Forty-four days after he began the law enforcement career he had dreamed of, slain East Palo Alto Officer Joel Michael Davis was honored during an emotion-filled ceremony.

More than 1,500 officers and hundreds of friends and relatives bid farewell to Davis, celebrating his passion for helping young people and his desire to make the world he knew a better place.

In an impressive display of brotherhood for the slain rookie officer, a five-mile-long funeral procession of patrol cars, red lights flashing, silently wound its way through Palo Alto and Los Altos.

“The events that brought us here are a sad commentary on today’s society,” East Palo Alto police Chief Dan Nelson said at the memorial service at Stanford University. “He was the kind who could – and did – make a difference.”

A suspected crack cocaine user gunned Davis, 26, down June 22, after he chased the man through a darkened East Palo Alto neighborhood. Davis was off-duty at the time but offered to help fellow officers who were called to two emergencies simultaneously.

An exhaustive manhunt ended in the arrest of the man investigators believe pulled the trigger.

Davis, who graduated from Palo Alto High School in 1979, was the first officer to die in the line of duty in East Palo Alto and the first one to be killed in San Mateo County in seven years.

Twelve hours before he was fatally shot, he was playing ball with some boys from the San Mateo County Juvenile Probation Department. That was typical, his friends said – he had a knack for being where he was needed most.

In stark contrast to his last moments of life, Davis’ memorial service was held in the tranquil, tree-lined Frost Amphitheater at Stanford.

Hundreds of uniformed officers, including members of the class he graduated from at the police academy, lined up shoulder-to shoulder along the path leading to the amphitheater. As the copper, hardtop hearse crept up the walkway, the white-gloved officers snapped to attention and saluted.

In front of the stage was a portrait of Davis in uniform and a flowered wreath in the shape of a badge – No. 32.

The wooden casket, draped with an American flag, was hoisted from the hearse by eight pallbearers and placed in front of the stage. Seven of the pallbearers were police officers.

East Palo Alto Mayor John Bostic spoke first. He read a resolution from the City Council, urging people not to forget Davis and the price he paid for trying to make East Palo Alto a safer community. He called a knack for being where he was, Davis’ death a “profound loss.”

Davis easily could have worked as an officer in a city with kinder streets. But he chose to work in East Palo Alto, his friends said, because he knew the community needed top-notch police officers.

He truly believed he and his fellow officers could make a difference in East Palo Alto, his friend said.

“This is probably the hardest day of my 23-plus years in law enforcement,” Chief Nelson said.

Pausing several times, the chief credited the energetic Davis and Davis’ close friend, East Palo Alto Officer Tom Burns, with establishing the department’s crucial reserve force.

Davis, who worked full time in computers at Hewlett-Packard Co. until January, joined the East Palo Alto police reserves in 1986. Last year, he became the first reserve hired by the city to become a full-time officer. He was a standout at the police academy in San Jose, where he graduated May 10 in the top 10 percent of his class.

On May 15, he began a training program on the city’s streets that was to last eight weeks. “Ever since he was a little boy, being a policeman was all he ever talked about,” Davis’ uncle, Joe Alexander said.

The procession headed south on Interstate 280 to the Gate of Heaven Catholic Cemetery in Los Altos.

Two horse-mounted color guards stood at the entrance to the cemetery.

Only the precise crack of a 21-gun salute broke the silence as row upon row of officers stood motionless and grim-faced in front of the casket.

The East Palo Alto police ranks – including some of the officers who found their colleague bleeding that night – were in front.

Davis had been shot twice – once in the head – but had managed to make it 15 feet before slumping to a driveway. After a 7 1/2 -hour fight to live, he died in the arms of one of his closest friends.

“He showed us how to live by giving his life,” The Rev. Chuck Smith of the Church of the Nazarene in Palo Alto said, “Joel Davis believed in what he was doing . . . And what an example he has given us.”

After Smith spoke privately with the family for a few moments, three San Mateo County sheriff’s deputies folded up the American flag that draped Davis’ coffin and handed it to his mother.

On a nearby knoll, an officer played taps on a bugle.

Davis is survived by his parents, Beth and Joel Davis; a sister, Michele Davis Flagler; and his grandparents, Verlile and Vel Alexander of Washington.

