Family, Friends & Fellow Officers Remember...

I was very little when Uncle Ronnie was killed. I'll never forget him taking me for a short ride on the front of that big Harley-Davidson Miami Police Department motorcycle. He would ride down the sidewalk one or two houses down and back to the house.

We were in K-Mart shopping and my Dad received a page to come to the customer service desk for a phone call. Dad was shocked because he couldn't imagine anybody calling him while at the store. In fact, he was trying to figure out just who even knew we were there as we walked to the desk. After he got off of the phone, he immediately said that we had to go. My parents dropped me off at my Aunt and Uncle's house and rushed to the hospital.

I remember talking to my Aunt and cousin Vicki. We were all hopeful that he would be OK. Most disturbingly, he wasn't.

I'll never forget his funeral. Seeing all of his fellow police officers honoring their friend and fellow co-worker was like something out of a Hollywood movie.

I think of him and my cousins (David, Mike, and Rhonda) often when I see a policeman on a motorcycle. I am always hopeful that they will move out of the Miami area and further north within the state of Florida. I can tell that a large part of him lives through each of them!!

Mark McLeod