Arthur Ken Soo Hoo was raised in Chinatown, served there for years as a Los Angeles police officer, and – in a tragic car crash – lost his life there.

The usually bustling business district of Chinatown briefly came to a stop Nov. 5 as a mile-long funeral procession bore the body of Soo Hoo, 33, through the area on the way to Rose Hills Cemetery in Whittier. It was the second such procession in two days. On Nov. 4, the man who died in the crash with Soo Hoo, LAPD Officer William Wong, was similarly honored.

The funerals closed what Police Chief Daryl Gates described as “a week of anguish and sorrow” for the LAPD and Soo Hoo’s friends.

Both men died when their patrol car was broadsided by a car estimated to have been traveling about 90 mph. The accident took place at Broadway and Alpine streets in the heart of Chinatown. Three men have been charged in the incident, including two who are still at large.

Nearly 100 police motorcycles led the procession down Broadway and toward the freeway. They were followed by trucks full of flowers and dozens of police cars with red lights flashing.

About 400 law enforcement officers from nearly two-dozen different agencies around Southern California and another 200 civilians attended the funeral at a quiet hillside chapel at Rose Hills.

The officers, wearing black stripes across their badges, stood at attention as the flag-draped casket was carried into the chapel, led by the LAPD’s traditional bagpipe player.

“He was the kind of guy that gave a lot to everyone he worked with,” said Officer Gary Palmer, once a patrol partner of Soo Hoo.

Reflecting on the days since Soo Hoo and Wong were killed, Gates said: “It was a week when we all asked, ‘Why?’ A week to assess the values and worth of our profession. And a week in which, through the deeds and lives of these men, we know we made the right decision.”

Gates called Soo Hoo tenacious, aggressive, and confident. “He was a warrior in search of peace and harmony,” Gates said.

Chinatown vendors turned from their vegetable and fruit stands and stepped from their shops to watch a funeral cortege of 80 LAPD patrol cars and nearly 70 motorcycles as a hearse bearing the body of police Officer William Wong was escorted from the Wah Wing Sang Mortuary on Sunset Boulevard to Rose Hills Cemetery in Whittier.

As the procession turned onto the Pomona Freeway, several people watched it, waiting in front of an austere concrete chapel near the top of a grassy slope in Rose Hills Cemetery. A sparrow chirped some distance off in the pine-scented air.

The officers left their vehicles and formed lines along the way into the chapel, while a solitary bagpiper piped his song of sorrow, a song that has become part of most funeral services for slain officers. And then the casket was borne by the pallbearers into the chapel.

Chaplain Sgt. Jerry Powell took the pulpit to address Wong’s widow, Martha; his 6-year-old daughter; his relatives and more than 350 officers. He began: “Today we will consider the good and the righteous.” Pastor Andrew Chan then said that Wong “has set a good example for us, no matter what line of work we do.”

And the bagpiper again played, before LAPD Chief Daryl Gates spoke. “It’s a great burden we must all shoulder,” said Gates in a low but strong voice. He referred to the risk of untimely death police officers face. Wong “was a warrior,” Gates went on, “a warrior in the battle for that elusive thing called peace in this community.”

“Bill was a police officer’s police officer,” eulogized Don Linfield, one of Wong’s closest friends and one of the pallbearers seeing him to his grave. Then in a wavering, small voice, he ended, “Goodbye, Bill . . . God bless you.”

Some time later, family and other mourners gathered at the grave site further up the hill. A color guard of four officers fired three volleys. Then a trumpeter sounded taps as the flag draping Wong’s casket was folded by two members of the honor guard and presented to Wong’s widow.

Arthur Ken Soo Hoo was raised in Chinatown, served there for years as a Los Angeles police officer, and – in a tragic car crash – lost his life there.

The usually bustling business district of Chinatown briefly came to a stop Nov. 5 as a mile-long funeral procession bore the body of Soo Hoo, 33, through the area on the way to Rose Hills Cemetery in Whittier. It was the second such procession in two days. On Nov. 4, the man who died in the crash with Soo Hoo, LAPD Officer William Wong, was similarly honored.

The funerals closed what Police Chief Daryl Gates described as “a week of anguish and sorrow” for the LAPD and Soo Hoo’s friends.

Both men died when their patrol car was broadsided by a car estimated to have been traveling about 90 mph. The accident took place at Broadway and Alpine streets in the heart of Chinatown. Three men have been charged in the incident, including two who are still at large.

Nearly 100 police motorcycles led the procession down Broadway and toward the freeway. They were followed by trucks full of flowers and dozens of police cars with red lights flashing.

About 400 law enforcement officers from nearly two-dozen different agencies around Southern California and another 200 civilians attended the funeral at a quiet hillside chapel at Rose Hills.

The officers, wearing black stripes across their badges, stood at attention as the flag-draped casket was carried into the chapel, led by the LAPD’s traditional bagpipe player.

“He was the kind of guy that gave a lot to everyone he worked with,” said Officer Gary Palmer, once a patrol partner of Soo Hoo.

Reflecting on the days since Soo Hoo and Wong were killed, Gates said: “It was a week when we all asked, ‘Why?’ A week to assess the values and worth of our profession. And a week in which, through the deeds and lives of these men, we know we made the right decision.”

Gates called Soo Hoo tenacious, aggressive, and confident. “He was a warrior in search of peace and harmony,” Gates said.

Chinatown vendors turned from their vegetable and fruit stands and stepped from their shops to watch a funeral cortege of 80 LAPD patrol cars and nearly 70 motorcycles as a hearse bearing the body of police Officer William Wong was escorted from the Wah Wing Sang Mortuary on Sunset Boulevard to Rose Hills Cemetery in Whittier.

