Narcotics investigator Richard B. Hammack, who was gunned down by an alleged drug dealer May 11, 1992, was the first Antelope Valley deputy to be shot and killed in the line-of-duty since Constable Gordon H. Glidden in 1920.

Friends said Hammack, a 7 1/2-year veteran of the department, was a longtime Antelope Valley resident, a former semipro hockey player, an avid weight lifter, and a motorcycle enthusiast.

Above all, they said, Hammack was a deputy who loved his job.

“He was described to me as a policeman’s policeman – that’s the highest compliment you can give,” said Capt. Tony Welch, commander of the Antelope Valley sheriff’s station.

Hammack, 31, of Lancaster, was killed by three bullets in a gun battle that erupted as deputies tried to serve a search warrant to a suspected drug dealer, John White, in a mobile home park.

Reports of the shooting indicated that White may have fired his rifle through the mobile home’s walls, driving two deputies from the residence. White was later killed by deputies returning fire. All of the bullets that struck Hammack during the raid were determined to have been fired from the rifle of the suspect.

Hammack, who was not assigned to enter the house and was not wearing a bulletproof vest, was said by witnesses to have entered the mobile home when he heard gunshots.

Virtually all law enforcement officers are issued lifesaving bullet-proof vests and encouraged to wear them. But often that is not enough, as in the case of Hammack, who was fatally shot in the face.

Murder charges against Dell Nickos, White’s common-law wife, were dropped by the Los Angeles County District Attorney’s office. She still faces felony charges related to the shootings and an amount of methamphetamine found in her mobile home.

Friends said Hammack had plans to marry his girlfriend, Tammy Zeiner. The wedding was to take place in June.

Hammack was born in Bakersfield and moved to the Antelope Valley when he was 7. He attended Quartz Hill High School. He worked hauling alfalfa for one of the area farms, but left the valley while still in his teens to play semipro hockey in the East, Deputy Chris Haymond said.

Hammack joined the Sheriff’s Department in 1984. His career included stints as a jailer in the Antelope Valley, a patrol deputy at Lynwood station, and as a detective with the fugitive detail in Los Angeles, before returning to the valley about two years ago.

He worked as a patrol deputy and then spent eight months on the gang detail before moving over to the Palmdale narcotics squad two months ago.

“He, like the rest of us, wanted to get the people that prey on society off the streets,” Haymond said.

Sgt. Greg Collins, who heads the valley gang detail, said Hammack was a motorcycle enthusiast who had a Harley-Davidson motorcycle that was kept in impeccable shape. He became an expert on outlaw motorcycle gangs.

“He projected an aura of respect to those he talked with,” Collins said. “He would walk up to store owners and shake their hands and let them know we were there.”

Deputies remembered Hammack as being so enthusiastic about his career that he would volunteer for seminars and ride-alongs during his off time.

“He truly loved to be a deputy sheriff,” Sgt. Bobby Denham said. “When he was a jailer he used to ride with me on his own time to learn more about being a patrol deputy. He wanted to get out on the streets and be a cop.”

Hammack is survived by his fiancée, Tammy L. Zeiner; son, Richard; father, Richard Hammack of Quartz Hill; mother, Bonnie Hammack of Bakersfield; and three sisters, Lori Banks, Jennifer Hammack, and Julianne Johnson, all of Bakersfield.

Marina Dept. of Public Safety officers wore black ribbons across their badges to mourn the death of Kolone Kolone Jr., a 42-year-old officer who collapsed and died April 20, 1992 while chasing a man wanted on drug warrants.

Kolone’s death was caused by a heart attack, according to an autopsy. Police Commander Bill Pierpoint said the autopsy results showed that Kolone didn’t have heart disease, but that there was partial blockage of his heart vessels. “His heart failed under the stress of running,” Pierpoint said.

Kolone had been assisting in the chase of Ronald Wayne Carr, 32, of Marina when he collapsed. Carr had a history of resisting arrest in encounters with Marina police.

Two paramedics who were conducting a training class nearby responded to the call for assistance. Efforts to revive the fallen officer by cardiopulmonary resuscitation failed, and Kolone died at Community Hospital of the Monterey Peninsula.

Carr was eventually captured by another Marina officer and was booked into County Jail on suspicion of murder in connection with Kolone’s death while he was resisting arrest. The charges were dropped because of insufficient evidence.

