His was a cop’s life, and a cop’s family – his father, father-in-law, brother-in-law, all of them wearing badges. Don Burt couldn’t wait for his turn.

And 15 months after his proud father pinned the badge of the California Highway Patrol on the Second generation of Burts to wear the CHP shield, Don Burt, 25-years-old, died a cop’s death.

On Saturday evening, July 13, in a brightly lit parking lot, within sight of the Mexican restaurant where he had had dinner with his pregnant wife Kristin just a few hours before, and where his niece and nephews had teased him and called him “Onky Donkey” instead of “Uncle Donnie,” he was shot to death, allegedly by a motorist who was carrying a suspended driver’s license – and a 9 mm handgun.

As they so often do, things got out of hand fast. Dozens of late diners at Coco’s Family Restaurant saw it happen: the traffic stop, the call for the tow truck, Burt waving off a fellow cop who happened by and asked whether he needed help, Burt turning up some bogus travelers checks – and then the pushing and shoving, and the gun.

Burt was shot seven times. “The suspect had a 9 mm pistol,” CHP Capt. Chuck Lynd said. “The first six shots knocked him down on his side. The suspect stood over him and fired a round into the left side of his head. That was the fatal round.”

Arrested for Burt’s murder, 25-year-old Hung Thanh Mai, was captured two days later in Houston, Texas. Mai, an Orange County resident, has a reputation for violence and ruthlessness. Identified as being a very, very dangerous man, Mai is a member of one of Southern California’s fiercest gangs, the Tiny Rascals.

With his own baby on the way, he had asked for Saturday, July 13, off, to entertain his young niece and nephews, whose father had been killed in a traffic accident in Arkansas last October. But they were short-handed, Kristin said, so he went to work.

It was about 8:30 p.m., on the Orange Freeway, when Burt pulled over the leased white BMW. The driver left the freeway at Nutwood Ave. and drove into the large parking lot shared by a restaurant, gas station and motel.

A few minutes later, Burt called in a license check on the driver, Lynd said. At that point, it looked to be a routine traffic stop. The computer reported the driver had a suspended license and Burt, following procedure, called a tow truck to impound the car.

Burt waved off the Fullerton police officer who had signaled an offer of help. And then, waiting for the tow truck, he searched the trunk and turned up “forged or counterfeit” travelers’ checks. The driver grappled with him, pulled the gun.

One witness saw the man fire over and over, saw Burt crumple. Then the gunman bent down and took Burt’s service pistol. He got behind the wheel of the patrol car, whose lights were still flashing, and drove off.

“We wondered why he just didn’t take his own car,” said Anaheim Police Lt. Tom O’Donnell. The patrol car, its lights still whirling, was abandoned seven miles away, at a car dealership in Anaheim.

A witness, Jerry Noyes, reported that when he ran to Burt’s aid following the shooting, the officer was holding an ID in one hand and a bunch of traveler’s checks in the other. Noyes stated “There were hundreds of these checks, just littering the parking lot. They were $100 checks.”

Police experts later reported the traveler’s checks were bogus. They provided a link between Mai and a web of Asian gangs that specialize in sophisticated and lucrative white-collar crimes.

More than 4,500 police officers and other mourners crammed church services to pay tribute to the rookie CHP officer. Officers came from as far away as Maryland and New Jersey.

Burt’s wife, Kristin, and his parents, Don and Jeannie Burt, listened as Gov. Pete Wilson and other speakers remembered Burt as a dedicated officer with an infectious sense of humor that endeared him to friends, colleagues and his superiors.

Burt, an avid soccer player and water skier, was remembered as a loving man who wanted to help people. At Perris High School, where he had been student body president and a 12-letter man – varsity in soccer, swimming and water polo, for all four years – Burt had planned on being a high school history teacher.

But There was his father’s example – the elder Don Burt had been a CHP officer since 1969, and with not so much as a traffic accident And then there was his wife and her family.

Kristin Burt’s father had retired from the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department, and her brother is still a deputy. That influence, and his father’s work, changed Burt’s mind about teaching. In April 1995 he graduated from the CHP academy, and was soon teaching computers and showing the ropes to other rookies.

“He was the perfect son,” said his father, Don, choking on his words during an interview from his Perris home. “He respected others and he loved people. He loved to help people. That was his goal in life.”