Even as a little boy, Jimmy Beyea loved uniforms.

In nursery school, he marched around Northridge’s Pinecrest School in a toddler-sized khaki shirt and little red tie. Part of the campus color guard.

Later, he wore the white-and-brown of a Baskin-Robbins ice-cream dipper, the semiofficial togs of a pest exterminator and the real-thing fatigues of the Air National Guard.

But it wasn’t until last March, when James Clark Beyea graduated from the Police Academy and donned the starched blue of the Los Angeles Police Department, that the uniform really seemed to fit, family, and friends said.

“You could say he had found his niche in life,” a friend, Brian Koren, said. “You could say that’s what he was meant to do, to be a cop.”

If only for a few months.

Beyea’s career was cut short June 8 by a suspected burglar who wrestled the rookie’s revolver away from him. Beyea, 24, died in uniform on the street, a .38 caliber bullet through is head.

Beyea’s fellow officers killed one suspect in his slaying several hours later. Another suspect was in custody.

His mother, Cathleeen Beyea, worried that something like this might happen to the boy she named after her father, the late Los Angeles Police Dept. motorcycle Officer James Clark.

“It’s dangerous,” said Beyea, who raised her only child alone, on the salary of a Ralph’s cashier. “You think about it. But that’s what he wanted to do. He liked it a lot. He liked, you know, apprehending criminals.”

Like the naked woman who was running around a North Hollywood street one night. “He didn’t tell us about the bad ones,” said Beyea. Just the funny stuff.

He was clean-cut, protective, a guy who liked pepperoni pizzas, chocolate mint ice cream, and Arnold Schwarzenegger movies. His picture in the 1981 edition of Grover T. Cleveland High School’s yearbook shows a serious young man with longish hair and stooped shoulders.

Although he was never a problem child, “he didn’t get discipline until he got to the National Guard,” his mother said. There, her son cut his hair and learned to salute smartly.

Beyea was deeply patriotic, his family said, a strong proponent of federal defense spending.

The walls of his Reseda apartment are decorated with model airplanes, swords from Okinawa, Japan and other military memorabilia. A Persian cat prowls inside, neighbors said.

“He was just a real gung-ho guy,” his mother said. “Very enthusiastic. All-American . . . We’re very proud of him.”

Every morning Beyea worked out at the Air National Guard base where he was still in the reserve. Every weekend, he went out with the girl next door whom he’d known since he was 12.

“He was very giving, ambitious and loving,” Cindy Lewis, the girlfriend, said. “He had a lot of friends.”
Many of his closest friends still work at the 146th Air National Guard Armory, where Jimmy stopped by sometimes to eat lunch with the old gang: two thick hamburgers with chili on top.

“Hell of a kid,” said Sgt. Mike Sexton. “He was an excellent worker. Outgoing. Very friendly . . . He doesn’t deserve something like this to happen to him.”

For Steve Timbol, a fellow guardsman, Jimmy’s death is “like losing a brother,” he said. “He was very kind-hearted.”

At the Police Academy, Beyea was one of four squad leaders in his class.

“He was an exemplary recruit,” said Officer Kent Carter, a drill instructor. “All his classmates looked up to him. He was my No. 1 squad leader. Just the kid you want to come to the academy. He portrayed the best that there is.”

He graduated in the top one-fourth of his class of 71, instructors said.

Within the department, Beyea’s goals were to make the anti-gang unit. Community Resources Against Street Hoodlums, and the elite Metropolitan Division, instructors said.

“He stressed integrity, discipline, and loyalty,” added Officer Michael Diaz, his self-defense instructor. “He showed it all the way to the end.”

At police headquarters downtown, flags were already flying at half-mast in Beyea’s memory. Normally boisterous officers were somber and subdued.

“Everyone has to die, but it’s a shame when they have to die so young,” said Officer Bill Frio, a department spokesman.

Beyea’s colleagues at the North Hollywood Division were in shock. They said he was unusually aggressive – and impressive – for a probationer. “He was a real good policeman and would have made a great police officer,” said Officer Jeff Dunn. “It’s too bad he was cut down so short in his career. He would have been a good one.”

