As a lone bagpiper played a soulful rendition of “Amazing Grace,” an estimated 4,000 mourners gathered February 21, 1994, on a grassy knoll overlooking Los Angeles harbor to bid farewell to two slain Palos Verdes Estates police officers.

Captain Michael Wayne Tracy and Sergeant Vernon Thomas Vanderpool were lauded as heroes for saving fellow officers by breaking up an armed robbery. The veteran officers were honored with a 21-gun salute, a sheriff’s helicopter flyover, a procession of 64 motorcycles, and a motorcade of numerous black and whites.

Among the dignitaries who attended the funeral were Governor Pete Wilson, Los Angeles Police Chief Willie L. Williams and Los Angeles County District Attorney Gil Garcetti.

A troop of uniformed Boy Scouts helped guard the casket of Vanderpool, who had been the troop’s assistant scoutmaster for seven years. While tough street cops fought back tears, the chief of the close-knit Palos Verdes Estates Police Department broke down as he described his fallen comrades, particularly Tracy, who was his best friend.

“They loved being cops and they loved helping people, and when they were called, they were heroes,” said Chief Gray Johansen who witnessed the killings. “They saved the lives of the other 11 people in that room, and I speak from experience, because I was there. These two officers saved our lives.”

After praising Vanderpool as one of his most reliable officers, Johansen turned toward Tracy’s coffin while reaching beneath his glasses to wipe away tears. “God bless you, my friend,” he said, his voice cracking. “I love you.”

Tracy, 50, and Vanderpool, 57, were gunned down on Valentine’s Day, Vanderpool’s 36th wedding anniversary. The shooting took place during a police management meeting on the 12th floor of the Torrance Holiday Inn. Witnesses said the gunman, 32-year-old David Joseph Fukuto, the son of a state appellate judge, burst into the meeting room shouting, “This is a robbery!”

Authorities say they may never know whether Fukuto, who was wearing a bulletproof vest, intended to rob the group, or whether he had a grudge against police officers. When Tracy and Vanderpool lunged at him, he shot them. Other officers subdued Fukuto and he died in the ensuing struggle.

Tracy and Vanderpool were the first police officers killed in the history of the affluent South Bay city, which prides itself on having its own small police force rather than contracting with the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department as some neighboring communities do.

In a eulogy delivered for his father, Tracy’s son, Sean Michael Tracy, said plaintively, “I don’t understand many things in life. Funerals happen to be one of them.”

Security was tight at the funeral. Five sharpshooters were stationed on the church’s roof. Because the families of the officers wanted the services to be private, only uniformed police officers and family members were permitted to enter the 1,100-seat chapel. Members of the media watched on closed-circuit television, as did about 1,000 mourners who arrived too late to get a seat in the sanctuary. Others stood outside.

The ceremonies were laced with humor as well as sadness.

Vanderpool’s nephew, Oceanside Police Detective Ken Gow, prefaced his eulogy with a gesture: Sergeant Vernon Thomas Vanderpool taking off his tie and unbuttoning his top shirt button. “Tom hated ties,” Gow proclaimed, as the crowd erupted in applause. “He also hated long-sleeved shirts, but there’s nothing I can do about that now.”

Gow then talked of how his uncle had guided him into a career in law enforcement, pushing him to finish his education.

He also shared the recollections of Vanderpool’s children, who sometimes heard their father crying in solitude after he had spanked them. “Tom was a big man, but he had a gentle heart,” Gow said.

Tracy’s three children wrote a eulogy for their father, read aloud by Drake Morton, the department’s chaplain. They described a man who loved dirt-bike racing, who thought he was “the funniest man alive,” who believed in backing his friends and making other people feel special.

Then, in apparent reference to their father’s taste for beer, the letter closed with these words: “P.S., Dad, we’re looking forward to seeing your cheesy smile someday at the big Bud keg in the sky.”

After the funeral, a lengthy motorcade of police cars, motorcycles and limousines carried family members, city officials and Palos Verdes Estates police officers to nearby Green Hills Memorial Park for the memorial service. The rest of the mourners walked to the cemetery, where they stood behind a low cinderbiock wall and a human blockade of police officers, to witness the service from a respectful distance.

