockey games,” Stephen Haugen wrote, “and when he took me up in his plane. I remember when he took me to the movies. We went to see a silly movie. “I remember him and he will still be in my heart forever. But I still miss my dad. I love you.”

Deputy James W. Lehmann Jr.:

James Lehmann was mourned Saturday, Jan. 11, by 3,000 law enforcement comrades and friends as an “A-plus guy” who gave his life making the community a safer place in which to live, work and raise a family.

“The fullness of a man’s life is not measured solely in years, but in what he accomplishes,” Sheriff Smith said in his eulogy of Lehmann. “Using that measure, Jim lived a full life – as a husband, father and police officer,” Smith said. “He will be missed.”

Peace officers from 145 agencies attended Lehmann’s funeral in Our Lady of the Desert Catholic Church. The procession included 3,000 motorcycle officers and hundreds more in squad cars, some from as far away as Placer County in Northern California and Blythe on the Arizona border.

The funeral service included remembrances from Lehmann’s colleagues. At the conclusion, every officer from the Banning station touched his casket as a final tribute to their dead colleague.

Following the services, a train of police and civilian cars stretched the entire seven miles to Sunset Hills Memorial Park, where Lehmann was buried. Residents along the route waved American flags when his hearse passed by; some snapped to attention. One woman held a placard that read simply “RIP.”

Lehmann’s grave lies in the shadows of nearby mountain peaks and commands a majestic view of Apple Valley and the high desert, where he attended college and lived the last seven years with his family.

A waterfall flows gently nearby. Although fog shrouded the roads leading to Apple Valley before the service, the heavens opened and brilliant sunshine beamed down on those gathered at the gravesite. Two trumpeters blew “Taps” and a bagpiper played “Amazing Grace.” Four helicopters from law enforcement agencies in Riverside and San Bernardino counties flew overhead, one peeling off in “the missing man formation.”

Colleagues said Lehmann represented the best in law enforcement, a man who strapped on the gun and put on the badge not to earn a high salary or bask in the spotlight, but to keep peace in a world often struck by senseless acts of violence. “He had a quality of caring,” said Assistant Riverside County Sheriff Bob Doyle. “He exemplified quality in the way he did his job, ran his family and served his community. His loss, and the loss of Deputy Haugen, leaves us with a sense of emptiness that cannot be filled.”

Assemblyman Rod Pacheco, R-Riverside, a former Riverside County prosecutor, said the average person often doesn’t realize the line separating chaos from peace is a thin one, staffed only by cops. The line got a little thinner with the loss of Lehmann and Haugen. But Pacheco doesn’t doubt that the officers who carry on after their fallen comrades will continue to serve the public well. “We’re able to live our lives in relative peace because of the men and women of law enforcement,” he said. “They put their lives on the line every day.”

Mike Davis recalled Lehmann as a person “who would go the extra mile for anyone” without having to be prodded. He was almost like a coach on the field, taking aside players and showing them the proper way to block or tackle an opponent. It was the same way when he was a police officer. When Lehmann answered his last call, he wasn’t thinking about himself but only how to help, how to make a difference, Davis said.

“There are special people in this world whom everybody likes and respects and who care,” Davis said. “Jim was that kind of man.”

Lehmann is survived by his wife Valerie, 13-year-old son Chris, and nine-year-old daughter Ashley.

Trust funds for Haugen’s and Lehmann’s children have been set up at the Members Own Federal Credit Union, 14250 Seventh Street, Victorville, CA 92392-4230.

Two Riverside County sheriff’s deputies investigating a domestic disturbance were ambushed and shot to death Sunday, January 5, 1997.

Deputies James Lehmann Jr., 40, of Apple Valley and Michael P. Haugen, 33, of San Jacinto were gunned down shortly after 3 a.m. as they left their patrol cars at a trailer home in the Whitewater area near Cabazon, stated Riverside Co. Sheriff Larry Smith.

The deputies were struck several times by shots fired from about 50 yards away and died at the scene, Smith said. “Both deputies were approaching on foot, so as not to alert the suspect, reported Smith. “He obviously was lying in wait.”

Shots were also fired at a sergeant who arrived to check out the scene when the deputies failed to call in. The gunman fired sporadically at other deputies who arrived to cordon off the area.