Burt’s father, a Riverside CHP patrol sergeant, said he was apprehensive when his son decided to follow in his footsteps. “Times have changed. There’s too many crazy people out there. There’s no value of life. They shoot you for rims, tires. It’s a terrible society we live in now,” he said.

Catching drunk drivers was his special mission, and “doing something to protect others,” as his mother, Jeannie, put it, “people who get in trouble on the road.”

“He was just really aggressive about doing his job,” said his beat partner Ari Wolfe. “When some guys might go get a cup of coffee, he’d go write that extra ticket, or go help five more cars on the freeway.”

His parents worried, though, about the boy they still called “Baby Donnie”‘ “He wasn’t as big as I was,” his father fretted, “and he was a lot nicer than me.”

And his mother-in-law, Judy Muravez, the mother and wife of cops, said “It’s kind of different when your husband’s been an officer because they’re an adult, but it’s really hard when you raise a child and see them vulnerable. I loved Don like a son.”

Don Burt is believed to be the first CHP officer to be shot to death in Orange County since the 1960s.

A memorial fund has been established to help Burt’s widow, Kristin, who gave birth to the couple’s baby on Sept. 22. Donations may be sent to the Officer Don Burt Memorial Fund, c/o CHP, 2031 E. Santa Clara Ave., Santa Ana, CA 92705.

TV SHOW FEATURES CHP OFFICER DON BURT JR.

“Arrest and Trial” aired a reenactment of the murder of California Highway Patrol Officer Don Burt, Jr., on November 8, 2000, on UPN Network. Officer Burt was killed on July 13, 1996, by Hung Thah Mai, a gang leader, who from his jail cell is calling for the murder of other law enforcement officers. Don and Jeannie Burt, said they were glad people had the opportunity to see how much effort went into the arrest and prosecution of Mai for their son’s murder.

A somber sense of loss swept through Orange County Tuesday, May 28, as an estimated 1,400 mourners gathered to bid farewell to Terry L. Fincher, veteran Brea police detective who was killed in the line-of-duty May 22, 1996.

A procession of more than 300 vehicles, stretching almost three miles, escorted Fincher’s body from the Fullerton church where Services were held to the Whittier cemetery where he was laid to rest. Fincher, 48, who dedicated 16 years to the Brea Police Department, was lauded as a man of integrity, sharp police instincts and tenderness.

“If the bad guy was bigger than you, you wanted Terry to watch your back,” said Pastor Steve Biffle, a close family friend. “If your life was broken, you wanted Terry by your side.”

Representatives of many law enforcement agencies – from Orange County to Fincher’s hometown Chino to Los Angeles – attended the funeral at the Evangelical Free Church.

Hundreds of officers affixed black ribbons to their badges to symbolize the loss of a colleague, he second Brea officer to die in the line-of-duty in the department’s 81-year history.

It was poignant that Fincher’s funeral came the day after Memorial Day. The officer had served with distinction during the Vietnam War.

Fincher was killed when, as other officers shouted warnings, a freight train struck him during a search along the tracks for a baseball bat believed to have been discarded near the railroad tracks after an attack. As another officer waved his arms and shouted a warning, Fincher apparently took a step away from the approaching train, police said.

But he was sucked into the side of the locomotive by the pressure of the passing train, which was moving downhill about 50 mph, Brea police investigator Bill Hudson said. Fincher was hurled down an embankment, where he was pronounced dead.

The accident occurred about 8.30 a.m. when Fincher and several other officers were searching the area near Esperanza Road and Hickory Drive. Hours earlier, police had arrested four young men on suspicion of following a couple from a bar and beating them with a bat near some railroad tracks.

The detective had been combing a rocky area near the tracks with his back to the oncoming train, police said. The train was just rounding a turn, and the view was partly obscured, said Mike Martin, spokesman for the Burlington Northern Santa Fe Co.

The train’s crew spotted the detective walking on the tracks when the train was about a third of a mile away, Martin said. By the time crew members hit the brakes, they were about a sixth of a mile way, he said.

“There’s not a lot of time to react when you’re traveling at around 75 feet per second,” Martin said. The train, with two engines pulling 19 cars, originated from Kansas city and was heading to Los Angeles Because it was heading downhill, the train might have been less noisy than usual, Martin said.

“Only a locomotive could take out this super cop,” Biffle said during the funeral service.