Dozens of American flags lined the winding route into the cemetery, waving against a clear blue Southern California sky. At times, all that could be heard was the flapping of the flags in the afternoon breeze.

The somber ceremony lasted 45 minutes. At its close, after widows Billy Jean Vanderpool and Becky Tracy were presented with the flags, the members of the Palos Verdes Estates Police Department filed past their colleagues’ bodies, laying a white glove atop the blue steel coffins in a final gesture of solidarity.

Raised in Torrance, Tracy graduated from Torrance High School and pursued his lifelong ambition to become a police officer. He began his career in 1966 as a reserve officer with the Palos Verdes Police Department and police officer with the Garden Grove Police Department. After attending the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Academy, he hired on full-time with Palos Verdes Estates in 1969.

Tracy was a member of the Los Angeles County POA, California Peace Officers Association and the FBI National Academy Association. He was well-known and respected within a wide circle of law enforcement professionals.

In addition to his wife Becky, Tracy is survived by daughters Tammy Andersiand and Leslie, son Michael Sean, grandchildren Aaron and Kendall Andersiand and Ellisse Tracy, parents Dorthea and Andy Acampora, and in-laws Pat and Ray Hendershot.

Vanderpool is survived by his wife Billy Jean, daughters Kathleen and Debra, son Thomas, father Vernie T. Vanderpool, sisters Judith Gow and Debra Frazee, and brothers Raymond and Russell Vanderpool.

A memorial fund for both officers was established. Contributions should be mailed to: Palos Verdes POA, RO. Box 1153, Palos Verdes Estates, CA 90274.

Clarence Wayne Dean was not your typical cop. “God put Wayne in our lives as a gift,” said police chaplain Sgt. Ron Moen, “to bring laughter to a hurting world.”

More than 1,000 persons came to Rose Hills Cemetery in Whittier to remember the veteran Los Angeles Police Department motorcycle officer. Dean plunged to his death off a broken elevated section of the Antelope Valley Freeway minutes after sections of the freeway collapsed in the January 17, 1994 earthquake.

The graveside ceremony included traditional honors for an officer fallen in the line of duty: an honor guard salute, a riderless horse a helicopter flyby. But at the request of his family, to honor Dean’s individuality, taste for adventure and sense of humor, the service ended on an unconventional note.

As Los Angeles Mayor Richard Riordan, LAPD Chief Willie L. Williams and other dignitaries looked on, loudspeakers blasted out Dean’s favorite song, Steppenwolf’s “Born To Be Wild.”

“Get your motor running/ Head out on the highway/ Looking for adventure/ In whatever comes our way.” The song’s opening words personified Dean his friends said: a man looking for adventure.

Dean, 46, had left his Lancaster home and was on the freeway headed for work within minutes of the powerful 4:31 a.m. quake, even though his shift did not start for more than two hours. “I can only assume that he was hurrying on in because of the earthquake,” said Lt. Bob Normandy.

Dean was killed when he rounded a bend on the transition road from the Antelope Valley Freeway to the southbound Golden State Freeway. A section of the elevated road had collapsed in the quake, and Dean could not stop before plunging 30 feet off the severed roadway.

The gregarious Dean was remembered at the service as a man with a ready smile, a taste for practical jokes, and a ready stock of stories. “He was a great guy, one of those guys that everybody seems to know,” said Officer Jim Johnson.

Dean joined the Los Angeles force in 1968 after four years in the Marines, leaving the military with the rank of sergeant. He had been a motorcycle officer for ten years. In November 1993 he hurt his back and took a desk job. After the holidays, he returned to work healthy enough to go back on the street. He had been back only several days when he headed for work early the day of the quake.

“He could have come up with a million excuses why he couldn’t go to work that day,” said Officer Bill Harkness, Dean’s colleague in the LAPD’s Valley Traffic Division and a friend for 27 years. “But he got up, put on his uniform and went in. I consider Clarence Wayne Dean a hero,” Harkness continued. “No, he’s not a textbook hero. He was an everyday hero, the guy who made you feel good, who knew his obligation to his city.”

Dean is survived by his son Guy, daughter Traci Skaggs, mother Ruth, sisters Cindy Ramey and Debbie Barton, and brother Jimmy.

