Sheriff’s Deputy Paul R. Bush was a burly weight lifter, but he often used his easy charm instead of muscle in defusing confrontations on the street. Yet, it appears the veteran lawman had little chance to speak to the young man he pulled over on a routine traffic stop Sept. 12, 1990. Investigators believe that Bush had just got Oscar Romero’s drivers license when the man pulled a gun and began blazing away. In seconds, both men lay dying on the ground.

Family and friends recalled the 37-year-old San Jose man as a dedicated, streetwise deputy who never let the difficulty of police work sour his giddy lust for life. “He realized there was a significant amount of danger to what he was doing, but he always considered himself very careful in what he did,” said Scotts Valley police Capt. Tom Bush, one of the deputy’s three brothers.

“He had such an ability to interact with people that he felt he could pretty much talk his way out of any situation. He could talk to people in all walks of life.”

Bush was a 12-year veteran who had enjoyed working a variety of assignments, including a six-year patrol stint, plain-clothes duty tracking down fugitives, and a tour as a jailer.

He occasionally wore a bulletproof vest, but wasn’t using one when he was wounded twice in the chest and once in the hip and the leg, said sheriff’s Sgt. Ken Dahn. Use of vests is voluntary in the department.

Bush’s death seemed doubly cruel, coming just eight months after he and wife, Colleen, celebrated the birth of their first child, Brett. “The son was the highlight of his life,” Tom Bush said as relatives gathered at the Soquel home of his parents, Charles and Isabelle Bush. “For the past eight months, all he could talk about was his son and his wife.”

Another brother, Steve Bush, said he felt “just tremendous anger” when he heard the news of his brother’s death. “You want to hit something,” he said.

At the sheriff’s department, a somber mood muffled the typically informal atmosphere.

Issie Mosunic, a warrants clerk who worked with Bush, said, “He was always happy, always kidding around. He always treated me like his mom. He was just a real caring, loving individual.”

Despite their sorrow, many friends smiled when asked what they remembered about Bush. He was a guy with a mischievous streak and a winning wit.

Sgt. Bill Cordoni, who supervised Bush when he worked in the warrants division, recalled the slain deputy as a happy-go-lucky guy’ who “used to pull all kinds of practical jokes on the guys.” Once, when a detective reneged on a promise, Bush and his partner filled their colleague’s car with styrofoam pellets, Cordoni recalled.

Bush was born in Long Beach and moved with his family to San Jose in the early 1960s. He graduated in 197l from Branham High School and attended West Valley and Cabrillo colleges, where he played football. He Joined the sheriff’s department in 1978. Bush loved classical music and was fascinated by Civil War history, taking his wife to visit historic sites while on vacation.

Sheriff Charles Gillingham said Bush’s work file is thick with letters of praise from citizens lauding his “great sensitivity and understanding of the situation” and his “kindness and thoroughness.” “He was an excellent officer for us,” Gillingham said. “His evaluations were always exceptional. It’s a real sad day for all of us.

Colorful eulogies echoed in the church.
Solemn banners fluttered along sidewalks.
White-gloved hands saluted crisply.
Chubby young fingers clutched American flags.

In ways planned and spontaneous, formal and casual, more than 3,300 people said goodbye to one of Orange County’s favorite police officers.

Tommy DeLaRosa, 43, was killed June 21, 1990 during an undercover attempt to sell suspected drug dealers what he promised would be $4 million worth of cocaine. Eight people have been charged with conspiracy to sell drugs and murder.

The wife, children, and colleagues DeLaRosa left behind were among those who jammed the First Evangelical Free Church of Fullerton. Most of the mourners were law enforcement officers, their badges partially covered by black mourning tape.

The officers, 2,500 of them, came in squad cars, buses, and vans from all over Orange County and much of Southern California. A large contingent drove in from Downey, where DeLaRosa died. As they filed into the church, the officers formed columns of navy blue, olive drab, and khaki, their black hat brims glinting like obsidian in the sun. Into the pews beside them came civilian adults and children and a group of men who, as did DeLaRosa, fought in Vietnam.