Fincher began and ended his law enforcement career with the Brea police. Over the course of his career, he worked in many aspects of law enforcement, from motors to homicide, checks and fraud, burglary, crime scene investigations and the Special Enforcement Detail.

He was one of the founding members of Brea’s Peer Counseling and Crisis Intervention Team. He was a member of the Hostage Negotiation Team and Tactical Arrest and Containment Team (TAC). He was also the department’s sign language interpreter. As he once said, “I want to learn it just in case we ever need it.”

He was awarded the department’s Medal of Honor in 1967 and was held in high regard by fellow officers, who voted him as Associate of the Year in 1980 and Officer of the Year in 1981.

“In my heart, Terry will never die,” said Brea Police Chief William C. Lentini, who called the funeral service a celebration of Fincher’s life and achievements. “A loss of one is a loss for us all.”

In a poem, friend and partner Det. Jerry Brakebill told the legacy Fincher left “For nothing loved is lost… for he was loved so much.”

During the funeral service, time seemed suspended as the funeral procession slowly moved to the burial site at Rose Hills Memorial Park in Whittier. Traffic along Brea Boulevard and the Orange and Pomona freeways was halted for miles.

But not even Biffle – despite his storehouse of anecdotes about the 1957 “hot-rod” Chevrolet Fincher had as a high-schooler, or his habit of singing over the phone to his grandchildren – could fully transcend the profound sorrow that permeated the vast sanctuary during the service.

“Terry, we’ll miss you … we’re so very, very proud of you,” Biffle concluded with a crack in his voice, nodding toward the flag-draped coffin bathed in a bright spotlight at the foot of the altar.

The mourners were a somber mix of civilian friends and police officers from more than three dozen Southern California jurisdictions. Nineteen of 32 teachers at Briggs Elementary School in Chino, where Fincher’s widow, Brenda; is a secretary, arranged for substitutes so they could attend the service.

The church became quiet as all 110 of Fincher’s fellow Brea officers filed down the main aisle, the only sound coming from the squeaks of their black dress shoes – burnished to a spit-polish shine – echoing through the chamber. The Brea officers made no attempt to hide their sadness.

Brakebill halted several times before he was able to complete the poem in Fincher’s memory, choking in particular when he said Fincher had gone to a place of comfort where there are no dates or years.”

At the burial service, a fresh breeze blew through the crowd just as four police helicopters flew over. Six pallbearers then removed the American flag that covered the wooden casket. They stood rigidly, neatly folding the flag which Chief Lentini delivered to Fincher’s wife, Brenda, who was composed and kept her eyes lowered. She and her two daughters ended the ceremony by approaching the casket, upon which each gently placed a rose and a soft kiss.

Brea police pastor Doug Green read the 23rd Psalm. The seven-member police rifle squad fired a 21-gun salute, the sound reverberating off the nearby hills of Rio Hondo College, where Fincher attended police academy before joining the Brea force.

Then bagpiper Robert Hackney played a last melody, Brea police buglers Larry Hernandez and Tim Shevlin sounded taps, and the mourners looked skyward for a helicopter fly-by salute from the Orange County Law Enforcement Regional Air Support.

Simultaneously, a freight locomotive from the adjoining Union Pacific tracks sounded its horn, a haunting reminder to some, of Fincher’s death but a tribute however ironic – to the fallen officer.

Silence fell and the crowd melted away.

Besides his wife and daughter, Edie, 23; Fincher is survived by his son, Erik, 25; and step children, Melissa Scott, 16; and Nathan Scott, 20. Fincher and his wife Brenda resided in Chino. He also has two grandsons, Benjamin and Brandon.

Numerous officers, friends and citizens of Pomona lit candles and shed tears during a candlelight vigil as they paid tribute to Officer Daniel T. Fraembs at the spot where he was shot and killed early Saturday, May 11, 1996.

Officers wore black bands across their badges, and the two-hour memorial ceremony was awash with tears and optimism as colleagues spoke about the man they knew as a model police officer.

“Your presence graces us with an honor that helps ease our pain,” said Pomona police Capt. Joe Romero, whose voice trembled when he spoke to the audience of the slain 37-year-old officer. “l had the honor of being Dan’s captain and brother officer.”

Fraembs’ mother, Dorothy, and sister, Darah, were flown in from their Cincinnati home to attend the solemn ceremony and Daniel Fraembs’ funeral, which was held Friday, May 17.