Martin Ganz knew the dangers of the profession, yet he decided as a teen-ager that he had to be a police officer. Family members worried for him but celebrated the way he achieved his goal.

During funeral services, they mourned the death of the lifelong Garden Grove resident gunned down while working as a Manhattan Beach police officer.

“He just had so many dreams and he accomplished them, and the family was very proud of him,” said Janet Chase, of Las Vegas, one of Ganz’s sisters. “We also were scared because it’s a dangerous world and (police work) is a dangerous profession to pick. But that is what he wanted, so the family supported him.”

Ganz was killed Dec. 27, 1993 when an ordinary traffic stop turned deadly.

As his teen-aged nephew watched from the passenger seat of his patrol car, a driver Ganz had stopped opened fire. Ganz, who worked with youths teaching drug awareness, was 29.

Garden Grove officer Rick Wagner, who attended Garden Grove High School with Ganz, said that becoming a police officer had been Ganz’s ambition. Ganz had been an Explorer Scout and served as a reserve officer in Garden Grove, Buena Park and Santa Ana before he was hired by the Manhattan Beach Police Department in 1989.

The killing had reopened wounds at the Garden Grove Police Department, still recovering from the death last March of officer Howard Dallies, Jr., 36, also during a traffic stop.

Friends and relatives remember Ganz as a family-oriented man who recently bought the home that he and his five sisters grew up in, so it would stay in the family. Relatives say he planned to propose to his girlfriend of six months on Valentine’s Day.

“He was a sensitive guy. He cared about everyone, said his sister, Mary Plaff.

Ganz joined the Manhattan Beach Police Department as a community-service officer teaching seatbelt safety to children. He helped create a Woody Woodpecker coloring book used throughout the state, said his roommate, Fred Winters.

A stream of friends, associates and sympathizers turned the sight of the shooting into an impromptu shrine with wreaths, bouquets and condolence cards.

Ganz, who was single, taught anti-drug abuse education programs in the city’s elementary schools, served on the special weapons team and normally worked as a motorcycle officer.

“He probably arrested more guys than anyone else in the department,” said officer Gregg McMullin. “You name it. He arrested everybody. He was not only able to make a lot of arrests, but he worked well with kids as a DARE officer,” McMullin said. “There are plenty of kids in the community that know him.”

As a DARE instructor, he had come to be highly regarded by not only the students, but teachers in the local schools as well. He was very well-liked, he was a friend to all. Everyone in the department is taking it very hard.”

Donations may be made to Martin Ganz Memorial Fund, do the Manhattan Beach Police Officers Association, American Savings Bank, 201 Manhattan Beach Blvd., Manhattan Beach, CA 90266.

The convicted murderer of Ganz was sentenced to death in Los Angeles County Superior Court, Torrance.

The controversy surrounding the Christmas Day shooting death of Orange County Sheriff’s Deputy Darryn Leroy Robins was momentarily forgotten during a funeral service that celebrated the life of an outstanding lawman, a fun-loving prankster and a dedicated husband and father.

More than 1,200 law enforcement officials in full dress and friends and family gathered for a wrenching, two-hour eulogy at First Church of God to honor the 30-year-old deputy. Robins’ widow, Rosemary sat with their 18-month-old daughter, Melissa, who fidgeted with her bonnet and drank from her bottle, too young to understand the sadness at hand.

“Rest in peace. A job well done. We will never forget you,” said Orange County Sheriff Brad Gates, who along with many others praised Robins’ accomplishments during his eight years with the department.

The popular officer was shot by fellow Deputy Brian P. Scanlan as they were re-enacting an earlier traffic stop in a deserted parking lot behind a Lake Forest movie theater on Christmas Day 1993. Scanlan had a loaded gun during the drill and shot Robins in the face.

“It’s harder for us because it was an accident, you really can’t blame anyone,” said Deputy Gary Byerley, who worked with Robins for two years in Lake Forest. “I think that’s what Darryn would say. They (Robins and Scanlan) were really good friends.”