Kolone, a native of American Samoa, was a 22-year Army veteran who had retired earlier this year as a first sergeant. He had served with the Headquarters Company of the First Battalion, 9th Infantry at Ford Ord.

A resident of Marina for several years, Kolone had began volunteer reserve duty with the Marina police force in November. He became a paid reserve officer on April 1 although he had not yet graduated from a police academy. At the time of the chase, he was being trained by Senior Officer Kenneth Bartlett.

“We’re going to miss this man. We had hopes of this man being a fine addition to our department,” Pierpoint said, noting that Kolone had already helped on several occasions in working with Marina’s Samoan residents and communicating with them in Samoan.

“It’s tragic, whether an officer dies from a bullet from an offender or collapses in a chase,” Pierpoint said.

A resident of Marina since 1985, Kolone was active at St. Jude’s Catholic church and was going to become a lay reader this year, Pierpoint said. He was a graduate of Golden Gate University with a bachelor’s degree in police science.

Among his numerous service medals are the Bronze Service medal, the Army Good Conduct medal (seventh award), the Vietnam Cross of Gallantry Unit Citation with Palm, the Army Achievement and Army Commendation medals, both with first Oak Leaf Cluster, three Professional Development ribbons, and the Vietnam Service Medal with 30 Oak Leaf Clusters.

He was a member of the Marina Peace Officers Association, the Veterans of Foreign Wars Post No. 811 in Marina, and Menehune Golf Club at Fort Ord.

He is survived by his wife, Tomato, and two children, Connie, 14, and Jason, 11, parents, Kolone and Tauvale Kolone of American Samoa; his grandmother, Leuiga Ua of Long Beach; and five brothers and three sisters.

A trust fund for the education of Kolone’s children has been established at: Coast Federal Bank, 264 Reservation Road, Marina.

Southern California’s law enforcement community, feeling battered and bitter, gave an extraordinary tribute to one of its own April 7, 1992, as nearly 4,000 uniformed officers saluted the copper coffin of slain Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Deputy Nelson H. Yamamoto.

It was a day of solidarity and pride, a time for officers to take stock of their lives and mission as they gathered with family members and friends for the funeral services for the 26-year-old deputy.

Deputy Yamamoto died March 31, 1992 of complications related to four gunshot wounds he received in a brief firefight that ensued while investigating a disturbance call in the unincorporated area of Los Angeles County of Walnut Park on March 29. He was the first deputy slain in the line-of-duty since 1989.

The Gardena resident was in his second month of a six-month mandatory training period at the Firestone substation where he had been assigned since Jan. 30.

“He (Yamamoto) had a great rapport with everybody here,” said Lt. Jim Taylor, one of the watch commanders at the Firestone substation. “He was a trainee so he spent a lot of time studying and learning.”

Taylor explained that the officers at the substation expressed a great deal of frustration and confusion after hearing about Yamamoto’s death.

Yamamoto graduated from the Sheriff’s Training Academy on May 26, 1989 and was assigned to the Hall of Justice jail where he worked for two-and-a-half years before being transferred to the Firestone substation. During his stint at the jail, he worked three months at the Inmate Reception Center.

A graduate from North Torrance High School, Yamamoto attended El Camino College and later went to the California State University, Dominguez Hills, before entering the sheriff’s academy.

The incident which ended Yamamoto’s life took place at about 8:10 p.m. March 29, 1992, when he and two other deputies went to investigate a complaint that two men with guns had threatened a neighbor.

After being directed to a garage that was converted to a residence, deputies peered into one of the windows and observed at least two armed male Hispanics.

One of the two suspects suddenly exited the house and repeatedly fired a handgun at deputies, thereby wounding Yamamoto. The suspect continued to run down the driveway toward the street and out of sight, Deputy Gabe Ramirez of the Sheriff’s Information Bureau said.

A third suspect was shot and killed by deputies at the scene.

According to a report, Yamamoto managed to empty all 16 rounds from his 9-millimeter semi-automatic handgun. Yamamoto suffered wounds in his abdomen, shoulder, leg, and foot by bullets fired from a .357 magnum.

Yamamoto’s alleged killer, Cesar Uriel Mazariego-Molina, was shot and killed April 6, by police troopers in upstate New York after he repeatedly ignored their commands and attempted to run over them.