Known as one of the Pomona officers most well-informed on Asian gangs, Fraembs was shot to death early Saturday near an abandoned incinerator plant. He was the first policeman in the 108-year history of the Pomona Police Department to be gunned down in the line-of-duty. He never pulled his gun out of its holster.

Following an extensive search and tips from unidentified sources, a suspect, 22-year-old Ronald Bruce Mendoza, was arrested in Kingman, Arizona on May 22. Pomona Police chief Rick Shaurette stated “We’re very confident we have the right man. We have a witness.” Mendoza is a member of the Mexican Mafia of the Happy Town gang.

People who didn’t know Fraembs laid either flowers or white candles near patrol car 34 – the car he drove that night – which was parked at the spot where his body was found. An enlarged picture of Fraembs stood over the display, adorned with a wreath and white and purple roses.

Draped over the hood of the patrol car was a silk flag that depicted a police badge with a black band across it.

Fraembs was born in Hong Kong. He was found orphaned on a beach by a Hong Kong policeman, who turned him over to an orphanage.

At nine months of age, Dan was adopted by Donald and Dorothy Fraembs of Cincinnati, Ohio. In August 1963, Fraembs became a citizen.of the United States. He graduated from Forest Park High School in Cincinnati, Ohio, in 1977.

In the fall of that year, he enrolled in the University of Cincinnati. He completed his college education at Fullerton Community College.

In 1981, Fraembs joined the Untied States Marine Corps, where he excelled. He earned numerous declarations, medals, badges, citations, and campaign ribbons while in the service. He had obtained the rank of sergeant prior to receiving his honorable discharge in 1985.

In September 1988, he was appointed to the Orange County Sheriff’s Department, where he worked for five years before joining the Pomona Police Department.

Fraembs is survived by his mother, Dorothy Fraembs, and a sister, Darah Fraembs, both of Cincinnati, Ohio.

A memorial fund has been established in Fraembs’ honor. Checks may be made payable to: Officer Daniel Fraembs Memorial Fund, PPOA, 319 So. Park Avenue, Pomona, CA 91766.

James Rex Jensen Jr.’s parents tried to talk him out of police work, but being a cop was more than just a job for him.

Regarded by fellow police officers as a top notch patrolman with a highly promising career, Jensen was remembered by Oxnard residents as a tireless community supporter who helped energize Neighborhood Watch programs, taught youth sports and labored hard on his own time to make Oxnard a better place to live.

Jensen, 30, died March 13 after he was accidentally shot by a fellow officer during an early morning drug raid at an Oxnard condominium complex.

“This is a terrible loss for the city because this is a police officer who didn’t view being a police officer as just a job,” said John Branthoover, a 52-year-old Oxnard resident who helped found the city’s Neighborhood Watch program six years ago and had worked with Jensen.

“He was a guy who was trying to make the city a safer and more family-friendly place. He was really involved and really cared about the community. He tried to make a difference.”

Jensen joined the Oxnard Police Department in April 1992 after working for three years as a deputy in the Ventura County Sheriff’s Department. Respected by both his peers and top brass, the young patrolman was promoted to the special weapons and tactics – SWAT – team in July 1995.

“He was a very open person. He was very well-liked. He was a dedicated officer,” said Police Chief Harold Hurtt. “He was a professional in every way.” Jensen is the second Oxnard police officer killed in the line-of-duty since 1993.

Married and the father of two daughters, Lindsay, 5, and Katie, 3, Jensen lived in a household that revolved around law enforcement: His wife, Jennifer, works at Todd Road Jail for the Ventura County Sheriff’s Department as does her mother, sheriff’s officials said.

Jensen developed an interest in law enforcement while serving in the Marine Corps for four years as a military police officer, his parents said in telephone interviews. Jensen was stationed both in Okinawa, Japan, and at Camp Pendleton after graduating from high school in Salt Lake City, Utah in 1983.

Reached at her home in Price, Utah, Jensen’s mother said she tried to persuade her only son not to become a police officer after he left the Marines. But he was set on the career.

“I didn’t want him to go into police work,” said Shirley Jensen, 70, a retired nurse. “I didn’t like it but then again, mothers don’t have much say.” Jensen’s father, Rex, said in a separate interview that he too had tried to stop his son from becoming a police officer.

