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.

Police helicopters flew the missing man formation over columns of uniformed officers gathered to honor Herbert B. Stovall, 60, a Peralta Community College District police lieutenant shot to death during a struggle with a suspected burglar on August 16, 1995.

The suspect, Gerald Collier, was fleeing from another officer on the campus of Laney College, just east of downtown Oakland near Lake Merritt, police said.

The fatal chase began when Peralta officer Don Tate, patrolling in his car, saw Collier breaking into a vehicle. As Tate approached, Collier got into a van and sped away with Tate in pursuit. Collier’s vehicle stopped near a bridge over the channel connecting Lake Merritt to the estuary near downtown Oakland.

Stovall, in another patrol car, heard Tate broadcasting information about the chase. Stovall got out of his car and, from the east bank of the channel, saw Tate chasing Collier on the west bank. When Collier tried to escape by crossing the channel, he was met by Stovall wading in from the other side. A struggle ensued, and Stovall, who was not wearing his bulletproof vest, was shot.

Because of Stovall’s decades of service in the Air Force as well as with the Peralta police, the flyby served as a poignant finale to the funeral Mass at All Saints Church. “There are many parasites in the world, and one of them took Herbert’s life,” Alameda County Sheriff Charles Plummer told the more than 400 people, half of them police officers, at the Mass. “Herbert was a producer who made things better.”

Stovall had been a member of All Saints parish and a regular attendee at 5 o’clock Mass. “This is a great loss for all of us,” Father Robert McCann said as Bishop John Cummins of the Oakland Diocese looked on. “Herbert was a person who doted over his family to do the best for them, and he was a peace officer who believed in peace.”

Stovall’s son Adrian stood with his sister, Vanessa, and recounted the zest with which Stovall embraced each day and every deed, no matter how seemingly mundane. He was remembered for being quick to find ways to help his family and friends. “My father focused on the beauty in the world and woke each morning excited about what he was going to do that day,” Adrian Stovall told the mourners. ‘It was my father’s love for people that made him special.”

Booker Ealy, director of the Peralta police force, said Stovall, his second in command, was well-liked and highly respected.

Stovall was the first Peralta officer to be killed in the line of duty since the force was formed in 1967. The 12- member Peralta force mainly deals with illegally parked vehicles, car break-ins and occasional vandalism. The Laney campus, one of four patrolled by the force, is near high-crime areas in central and east Oakland but is generally known as a low-crime oasis.

“We are not among the high-crime campuses in the state,” said Howard Perdue, Peralta’s dean of admissions. “It’s a quiet, sunny day, and then suddenly we have a police officer killed. We’re all devastated by this.”

Stovall is survived by his wife Florence, his mother Margaret Stovall, his son Adrian, his daughters Vanessa and Maritza, his brother Dwight, and three grandchildren. The statewide college police chiefs’ association established a scholarship fund in Stovall’s honor.

To serve and protect. A police officer’s duty, even to the death.

The thousands who mourned for Michael Frederick Clark on August 9, 1995, knew that. But the knowledge did little to ease their grief over the loss of the Simi Valley patrol officer, killed August 4, eight days short of his 29th birthday, by a suicidal man he tried to help.

Governor Pete Wilson and Los Angeles Police Chief Willie L. Williams joined rank-and-file cops, family, friends and acquaintances at Clark’s funeral Mass at his Westlake Village church.

Stephen Baker, a Hawthorne Police Department officer who lives in Simi Valley, brought his wife and daughters to the service. “I’ve been an officer for 18 years, and I’ve been to many funerals,” Baker explained. “But this was the guy who protected my family when I went to work. We owe this man our respect.”

Addressing mourners, Monsignor Thomas O’Connell said Clark “stared death in the face many times and never blinked.” Clark was “compassionate, gentle, tolerant, kind and loving,” O’Connell recalled. “I’m putting Michael up for sainthood,” O’Connell said. “I’m just telling about a man as I knew him.”

Clark left the Los Angeles Police Department after five years of service to join the Simi Valley department. He was the first Simi Valley officer to die in the line of duty in the department’s 24-year history.