Timothy Russell, 36, was arrested a quarter-mile from the home about 7:30 a.m. He was booked for investigation of murder. It took several hours to apprehend the gunman, Smith reported.

“He came walking toward deputies. They yelled out to him and then he ran” but then lay down and surrendered, said Mark Lohman, sheriff’s spokesman.

Russell was unarmed but an M-1 military rifle was later recovered. He has no felony criminal record, though he does have a record for misdemeanor arrests, including one for domestic violence.

Russell’s wife made the domestic violence call from a neighbor’s home. She stated that he had assaulted her and that he might be under the influence of methamphetamines. She was not seriously injured.

Deputies had little prior contact with Russell. He was arrested in the 1980s for investigation of spousal abuse but was not convicted.

Sheriff Smith said that a domestic violence call is “probably the most dangerous call that a deputy sheriff can go on.” “You don’t know what you’re facing. These deputies took every precaution, but there’s only so much you can do to defend yourself against somebody that’s out to ambush you,” Smith said. “Their commander described both these deputies as very hard working, very productive, very interested in doing their public safety job.”

Deputy Michael P. Haugen:

Michael Haugen was remembered during his funeral service as a loving husband, a devoted father and a good cop who paid the ultimate price for wearing the badge.

Banning sheriff’s Capt. Stan Sniff told more than 3,100 mourners at Harvest Christian Fellowship that Haugen and his partner, James W. Lehmann, died doing the job that they loved and did well.

“It is not surprising that, in their last act on Earth, they did it as a team,” Sniff said. “Even in the face of mortal danger, to the end, they remained together. They were selfless, Michael and Jim were truly great men.”

The funeral service began with hundreds of law enforcement officers in dress uniform standing at attention on each side of the church entrance. Many wiped away tears as six sheriff’s deputies slowly carried Haugen’s flag-draped coffin into the church.

They were followed by Haugen’s family and close friends, including his wife Elizabeth and 9-year-old son, Stephen. He is also survived by a 16-month-old daughter, Catherine.

Almost 2,000 law enforcement officers representing more than 120 agencies from San Jose to San Diego filled the 2,850-seat Harvest Christian Fellowship, one of the largest churches in Riverside County.

About 200 people jammed the entrance hall, where photographs of Haugen’s life and family were on display. Others listened to the service via loudspeakers outside the church.

Mourners included all five Riverside County supervisors and Rep. Sonny Bono, R-Palm Springs.

Sheriff Smith called Haugen’s death a terrible loss to the community and fellow law enforcement officers. “We must pray for strength,” Smith said. “The same kind of strength Michael had.” Smith said the names of Haugen and Lehmann, will soon be added to the memorial near his Riverside office that pays homage to 32 county law enforcement officers who have died in the line-of-duty.” Now Michael’s name and the name of his partner, James Lehmann, will be carved on that memorial, as well as in the memory of all the people here today,” Smith said. “And now that he has laid down the burdens of this life, let us hope Michael’s name is the last one entered on that memorial.”

Banning police Cpl. Susan Ladd, whose office is near the Banning sheriff’s station where Haugen and Lehmann worked, remembered Haugen as “an awesome cop and an awesome father as well.” She told of meeting Haugen in the field and watching in delight as the officer she knew as a consummate professional wrote a report using a pen in the shape of a Dalmatian dog. He told Ladd he was using it because his son had asked him to. Ladd was among the officers called to the shooting scene. She remembers waiting with other officers in a drizzling rain, “doing our best but all feeling helpless.”.

As dawn broke, Ladd said she saw two rainbows “on the very spot where Michael and James lay.” “They disappeared into heaven,” Ladd said, “as if angels had come to show them the way.”

Late in the 80-minute service, when Capt. Sniff had finished speaking, Haugen’s 9-year-old son stepped up to the podium. There, with Stephen Haugen proudly looking on, Sniff read a book the boy wrote and illustrated in honor of his father, “Me and My Dad.”

“I remember when my dad cheered for my hockey games,” Stephen Haugen wrote, “and when he took me up in his plane. I remember when he took me to the movies. We went to see a silly movie. “I remember him and he will still be in my heart forever. But I still miss my dad. I love you.”

Deputy James W. Lehmann Jr.:

James Lehmann was mourned Saturday, Jan. 11, by 3,000 law enforcement comrades and friends as an “A-plus guy” who gave his life making the community a safer place in which to live, work and raise a family.