Robins, who lived in Torrance, “was the kind of man who enjoyed making others smile usually through a joke or good-natured prank,” Byerley said. Friends say Robins lived for his work and his family, but especially for his daughter Melissa, who he often referred to as his “bag of diamonds.”

“He was just always a joker always happy,” Byerley said. “He didn’t like crooks, but he was always fair. He’d cut somebody a break if he thought they deserved it.”

Gates described Robins as a an outstanding deputy who was always “striving to improve.”

“Just days before his death, Robins had addressed more than 1,400 school children through the department’s outreach program, telling them that he would always be available if they ever needed his advice,” Deputy Duane Turner said.

It seemed to be a calling for Robins, who would reinvigorate drug and gang talks by setting them to rap music, earning him the nickname Deputy “Rappin” Robins.

Sheriff Brad Gates mourned Robins in a written statement saying his death “is difficult for us to comprehend… He was truly an officer who cared, and his memory will not be forgotten in the community he served.”

Robins is survived by his wife, Rosemary, and their daughter, Melissa; his mother Mildred Fisher of Los Angeles; and three sisters, Venita Davis, Vanessa Ratliff and Laronda Magee.

Donations may be made to Project 999, c/o Orange Co. Sheriff’s Dept. Advisory Council, P.O. Box 241, Santa Ana, CA 92702. Please put Officer Robins’ name in the check’s memo section.

Nearly 2,000 people, including hundreds of officers whose squad cars jammed city streets, gathered at St. Basil’s Church in Vallejo to bid farewell to Oakland Police officer William B. Grijalva, who was gunned down during a confrontation over a pit bull terrier, Dec. 15, 1993.

The officers came from throughout Northern California and from as far away as San Diego to attend the services for the popular 41 -year-old patrolman who was set to retire in November, after completing 20 years on the force.

Grijalva, who lived in Benicia with his wife and two children, was eulogized by both department brass and fellow beat officers as a good man who exemplified the finest traditions of a policeman.

“He was a man’s man and a cop’s cop, Oakland Police Chief Joseph Samuels told the near 1,000 people seated in the church and more than 500 officers standing in formation outside. “He demonstrated it is right and it is moral for you to have a tough mind and a tender heart, Samuels said.

Grijalva, born in San Jose, attended primary and secondary schools there, graduated from Mt. Pleasant High School, and attended San Jose City College and San Jose State University. He served in the U.S. Coast Guard and, prior to joining tile Oakland Police Department, was a reserve deputy sheriff for the Santa Clara County Sheriff’s Department.

Appointed as an Oakland Police Officer on Nov. 15, 1974, he completed the 81st Recruit Academy, finishing second in his class. He served in the Patrol Division, Vice Control Division, and the Walking Detail.

On Jan. 9, 1979, Grijalva was awarded the department’s highest award, the Medal of Valor for entering a burning building, locating an unconscious invalid woman, and carrying her to safety. He was the recipient of many letters from citizens and merchants expressing appreciation for the manner in which he performed his duties.

While assigned to the department’s vice division, Grijalva earned a national reputation as one of the department’s experts in child sex crime cases. He was also a hostage negotiator.

Other officers and a neighbor remembered Grijalva as an avid fisherman, a Trivial Pursuit fanatic, and as a dedicated soccer and Little League coach.

Officers said Grijalva, a patrolman assigned to walk the Diamond District for the last several years, seemed to have a knack for showing up when most needed.

Deputy Chief Robert Nitchelini said it was not surprising that Grijalva was the one who responded to a call off his beat to assist another officer.

“He heard another officer needed help and he went to cover him. That was like him… unselfish, always helping his brother officer out,” Nitchelini said.

A trust fund for officer Grijalva’s family has been established at the Wells Fargo Bank, 2020 Webster St., Oakland 94612. Donations may also be mailed to the Oakland Police Officers Association, 717 Washington St., Oakland 94607.

More than 10,000 people turned out Dec. 7, 1993 to give a fallen police officer the largest hero’s sendoff in Ventura County’s history.

Oxnard Police Detective James Edward O’Brien, 35, was buried with full police honors, including a 21-gun salute by the Los Angeles Police Department’s honor guard.