Priests prayed and an organ groaned during the service. DeLaRosa’s friends took most of the hour, reading eulogies that made the mourners cry and smile by turns.

“Tommy DeLaRosa was a great man, an outstanding dope cop,” Sgt. Joe Klein, a close friend and former partner of DeLaRosa, told the mourners. Klein said DeLaRosa wore many hats besides that of narcotics officer. “He was a great friend and partner, a husband, father, uncle, cousin, grandfather,” Klein said. “The most important thing in his life was his family,” he said, gazing at DeLaRosa’s three children and his widow, Leslie.

Off-duty, DeLaRosa liked to drive into neighborhoods heavy with drugs, gangs, and prostitution and speak to children. He would urge them to be good and stay in school, then give them money for ice cream or candy.

On duty, DeLaRosa “always liked to work the most-dangerous, the most-challenging areas of town,” Klein said. In his nine-year police career, DeLaRosa was “a ferocious, gallant warrior,” Klein said. “He was the best drug cop there ever was. The best anybody ever could be.”

Decrying the “ruthlessness” under which DeLaRosa died, Klein said the fallen officer was responsible for thousands of drug-related arrests and millions of dollars in drug seizures and drug-related property seizures.

On June 21, DeLaRosa faced every cop’s nightmare, said police officer and ordained minister Mike Fields. His attempted “reverse sting” operation got “out of control.” “We can take comfort in the fact that there is someone in control,” Fields said. “And that someone, God, has taken Tommy into his ultimate control.”

Monsignor John Sammon, considered the unofficial chaplain of all Orange County law enforcement officers, urged DeLaRosa’s colleagues not to feel guilty about what happened. “You did everything you could” he said. Now, he said, they must move beyond grief. “You should use Tommy as your standard of law enforcement. Our brother Tommy has gone to his peace with Christ,” he told mourners.

At 4:15 p.m. Saturday, June 16, 1990, Jim McKnight – fresh out of law school and full of hope – became the first officer in more than a decade to be killed in the line-of-duty in Yolo County. McKnight, a West Sacramento police officer, was shot during a drug raid Friday, June 15, in the rural Yolo County community of Madison.

After spending years working the graveyard shift and attending McGeorge School of law during the day, he had graduated in 1989 and was studying for the bar exam, friends said. “He talked about taking the bar exam,” said Officer Bruce Huddler, who worked with McKnight. “His wheel was complete – all the spokes were there.”

After working a full day, he went on overtime with the Yolo County Narcotics Enforcement Team, which split up to serve warrants at four houses believed to be part of a cocaine distribution ring. Luis Orosco barricaded himself in a back bedroom. He reportedly began firing at police about 6:30 p.m. as McKnight and other officers tried to get into the room. They fired back. Orosco, who was mentally handicapped, according to his family. was killed. McKnight was shot in the head, and another officer was shot in the wrist and chest.

Officers immediately began flooding into the police station. They were continuing to come together when they were told of his death at an afternoon briefing.

West Sacramento Police Chief Barry Kalar began making plans for a memorial for the two-year-old city’s first officer killed in the line of duty. “It’s one of the realities of police work that a police chief hopes he never has to deal with. Especially in a small department, it’s like an extended family,” Kalar said. He described McKnight as dedicated, reliable, and well-liked by everyone.

McKnight’s father, Peter McKnight, a retired Presbyterian minister living in Sacramento, said that his son “had a positive attitude about life. He was a very happy-go-lucky person.” Before joining the new city force, McKnight worked for the Yolo County Sheriff’s Office for eight years. He also worked for the Woodland Police Department and was a police officer in Hawaii.

“He always wanted to be a police officer, even as a small child. We’re very happy he could be a police officer for the past 15 years.” Peter McKnight said his son had his life in order, but “seemed to live without fear that each day might be his last.” “I hope this is something that will be seen by all people. It’s good to have our house in order before death knocks,” he said.