The Mass and the memorial service at Valley Oaks Memorial Park drew officers from throughout Southern California, including the entire Simi Valley force. Ventura County Sheriff’s Department officers patrolled Simi Valley streets and Oxnard Police Department dispatchers handled the phones so Clark’s fellow Simi Valley officers could all attend.

A procession of patrol cars and motorcycles traveled from the church to the cemetery. An estimated 3,000 mourners attended the graveside service. Clark’s widow was comforted by relatives and friends as an honor guard saluted her husband and bagpipes played “Amazing Grace.”

After four police helicopters flew the missing man formation to honor Clark, Rep. Elton Gallegly, formerly Simi Valley mayor for six years, said it was hard to believe Clark had been shot. “Even in Simi Valley, there’s vulnerability in working as a police officer, he said. “The best training cannot mitigate that.”

Many of the grieving officers lived in Simi Valley, considered safe and affordable by thousands of cops who work the streets of Southern California cities. Jim Parker, an officer with the Los Angeles Police Department, attended the police academy with Clark. They became friends, sharing Marine Corps stories and competing for honors as squad leaders. “He was a top guy at the academy,” Parker said. “This is such a loss for everybody.”

“Michael was doing what he loved” when he confronted the suicidal man, Clark’s father Frederick said. “This was a distress call. He went out there trying to help someone. That was the kind of man Michael was.”

Clark was raised in Thousand Oaks, graduating from Westlake High School in 1984 and serving in the Marines for four years. He joined the LAPD in 1989 and was assigned to the Devonshire Division as a patrol officer.

Clark’s supervisors at the LAPD called him a solid, well-rounded officer, always one of the highest producers on the shift. They further described him as self-motivated, someone you could count on.

Simi Valley’s acting Chief R.W. Wright said, “In Mike’s short tenure with [our] department, we recognized that he was a top-notch officer, one upon whom we could rely to get the job done.

“Mike was not only a devoted police officer, but one who kept his priorities in line. Becoming a father was the pinnacle of his life. We have lost much more than just a police officer. We have lost a friend.”

Donations may be made to the Michael Clark Trust Fund, c/o Simi Valley Bank, 1475 E. Los Angeles Ave., Simi Valley, CA 93063.

The judges, lawyers and staff that work in the Criminal Courts Building in Los Angeles joined together on July 19, 1995, to mourn the loss of a beloved colleague.

The deputy sheriff they called “G-12” or “Tony” made them laugh, teased them with gentle jokes, counseled them, did legal research and acted as a father figure.

Bailiff Antranik Geuvjehizian was eulogized as a man of exceptional kindness, unpretentious goodness and remarkable charisma. A public defender recalled the time a defendant flew into a rage during his trial and Geuvjehizian gave him a back rub until he calmed down.

The nickname G-12 stemmed from the difficulty people had pronouncing his last name. A fellow bailiff explained: “It started with G and had 12 letters in it.”

Deputy Geuvjehizian, a native of Beirut, Lebanon, was 31 years old when he died on the night of July 18, shot by a prowler near his Pasadena home. He was off duty and unarmed, helping his wife take out the trash, when he spotted a suspicious-looking man in front of his neighbor’s house. The man approached the couple and Geuvjehizian confronted him while his wife ran to call police.

When the prowler fled, Geuvjehizian chased him and was shot several times in the upper body, according to Lieutenant Gene Gray of the Pasadena Police Department.

Geuvjehizian worked as a court bailiff for Judge Carol Fieldhouse, as well as in other courtrooms in the building. He was on the team of bailiffs attached to the O.J. Simpson trial, sometimes accompanying the sequestered jurors on their outings.

People who knew the well-liked bailiff said he made everyone feel appreciated. Deputy District Attorney Marissa Zarate recalled his kindness toward a pregnant court reporter: “Every morning, he would go to the parking lot and get her steno machine and her files, bring them up to court, then get her breakfast.”

Deputy District Attorney Cynthia Rayvis said, “He had a warm, genuine side that touched all of us.