“That Jim O’Brien gave his life as part of his commitment to public service humbles all of us gathered here today,” said Oxnard Police Chief Harold Hurtt. “He was a person like you and me. He had a family, he had many friends, and he had hopes for the future – all of which were cut short by a mindless act of violence.”

In addition to the 5,000 mourners, another 5,000 people lined streets and freeway bridges along the route of the five-mile-long motorcade that carried O’Brien to his final resting place at Santa Clara Cemetery in Oxnard.

They were there to celebrate the life of the officer who was shot to death Thursday, Dec. 2, 1993, while pursuing gunman Alan Winterbourne, who had killed three people at the Oxnard employment office.

The Rev. Liam Kidney, who officiated at the funeral Mass, described O’Brien as a “cop’s cop.” “He loved being a cop,” Kidney said. “He loved being where the action was. Being a policeman was his life.”

His widow, Leslie O’Brien, sat stoically through the tributes to her fallen husband. She was flanked by her children, Kathryn Elizabeth, 8, and Sean Patrick, 6.

“His children were the most important,” Kidney said. “He was proud of the children. He also loved his wife, his mother, his brother and his sisters.”

O’Brien’s brother Tom, the football coach at Santa Clara High School, said he had become very close to his brother following the death of their father Thomas, in 1987.

O’Brien was the third officer of the Oxnard Police Department killed in the line of duty since October 1971.

Born July 30, 1958, in Long Beach, O’Brien was a longtime Ventura County resident.

He was awarded the Medal of Valor by the Peace Officers Association of Ventura County in 1991 for saving the life of a resident in La Colonia.

He was a member of the Oxnard Police Officers’ Association, Ventura County Peace Officers’ Association, Peace Officers’ Research Association of California, and California Narcotics’ Officer Association.

O’Brien attended California Lutheran University and was a graduate of Ventura College and Hueneme High School.

The Bank of A. Levy and the Channel Islands National Bank are both accepting money for the Jim E. O’Brien Memorial Trust Fund. The money for the memorial fund will be used to support some of the projects O’Brien worked hard on such as keeping children out of gangs and fighting graffiti.

Another trust fund for O’Brien’s wife and two young children is being administered by the Channel Islands National Bank in Oxnard.

(The following article was written by CHP Inland Division Air Operation Flight Officer Davis Rouse as a tribute to fellow Air Operations Officer Larry Jaramillo and in remembrance of a good friend.)

On June 22, 1993, Officer Larry Jaramillo lost his life in an on-duty traffic collision while returning from court. Without warning, one of our finest was cruelly taken from us. Sadly, he was not the first this year. Once again we mourn for a departed comrade and experience the profound sense of loss we all feel when one of our own is lost.

The faces of his children filled my mind and brought tears to my eyes. I reflected on our friendship, the time we had shared together and the many things we had in common. A unique and special person among an organization of special people was gone forever.

I had the opportunity to work with Larry as both a peer and a supervisor. I admired and respected him for his dedication and sense of duty. He worked hard to get where he was and once there, worked even harder to better himself.

His attitude was always positive, and he was an excellent representative of our air operations unit and the department as a whole. The overwhelming representation of law enforcement agencies and the many civilians who turned out to pay their final respects to Larry was a tribute to his character.

He once performed unassisted CPR for 20 minutes on an accident victim who had little chance of survival under the best of conditions. Additionally, the victim weighed nearly 300 pounds and was trapped inside his truck.

On another occasion, he was solely responsible for saving the lives of two teen-aged boys stranded in the mountains after a severe snow storm. This he did at some risk to his own safety.

Despite his reluctance to accept recognition for his achievements, Larry was honored as the CHP’s Latino Peace Officer of the Year shortly before his death.

Earlier in the year, I had the pleasure of nominating him for the state’s Special Act Award for the aforementioned rescue of two youths. His wife, June, who is also a traffic officer assigned to the Barstow area, accepted the award for Larry at his memorial service.

Larry came from a large and close-knit family. He was the father of three beautiful daughters whom he loved very much. He was a former Marine, having served with an elite recon unit. He took pride in having worn the Marine uniform and I know he was proud to wear the uniform of the California Highway Patrol.