Officer Martin Flatley, president of the West Sacramento Police Officers Association, said McKnight wanted to use his law degree “to better himself, expand his horizons.”

McKnight’s buddy and former coworker, John Guthmiller, recalled their days as Yolo County deputy sheriffs and some hair-raising pursuits. Now a police officer in Williams, Colusa County, Guthmiller heard about the shooting at work. “I heard the news on the scanner. You want to talk about a sickening. helpless feeling,” said Guthmiller, who has known McKnight for nine years and worked with him in the Yolo County Jail.

Officer McKnight is survived by three loving children Robert, Heidi, and Kevin McKnight.

Commander Isiah Nelson, a highly regarded police official considered to be a rising star in the city’s law-enforcement bureaucracy, died in a motorcycle crash on a portion of Interstate 280 closed for earthquake repairs. He was 40.

Mayor Art Agnos ordered city flags lowered to half-staff in honor of the 19-year Police Department veteran, who was killed April 14, 1990 returning from Candlestick Park. Cmdr. Nelson recently had been commended for his role in the evacuation of Candlestick after the Oct. 17 earthquake.

There was a moment of silence for Cmdr. Nelson at the Giants’ game following his death.

The mayor called him “a brilliant police officer whose professional future had no limits.” Amos’ comments were echoed by Cmdr. Nelson’s fellow officers and others who knew him. The mayor said: “Isiah’s sudden and tragic death has shocked and deeply saddened all of us who knew and respected him.

“He was the embodiment of the new generation of leadership in the Police Department and a model for anyone who wanted to be a police officer. The entire city joins his wife and family in mourning his death.”

According to police reports, Cmdr. Nelson died in a solo crash of his motorcycle at 12:15 am. He was en route to the Hall of Justice from Candlestick Park where he had been on duty in connection with the game between the Giants and San Diego Padres. His bike crashed into a cement barrier on the closed freeway near 25th Street.

Police sources who were at the scene said Cmdr. Nelson apparently went around one of the barriers, which do not span all the lanes, but are set in a maze and require a vehicle to weave through them. After negotiating that barrier, he apparently ran into trouble.

Assistant Police Chief Willis Casey said officers on motorcycles use the closed section of the interstate because they believe it is safer than dodging traffic on Highway 101.

Cmdr. Nelson, who was 36 when he was promoted to the rank of commander, was the youngest officer and the first black to serve in that rank in the department. He wore badge No. 869 and was nicknamed “Ike.”

Sgt. Jerry Senkir, a spokesperson for the department, said he had known Cmdr. Nelson since he was a Police Athletic League cadet at the Northern Station. “This was his career. He prepared himself to move through the ranks. He went to school. . . He was a well-respected and much beloved officer. I never heard anyone say anything bad about Ike.”

Cmdr. Nelson headed the department’s burglary detail before he was promoted to commander of field operations in 1986. In later reorganizations he was given charge of the special operations bureau. At the time of his death, he oversaw the First Patrol Division, which covers Central, Southern, and Potrero stations. For the last two years, he was in charge of security for Giants’ and 49ers’ games.

“Every job we ever gave him, he put his heart into it 100 percent,” Assistant Chief Casey said. “He went through several reorganizations, and each time he got a new job, and each time he did one hell of a job. He had a bright future.” Cmdr. Nelson once told an Examiner reporter that “the ethics my father and mother instilled in me” helped him to excel. “I always try to do what’s right,” he said. “I learned early in this job that no matter what you do you can’t please everyone, so I do what’s best for San Francisco.”

Cmdr. Nelson is survived by his wife, Dorian, and their two children, Gabriel, 8, and Anthony, 11 months.

Cops normally suppress their emotions while in uniform, but sometimes you’ll hear a catch in their throat that conveys more than words about their feelings for a fallen officer.