Yamamoto, who lived with his parents in Torrance, was remembered as a modest, dedicated, athletic young man who had recently announced his intention to marry his high school sweetheart, Michele Tomei.

The youngest of three children born to Henry and Jane Yamamoto, he had grown up studying martial arts, playing Little League baseball, and attending a Baptist Sunday school.

“We will miss Nelson – a personable, quiet, sensitive, hard-working, dedicated, meticulous human being with a lot of heart,” Sheriff Sherman Block said. “Truly a good cop. Truly a hero.”

An estimated 200 law enforcement vehicles with headlights shining in the rain formed a procession along Highway 299 from Burney to Fall River Mills for the funeral services of Shasta County Deputy Kenn Perrigo who was shot to death on Oct. 21, 1991.

Earlier that morning President George Bush telephoned Perrigo’s wife Debra to express his condolences.

The intermountain area, Including those in the Mexican community, breathed a sigh of relief as word spread that the two men suspected of killing Deputy Perrigo had been captured. The suspects were apprehended without incident bringing a close to a five-day manhunt, deemed the largest and longest in Shasta County’s history.

The suspects, Tomas Cruz and Carlos Estrada, were arrested by Deputy Perrigo for being intoxicated in public. They allegedly shot him in the back of the head and neck several times with his own 9 mm Smith and Wesson as he transported them to a Redding jail.

The two Mexican farm laborers took off on foot from the patrol car that crashed a short distance from the seven-mile dirt road into Goose Valley.

Authorities have not indicated who did the shooting and who was able to reach under the patrol car’s dividing metal cage to take Perrigo’s pack containing his gun from the front seat.

Perrigo first worked for the department in Redding as a civilian cook. Lt. Herb Davidson said he was hired by the Shasta County Sheriff’s Department in 1983 and worked in the jail until he was assigned to patrol in Burney in 1986. He was a member of the department’s Special Weapons and Tactics (SWAT) team.

“He was a dedicated, conscientious employee, who just wanted to serve his community,” said fellow Burney Deputy Jacque Booker. “He loved living here. What can I say. I worked with him day in and day out. He just wanted to do a good Job.”

Perrigo, a deputy for nine years, is the fifth Shasta County Sheriff’s deputy to be killed in the line of duty and the second to lose his life in the past 10 years, according to department records.

He was a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter day Saints in Fall River Mills and Shasta County Peace Officers Association, and was Scoutmaster of Boy Scout Troop 216 in Fall River Mills. He was a U.S. Coast Guard veteran.

In addition to his wife, Perrigo is survived by his daughters Kady, 11, and Kala, 7, and two-year-old son Jared; parents Kenneth (a retired CHP officer) and Eileen of Redding; brother Mark of Waldport, Ore.; and sister Lisa Knox of Red Bluff.

More than 800 officers gathered in Fairfield to honor a man described as having a deep love for growing things and who gave his life trying to save others.

Representatives of law enforcement agencies throughout the San Francisco Bay Area congregated at the Holy Spirit Church for services for Fairfield resident and Oakland police officer John Grubensky.

Grubensky, 32, died Oct. 20, 1991, trying to save five Oakland hills residents from the fire storm that swept through the area. All died in their efforts to find safety.

“I was not surprised,” said Oakland police officer Wendy Rae after the service when describing her former partner’s actions. “It was something he would do. He would help anyone. He took care of me and he took care of his family.”

More than 200 officers filled half the pews inside the church while friends and family filled the rest. Outside, officers from Los Banos to Mendocino County stood in ranks more than 50 across and 10 deep.

Respectful silence outside the church was punctuated only by the sigh of the breeze-blown trees and the crackled commands from patrol car scanners. More than 100 police motorcycles filled the street outside. Overhead, helicopters flew by in a “missing man” formation.

Oakland police Capt. Steven Jensen said this was the second time Holy Spirit Church has held services for an Oakland police officer killed in the line-of-duty.

Grubensky, a father of three, was described as a man with “a disarming sense of humor,” a love of nature, a passion for gardening, diving and the outdoors, and a great devotion to his family.

Grubensky took no unnecessary risks in his dangerous profession, but was willing to put his life on the line to save others, fellow officers said.

“He had an extremely level-headed courage,” Jensen said. “He did not shrink from danger.”