Shirley Jensen said her son was well aware of the risks involved with the job he loved but rarely discussed them with her.

“He didn’t talk much about it with me cause he knew I was a worrywart,” she said. Jensen’s mother and friends said Jensen was a devoted father who enjoyed spending free time with his family.

Growing up in Salt Lake City, Jensen was active in school activities and played sports while attending East High School, his mother said. “He was a busy guy, even when he was little,” Shirley Jensen said. “He thought he could never be doing too much.”

Jensen took his can-do attitude to Ventura County, where he coached Little League baseball and played second base on the police force’s “Blue Wave” softball team in addition to many other activities.

After working the late shift the Friday night before his death, Jensen went to the baseball diamond Saturday morning to help out during an all-day baseball camp for 60 Oxnard youngsters.

“He loved working with kids,” said Ralph Sanchez, program coordinator for the Police Activities league, which sponsored the baseball clinic. “He felt this was a way for him, as an officer, to interface with kids in a different environment.”

Sanchez, who also coaches the Police Department’s softball team, called Jensen an excellent athlete whose fierce professionalism showed in every aspect of his life.

“Jim was a very dedicated person,” Sanchez said. “Whenever he came to practice, he was usually the first one there and the last to leave. He rarely missed practice or games, although it wasn’t easy with the demands of his job.”

Branthoover said many Oxnard residents knew Jensen because of his community involvement and his efforts to encourage residents to establish Neighborhood Watch programs.

“He was one of those officers who from the very beginning thought that community involvement with the Police Department was a great idea,” Branthoover said. “In the early days, some of the officers weren’t that enthusiastic about citizens appearing on the streets at night.”

Branthoover recalled encountering Jensen on the beat including one night when Branthoover was painting over a graffiti-covered wall in his neighborhood.

“He would creep up with his flashlight and say, ‘Oh, it’s you again,’ Branthoover said. “We would stop and talk for a while.”

Oxnard Mayor Manuel Lopez whose wife, Irma, was injured during the 1993 shootings that killed another Oxnard police officer called the accidental shooting death of Jensen a “huge loss.”

“I think it is a real, real tragedy,” Lopez said. “He was the type of police officer that everyone wants to have.”

Jensen had been a member of PORAC since August 21, 1992.

A trust fund has been set up for the Jensen family. Contributions can be sent to: The Oxnard Police Officers Assn., Channel Island National Bank, 155 South A Street Oxnard, CA 93030.

CHP officer David W. Manning, who had been in a coma since he was found unconscious next to his crashed patrol motorcycle on Jan. 26, died at Mercy Hospital in Bakersfield on February 15, 1996.

Manning, 31, a seven-year CHP veteran, was found beside his motorcycle seven hours after he left his duty station while driving home from work.

Manning’s last ride on his Kawasaki Police 1000 began late Jan. 25. His shift ended at 10 p.m., and he left for the ride home from CHP headquarters at about 10:15 p.m. He rode onto southbound Highway 99, heading to his home.

He was last seen by a pair of graveyard-shift officers who passed him on the freeway about 10:20 p.m., CHP spokesman Mack Wimbish said. They noticed nothing amiss.

When the officer hadn’t arrived home more than four hours later, his wife, Melissa, called the CHP for help in locating him. Bakersfield police and Kern County Sheriff’s deputies joined in a two-hour search before the downed officer was found near his regular route home from work.

He was found just after dawn in an oat field just north of his home. Manning underwent brain surgery shortly after he was found, but never regained consciousness. It appeared as if his motorcycle had simply run off the end of the road and crashed, investigators said.

Despite extensive investigation the CHP found no indication that any other vehicles were involved in the crash.

The Bakersfield native and Highland High School graduate was described as an avid baseball player, athlete and family man who just moved into a new home with Melissa and his 2-year-old daughter Hannah.

Manning was one of the first officers assigned to the local CHP’s motorcycle detail last year, when the patrol was pressed back into service after a 25-year hiatus. But the officer already had four years of experience with motorcycle work after graduating from the police academy and working as a motor patrol officer in east Los Angeles, said his father, Wayne Manning.

On December 8, 1995, California Highway Patrol Officer Artie J. Hubbard, 43, succumbed to injuries he sustained during an on-duty collision that occurred over a decade earlier.

