Dan Niemi became a friend of mine on a WW2 Fighters flight sim forum back in 1998. We soon realized that we had a lot in common, so we talked alot. Dan was a programmer back then, but his true love was his firearms school that he ran on weekends in San Leandro, Ca. He had a range up in the hills, and there he taught the local LEO depts on gun handling, advanced weapons courses, H2H courses, and survival. He also taught firearm safety and shooting to the public.
Back then we would talk thru the computer at night until I fell asleep at the desk. One night he asked me about my thoughts on him joining the police force. I cautioned him to consider the risks, for him and his family, before jumping out there. (He had just turned 39)
But Dan's heart was about people, and he felt that if he could make a difference, it would be worth it. He applied himself and joined the San Leandro PD.
On June 25th, 2005 around 11pm, Dan's watch came to its end. He was dispatched to investigate some "noisy teenagers" on the streetcorner of a quiet neighborhood. When he got there he found 5-6 youths standing around the sidewalk carousing and drinking.
One of the youths was Irving "Gotti" Ramirez, 23yr old immigrant from El Salvador. Irving was a loser. He had a long record with the law, including possession and guns. He knew that if Dan were to call in his ID, he would be searched. Then Dan would find his 2 guns, shotgun, drugs and alcohol and he would be going to jail for breaking parole.
So Irving made a decision. When Dan took his ID and turned away from him to use his shoulder mic, Irving pulled his 10mm pistol and shot Dan in the head from behind. Dan fell to the street, and then Irving stepped over him and shot him 6 more times from arms length away.
Irving then ran away from the scene.
The following day, over 500 police from several counties descended on the street where Irving was holed up. His girlfriend gave police the hidden location of his clothes and the gun he used. His friends testifed against him that he was the shooter. His ID was still in Dan's hand.
The funeral was massive. San Leandro had not lost an officer in over 40 years. There was a 5 police helicopter flyover in the missing man formation. Over 250 motorcycle police were in the motorcade. He would have been embarrassed, and humbled.
Today, the jury in Alameda County handed down the first Death Penalty sentence in 30 years. http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f ... 01&sc=1000
Dan was also a wannabe writer. One the Flight Sim forum, he would write stories about WW2 pilots, and we loved it. He also would write to vent the stress and frustration of the job and what he saw. I wish I had his story that he wrote about the little abused girl he saved.
Below is some personal journal entries he wrote. I grabbed these off some site, since I lost all the stuff he gave me in a Harddrive crash long ago.
~Bill
Sitting in the car, watching the sky turn from deep blue to shades of red, feeling the cool breeze and hearing the echoing silence with only empty buildings as witness, I realize there is no other place I would rather be right now. Have you ever felt that? What a powerful emotion, suddenly understanding you have found what you were looking for.
Now I could see the beauty in the stillness of the day, the setting sun, and the cool air bringing the evening to me. In the beginning I told you it had been a twenty-year odyssey, getting here. During the hiring process a panel of police officers asked me why now, at this age, did I want to become a cop?
I needed an answer, and the one I found turns out to be the truth. I told them I had wanted to be a policeman for nearly twenty years, but I always seemed to find something else that needed doing. The times where my path in life forked and I had a decision to make, I ended up choosing a path other than law enforcement for reasons I’ve forgotten now. I do not regret one thing I have done; I have started many things and finished a few, I’ve been to many places and met a lot of people. I have learned much about life, and I’ve learned a little about myself. But now it is time for me to be a cop. I just hope I can be a good one.
**********************
Boots, shined. Pants pressed and creased. Belt, shined and all silver snaps and buckles polished to a mirror finish. Shirt pressed and creased, badge and name tag removed.
Class A uniform jacket buttoned, badge and name tag affixed. Tie clasped, hat on.
Fingers at a natural curl.
A black band runs across my badge, pointing at my heart.
I watched as a drop of water dangled from the brim of my hat, suspended, waiting to fall. And the rain kept coming down as we stood at attention.
Somewhere inside the church before us a preacher spoke words we could not hear about a man we never met. He talked about the years of service the man had given as a police officer, how he loved his wife and children, how his wife and children would now and forever miss their father.
The preacher spoke of how the man was gunned down in the
line of duty, doing his job, being a police officer. The drop of water fell from the brim of my hat, replaced by another as the rain continued and the cold seeped past the jacket, past the shirt, into my bones. And a thousand police officers stood at attention in the rain.
Steve had told me years before I made it to the Academy that being a police officer meant you joined the largest brotherhood in the world. He said you could travel anywhere in the United States and cops would always welcome you into their homes, share a slice of their lives with you. When I graduated the Academy, he said, “Welcome to the family.”
Another drop of water fell; I listened as the rain pattered on the pavement and against my hat. Solidarity, unity, family. A thousand came to pay their respects to one. From every department across the state, for a man we had never met, we came.