“The fullness of a man’s life is not measured solely in years, but in what he accomplishes,” Sheriff Smith said in his eulogy of Lehmann. “Using that measure, Jim lived a full life – as a husband, father and police officer,” Smith said. “He will be missed.”

Peace officers from 145 agencies attended Lehmann’s funeral in Our Lady of the Desert Catholic Church. The procession included 3,000 motorcycle officers and hundreds more in squad cars, some from as far away as Placer County in Northern California and Blythe on the Arizona border.

The funeral service included remembrances from Lehmann’s colleagues. At the conclusion, every officer from the Banning station touched his casket as a final tribute to their dead colleague.

Following the services, a train of police and civilian cars stretched the entire seven miles to Sunset Hills Memorial Park, where Lehmann was buried. Residents along the route waved American flags when his hearse passed by; some snapped to attention. One woman held a placard that read simply “RIP.”

Lehmann’s grave lies in the shadows of nearby mountain peaks and commands a majestic view of Apple Valley and the high desert, where he attended college and lived the last seven years with his family.

A waterfall flows gently nearby. Although fog shrouded the roads leading to Apple Valley before the service, the heavens opened and brilliant sunshine beamed down on those gathered at the gravesite. Two trumpeters blew “Taps” and a bagpiper played “Amazing Grace.” Four helicopters from law enforcement agencies in Riverside and San Bernardino counties flew overhead, one peeling off in “the missing man formation.”

Colleagues said Lehmann represented the best in law enforcement, a man who strapped on the gun and put on the badge not to earn a high salary or bask in the spotlight, but to keep peace in a world often struck by senseless acts of violence. “He had a quality of caring,” said Assistant Riverside County Sheriff Bob Doyle. “He exemplified quality in the way he did his job, ran his family and served his community. His loss, and the loss of Deputy Haugen, leaves us with a sense of emptiness that cannot be filled.”

Assemblyman Rod Pacheco, R-Riverside, a former Riverside County prosecutor, said the average person often doesn’t realize the line separating chaos from peace is a thin one, staffed only by cops. The line got a little thinner with the loss of Lehmann and Haugen. But Pacheco doesn’t doubt that the officers who carry on after their fallen comrades will continue to serve the public well. “We’re able to live our lives in relative peace because of the men and women of law enforcement,” he said. “They put their lives on the line every day.”

Mike Davis recalled Lehmann as a person “who would go the extra mile for anyone” without having to be prodded. He was almost like a coach on the field, taking aside players and showing them the proper way to block or tackle an opponent. It was the same way when he was a police officer. When Lehmann answered his last call, he wasn’t thinking about himself but only how to help, how to make a difference, Davis said.

“There are special people in this world whom everybody likes and respects and who care,” Davis said. “Jim was that kind of man.”

Lehmann is survived by his wife Valerie, 13-year-old son Chris, and nine-year-old daughter Ashley.

Trust funds for Haugen’s and Lehmann’s children have been set up at the Members Own Federal Credit Union, 14250 Seventh Street, Victorville, CA 92392-4230.

In the same small neighborhood church where Mario Navidad was baptized a quarter-century ago, his family and friends said goodbye on December 30, 1996.

The 27-year-old Chino father of two was remembered as a dedicated husband, parent and LAPD officer as his body lay in a flag-draped coffin before an altar still decorated with Christmas trees and garlands.

“If one gives his life or her life to protect and serve, that person dies a martyr’s death,” the Rev. Michael McCullough said during the funeral Mass. “And he deserves a martyr’s reward.”

Navidad, a LAPD officer of less than two years, was fatally wounded Dec. 22 by a 17-year-old Los Angeles gang member. Sunday was like any other day. Navidad and his partner, Police Academy classmate Ralph Mendoza, were patrolling the streets of the Wilshire Division when a convenience store clerk flagged them down. The clerk told them that someone had taken beer from his store. When the officers spotted the suspect, Aleim Ulloa Ortiz, he was carrying a six-pack of beer under each arm, police said.

Ortiz loaded the beer under one arm and then pulled out a gun, firing at the officers, police said. Navidad was hit six times even before he could get out of the car. The bullets passed through the unprotected side of his bullet proof vest.

Both Mendoza and Navidad returned fire fatally wounding Ortiz, whom investigators suspect had been on a drinking binge since Friday.