Cmdr. William Booth said Chief Daryl Gates regretted that he was out of town when one of his officers was killed. “He wanted to be here,” Booth said.

Beyea is the second North Hollywood officer to be killed in three years. Detective Thomas C. Williams, 42, was shot to death Oct. 31, 1985, in what authorities said was an effort to prevent him from testifying in a robbery case.

“The wounds from that case haven’t really healed,” Dinse said. “Now this on top of that . . .it doesn’t make this a very pleasant place to be.

Officers Leslie Macarro, 52, and Arthur “Smokey” Perez, Youth Training School Transportation Officers, transported three Youth Authority inmates to Los Angeles General Hospital on Friday, May 20, 1988.

While attempting to depart the hospital, a 19-year-old inmate, incarcerated for murder, bolted from the officers while in full restraint. Macarro immediately began a foot pursuit and was struck by a car driven by a civilian hospital employee. He died an hour later inside the hospital.

The escapee was immediately captured by Officer Perez.

Macarro was born on May 9, 1936, in San Bernardino. He was a 24-year resident of Colton. He was a member of the Temecula Band of Luiseno Mission Indians from Pechanga Reservation. His wife, Martha, is a native of Colton and an employee with the City of Colton, in the city clerk’s office. They have four children: Mark, Paul, John and Caroline.

Macarro graduated from San Bernardino High School in 1954. From 1954 to 1957, he served in the U.S. Army with the 1st Infantry Division, as a military policeman stationed in South Korea. In 1974, Macarro began working with Youth Training School in Chino. For two years, he worked as a landscape/groundsman. He attended San Bernardino Valley College to qualify for the Group Supervisor position, in which capacity he began in 1976.

In 1983, Macarro’s hard work was recognized when he was presented with a plaque “In appreciation for (his) most outstanding performance at the Youth Training School.”

Macarro enjoyed frequent weekend trips to San Diego with his wife and close friends. A former barber, Macarro considered barbering a creative outlet and was always happy to give his sons haircuts. He enjoyed fishing trips and movie classics – “Sgt. York” was his favorite. He is remembered as a very loving, patient and giving father, and strong in his Catholic faith. Macarro’s smile and dimples will be remembered by all his family, friends and colleagues.

A Monterey County deputy sheriff spent the last minutes of his life under a barrage of eggs, bottles and firecrackers hurled by a crowd of unruly campers who called him and fellow officers “Nazis,” police said.

Cpl. Robert J. Shaw, 31, the father of two girls, collapsed and died of a heart attack April 19 while facing a hostile mob of 300 to 400 people at Laguna Seca Raceway, police said. The United States Grand Prix Championships motorcycle races were conducted there over the weekend.

Police said the crowd continued to chant obscenities as two officers attempted to revive Shaw. The other deputies turned to face the crowd and formed a protective circle around their fallen colleague, said Capt. Roger Chaterton, commander of the sheriff’s patrol division.

Shaw appeared to stumble as he and about 40 other deputies, dressed in full riot gear, were attempting to restore order with “a show of force,” police said. The deputies were walking in formation during the third of a series of sweeps at a campground where campers had thrown bottles and firecrackers at smaller groups of police earlier in the evening. Those officers had been forced to retreat when the crowd interfered with arrests, police said.

Reports differ on whether the crowd blocked the ambulance that took Shaw to Community Hospital of the Monterey Peninsula, where he was pronounced dead.

Chatterton contended the ambulance “was delayed by an antagonistic crowd that wouldn’t let it through.” He said the incident left him embittered and angry because “the people around us knew a man was down” but did not move out of the way.

But Brian Sinnott, president of Peninsula Medics, said his crew was escorted through the crowd by a wall of deputies who walked beside the ambulance. He added that although the crowd appeared hostile toward police, the ambulance crew reported no problems and arrived on the scene in two minutes.

Chatterton said Shaw’s family had a history of heart diseases and added the deputy was being treated for high blood pressure. He recently had received a physical and was cleared for duty.

Chatterton noted that police officers experience a great deal of stress in hostile crowd situations, where an officer’s instincts initially call for “fight or flight.”

“It’s not just stressful from the perspective of physical danger,” he said. “You can’t really be reacting. You have to exercise restraint . . . It’s a terrible thing to put your body through.”