On April 5, 1985, Hubbard was on his dinner break when he heard an 11-99 (officer needs help) call on his radio. The officer making the call reported he was involved in a physical altercation with a subject who had been stopped for a traffic violation and was later discovered to be wanted in Oregon.

Hubbard was traveling eastbound on Pocket Road in Sacramento when he failed to negotiate a curve. His CHP Mustang slid off the roadway and struck a utility pole broadside.

The driver’s door took the full impact of the violent collision. Hubbard suffered extensive injuries, including a severed spinal column.

Other units responding to the same call heard a citizen come on the radio and say, “Mayday, mayday.” When the dispatcher asked this person to identify himself, the citizen reported that there had been a bad wreck involving a CHP car, adding that the officer was “in bad shape.” He then provided the location of the accident.

With a helicopter already en route to the 11-99 location, the dispatcher diverted it to Hubbard’s location and then directed the citizen at the scene to turn on the CHP unit’s spotlight and direct it upward so the chopper could locate the wreck. By the time the helicopter landed, another CHP officer was providing emergency lifesaving care to Hubbard, who was then flown to the hospital.

Hubbard was placed on life support and survived. For more than ten years, he was cared for in his parents’ home in Manteca. He could communicate only through eye movements.

Several weeks before his death, Hubbard underwent routine surgery to mitigate deterioration in his condition, but the procedure was unsuccessful. Hubbard entered the CHP Academy in January 1975 and reported to the Central Los Angeles CHP office in May of the same year. In March 1983 he voluntarily transferred to the South Sacramento CHP office.

Hubbard is survived by his mother, Helen Hubbard; a sister, Roseada Beggs; and a brother, Michael Hubbard.

Donations in Hubbard’s memory may be made to the CAHP Widows and Orphans Trust Fund, P.O. Box 161209, Sacramento, CA 95816-1209.

Rodney Alan Foster, 53, a correctional officer with the Siskiyou County Sheriffs Department, was killed November 17, 1995, when his county van hit a tractor-trailer Interstate 5 in a 30-vehicle accident resulting from speed and a slick road surface.

Seventeen persons were injured in the chain-reaction crash. Lieutenant Gary Peery of the Siskiyou County Jail explained Foster’s mission that day: “We had an infectious hepatitis outbreak at the jail and only a limited number of gamma globulin doses left. Foster was en route to Shasta and Tehama counties to obtain additional doses needed for both staff and inmates.”

About 6:15 p.m. Foster was about three miles south of Soda Creek. A truck crashed on a blind curve. The next vehicle around the curve was Foster’s, and it was wedged underneath the truck. Approximately thirty more vehicles rounded the corner and piled into the wreckage, pushed him further underneath.

“We think his death was instantaneous, the result of multiple trauma from the impact,” said Peery.

“Everyone here is still in a state of shock,” Peery continued in an emotion-laden voice. “Rod was kind of … well, we used to call him the gentle giant. He was a kind, Christian man who practiced the values he believed in. He treated everyone with respect, including the inmates. They knew they couldn’t push him around, and they respected him for what he stood for.

“He was the kind of guy you could rely on to do anything. He was well respected up and down the state.”

Foster had worked for the Siskiyou County department as a correctional officer at the county jail since 1987. In 1992, he was assigned the duty of coordinating all transportation of inmates outside the jail environment.

This duty is considered critical by the sheriff’s department. A department press release said Foster had done an exceptional job coordinating all the jail activities with other law enforcement agencies, ensuring that inmates were transported efficiently throughout the state with a minimum expenditure of manpower and money.

Foster was responsible for prison transports and out-of-county inmate pickups. He made certain that inmates would make their court appearances and also supervised inmate transportation to medical appointments outside the jail.

“Officer Foster had developed an excellent rapport with all allied agencies, which was imperative if his job was to be done effectively with only one officer assigned to the function,” the sheriff’s department said. “Foster served in the capacity of correctional officer for the Siskiyou County Sheriff’s Department and county jail in an exemplary manner.”

Foster had been named the Siskiyou County Sheriff’s Department Correctional Officer of the Year for 1994.

Foster is survived by his wife Margo of Montague; a daughter, Theresa, of Grass Valley; a son, Bruce, of Yreka; his mother, Genevieve Megill, and a sister, Judy Ann Tobin, both of Martinez, Georgia; and a brother, Edward, of Turlock.