As the procession turned onto the Pomona Freeway, several people watched it, waiting in front of an austere concrete chapel near the top of a grassy slope in Rose Hills Cemetery. A sparrow chirped some distance off in the pine-scented air.

The officers left their vehicles and formed lines along the way into the chapel, while a solitary bagpiper piped his song of sorrow, a song that has become part of most funeral services for slain officers. And then the casket was borne by the pallbearers into the chapel.

Chaplain Sgt. Jerry Powell took the pulpit to address Wong’s widow, Martha; his 6-year-old daughter; his relatives and more than 350 officers. He began: “Today we will consider the good and the righteous.” Pastor Andrew Chan then said that Wong “has set a good example for us, no matter what line of work we do.”

And the bagpiper again played, before LAPD Chief Daryl Gates spoke. “It’s a great burden we must all shoulder,” said Gates in a low but strong voice. He referred to the risk of untimely death police officers face. Wong “was a warrior,” Gates went on, “a warrior in the battle for that elusive thing called peace in this community.”

“Bill was a police officer’s police officer,” eulogized Don Linfield, one of Wong’s closest friends and one of the pallbearers seeing him to his grave. Then in a wavering, small voice, he ended, “Goodbye, Bill . . . God bless you.”

Some time later, family and other mourners gathered at the grave site further up the hill. A color guard of four officers fired three volleys. Then a trumpeter sounded taps as the flag draping Wong’s casket was folded by two members of the honor guard and presented to Wong’s widow.

Officer Jack V. Evans died on Saturday, October 22, 1983, when he was involved in a traffic accident. He was a member of the Los Angeles Police Department’s Valley Traffic Division.

Kern County Sheriff’s deputy Michael J. Bentley died after his patrol car was hit head-on by a fleeing armed robbery suspect near the town of Rosamond.

Senior Deputy Michael J. Bentley, 33, of Bakersfield, stationed at the sheriff substation in Mojave died at the Antelope Valley hospital in Lancaster about two hours after the accident on Willow Springs Road.

Bentley was pursuing an armed robbery suspect at about 5:15 p.m. on Willow Springs Road, north of Bacus Road when the crash occurred. The chase was touched off after the suspect, reportedly wielding a sawed off shotgun, robbed a Mojave mini-market and fled in a stolen pickup truck. Deputy Bentley was southbound on Willow Springs Road, and the suspect, being chased by another deputy, was northbound. The suspect came around a corner on the wrong side of the road and hit Deputy Bentley head-on.

Bentley was hired as a sheriff’s deputy in 1975, after serving in the Marine Corps. He also spent short periods of employment with the Kern Co. Parks Department as a park ranger and with the Bakersfield Police Department as a patrolman.

While working with the Kern Co. Sheriff’s Department, he received commendations on excellent police work from numerous agencies. He worked varied assignments in the sheriff’s office, including the jail, Lamont, patrol, detectives and Mojave Substation.

While working on the afternoon shift that day, he was pursuing an armed robbery suspect in the Mojave area at high rates of speed. The suspect wanted to commit suicide by ramming Bentley’s patrol car head on, but instead received a cut lip. He was taken into custody and tentatively charged with murder, robbery and auto theft.

Bentley was survived by his wife, Shirley, and a stepson, Doug.

Bentley’s great sense of humor and loyalty to his friends and job will be sorely missed, but his memory will last forever.

The happy grin he’d flash at having told another dumb joke would fall to a scowl at mention of his work.

It wasn’t that Donn Witt didn’t like his work, he loved it. But after 11 years with the Sheriff’s Department, he spoke more critically of the criminal justice system which seemed to frustrate his efforts to put crooks in jail.

Witt, 35, recovered from more serious diseases than most people every face – hepatitis, cirrhosis of the liver, ulcer, peritonitis, cancer of the colon. He could have retired any time, but instead always returned to his cluttered desk in the detective division at the Vista Sheriff’s Station.

“He was a dedicated cop,” was the phrase most often used by deputies trying to find the right words to say about Witt, who died Sept. 25, at Mercy Hospital from liver failure and chronic hepatitis. The deputies also remembered Witt’s endless repertoire of bad jokes and John Wayne – hero worship.

Witt was the driving force behind many major criminal investigations in Vista and San Marcos, recalled one of his former partners. Witt received a Distinguished Service Award for his work in closing 150 area burglaries and arresting 18 suspects in a two-month period of 1980.

He also received five exemplary performance citations, a plaque from the City of San Marcos in appreciation for his work there, and he was rated “above standard” in every annual work evaluation.

“He did more than what was required in the performance of his job,” said sheriff’s spokesman Sgt. Sam Miranda. “His last performance evaluation indicated he had an 89.4 percent rate of closing workable cases. That’s high – it means he was out there working hard.”

From 1972-75, Witt was assigned to patrol duties in Vista. In 1974 he contracted hepatitis from handling a prisoner who had the disease. Mrs. Witt said he was never told he should get a shot to prevent infection, and the county has accepted all responsibility for his subsequent medical bills.

Witt had taken a formal permanent injury leave from the department on Sept. 5, but one deputy who had been a close friend for years said if Witt had recovered from his last struggle, he probably would have postponed retirement once more.

Mrs. Witt reflected that she had wanted him to quit, but knew it would do no good to say so. “There is a lot of camaraderie in the detective division. They’re very close, like family,” she said. “It would have been hard on Donn to lose that.

“Donn could have retired, gone off and taken care of himself. But he wouldn’t have been happy. He enjoyed helping people. He thought if he didn’t care, no one would; it had to start with someone.”