“I don’t think there’s anything more traumatic in law enforcement than to lose someone in what amounts to combat situation,” he added.

County officials stressed that a majority of the estimated 50,000 people who attended the weekend races were well behaved.

County Supervisor Karin Strasser Kauffmann said she attended the races and observed a crowd she described as mellow, sophisticated and affluent.

She is holding a town meeting at Laguna Seca to discuss noise and traffic complaints, “I’m sure this will be added to the list,” she said.

Police said problems with vandalism and drunkenness arise when some racing fans camp overnight in the park.

Police have asked the county Parks and Recreation Department to limit the number of camping permits issued on racing weekends.

Chatterton said there has been a history of incidents at the camping area following motorcycle races.

Lt. John Crisan said that in previous years police were so outnumbered they could do little but watch as rowdy campers broke park rules, revved motorcycle engines and committed acts of vandalism.

“Up until now, we really haven’t had much enforcement. It’s been nothing but abuse in years past. Many times we went in there and had to retreat,” Crisan said.

This year, Crisan said, police decided to bring in a tactical squad of 30 to 40 deputies.

– San Jose Mercury News

Hundreds of peace officers from throughout the state stood silently on a hillside at a Whittier cemetery honoring the first Inglewood police officer to die in the line of duty in the city’s 80-year history.

Sgt. George Aguilar, 46, a 15-year Police Department veteran described as a crack undercover investigator and SWAT team member, was shot to death on a busy street March 31 as he pursued armed robbers.

An overflow crowd, including police from more than 30 communities as well as city and county officials, attended the morning funeral at St. John Chrysostrum Catholic Church at which Aguilar was eulogized by a colleague as “the most capable officer I have ever known in my 28 years of police service.”

Saying that the slain officer’s undercover skills were “chameleon-like,” Inglewood Lt. Harry Carter told how Aguilar had infiltrated and lived with a dangerous gang of robbers for two months and survived gunfire at point-blank range during a drug raid.

Noting that Aguilar died the day before Good Friday, shot when he stopped to help a robbery victim, Father Paul Montoya said the officer’s death showed that “He was willing to go forth and accept the possibility of sacrificing himself. Without men like him, we have no real society,” Montoya said.

Four suspects have been arrested and charged with murder in the case. The suspected gunman shot and killed himself after a high-speed chase the night of the crime.

Born in Guadalajara, Mexico, Aguilar was “a child of the streets” raised in the Latino Boyle Heights area, Carter said. In Inglewood, the father of three served as a role model for groups of Latino school children he counseled, he said.

Inglewood leaders and residents said Aguilar’s death was particularly demoralizing to them because it came at a time when crime has been decreasing in the city.

The City Council declared an official day of mourning. Flags flew at half-staff and a trust fund was established for the officer’s 3-year-old son.

“Let’s hope it’s the first and the last officer to be killed,” said Mourner Muhammad Nasardeen, who said his Kiwanis club plans to set up a scholarship for Inglewood high school students in Aguilar’s name.

Outside the church, tears spilled from beneath the sunglasses of a white-gloved officer as the casket was loaded into a hearse.

The long motorcade made its way to Rose Hills Memorial Park in Whittier, where a lone officer playing a bagpipe led the procession. Four police helicopters swooped overhead and a three-gun salute was fired in Aguilar’s honor.

A massive procession of police cars that moved slowly through San Diego was part of a last tribute to rookie officer Jerry Lee Hartless, who died January 31, from a bullet believed fired by a narcotics suspect nearly four weeks earlier.

More than 2,200 people, most of them fellow officers who came from as far away as Sacramento, turned out to mourn the 24-year-old officer who was described as “a thoroughbred.”

Packing the auditorium of the Horizon Christian Fellowship Church in Clairemont, they heard San Diego Police Chief Bill Kolender eulogize the energetic, one-time high school track star whose life ended tragically after less than a year on the force.

The chief recalled Hartless’ police academy graduation last May, in which the young officer was honored as the most physically fit member of his class.

“When his name was announced, this brand new police officer jumped from his chair and sprinted to the stage. And I mean sprinted. I don’t know if anyone timed him, but there’s no question in my mind: Jerry Lee Hartless had broken another record.”