“He was a very friendly, compassionate person,” Sgt. Dan Malone recalled after Officer Robert Shultis was run over while making an arrest. “He always took time to lend a hand to the other guys,” Malone was saying. Then the catch in his voice. “He was Just a good guy to have around.”

Shultis died February 10, 1990, after a car struck him and 23-year-old Troy E. Durham of Mentone. They were hurled 30 feet along the 2700 block of Arrowhead Avenue. “Officer Shultis was attempting to arrest the subject, and they were struggling in the street when they were struck,” Lt. Thomas Maier wrote soon after the accident.

“We believe the arrest was drug-related,” he said, though he declined to elaborate. Durham also was gravely injured. He died at San Bernardino County Medical Center.

“We don’t know the reason for the initial stop.” said Maier. They may never know. Shultis didn’t say much to the radio dispatcher, other than to give them his location and his suspect’s license plate number.

Police stated that the teenage driver involved in the accident was not at fault.

Bobby Shultis was a good cop – and a caring person, his friend said. Particularly, the 34-year-old bachelor loved kids, Migaiolo recalled. If they were into booze or drugs, for example, Shultis often tried to recruit them for the department’s Explorer Scouts. “It wasn’t unusual for him to have Explorers riding with him two times a week,” said Migaiolo.

Off duty, Shultis played on two baseball teams, golfed, bowled, organized fund-raisers for the San Bernardino Police Officers Association, and acted as the group’s treasurer. “He would have been a detective before the end of the year,” said Migaiolo. “And he was building his (promotion) package for supervisory level.”

Police work apparently ran in Shultis’ family, some of whom still live on Long Island, N.Y. “He had relatives on the New York Police Department,” said his friend.

Shultis became a police officer five years ago, after a 10-year Air Force career. When he left the service, he was a staff sergeant at Norton Air Force Base. “I think they were sorry to see him leave,” said Police Chief Dan Robbins. “And we were anxious to get him.” While he was still in the service, Shultis joined the department as a police reserve officer. He did well, officials say, and was hired full time in April 1985.

Shultis did well in the Air Force, but police work was what he really wanted to do, said James Linzels, Shultis’ former supervisor. “He fell in love with it, Linzels recalled. “He would say it was his calling. Apparently, it was.

“He’s got all types of commendations and letters,” said Capt. Lorry Richards, thumbing through a police personnel file. As commander of the department’s patrol division, Richards was one of Shultis’ senior bosses. As a cop, Richards said, Shultis was a good patrolman who was on the promotion list.

Shultis spent the first half of 1989 on special assignment with a police strike team that focuses on high-crime trouble spots. He liked it, and did well. Perhaps most importantly, his boss said, “He was a nice guy.”

The life of Stockton police Sgt. Timothy White was dedicated to two responsibilities: “One of them was his family, the other was his police department,” said Bob Byington. White’s brother-in-law.

White, 32, died Feb. 4, 1990 after spending 12 days in two hospitals, unconscious and in critical condition. White was hospitalized after he was attacked and severely beaten by James D. Allen, a 20-year-old parolee whom White was chasing through central Stockton early Jan. 22, 1990.

The charge against Allen was changed from attempted murder to first-degree murder with special circumstances – killing a police officer in the line-of-duty. Allen was tried, convicted and sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole.

“The vicious act of a parolee has changed our lives,” Lucian Neely, the police department’s deputy chief in charge of operations, said at a news conference. White “was a very aggressive, dedicated officer. He took very, very seriously his responsibility to the community.”

White was the 12th San Joaquin County peace officer killed in the line-of-duty – the second in a five-month period. “The department has lost a valuable member,” Neely said. “The family has lost a husband and father. This community has suffered a grievous loss.”

Timothy White, the oldest child of Mary Larson and David White, a captain in the Stockton Fire Department, was born in Stockton on Jan. 16, 1958.