“One person picks up a gun to rob and kill; one picks up a gun to protect and serve,” McCullough told the mourners. “Judgment we will leave to God.”

The crowd of 700 attending Navidad’s funeral filled the pews and flowed into the aisles of the Church of St. Mark in Venice, the same West Los Angeles neighborhood where Navidad grew up and graduated from high school.

His wife, Sandra, 4-year-old son Brandon and 9-month-old daughter Melissa sat in the front pew, surrounded by family and backed by seven solid rows of blue-uniformed police officers.

“He wanted to be their role model, and he is,” Los Angeles Police Capt. John Muntz – Navidad’s commanding officer – said of the couple’s children. “His spirit, his heart and his dreams will live with them.”

Navidad became a police officer after working for almost 10 years in a Culver City supermarket, Muntz said. The Navidads would have celebrated their fifth wedding anniversary in January, he stated.

“He gave of himself each time he put on his badge and went to work for the city of Los Angeles,” said Muntz. Though Navidad had been on the force for just 21 months, Muntz said he had developed the gung-ho tenacity that marks outstanding officers, without ever losing his gentle nature. “His courage, his faith, his dedication, his compassion helped him become the kind of police officer who could be relied on by everyone,” stated Muntz.

Born in Santa Monica, Navidad was raised in Sinaloa, Mexico and returned to the United States, where he graduated from Venice High School in 1987. He earned an administration of justice degree at Santa Monica College, police said. “He was going to school to study about the law and he was also working full time,” said Teresa Webster, a checker at the store where Navidad had worked.

At the Police Academy, Navidad was remembered as a quiet man, always willing to help his colleagues through the rigors of training. “Mario was kind of a quiet individual – he was a very warm-hearted person – very gentle in his nature, a kind of a person who quietly encouraged and supported other people in the class without making a big display of it,” said Los Angeles police officer Greg Stearns, president of Navidad’s Academy class.

Stearns, who graduated alongside Navidad on Sept. 29, 1995, said Navidad had helped him, too. “He was not flamboyant or obvious in his ways, but he gave words of encouragement,” Stearns said. “He lifted my spirits in the academy.” Just two weeks ago, Stearns said he and Navidad discussed their careers. “He was interested in being out on the streets, getting to know his division,” Stearns said. “We spoke about work, and he spoke about Christmas and his family.”

From Navidad’s death, his academy classmates have taken a bitter lesson. “It goes to demonstrate the tenuous nature of this work,” Stearns said. “One minute you are in roll call, joking with your partners, getting ready to go on the street and the next minute in a fight for your life.” Searns said anyone who joins the force knows the risks. “I think anyone who comes into this job, they know that when they accept the responsibility,” he said. “It’s always in the back of your mind, you have chosen a profession that places you in harm’s way.”

At the time of the shooting, Navidad had worked at the Wilshire station for little more than two months after completing his training at Rampart Division.

Los Angeles police Lt. Sol Polen, a watch commander at Rampart, described Navidad as “a real friendly, real happy-go-lucky guy.” “Rampart is known as the most violent division in the city,” Polen said. “He did a good job here on is probation – he just always had a smile on his face. Some kids come in here, they are real intense. He laughed all the time, joked and seemed like he was a happy person, enjoyed his job.”

Besides Navidad’s wife, Sandra, and children, Brandon and Melissa, he is survived by his parents, Saul and Magdalena Navidad.

Contributions to the Navidad family can be made to: Navidad Blue Ribbon Trust Account, c/o Wilshire Community Police Station, 4861 W. Venice Blvd., Los Angeles, CA 90019.

They said he was a good man, a good friend and a good law-enforcer who gave his life for his community.

On Nov. 27, hundreds of friends and family members turned out at the Church of the Highlands to say goodbye to that man – veteran Eureka police investigator Charles D. Swanson, who died on November 21, 1996 from a massive heart attack while arresting a burglary suspect.

A senior police investigator, Swanson was serving a search warrant on a storage locker when a suspect identified as Steve Garland Christopher, 34, of Eureka arrived at the locker. Upon seeing the officers, he fled and a car chase ensued.

Christopher’s car ran off the road and he fled on foot with Swanson chasing him. Swanson was assisted by his partner and close friend, Detective Pat Freese, in arresting the suspect. Moments later, dispatchers received a call that an officer was down.