Another officer, who attended the Oakland police academy with Grubensky, described him as a careful man.

“He weighed this out,” the officer said. “There was a chance to die, but he thought ‘I am their last hope.’ It was only a freak accident that he’s not here today.”

Grubensky risked his life during the Oct. 17, 1989, earthquake that collapsed the Cypress overpass. He crawled through the freeway’s unstable rubble looking for victims pinned in their cars.

Grubensky volunteered for duty on Oct. 20, 1991 to pull an extra shift so he could pay for some projects he planned around the house, Jensen said during his eulogy.
The Oakland officer’s patrol car was trapped in the 6800 block of Charing Cross Road when several cars tumbled onto the roadway from a canyon road above, officers said.

“The charred hills will be green again,” Jensen said. “The animals will return. The houses will be rebuilt. The families will return. And among the families will be those who know they owe their lives to Officer John Grubensky.”

As each officer finished sharing their memories of the widely respected officer, they walked to widow Linda Grubensky, giving her a hug or a kiss and leaving a red rose in her lap.

More than 1,800 fellow law enforcement officers from San Diego and around the nation came to hear a fallen colleague eulogized as a caring police officer whose boyish looks belied his determination and dedication to his job.

San Diego Police Officer Ronald Wayne Davis, 24, also was a devoted family man and friend, the mourners at First United Methodist Church in Mission Valley were told.

“I remember looking at him, and I looked at this boyish face, and I said, ‘Nobody checked his ID. You’ve got to be 21 to be a cop, because he looked so young,” said Davis’ sergeant at the Police Academy, Frank Bucheit, recalling his first meeting with Davis.

“Well, I’ll tell you folks, he may have looked young and boyish, but, man, what a person he was.” “Ron Davis was a great spouse. Ron Davis was a great father. Ron Davis was a great friend. And he was a good cop,” Bucheit told the more than 2,000 mourners, including Davis’ widow, Wendy, and his sons, Matt and Luke.

The funeral service led Police Chief Bob Burgreen to question the need for guns in American society. Davis, the youngest of three sons of an Oregon family, was shot to death Sep. 17, 1991, while responding to a domestic dispute in Southeast San Diego.

Officer Davis and his partner observed a subject fitting the description of the suspect of the domestic violence incident in a vehicle in the parking lot of the residence. Officer Davis exited his vehicle in an attempt to contact the subject. The subject exited his vehicle and aimed a .45 caliber semi-automatic handgun at officer Davis from over the top of his vehicle. The subject fired at least five shots at Officer Davis, fatally wounding him in his upper torso.

Officer Davis’ partner returned the suspect’s fire; however, the suspect fled on foot. He remained at large for several hours before being found hiding behind a vehicle in the vicinity of the crime scene. Upon being discovered, the suspect fired one round to his head, committing suicide.

The gunman, Arnaldo Devilla Castillo, 30, a former hospital housekeeping aide, killed himself after an 11-hour manhunt at the apartment complex where the shooting took place.

In his eulogy, Bucheit said Davis “was a helper to us all, and he was a competitor. He wanted to win at all costs.” “He cared. He genuinely cared about the people that he worked with, and he cared about the people that he served in the community,” Bucheit said.

Davis has been praised by both fellow officers and residents for his role in cleaning up an apartment complex under a long-established police program called “problem-oriented policing.” He was slain at the same complex.

In an interview after the funeral, Wendy Davis said her husband and childhood sweetheart, loved his job.” “He was an officer. He was there for the people, and I think they knew that,” she told a reporter.

Also after the service, Chief Burgreen said Ron Davis “didn’t have a chance” in the incident. “There are some times when you never have a chance, and this is such a case,” the police chief said. “He stepped out of that car, and he’s not even out, and he gets shot by a man that he didn’t even know was armed.”

Burgreen went on to warn that “we have to get a handle on the guns” in the city. “I just have a generally bad feeling about the proliferation of guns, and the fact that almost anyone can get a gun at any time,” Burgreen said. “Not only can they, they are, and they are using them on innocent people. And police officers are just trying to do their jobs, and it makes me sick.

“As a society, we have to start asking ourselves, ‘What are we doing with all those guns out there, and do we really need them?”‘

Davis was born in Oregon and attended schools there. He later joined the Marines, went through the Marine Corps Recruit Depot, and was stationed at Camp Pendleton.