We must now say farewell to our comrade. We shall all mourn him, but for those of us who called him friend and for those who loved him, the pain of our loss is deeper and the sorrow greater.

Our lives have been made richer for having known him. Our fond and cherished memories of him will live on forever in our hearts and minds. Goodbye friend, you will not lie forgotten.

A trust fund has been established for Jaramillo’s family. Please make check to CHP-1199 Foundation, P0. Box 811, Norwalk, CA 90651-0811, in memory of Larry Jaramillo.

It was a poignant story, the kind of tale that reduces scores of hardened police veterans to tears.

Without fail, Sheriff’s Deputy Kent Hintergardt could play gently with his 16-month-old daughter Marissa, whenever he got home from work, recalled his good friend, Deputy Kevin Koehler. But early Sunday morning, May 9, 1993, Hintergardt’s wife, Linda, awoke to hear her daughter joyously giggling for no apparent reason.

Later that morning Linda Hintergardt would learn that her daughter had awakened just moments after her husband had been shot and killed. Through some miracle, Koehler noted, Kent Hintergardt had come home one last time.

More than 2,500 police officers from Southern California converged in Riverside to pay their last respects for the slain sheriff’s deputy who was shot in the head at close range as he stood in the parking lot of a Temecula apartment complex where he was investigating an early-morning domestic dispute.

At the funeral service at Harvest Christian Fellowship on Arlington Avenue, and later during graveside services at Crestlawn Memorial Park, it was clear that the loss of the man who many were calling one of the best deputies in the Sheriff’s Department had hit hard.

“This is the most difficult of duties,” said Sheriff Cois Byrd, as he began a brief eulogy for the deputy who was shot and killed by a man who choked his girlfriend to death and later shot and killed himself.

The death of the former Los Angeles jail deputy assigned to the Temecula Police Department, Byrd said, “is a loss to the entire community of a fine, outstanding young man who had his life in front of him.”

Hintergardt, 33, was survived by his pregnant wife, Linda, who works as a nurse, and their daughter Marissa.

Linda Hintergardt said her husband was a sportsman and athlete. He loved boating and water and snow skiing. He ran and kept in good physical shape. The family enjoyed spending weekends at their mountain cabin.

She said her husband started his law-enforcement career in 1989 as a deputy with the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department, after graduating from the LA County Sheriff’s Academy.

“He always was the guy who helped us look at the bright side of a situation, Deputy Koehler who worked with Hintergardt in Temecula. “He didn’t complain, and the people on the streets didn’t complain about him.”

Hintergardt was also recalled as a doting father who loved his daughter Marissa, as much as life itself.

Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Deputy Doug Shive said he got to know Hintergardt when they both attended the sheriff’s academy in South Whittier.

“The same characteristics he had as a boy, he brought with him as a man,” Shive told those gathered.

Shive concluded his eulogy saying, “The greatest tragedy is not a short life, but an empty life… Kent lived a full life.”

A trust fund has been set up for Hintergardt’s widow and children. Please send contributions to: Linda Hintergardt, North County Bank, 27425 Ynez Road, Temecula, CA 92593.

During a quiet but emotional ceremony, more than 2,000 family members, friends, and law officers honored California Highway Patrol Sgt. John L. Steel who was killed April 23, 1993 in a head-on collision on his way to work in Santa Ana from Lake Forest.

Riding to work in full uniform and helmet, Steel, 47, became the l7lst CHP officer killed in the line of duty the fourth in Orange County. He also was the second Orange County law officer killed in less than two months.

The services for Steel, a 20-year veteran of the CHP, filled the 1,900-seat Calvary Church in Santa Ana to capacity.

“I am told that John would not be comfortable being called a hero,” said Thomas Sayles, who oversees the CHP as State Secretary of Business and Transportation. “But that’s what he was, and that is what we need in these troubled times… John’s untimely death was a stark reminder of the danger our officers face.”

Steel’s funeral service was attended by CHP Commissioner Maury Hannigan, from Sacramento, and a contingent of officers from Houston, where a friend of Steel’s is a patrol officer. The Texas contingent had driven to California with their headlights on in tribute.