Freese administered cardiopulmonary resuscitation while an ambulance was enroute. Swanson was taken to the Arcata hospital, where he was pronounced dead. The autopsy revealed that he suffered from arteriosclerotic heart disease, said Coroner Glenn Sipma. He had undergone triple bypass surgery in 1989, and was later cleared by his doctor to return to work.

It’s unusual for a police officer to resume his career after such a major surgery, but Swanson couldn’t stay away, said his friend and colleague Frank Jager, an investigator in the District Attorney’s Office. “Police work was the love of his life,” he said. “He was just entirely too valuable a resource for anyone to lose.”

“I think he would be any employer’s dream,” said Jager. “He was always willing to go the extra mile for you. There was no time clock for Charlie.” Jager recalled how Swanson mastered the art of fingerprint identification, earning a reputation as an expert in the field at a time when other investigators often leave that work to lab technicians.

Tony Viegas, a deacon at the Church of the Highlands and Swanson’s friend, said the gathering also was a celebration of a much-loved man. “And a celebration it should be,” Viegas said. “For 47 years, Charles blessed us with his presence on this Earth.” He also spoke of Swanson’s well known, and somewhat mischievous, sense of humor.

“That sense of humor that manifested itself in a bunch of practical jokes,” Viegas said, eliciting smiles and some laughter from listeners. Chief Arnold Millsap said “We’re like a family here. We’re tighter than most families. We all share in this risk, and our wives share in it. It’s a nightmare come true.”

“He was just an all-around outstanding peace officer,” Millsap said. “He was what chiefs yearn for. I had such great respect for him.” But it was Eureka Police Department’s Capt. Murl Harpham’s heart-wrenching testimony about Swanson, his best friend, that was perhaps hardest to hear.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to do this,” Harpham said, his voice cracking. “Forgive me, Cheryl, I’m supposed to be the one giving you strength.” The captain said he lost his best friend “and the citizens of Eureka lost one hell of a cop.”

He noted that Swanson was the only Eureka policeman to be picked as Officer of the Year two times.

Harpham said there were second-guessers who questioned why Swanson had returned to work if he had such heart problems. “Because that was Charlie,” Harpham said. “He would have it no other way.”

Deputy District Attorney Rob Wade said “Swanson was extremely conscientious, very bright and extremely hard working. The quality of his investigative work was first rate. I just thought he really embodied the virtues of a good cop.” He cracked cases that seemed hopeless. And at times, Wade said, was able to earn the respect of the most unlikely people. “He even had a good rapport with the defendants that we prosecuted in a lot of cases,” Wade stated.

Swanson was a graduate of College of the Redwoods and graduated with top honors from the Gilroy Police Academy. He had worked in the Eurekea Police Department for 22 years, joining the force as a reserve officer in June 1974 and was hired as a patrol officer in 1975. He was voted Rookie of the Year in 1976 and Officer of the Year in 1982 and again in 1986. He was promoted to the rank of detective in 1980 and to senior investigator in 1992.

Swanson worked homicides and other major crimes. He taught at the College of the Redwoods Police Academy and was especially proud to be an assistant scoutmaster with Eureka Boy Scout Troop 54. He was also known for his work with local news organizations. He was the officer who initiated the “most wanted” program – appearing in the Times-Standard weekly as Law Enforcement Bulletin – which publicized criminal suspects wanted by police and resulted in more than 250 arrests.

Swanson was 47. He is survived by his wife of 23 years, Cheryl, and his 19-year-old son, Ryan, as well as other family members. Christopher remained in jail on a felony burglary warrant, receiving stolen property and resisting arrest. His companion, Maria Elena Zimmerman, was released from jail.

The family has asked that memorial contributions be made to Boy Scout Troop 54 or to the Eureka Police Officers Association, both in care of the Eureka Police Department, 604 C St., Eureka, CA 95501.

Ofc. James D. Schultz died early Saturday, Nov. 16, after being struck by a vehicle driven by a motorist who had apparently dozed off at the wheel. Schultz, 46, was checking an abandoned vehicle on Interstate 8 between Gordon’s Well and the Brock Research Center. He was standing on the left side of the car checking for a vehicle identification number, when he was struck by a westbound 1979 Cadillac sedan pulling a trailer loaded with greyhound racing dogs.