He was an Eagle Scout during his high school years and maintained a love of camping and traveling throughout his life. White was a graduate of Stagg High School and San Joaquin Delta Community College and earned a bachelor’s degree in criminal justice at California State University, Sacramento in 1979.

He joined the police department on Oct. 12, 1979, after scoring first on the civil service exam. The next summer he married Susan Byington, whom he had met through the First Baptist Church, which they both attended. The couple had two children, Missy, 5, and Andrew, 2.

In 1986, White became a K-9 patrol officer, an assignment he continued until his promotion to sergeant Jan. 1. His police dog, Lump, continues to live with the White family.

White’s death “is particularly upsetting to us because of the way it happened,” said Sgt. Bob Mariano, who was White’s supervisor periodically during the past five years.

Officers realize their jobs are dangerous, Mariano said, but several people looked on as White was being severely beaten. “Nobody went to his aid,” Mariano said. Though physically small – 5 feet, 10 inches tall, 150 pounds – White was a spunky and tenacious officer who had a reputation for not backing down.

Rick Freeman, a fellow K-9 officer, said his friend was the hardest-working cop he’s known. “He always had to be doing something,” Freeman said. “It was just the way he was. He couldn’t stand to sit still.” Mariano said he would always request that White accompany him when he was transferred because of White’s work ethic.

Kelly Key was born December 26, 1940 in Shreveport, Louisiana. He was appointed to the Department in October 1962, and retired on a disability pension June 1, 1971, due to a gunshot wound that paralyzed him. He was last assigned to Narcotics Division.

He died December 27, 1989, in Gardena as a result of medical complications from the gunshot wound he received in 1970, while executing a search warrant.

Key is survived by his son, Brian; mother, Gloria McKnight/ father, Kelly Key, Jr.; sister, Sandra Key; brother, Hikima Key; stepfather, Henry McKnight; stepmother, Zelma Key; and several other relatives.

Kelly Key was not only a tough man, but a gentle one. He was tough in enduring the anguish of 19 years of repeated setbacks and numerous operations related to his injury, but he never faltered in his devotion and dedication to his family, friends and faith. He also put forth great effort and desire in helping others who themselves suffered hardships due to alcohol and drug abuse. He counseled young and old alike. He was gentle in his relationships with people and generous with his love for others. He was never bitter about his life and remained involved with his many friends, on and off the job.

Kelly stayed active in Department and community functions and enjoyed being around all of us.

In the “Toughest Cop Alive” competition, Kelly would have qualified. In baseball Lou Gehrig was known as the “Iron Horse” for playing so many continuous years with severe injuries. In boxing, Heavyweight Champ Mike Tyson is know as “Iron Mike” because of his devastating punches and iron will to win. In law enforcement, Kelly Key will always be known as the “Iron Man” of cops.

– By George V. Aliano

More than 2,000 law enforcement officers from throughout the Bay Area paid their final respects to San Francisco police Officer John J. Blessing at a funeral Mass at Saint Cecilia’s Church in the Sunset District.

Blessing, a highly decorated 12-year veteran of the department, died Tuesday, Nov. 14, of a head injury he received when he was hit by a van during an undercover narcotics investigation. Blessing was 36.

He was assigned to the Special Operations Task Force and served with distinction, earning several citations for bravery, including a Bronze Medal of Valor in 1981 for confiscating a loaded firearm from a suspect in the Tenderloin.

Mayor Art Agnos stated “It is truly a tragedy when a distinguished officer like John Blessing dies while performing his duties.” He called the death “a loss to all San Franciscans” and ordered the city flags flown at half-staff.

Police said the suspect got away and the driver of the truck was not cited.

Monsignor James McKay told the congregation crowding the church, “Our son has died for us.”

He lauded the commitment of officers, who serve their city, adding, “Thanks to him who has given to us the ultimate gift of life.”

In addition to being pastor of St. Cecilia’s, McKay serves as a police chaplain. He told the congregation: “Every sworn officer knows that they may be called upon to give that gift at a moment’s notice.”