He was married and had two sons, one 4 and the other 18 months.

Davis graduated from the police academy in April 1990 and was presented the Hartless Spirit Award at the ceremony. Created by Shawn Dee Hartless, the award is based on four criteria, according to academy officials: leadership, inspiration, commitment, and “the unselfish desire to help others.” The winner receives an engraved flashlight.

Davis’ death ended a string of almost four years in which no San Diego police officer was killed in the line of duty. In the 1980s, when seven officers died.

The frame around his police motorcycle license plate read, “One more ticket and I get the microwave.”

Billy Jack will never get his microwave, but in three years on the Carlsbad Police Department, he won hundreds of friends from the barrio to City Hall.

Nearly 1,200 people, including more than 600 uniformed officers, gathered at Carlsbad Community Church to say farewell to William “Billy” Robert Jack.

The 30-year-old traffic officer, known to his colleagues as Billy Jack and “Billy the Kid,” died Sept. 1, 1991, of head injuries after being thrown from his motorcycle while on duty. He had been directing traffic after a labor Day weekend concert when he lost control of his motorcycle, hit a center divider, and crashed.

The joke on his license plate was typical of Jack’s sense of humor, friends said, but hardly reflected his serious dedication to his job.

“He had the zeal of a teenager,” said his supervisor, Sgt. Don Metcalf. “He was always exuberant – he could drive you crazy. He never had a bad day.”

Police Chief Bob Vales didn’t sanction the microwave joke when he discovered it a few months ago, but he decided to risk offending citizens and let Jack keep it. “I’m glad I did,” Vales said during the funeral service. “When I had the Billy Jacks of the world working for me, my job was a lot easier.”

Kids loved Jack, Vales said, and Jack loved playing the part of crime-fighting dog McGruff, running a bicycle safety class, and taking time to meet children around the city.

Frank Sorino, coach of a fledgling community boxing team for underprivileged youths whom Jack worked with, attended the funeral with several teens, saying, “It’s a loss to us, too.”

Also at the services were Mayor Bud Lewis, other city officials, and Escondido Police Chief Vincent Jimno, former chief in Carlsbad.

Jack, who lived in Oceanside, joined the department in July 1988 after two years with the Orange County Sheriff’s Department. He was engaged to marry Tina Cunniff of Oceanside.

His father, Kenneth, of Escondido, and two younger brothers, Curtis and Douglas, said William had wanted to be a police officer since he was a child.

“When we played war, he was always the Green Beret, the good guy,” remembered Douglas Jack. “He was destined to be a police officer – what else could you do when you are strong, silent, and constant?”

Their father, after telling the congregation of his pride in Jack’s accomplishments, patted his son’s flag-draped coffin in a parting caress.

Moments later, six pallbearers carried the coffin through a double row of uniformed Carlsbad officers to a waiting hearse as hundreds of other officers stood in the street, saluting.

Enroute to Eternal Hills Cemetery in Oceanside for Jack’s burial, a phalanx of nearly 100 motorcycle officers led a procession of nearly 100 more patrol cars from nearly every city in the county, plus Laguna Niguel, Atascadero, San Clemente, and Laguna Beach. The Border Patrol, California Highway Patrol, county marshals, State Park personnel, lifeguards, and the Carlsbad Fire Department also were represented.

Jack was born in San Jose on Feb. 28, 1961 and graduated from high school in Falmouth, Mass in 1979.

He worked for the Orange County Sheriff’s Department before joining the department in Carlsbad, where he was assigned to its traffic division in April.

Jack is survived by his mother, Annine Jack, of Oceanside; father, Kenneth Jack, of Escondido; brothers Curtis Jack of Oceanside and Douglas Jack, of Lake Buena Vista, Fla.; and grandparents Mr. and Mrs. James H. Jack of Southbury, Conn.

Charles Randy Champe and Gary A. Howe, veteran Los Angeles police officers who fought crime from the cockpit of a helicopter, were eulogized June 20 as heroes for keeping their aircraft from striking a day-care center and an elementary school as it plunged from the sky.

The two police officers were killed June 13, 1991, in a helicopter crash apparently caused when the helicopter’s engine failed on a routine patrol. More than 2,000 law enforcement officers from throughout Southern California converged on the Hollywood Hills to honor them.