Theodore Jeske, 58, of San Ysidro, the driver of the vehicle, allegedly fell asleep while driving and drifted off to the right side of the road striking Schultz.

Schultz was thrown over the hood of the abandoned vehicle and into the dirt. He was alive when paramedics arrived, but had broken legs, head trauma and a possible broken neck. He died of his injuries at the Yuma Regional Medical Center.

Schultz’s partner, Officer Robert Sapp, who wasn’t injured in the accident, and Jeske administered first aid to him. There were no indications at the scene that Jeske had been drinking. CHP officials said that misdemeanor manslaughter charges would be filed against Jeske. He could face one year in the Imperial County Jail.

More than 1,000 guests, including about 300 law enforcement officers, filled the Yuma Civic Center to pay their final respects to Schultz. Tom Messer, Schultz’s pastor at Mount Zion Christian Church, told the audience “A great man has fallen in Yuma, a great man in God has fallen and by being here today, you’re saying a good friend has fallen.”

The CHP honored their colleague of 25 years with full honors, a 21-gun salute and an aerial pass of five airplanes and three helicopters.

Schultz’s commander at the Winterhaven post, Lt. Doug McMurray, said the public outpouring spoke for itself. Dozens of law enforcement patrol cars formed the funeral procession which rolled through Winterhaven and downtown Yuma, people saluted and covered their hearts with their hands in respect.

William Schultz, a brother, said “It shows he was a good Christian and a magnificent individual.”

A coworker stated that because of Schultz’s general good nature, he was the perfect Santa Claus at the Winterhaven post.

CHP Commissioner Spike Helmick stated that Schultz, the sixth CHP officer to die in the line of duty this year, stood and lived by the code to protect California citizens. “He was a hero, Helmick said. “You have every reason to believe it.”

A strong advocate of informing drivers of the dangers of driving while drowsy, Schultz was known for his creativity in issuing tickets for such actions. Although it isn’t illegal to drive tired, he once used a law to ticket a man who was driving asleep. He cited the man for driving faster than what was “prudent under the conditions.”

Officers who worked with Schultz described him as a man with a positive attitude. Officer Richard Moss, also of the Winterhaven station, said Schultz was an excellent officer. He had been with the department going on 25 years, but he still had the zest of a brand new officer.”

Schultz had been assigned to the Winterhaven CHP office for 10 years and had served as the post’s public affairs officer for five years. “He came into this job and was always aggressive,” Moss said. “He always uplifted everyone’s spirit.”

Schultz had an unparalleled commitment to his career with the California Highway Patrol second only to his commitment as a Christian, husband, and father. He was extremely active with the Mt. Zion Christian Church in Yuma and had traveled to Russia and Indonesia as part of a Christian Ministry. Jim, as he was known to his friends, also worked in the area prisons in the Prison Ministry Program. He also was a lover of country music, working part time at a Yuma radio station.

Schultz was born in Dunkirk, NY. He served in the U.S. Army prior to joining the California Highway Patrol in January 1972. He is survived by his wife, Teresa, of Felicity; 21-year-old son, Jeremiah, a member of the United States Marine Corps; mother, Dorothy; brother, William; both of Westfield, New York.

The family requested that any remembrances be sent to the James Schultz Memorial Fund, c/o the Winterhaven CHP Office, 1 Killingsworth Dr., Felicity, CA 92283.

Officer Noreen A. Vargas was driving along the San Bernardino Freeway on her way to a conduct a felony investigation when an oncoming tractor trailer rig lost its trailer’s right dual tires which bounced across the freeway lanes into the center divider, one of the tires struck the divider and careened 30 feet into the air and landed on Officer Vargas’ vehicle. The impact crushed the vehicle’s roof and killed Vargas instantly. The 37-year-old patrol officer was a member of the CHP for eight years. Officer Noreen Vargas is the first female officer killed in the line of duty since the CHP began including women in its ranks in 1974.

Officer Reuben F. Rios’ life was ended by the type of person he had dedicated his life to do battle against – a drunk driver. Prosecutors filed murder charges against Thomas E. Marquez, 34, who ran down Rios on October 27 in Devore while he was directing traffic following a rock concert. Rios suffered major head injuries and died after being airlifted to a hospital.

Marquez was charged with second-degree murder and felony drunken driving. Tests indicated that he had a blood-alcohol content of .14. He had previously been convicted of drunken driving in 1991.