Hartless was on patrol late at night in a Southeast San Diego neighborhood known for drug trafficking when he and his patrol partner stopped to question a group of men.

The men scattered when the two officers got out of the car. Hartless and Officer Johan Schneider ran after one of them, but Hartless – with his superior foot speed – quickly outdistanced his partner. Police said Schneider heard a shot and found Hartless critically wounded in the head.

Hartless died 23 days later, after laying in a coma at UCSD Medical Center with a bullet lodged in his brain.

A suspect was arrested two hours after the shooting. He is Stacy Don Butler, 24, who had been released from prison 11 days before the shooting.

“Hartless,” Kolender said “was gunned down in a cold-blooded and cowardly murder.”

An estimated 1,500 uniformed officers, with badges taped in black, assembled in the parking lot of San Diego’s Jack Murphy Stadium and went in a motorcade to the Horizon Christian Fellowship Hall five miles away in Clairemont to join at least 700 other officers, friends and family members of the slain officer and his wife, Shawn Dee.

Hartless is the 11th San Diego police officer in 11 years to be killed in the line of duty. He is also the second lawman to be slain in the last few months in this county. Sheriff’s Deputy Lonnie Gene Brewer, 29, was killed Dec. 5 when he and fellow officers stormed an Escondido apartment.

Hartless was raised in Hillsdale, Mich., where he set high school middle-distance and long-jump records. His father, Clyde Hartless of Tucson, Ariz., was a career Marine, and Hartless joined the Marine Corps after graduation.

Hartless married Shawn Dee, whom he met in high school, after he graduated from Marine Corps boot camp here. After serving a year in the Marines, he received a medical discharge because of an allergy and began working as a graphic artist.

Kolender said Hartless had a bright future in the graphic arts field, but was restless.

“He had a finely honed sense of right and wrong, and he wanted to act on his principles, to contribute to his community. Policing was his destiny,” Kolender said. He said Hartless took a sizable pay cut to join the force.

Hartless had two loves, Kolender said. One was police work and the other his wife.

“He was extremely proud of their relationship and he let people know it,” the chief said. He said they were planning to have a family and looking for a lot to build their own house.

Following the memorial services, a procession led by 600 police cars – their yellow, red and blue lights flashing – and 50 motorcycles wound its way slowly through Clairemont residential streets to Morena Boulevard, past Sea World, and through Ocean Beach and Point Loma to Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery, where graveside services were held.

At the cemetery, a flag-draped wooden casket was carried from the hearse to a stage where members of the Hartless family were seated. After the traditional salute with rifles and a refrain of Taps by a Marine Corps bugler, the flag was neatly folded and given to a sobbing Shawn Dee.

The community of Rancho Cordova had experienced several armed robberies in early January. On January 20th, a fast food restaurant on Folsom Boulevard had been robbed by a gun toting suspect.

On January 21st, Sergeant Rick Deffner, 36, was commanding the elite Special Enforcement, Gold Team in an all day search in an attempt to locate the violent robbery suspect. At approximately 2:15 p.m., officers spotted the suspects car and gave chase.

The suspect crashed his car into a fence, ran from the vehicle while firing shots at the pursuing officers. He disappeared into the neighborhood. An intensive search began by officers, K-9, and helicopter. An eight-block perimeter was established and a house by house search continued until it was terminated because of darkness.

Several hours later a direct confrontation again occurred between the suspect and officers when he was seen hiding in a garage. He again fired at officers and fled to a public storage area near a large apartment complex. A perimeter was quickly established and the Gold Team was again called and assigned the responsibility to search within the controlled area. Sergeant Deffner realized that if the suspect was on the roof of the apartment complex, he would have a definite advantage over the officers below who where attempting to arrest him. Sergeant Deffner made the decision to search the roof with two of his team members. While on the roof the officers heard noises in a yard below. As Sergeant Deffner peered over the edge of the roof he was shot in the face by the suspect.

Sergeant Deffner died that night making the ultimate and final sacrifice for his community and fellow officers. As the suspect was again trying to escape he was shot and killed by officers.

Sergeant Rick Deffner was awarded the Medal of Valor, posthomously, for conspicious bravery above and beyond the call of duty. The gymnasium at the Sheriff’s Training Academy is dedicated and named for Sergeant Richard E. Deffner.