“To our fellow officers who have departed, we can never say thank you, but we can remember. And we will,” said Deputy Chief Mark A. Krocker.

More than 30 helicopters saluted the fallen officers with a 10-minute flyover as part of the smoggy morning ceremony at Forest Lawn Memorial Park cemetery. The memorial service opened with a bagpipe rendition of “Amazing Grace” and ended 90 minutes later with the somber blasts of “Taps” from a gleaming trumpet.

Champe, 46, and Howe, 41, were remembered as brave and dedicated members of the department’s Air Support Division. Krocker – and later Police Chief Daryl F Gates – expressed concern that the officers’ “ultimate sacrifice” had gone unappreciated because of widespread civic criticism of the Police Department.

In remarks to reporters after the service, a solemn Gates agreed. “I am not sure the people really recognize the contributions that officers like these two make to the peace, safety, and good order of this city,” said Gates. “It makes all of these other issues pale into total insignificance.”

Police and military honor guards paid tribute to the two officers with a 21-gun salute, followed by the ceremonial folding of the American flags that had been draped over the caskets. Gates and Capt. Robert Woods, commanding officer of the Air Support Division, presented the flags to Sue Champe, and Lynette Howe the widows.

Champe, a 17-year veteran and the helicopter’s observer, was remembered by two Marines who had served with him in Vietnam. Bill Peters described his decorated war buddy as a quiet man who over the years “opened like a flower.”

Howe, a 20-year police veteran and pilot of the helicopter, was honored as a dedicated police officer and a devoted father and husband. In addition to his wife, Howe leaves three children, Stefani, 14, Robert, 10, and Brent, 8.

In memory of the two officers, Police Department officials said the unit designation “Air 12,” which had been assigned to Champe and Howe, will no longer be used by the department.

“We will never again hear from Air 12,” Officer Frank Provenzano, a former partner of Champe, told mourners. “Air 12, clear,” said Officer Bill Stough.

Charles Randy Champe and Gary A. Howe, veteran Los Angeles police officers who fought crime from the cockpit of a helicopter, were eulogized June 20 as heroes for keeping their aircraft from striking a day-care center and an elementary school as it plunged from the sky.

The two police officers were killed June 13, 1991, in a helicopter crash apparently caused when the helicopter’s engine failed on a routine patrol. More than 2,000 law enforcement officers from throughout Southern California converged on the Hollywood Hills to honor them.

“To our fellow officers who have departed, we can never say thank you, but we can remember. And we will,” said Deputy Chief Mark A. Krocker.

More than 30 helicopters saluted the fallen officers with a 10-minute flyover as part of the smoggy morning ceremony at Forest Lawn Memorial Park cemetery. The memorial service opened with a bagpipe rendition of “Amazing Grace” and ended 90 minutes later with the somber blasts of “Taps” from a gleaming trumpet.

Champe, 46, and Howe, 41, were remembered as brave and dedicated members of the department’s Air Support Division. Krocker – and later Police Chief Daryl F Gates – expressed concern that the officers’ “ultimate sacrifice” had gone unappreciated because of widespread civic criticism of the Police Department.

In remarks to reporters after the service, a solemn Gates agreed. “I am not sure the people really recognize the contributions that officers like these two make to the peace, safety, and good order of this city,” said Gates. “It makes all of these other issues pale into total insignificance.”

Police and military honor guards paid tribute to the two officers with a 21-gun salute, followed by the ceremonial folding of the American flags that had been draped over the caskets. Gates and Capt. Robert Woods, commanding officer of the Air Support Division, presented the flags to Sue Champe, and Lynette Howe the widows.

Champe, a 17-year veteran and the helicopter’s observer, was remembered by two Marines who had served with him in Vietnam. Bill Peters described his decorated war buddy as a quiet man who over the years “opened like a flower.”

Howe, a 20-year police veteran and pilot of the helicopter, was honored as a dedicated police officer and a devoted father and husband. In addition to his wife, Howe leaves three children, Stefani, 14, Robert, 10, and Brent, 8.

In memory of the two officers, Police Department officials said the unit designation “Air 12,” which had been assigned to Champe and Howe, will no longer be used by the department.

“We will never again hear from Air 12,” Officer Frank Provenzano, a former partner of Champe, told mourners. “Air 12, clear,” said Officer Bill Stough.