In the church, Steel’s wife, Virginia, sat with her two sons, Jake, 17, and Jordan, 13. She selected two songs for the service, “I’ll Leave Something Good Behind,” by Barbara Mandrell, intended as a tribute from her husband to her sons, and “Wind Beneath My Wings,” by Bette Midler, as her tribute to her husband.

Steel, a longtime participant in Police Olympics and softball teams, was remembered by friends as a father figure and mentor a man who could clown around but who also knew just what to say to defuse a tense situation.

“He had the comic timing of a Jack Benny,” said Matt Clark, a longtime friend who recently retired from the CHP. Clark said Steel used humor to relax officers before inspections, or at accident scenes to calm victims.

During Steel’s career he received numerous commendations for his work as a patrol sergeant and received letters of appreciation from area law enforcement agencies and the Secret Service. Steel was the coordinator of protective details assigned to visiting dignitaries such as Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher and Presidents Ronald Reagan and George Bush.

A 1963 graduate of Herbert Hoover High School in San Diego, Steel majored in business law and finance at Mesa College, California State University, San Diego, and tile University of Southern California. He joined the Highway Patrol in July 1972.

“He had enough time on the job to be transferred out to the woods, to the mountains, to the beach, but he liked Orange County,” said Officer Bernard who works at the Newhall station. “The congestion, the traffic. It didn’t bother him.”

“When we think of John, there are tears, and those tears are for us, said CHP station Chief Richard Layne. “And then there’s a smile, and that smile is for John.”

The biggest tribute came from Virginia Steel, who was quoted by Lane from the podium: “No better words could be put on a tombstone than these: He left nothing unsaid. He left nothing undone.

Officers and staff working out of the King City office of the California Highway Patrol (CHP) are mourning the loss of brother officer John N. McVeigh Jr., 38, of King City a 13-year veteran of the CHP.

McVeigh died Saturday, April 17, 1993, on Highway 198, five miles east of San Lucas, while responding to a call of an injury traffic accident. His patrol vehicle was hit broadside by a 1987 Toyota 4×4 pickup after skidding into its path.

The driver of the truck, Amilcar Hernandez, 38, of Salinas was critically injured in the crash. A passenger in the truck, Alejandro Hernendez, 20, also of Salinas, received minor injuries.

According to the autopsy, Officer McVeigh suffered massive internal injuries including a severed aorta. He died instantly.

McVeigh was recently honored as the 1992 Officer of the Year in the King City office. During that year he made more than 2,500 enforcement contacts, most of which were for violations identified as primary reasons why collisions occur.

McVeigh began his career in 1980 after graduating from the CHP academy in Sacramento. He served in Westminster Redwood City and Monterey before joining the King City office at the end of 1991.

“It’s nothing I have ever dreamed of,” said an emotionally spent and physically exhausted Bob Davies, Commander of the CHP’s King City office. “It’s every commander’s worst nightmare. It makes it harder because John McVeigh was truly the cream of the crop.

Close friends for many years and fellow runners, Davies recalled one of his proudest moments – sharing the victory stand at the Police Olympics with Officer McVeigh.

“We were one/two in the steeplechase,” laughed Davies as he fought back tears. “Of course John was first. I never saw his front… always his back.”

Following the funeral, Davies was finally able to relax at home after spending the past two days dealing with the aftermath of the death of a beloved officer and cherished friend.

“It’s the worst 48 hours I have ever spent in my life,” Davies said. “We’re survivors by nature… we’re trained to deal with this……. and it still hurts.”

A native Californian, Officer McVeigh was raised in Daly City, attended St. Ignatius High School in San Francisco and graduated from Santa Clara University where he studied accounting. He was a member of the patrol for 13 years.

McVeigh is survived by his wife Danielle; two stepdaughters, Hallie, 17, and Meagan, 16; stepson Bret Wyatt; parents, John McVeigh, Sr. of Pacifica and Bernadette McVeigh of Daly City; a brother and four sisters.

Memorials are requested to the California Highway Patrol Widows and Orphans Fund, 2030 V Street, Sacramento, CA 95818 or St. Ignatius Athletic Fund, 2001 37th Ave., San Francisco, CA 94116.

A memorial fund to benefit Officer McVeigh’s family has been established. Donations may be made to Bank of Salinas.