Sergeant Richard Deffner is buried at Mount Vernon Memorial Park on Greenback Lane.

A 29-year-old Stockton policeman, chasing a burglary suspect, collapsed and died an hour later at St. Joseph’s Medical Center.

Arthur Edward Ford, a Sacramento native who joined the Stockton force in June 1986, had completed job probation just a month ago and had passed two physicals since he was hired.

“This is tough,” said Lt. James Horton, the department watch commander. “He was very, very well regarded by his peers and supervisors.”

Taken into custody for the burglary that led to the 1 ½-mile chase and apparent collapse were Samuel David Robinson, 38, and Robert Hinijos, about 40. Horton said the two had no known occupations.

Ford and his partner, Don Simmons, spotted the two about 3:25 p.m. as they allegedly took building materials from a vacant duplex. The officers were responding to a burglary report.

Horton said Robinson was immediately taken into custody by Ford, but Hinijos fled after a brief scuffle with Simmons. Hinijos ran along the Santa Fe railroad tracks in south Stockton.

According to railroad workers who witnessed the chase and were the first to reach Ford after he collapsed, the patrolman was just reaching the Charter Way overpass when he fell, rose to run a few more steps, then fell again.

“That’s when I got concerned, when he didn’t get up,” said Santa Fe brakeman Kenneth Jones. “When I got to him, there was no pulse and he wasn’t breathing.”

The railroad workers reached Ford and were soon joined by police and fire department paramedics who administered first aid. Other officers captured Hinijos.

Ford was taken to St. Joseph’s Hospital where he was pronounced dead shortly after 4 p.m. The autopsy report stated that he died of myocarditus, an inflammation of the heart sac.

Police Chief Perline F. “Jack” Calkins delivered news of the patrolman’s death to Ford’s wife, Susan. In addition to his wife, he is survived by two daughters, Stephanie, 6; and Mehgan, 2.

The burglary suspects remained in custody while investigators and a deputy district attorney reviewed possible charges.

District Attorney John D. Phillips said the suspects probably cannot be charged with any crime involving the officer’s death if it was due to a medical condition.

Horton, however, said an assault or homicide charge has not been ruled out.

“We’re investigating any possibility,” Horton said.

Ford was the first Stockton police officer to die in the line of duty since Nicholas P. “Nick” Cecchetti – son of former Police Chief Julio Cecchetti – was gunned down during a drug raid in August 1978.

A 41-year-old woman and a 17-year-old boy have been booked on suspicion of murder after a Los Angeles County Sheriff’s deputy died from a gunshot wound he suffered during a drug raid in South Central Los Angeles.

Deputy Jack B. Miller, who was shot in the head, died at 9:30 p.m. Jan. 9, a County-USC Medical Center spokeswoman said. Another deputy wounded in the raid, John Dickenson, 29, was treated for a gunshot wound and released from Daniel Freeman Memorial Hospital in Inglewood.

Miller and Dickenson were among six peace officers attacked during the weekend in a series of unrelated violent incidents involving lawmen.

Miller’s alleged assailants, Dorothy Waters, 41, and the 17-year-old boy, were booked on suspicion of murder and possession of cocaine for sale, a sheriff’s spokesman said. Waters and the youth had been taken into custody after a gun battle at a home in the 1400 block of West 55th Street.

A third suspect was found dead in the house several hours later, and two others were questioned and released. Deputies reported that they confiscated 202 grams of cocaine, four handguns and a rifle from the house.

Miller, 33, a narcotics detective who worked out of the Lennox Station, was a 12-year veteran of the Sheriff’s Department. He was married and the father of two children. Miller was the first deputy to be killed in the line of duty this year. Last year, Deputy Charles Anderson was killed when he surprised a burglar in his home, Deputy Van Mosley said.

At the Lennox Station, other officers offered a few grim words when they were asked about Miller.

“This is a bad time, an extremely bad time . . . We’re losing our friends . . . Good men are getting killed for doing their job,” said Deputy Gary Coniglio.

More than 1,000 law enforcement officers from around the state paid tribute to the first San Diego County sheriff’s deputy to die in the line of duty in this century.