Geuvjehizian did not come across as a cop, recalled Deputy District Attorney Jennifer Lenz. “The last thing he was going to say was, ‘I’m the police.’ The message he projected was, ‘I’m a person, what can I do to help you?”‘

Fieldhouse remembered Geuvjehizian’s calming ability. “Some lawyer would be arguing, getting very emotional, and he would put his arm them quietly. Then he’d look at me and say, ‘OK, judge, we’re ready.”‘

Geuvjehizian was also a top-notch legal researcher, Fieldhouse recalled. “I’d have two lawyers arguing a legal point. Tony would go get Witkin’s and come up with the right page,” she said. “His research skills were staggering. He must have kept me from getting my ass reversed 100 times.”

“Everybody, even the jurors in the Simpson matter, were shaken,” Sheriff’s Commander Patrick Holland said. “All of them loved him. Everybody was really at a loss.”

Court commissioner Paul Enwright said the deputy will be sorely missed. “His training and his personality made him a great bailiff,” Enwright said.

In remarks at a vigil held in Geuvjehizian’s honor, Pasadena Mayor Bill Paparian noted that, “Antranik was named after a famous Armenian World War I hero. Even though the circumstances were so tragic, Antranik died as a hero.”

A member of the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department since 1988, Geuvjehizian had lived in the Los Angeles area since he was seven years old. He was married to criminal defense attorney Vicki Sarmiento. He is also survived by his mother, a sister and two brothers.

More than 1,000 law enforcement officers turned out to honor slain Oakland Police Department Officer Keith S. Konopasek, who was shot July 8, 1995, by a former security guard who claimed the shooting was accidental.

Mayor Elihu Harris and Police Chief Joseph Samuels Jr. joined hundreds of grieving family members and colleagues to remember Konopasek as a devoted officer who joined the force less than a year ago after a stint in the U.S. Army Reserve.

The second Oakland officer to die in the line of duty in 1995, Konopasek, 32, a Fremont resident, was shot while searching a car in front of his suspected killer’s home in East Oakland. The Alameda County district attorney charged Clarence Jones, 26, of Oakland with murder of a police officer with a firearm.

At a somber ceremony in Oakland’s Kaiser Convention Center, Konopasek was described as a caring family man and a loving fiance whose determination to become a police officer propelled him to finish third in his graduating class at the Oakland police academy.

“When we leave here today,” Oakland police Captain Mike Sims said in his eulogy, “let us depart with an uplifted spirit, knowing that in our time lived Keith Konopasek, a good man, a man who realized many of his dreams, a man who made a difference.”

The slaying shocked colleagues and friends of both the victim and the suspect. Konopasek and his fiancee, Belen Jimenez of San Jose, had just completed sending out 200 invitations to their wedding, set for September 9.

Konopasek was described by fellow officers as a diligent worker who could barely contain his excitement at becoming a police officer. His father, Ken Konopasek, said that had always been his son’s dream.

Chief Samuels said the officer’s killing demonstrated the need for citizens to campaign for strong gun control.

“There’s nothing more traumatic than an officer’s death in the line of duty,” Samuels said. “You have to understand we are human. We cry. We bleed. We laugh. We don’t want to be exposed to the type of violence that took place this weekend.”

Wearing white gloves and badges wrapped in black bands of mourning, many officers wiped tears from their eyes as Oakland police officer John Beauchamp sang “The Lord’s Prayer.”

“While dealing with Konopasek’s death may be hard,” Chief Harris told the crowd, “it is a time to be strong. We can’t afford the luxury of anger,” he said. “We need to pull together.”

Because the officer’s name was difficult to pronounce, some of Konopasek’s colleagues gave him the nickname “Big Red” in reference to his red hair. Others called him “Paper or Plastic” because he had worked for 13 years at a grocery store in Pleasanton, working his way up from bagger to assistant manager.

Konopasek is survived by his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Louis Ken Konopasek of Rancho Palos Verdes; two sisters, Kari Konopasek and Kristy Mueller; and fiancee Belen Jimenez of San Jose.

The family requested that donations in memory of Keith Konopasek be made to the Oakland Police Emergency Net, 717 Washington St., Oakland, CA 94607.