A memorial fund was established at the Assembly of God Church, 2608 Highway 97, Weed, CA 96094, where Foster was a member of the board of trustees.

Mercedes Delgado never wanted her son to become a police officer. Her greatest fear was that Gabriel Perez-Negron would die in the line of duty as had his father, an officer for Mexico’s highway patrol for tourist assistance.

On Saturday, November 4, 1995, her fear was realized. Perez-Negron, 31 died of massive head injuries when his patrol car was broadsided by a speeding car driven by a suspected drunk driver. A recent graduate of the police academy, Perez-Negron had been on patrol at the Los Angeles Police Department’s Van Nuys Division for only two months.

The officer’s father, Eugenio Perez-Negron, was killed in 1966 in an eerily similar tragedy. He was on patrol when a drunk driver slammed into his vehicle. Like his son, the elder Perez-Negron was 31 at the time of his death, fresh out of police academy, and seated in the passenger side of the vehicle with a training officer behind the wheel.

The crash occurred about 2:45 a.m. when Officer Martin Guerrero, a training officer and six-year veteran, and Perez-Negron were on patrol in Reseda, with visibility poor because of heavy fog.

Tammy G. Danford, 29, was driving an Acura Integra at high speed, officers reported. Witnesses said Danford ran several red lights before slamming into Perez-Negron’s side of the patrol car The LAPD vehicle rolled several times before it came to rest on its right side. Moments later, both cars burst into flames.

A call was radioed into LAPD dispatch from the wrecked patrol car moments after the accident, reportedly by a transient known to area merchants as “Mark.” In addition to reporting the accident, the transient is credited with pulling two of the victims out of their cars before leaving the scene, Vanderburger said.

Perez-Negron and Danford were dead at the scene. Guerrero, 35, suffered broken ribs and serious back injuries. Perez-Negron’s brother said Gabriel dreamed of becoming a police officer because he wanted to help people. “I never saw him as happy as when he received his badge,” he said. “He was preparing himself for years. He didn’t want to be just another police officer He wanted to be the best!”

“Our sense of loss is heightened by the fact that his career was cut so short,” said Deputy Chief Martin Pomeroy, commanding officer of the Valley Bureau.

Alfred Perez-Negron said his brother came to the United States alone at age 14, leaving his family behind in Mexico. He found a construction job, then joined the Marines during the Persian Gulf War. He was discharged after graduating from boot camp because of an injury.

Perez-Negron, who was single, became a United States citizen and attended the police academy at the urging of his friend, LAPD officer Al Lopez, and his former boss, construction company owner Eli Bomar.

“After he graduated from the academy, he was very excited, very proud,” Lopez said. “He would have been a really good police officer because he was patient and had a lot of compassion for people.”

Bomar added that Perez-Negron was not only warm and caring but hard-working and ambitious. “I told the LAPD recruiter that Gabriel was almost too nice to be a police officer. He became a family member at my house.”

Gabriel Perez-Negron is survived by his mother Mercedes; brothers Guillermo, Humberto, Alfredo and Rogelio; and a sister, Isela.

Hundreds of law enforcement officers from all over California filled a Northridge church on October 6, 1995, to mourn the death of California Highway Patrol officer Bruce T. Hinman. After the memorial service, a five-mile procession of patrol cars and motorcycles, lights flashing, followed the hearse to the cemetery. Hinman, a 34-year-old father of three, died October 3 of massive injuries he suffered September 26 when, according to police, a vehicle operated by a drunk driving suspect slammed into the disabled car Hinman had stopped to assist, pinning Hinman beneath the vehicle.

Inside Shepherd of the Hills Church, family members, colleagues and friends remembered Hinman as a loving, compassionate family man who cherished his job and dedicated his life to public service.

“He stood for the very tenets of the California Highway Patrol: public safety and service,” CHP Commissioner Maurice Hannigan said in his eulogy. “He, in fact, surrendered his life doing what he loved to do best, helping the public.”

“He was someone who could make you feel good just by being around,” said Hinman’s neighbor Karen Hall. She said it was ironic that Hinman, a staunch opponent of drinking alcohol, was killed by a suspected drunk driver.

Hinman, an eight-year CHP veteran, was said to be the first officer in the 26-year history of the patrol’s West Valley station to die in the line of duty.