Lonny Gene Brewer, 29, was gunned down December 5, as he and other Special Enforcement Detail officers stormed the apartment of Robert Gary Taschner, who had barricaded himself and exchanged fire with officers. Taschner was later killed and two other deputies wounded.

In all, an overflow crowd of some 2,000 mourners packed themselves into First United Methodist Church in Mission Valley, then spilled into its basement and finally outside, where they listened to the service over loudspeakers.

Their badges taped in black, sheriff’s deputies, members of the SED, park rangers, and police and California Highway Patrol officers by the hundreds spent 45 minutes filing past Brewer’s casket and saluting before hearing Sheriff John Duffy eulogize him as a “man of high principles.”

“He was the kind of man others instantly trusted and liked because he was so genuine,” the sheriff said.

Duffy raised his voice in anger when he said that the bullet that ended Brewer’s life had been “fired by a madman with a death wish. Taschner was a loser in life but he succeeded in destroying Lonny’s life and happiness for his wife Cathy and both of their families.”

As sunshine streamed onto the flag-draped casket at the front of the church, Pastor George R. Gregg prayed for strength for the slain deputy’s family.

“What shall we say of a man who goes to college to prepare himself for a career in law enforcement because he chooses a life of service? What shall we say of a man who, when people speak of him, say he was kind, gentle and loving? What shall we say of a man who dies in the line of duty?”

“We say he is a good man,” Gregg said.

“Here was a man who, as a weight lifter, climbed to the heights of physical strength. Yet he was wise enough to know that the true measure of a man is his tenderness and attitude.”

Comparing Brewer’s youth and violent death to that of Christ, Gregg said, “Life at its best is very short, yet we are stunned to lose one so young. We hope that through burning tears, this family can see the promises beyond.”

Brewer was born in San Diego and grew up surrounded by law enforcement officers. His father, Jack, was a mechanic for the San Diego Police Department, Duffy said.

After graduating from Grosspoint College with a degree in criminal justice, Brewer joined the Sheriff’s Department in April 1980 and moved to SED, the sheriff’s special weapons unit, 2 ½ years ago.

Brewer married another deputy, Cathy Wiermaa, a traffic officer in Poway, in November.

The couple knew the risks of law enforcement; Cathy’s father, Robert, is a retired San Diego police officer. But the knowledge was no safeguard against a man with a “Rambo-like fantasy,” Duffy said.

Brewer was remembered by fellow SED member Lt. Edward J. Lubic as “a rough and tumble character” who could handle the pressures and duties of the elite unit.

Assignment to SED carries “an unwritten but constant demand to be a cut above. Lonny definitely was,” Lubic said.

“He had enormous physical strength yet he was a quiet, unobtrusive man, definitely a team player. He knew the risks but was committed to the job. More than a team player, he was our friend.

“In the wake of his death, there is the strength he leaves behind. We loved Lonny and we shall miss him dearly,” Lubic concluded.

Brewer’s “ultimate sacrifice,” said Duffy, causes officers to ask “ourselves, our God and the public we are willing to die for in order to protect,’ Why’?”

“We already know the answer. We know that we are the few who can hold the line, who can offer any hope for survival of the peace and tranquility guaranteed by the laws of our society,” Duffy said.

“On his wife’s birthday, Lonny Gene Brewer was killed by hostile gunfire. The phrase “killed in the line of duty” ends his career and his life on this earth. The phrase will give us cause to honor and remember him forever,” Duffy said.

A 10-mile-long police motorcade, lights blinking blue and red, escorted Brewer to his final resting place beside a pool and waterfall at El Camino Memorial Park in Sorrento Valley.

Deputy Scott Rossall, Brewer’s partner on the entry team, was shot in the leg by the same volley that killed Brewer. The 31-year-old Escondido resident stood, ashen-faced and braced by a cane, for more than an hour as part of the SED honor guard at graveside services.

After a 21-gun salute and the haunting refrain of “Taps” played by two buglers on a nearby hillside, Cathy Brewer bent sobbing over the flag that had draped the casket of her husband.

As a final tribute, five helicopters from the Sheriff’s Department, Life Flight and the Border Patrol flew over the cemetery, one of the Sheriff’s craft breaking away in the “missing man” formation.