It was the first time a CHP officer in San Bernardino County died on duty since 1973.

Rios, a 24-year veteran of the San Bernardino CHP, was named Officer of the Year for 1995. He gave speeches at local alcohol and drug rehabilitation centers and gave traffic safety presentations to many local groups including Mothers Against Drunk Drivers.

Every year, Rios attended candlelight vigils held by Mothers Against Drunk Drivers to remember the victims of drunken drivers. He booked a lot of drunken drivers in his career.

Retired CHP officer Tony Hernandez said “It’s ironic that one of these idiots would be the one to take him out.”

Rios was regarded as a role model for many of the department’s officers. He was honored twice this year as Officer of the Year – first by the Latino Peace Officers Association and later by VFW Post 8737 and the Ladies Auxiliary.

A professional who would never treat even a small, non-injury accident as routine was how coworkers described Rios. “You only had to work once with Reuben to realize you wanted him as a partner,” Hernandez, a close friend of Rios, told the standing room only crowd assembled at the First Assembly of God Church for the funeral service.

“He was my hero,” Hernandez said, his voice cracking as he stared at the open blue casket where his friend’s body lay before the audience. “I loved him like a brother.”

Hernandez noted that although Rios was nearing retirement, he still worked with rookie officers as a training officer. “Who else would you want but the best to train new officers,” he asked.

During the funeral services, scores of uniformed lawmen wept openly beside civilians as speakers remembered Rios as a soft-spoken gentle man with a personable style. Several recordings of Rios’ favorite country western tunes were played.

“That big laugh he always laughed, when he would throw back his shoulders and his head,” Officer Dale Clark recalled before the gathering. “I wish I could hear that laugh again. I miss him.”

CHP Commissioner Spike Helmick told the crowd about the continuing need to spread the word about the dangers of drunken driving “so not one more innocent officer or citizen needs to suffer because of them.” Rios epitomized the qualities of a CHP officer, Helmick said. “The motorists of this state were a little safer because of what Reuben did” he said.

Officer Hector Pena, one of Rios’ coworkers, said he was always dressed impeccably no matter what. “Not like some of us. When Reuben got dressed after work or on his days off, it was not Levis and tennis shoes. It was regular dress slacks.”

A family man, Rios tried to take his lunch or dinner breaks at his Colton home whenever possible. Because he was an avid pool player, he screened in his back patio and put in a pool table. It was a popular gathering place for friends. Hernandez stated that his goal was to beat Rios at pool but he never could.

Rios was devoted to the Lions Club and arranged his days off to accommodate the Bloomington Lions Club’s meetings. Hernandez stated “He looked forward to Christmas time, working with the club and community. That is what gave him the greatest joy – to deliver gift baskets to needy families.”

His coworkers take some comfort in knowing that 25-year-old Reuben Jr. recently completed his oral exams for the CHP. “He looks and talks just like his father,” Hernandez exclaimed. “Hopefully, he will be one of us pretty soon,” said Pena.

Rios, 53, lived in the San Bernardino area most of his life and graduated from San Bernardino High School in 1961. He also attended San Bernardino Valley College and served in the Army from 1964 to 1966. He joined the CHP at the age of 31 as a cadet in 1974 and served his entire career with the CHP’s Inland division.

Rios is survived by his wife of 26 years, Irene; a daughter, Gina; a son, Reuben Jr.; three grandchildren; and a brother and sister.

A memorial fund has been established for Rios’ family. Donations may be sent to the San Bernardino CHP office, 2211 Western Avenue, San Bernardino 92411, and should be marked “Reuben Rios’ Memorial Fund.”

Karl Duane Simons’ two families grieved as one Friday, Oct. 18.

Five days after the Long Beach officer died in an early-morning freeway accident, more than 2,500 of his police brethren turned out for his funeral and burial.

And his family by blood and marriage – including his widow, Leslie, and their 7-month-old daughter, Katelyn – mourned the loss of their husband, father, son and brother.

Simons, 26, died instantly at 5:05 a.m. Sunday, Oct. 13, when his speeding Chevrolet Caprice patrol car spun out of control on the northbound Long Beach (710) Freeway, hit another car, then careened into a metal sign pole.

His two families converged on the Saints Simon & Jude Catholic Church early Friday. At 10:30 bagpipers began playing “Amazing Grace,” the plaintive wail rising into the hazy morning sky and cavernous church. Uniformed officers from all over Southern California saluted while Simons’ walnut coffin – blanketed by an American flag – was pulled from the back of a white hearse.