An estimated 1,000 police officers attended the service, including Los Angeles Police Chief Willie L. Williams. CHP Chaplain Karl Hansen said the outpouring of grief and support for Hinman’s family illustrated the special ties that bind law enforcement officers. “For those of us who have chosen this profession, the death of a police officer is like losing a close family member,” he said.

A bagpipe player filled the chapel with the familiar strains of “Amazing Grace,” while two helmeted CHP officers, faces obscured behind sun visors, stood at attention at either end of Hinman’s flag-draped oak coffin, upon which Hinman’s helmet rested.

After the service, the engines of more than 100 motorcycles roared to life as Hinman’s colleagues led the funeral procession to Oakwood Memorial Park in Chatsworth. Also in the procession was a patrol car towing Hinman’s motorcycle and hundreds of other patrol cars and fire trucks with their lights flashing. Traffic was halted briefly on the westbound Simi Valley-San Fernando Valley Freeway and on Topanga Canyon Boulevard to let the procession pass. More fire trucks were parked along the road with ladders raised in tribute to the fallen officer.

At the cemetery, a police honor guard fired three volleys, a bugler played taps and six police helicopters flew the missing man formation over the gravesite. The entire assembly of peace officers in attendance stood at attention, saluting Hinman.

Hinman’s wife Kimberlee was presented with her husband’s helmet and the flag from his coffin. The couple lived in Palmdale with their five-year-old twin sons Mitchell and Morgan. Hinman is also survived by nine-year-old Cory, his son from an earlier marriage, who lives in Las Vegas. All three of Hinman’s sons attended the services.

Even in death, friends said, Hinman was selfless. His organs were donated to those awaiting transplants.

More than 300 uniformed law enforcement officers from California, Arizona and Nevada joined family members and community friends in mourning the death of Deputy Russell Dean Roberts. He was the first deputy from the Colorado Station of the San Bernardino County Sheriff’s Department to die in the line of duty.

Roberts, 29, was killed while conducting a follow-up investigation of a traffic accident on River Road in Needles. He had decided for safety reasons to return during daylight hours on Saturday, September 16, 1995, to measure skid marks and complete other accident investigation tasks. The accident had occurred on a dangerous curve the previous night, and he didn’t want to be hidden from motorists by the darkness.

Reports from the Needles station indicated that Roberts parked his vehicle with its warning lights flashing on a knoll where it could be seen from both directions. He was about 100 yards from the car on the opposite side of the road when a motorist entering the curve began to skid. The driver apparently overcorrected, lost control and hit the deputy No arrest was made.

Emergency personnel responded immediately, but their efforts proved futile. He died upon arrival at Desert Communities Hospital.

A former military policeman, Roberts joined the Needles Police Department in 1989 and became a deputy six months later when the city began contracting for law enforcement services with the San Bernardino County Sheriff’s Department.

Captain Rodney Hoops told mourners, “Russell never had a mean word to say about anyone: those he worked with, those he worked for, and those he arrested. He never complained about his assignments, just did them to the best of his ability. He never was afraid to ask questions, take constructive criticism or learn from his mistakes.”

Hoops said that Roberts always volunteered for a variety of tasks, from playing McGruff, the Crime Dog, to helping the Crime Prevention Officer with Neighborhood Watch programs. “Roberts wasn’t afraid to go the extra mile to help someone with a question or a task.”

Roberts also served as the boating officer in charge of the medical aid pontoon boat that operated on the three major holiday weekends on Lake Havasu. In addition, he was a regular boating officer who provided patrol on the Colorado River and Lake Havasu throughout the year.

Dispatcher Bob Duncan recalled the time one of Needles’ more colorful figures was on the streets, a disturbed and physically violent individual. Deputies were warned to call for backup if they encountered this individual, which is what Roberts did on this occasion. By the time the backup arrived, Roberts was covered in dust and the individual in question was under arrest and safely ensconced in the back of the patrol car. When asked what happened, Roberts replied, “I guess I got a little too close.”

Duncan told those in attendance, “We just didn’t lose a deputy. We just didn’t lose a husband and a father We all lost a friend.”

Roberts is survived by his wife Carol and sons Benjamin, 9, and Trevor; 6. He and his wife were also caring for his 15-year-old niece. His father-in-law is retired CHP Commander Billy Bradshaw.

A trust fund has been established for the family. Contributions may be made to the Carol Roberts Trust Fund, Bank of America, 1001 West Broadway, Needles, CA 92363.