At the conclusion of the hour-long service, the officers emerged from the church and stood at attention while the coffin was brought out and put into a hearse.

A four-man mounted color guard led the procession slowly west on Vicente Street to 19th Avenue, on its way to Holy Cross Cemetery. A half-dozen fire trucks blocked intersections along the route.

The procession, consisting of more than 80 motorcycle officers and a similar number of patrol cars with emergency lights flashing, stretched for more than eight blocks and took more than 20 minutes to clear the area of the church. Most were from the San Francisco Police Department, but virtually every police department in the Bay Area sent at least one unit.

At the graveside, one officer presented Blessing’s 8-year-old son, Matthew, with a helmet that Blessing wore as a member of the department’s football team, the Centurions. Matthew’s twin sister, Jolene, looked on, as did Blessing’s widow, Denise.

An officer, a friend, a good citizen, and a kind man – Deputy Sheriff Dighton Little was all of these.

About 1,500 people attended the Mass for Little Tuesday, Oct. 24, filling all the pews at the Cathedral of the Annunciation and leaving people standing three abreast in the aisles more than an hour before the ceremony began.

About 250 crowded into the adjacent school auditorium and listened to the mass through a public announcement system.

Law enforcement officers from around the state came in formal uniforms and stood outside with 440 San Joaquin Sheriff’s officers before the service. They wore their black bands across their badges. Condolences to Sheriff’s officers came from as far away as Florida.

Sheriff’s Sgt. Michael Esau said it was not surprising to see more than 800 officers at the funeral. “Dighton really liked police work. He was an officer to the marrow and the bone. He loved it,” Esau said.

“He was the guy that naturally gets excited and once he was committed to do something, he went for it,” Esau added. “He was very popular with everybody.”

Little died Friday, Oct. 20, from a gunshot wound to the head he received as officers armed with a warrant prepared to enter a house trailer in Ripon. Other officers returned the fire, killing Richard Elsas, who they said fired the shot that killed Little.

It was silent in the rainy street outside the church as the officers stood at attention and county officials, family and friends filed in.

Honor guard officers wearing western-style sheriff hats and gold arm cords carried Little’s coffin, which bore a U.S. flag from the Deputy Sheriff’s Association, into the church while a bagpiper played and officers saluted.

Sheriff’s Lt. Max Benitez, who is a deacon with the Catholic Church, aided Father Laurence McGovern with the service. Sheriff’s Sgt. Chris Serpa did the readings for the Mass, which was open only to family, friends, and officers.

Most people left the service with tears in their eyes. A horse with an empty saddle bearing empty boots and a Sheriff’s blanket, led by Deputy Sheriff Wesley Evans, headed the funeral procession to San Joaquin Catholic Cemetery.

Sheriff John Zuniono presented Little’s parents and sister with the flag from the coffin. Two California State Police officers gave them a flag from the governor that flew half-staff at the Capitol in Little’s honor. Honor guard officers each placed a red rose on Little’s grave while Deputy Sheriff Rick Caccan played “Taps.”

Officers, family, and friends left the scene quietly.

“Everybody is hurting,” Esau said of his colleagues.

Little was the son of Warren and Patricia Little. Warren Little was the senior FBI agent in Stockton for many years before his retirement. Dighton Little also had a sister, Linda Little of New York. He was divorced and had no children.

Little graduated from Lincoln High School in 1972 and went to work as a security guard while he attended Delta College. After two years in the U.S. Army, Little got an Associate of Arts degree in Political Science at Delta College and a Bachelor of .Arts degree in Criminal Justice at California State University at Sacramento.

He joined the San Joaquin County Sheriff’s Department in 1979 and was a detective in the sheriff’s robbery/homicide division at the time of his death.

Little was an active member of the Deputy Sheriff’s Association, Big Brother/Big Sister programs, child abuse programs, the Bacon Bash annual charity football event, and formerly was a member of the Stockton Judo Club.

– Lodi News Sentinel