Inside, the Rev. Laurence Dolan asked the mourners to take note of a lighted Easter candle. It is a symbol of baptism, he said, but also a reminder of rebirth. “So Karl has come full round,” he said.

Nonetheless, Dolan said in a soft yet penetrating voice, it’s not easy to express Christian sentiments of joy when someone as young as Simons is killed. “When a man is in his 20s or 30s or teens,” he said, “it’s difficult to be happy.”

Later, following Communion, Mayor Beverly O’Neill said it is impossible to express the profound sorrow gripping Long Beach. The fact that Simons was just entering the prime of life, beginning his own family and starting a career, O’Neill said, is a reminder of the precariousness and fragility of life.

Chief of Police Robert Luman said losing an officer is a chief’s worst nightmare. Even though officers are constantly aware of the dangers that go with the job, it is still devastating when someone is killed. He noted that Long Beach went 15 years without such a loss.

“Karl paid the ultimate price,” he said, “trying to make this world a better place for the rest of us.”

Perhaps the clearest picture of Simons was painted by his partner, Officer Bill Swaim, who kept a journal about police work and his friend Karl. The crowd chuckled as Swaim told of Simons’ love of weaponry, how he carried extra guns and extra rounds of ammunition. “The higher risk, the more he seems to like it,” read one journal entry.

Once, he said, at the height of a 100-mph chase on the Artesia (91) Freeway, Simons turned to him and said, “This is the s… baby! It doesn’t get any better than this!”

And every day, he recalled, when they were ready to begin duty, Simons would say, “Let’s rock!”

Simons, he said, was a man who didn’t know the meaning of break time or slowing down. Swaim called him the “most highly motivated individual I’ve ever known,” and said he “died the same way he lived – at a high rate of speed.”

Swaim urged city officials to dedicate the North Division Substation as a memorial to Simons. “It was his station, and it has the right to bear his name.”

Officer Jim Allen recalled that people could always count on Simons to lend a hand – at work or even around the house. “If you needed someone to lean on, Karl was there.

He called Simons was a high-energy man with an infectious personality, macho and tough. “He was, and is one of the best cops I had the opportunity to work with.”

Another officer, Peter Lackovic, read a poem Leslie Simons wrote to her late husband. In it she talked of their mutual and ever-lasting love. She spoke of their dreams and the smile on his face when he left for work. She recalled that she would always tell him, “Catch a big one for me.”

Two days after her husband’s death, Leslie’s mother died from a heart attack.

After the funeral, the young widow sat under a lonely pine in a corner of Good Shepherd Cemetery wearing a simple black dress with white trim. She and Karl would have celebrated their second wedding anniversary on Oct. 22. Instead, it was a graveside ceremony, with bagpipes, a police honor guard, a 21-gun salute in three volleys, a helicopter flyover and the playing of “Taps.”

With smoke from the gun salute drifting across the green slopes of the cemetery. Leslie Simons wept quietly. Chief Luman got down on one knee and comforted her, then presented her with a token of her husband, the flag that had draped his coffin.

Simons, an Eagle Scout, was a graduate of Edison High School. He worked as a professional courier for five years until he was hired on the Long Beach Police Department. On January 18, 1993, he became a member of the Long Beach Police Academy’s Class #65. He excelled in weapons training and graduated in the top 20 percent of his class. He interest in target shooting led him to regularly be recognized as the department’s “100% Shooter” after required quarterly qualifications. Simons was well respected among his peers, supervisors and the citizens he served. He received numerous commendations from those who recognized the care and quality work that he put into all of his endeavors.

A passion for law enforcement led Simons to pursue a degree in Criminal Justice at California State University of Long Beach. While studying for one particular class, he completed a project on gangs that included videotaped interviews with gang members. He was 18 units short of receiving his Bachelor’s degree.

Simons is also survived by his mother, Claire; brother, Kevin; and sister, Denise. His father, Frederick, preceded him in death in 1982.

A fund has been established by the Long Beach Police Officers Association for Leslie Simons and her 7-month-old daughter, Katelyn. Contributions can be sent to the “Widows and Orphans Fund” in their name at 2865 Temple Ave., Long Beach, CA 90806.