Published on Monday, June 1, 1998
in the Tampa Tribune

Trooper's name could go on road

Pasco state legislators agree to push for part of State Road 54 being renamed for a slain Florida Highway Patrol trooper.

It's been two weeks since Florida Highway Patrol Trooper James B. Crooks was gunned down in his patrol car at State Road 54 and Interstate 75.

The pain and sadness surrounding his murder, and that of two Tampa police detectives and a small boy, are wounds that for many will last a lifetime.

But will Floridians remember the ultimate sacrifice Crooks gave in the line of duty?

Law enforcement officers and local business people have combined their efforts to keep Crooks' memory alive. They want to rename about two miles of State Road 54 in east Pasco the ``Trooper J.B. Crooks Highway.''

``We're doing this as a reminder to everyone,'' said organizer Frank Taylor, a former law enforcement officer who owns Wesley Chapel-based Lindhurst International, an information brokerage service for private investigators.

``Public safety is a dangerous business.''

The idea surfaced about two weeks ago among Taylor and other members of the Rough Riders group in Tampa, along with local people in law enforcement.

Lt. James Richburg Jr., supervisor of the highway patrol station in Land O' Lakes where Crooks was based, was supportive of the effort.

``I think that's a nice idea,'' Richburg said.

The effort got a major boost Monday when state Rep. Mike Fasano, R-New Port Richey, said he would sponsor a bill when the Legislature convenes next spring.

Fasano said fellow legislator Virginia Brown-Waite, R-Brooksville, has agreed to sponsor the bill in the Senate. She couldn't be reached for comment Monday.

Fasano said the renaming idea was tremendous, and that he saw no reason other state lawmakers wouldn't approve it.

``It would be an honor'' to introduce the bill in the state House of Representatives, Fasano said. ``We must never forget that brave trooper.''

Just two years ago, Fasano helped push through a name change for about 20 miles of State Road 54. The Purple Heart Highway honors veterans wounded in combat.

Fasano said the Purple Heart designation would remain for much of that 20-mile stretch. The proposed ``Trooper J.B. Crooks Highway'' would cover a mile east and also west of Interstate 75.

Crooks was fatally shot on an interstate exit ramp at State Road 54 on May 19. Officials said Hank Earl Carr gunned down Crooks before he had time to draw his weapon. Carr was fleeing north on the interstate after police said he fatally shot his girlfriend's young son and the two Tampa detectives.

Florida Department of Transportation spokeswoman Marian Scorza said there were no set rules concerning highway names.

``Whatever the Legislature decides, we'll do,'' she said.

Supporters of the renaming plan are to meet with Pasco County legislators in the fall to iron out the details.

Published on Friday, May 22, 1998
in the Tampa Tribune

Witness: Trooper had no chance against gunman

BROOKSVILLE - Hank Earl Carr fired two quick shots, one point blank, looking eye to eye with the Florida Highway Patrol trooper.

The shooting of Highway Patrol Trooper James Crooks was over in an instant - the officer didn't have time to react, said a truck driver who saw the killing.

Paul Joiner's semitrailer truck was behind Crooks' cruiser on the Interstate 75 exit ramp at State Road 52 in north Pasco County.

``He never had a chance,'' Joiner said.

Crooks had followed Hank Earl Carr's stolen Ford Ranger off the interstate where Carr stopped, the trooper right behind him, Joiner said.

In a second, Carr was out of the truck, aiming his assault rifle.

``He was out real quick. He knew what he was going to do. He knew he was going to shoot him,'' Joiner said. ``He jumped out and put a round through the window. Then he ran around to the driver's side and shot him. He was right up there looking at him eye to eye.''

Joiner, a driver for Allied Automotive, ran to the dead trooper's vehicle as soon as Carr sped away, joined by Tim Baine, a 20-year-old college student.

Baine managed to step on the cruiser's brake pedal to stop the rolling vehicle.

Crooks was killed so quickly he never had a chance to put the cruiser in park, Joiner said. Joiner reached in to use the radio, calling for help, saying that an officer had been shot.

``Right after that, I got my cell phone and called my wife and told her to lock the house, there was a crazy man out there,'' said Joiner, who lives in Zephyrhills. ``I had no idea where he was going to go. If he'd taken a right, he'd be heading toward my home.''

The impact of what he had seen didn't hit until later, Joiner said. ``After it was over, I thought about it and thought, `Wow!' There was no telling what this guy would do. He'd just lost it.''

Joiner, 35, said he saw the Ranger and trooper zip past him before reaching the exit ramp. Crooks did not have the cruiser's lights on. Carr drove off the exit ramp, at first looking like he would pull off to the left, but then stopped in the middle of the traffic-clogged pavement, Joiner said.

Crooks had been told not to try to pull Carr over by himself, said Ray Velboom, a Florida Department of Law Enforcement agent investigating the trooper's killing.

But Carr gave the trooper no choice by stopping.

``It was the first time I've ever seen anyone killed in cold blood,'' Joiner said.

Published on Friday, May 22, 1998
in the Tampa Tribune

Trooper laid to rest

CLEWISTON - Friday's memorial service for Florida Highway Patrol Trooper James ``Brad'' Crooks stretched from the breadth of a community to the heart of his fiancee.

Nadine LaMonte, engaged to marry the 23-year-old trooper in November, bit her lip and wept when the symbolic last radio call for Crooks was broadcast.

LaMonte was not alone in her grief.

Some 2,500 people came to honor Crooks. On the force less than a year, he became the 37th Florida trooper to die in the line of duty.

His mother was handed a flag that had flown at the academy where Crooks earned the respect of fellow cadets with his hard work. Another flag was given to LaMonte before an honor guard loaded his casket into a hearse.

Crooks was but one of the victims in Tuesday's carnage that began with the shooting death of a 4-year-old boy, the son of Hank Earl Carr's girlfriend. Carr was taken into custody, but later grabbed a gun and killed two Tampa police detectives. Carr escaped in a stolen truck, later killing Crooks. He eventually killed himself in a gas station.

Friday, in this tiny - population 7,000 - sugar cane town about 90 miles from Miami, they came to say goodbye. They came in hats and church clothes. They came in jeans and running shoes. But mostly, they came in uniform. More than half of the crowd were members of Florida's vast law enforcement family.

In the white-and-orange John B. Boy Auditorium, the sweet scent of dozens of funeral sprays and bouquets mixed with the afternoon heat. Many in the auditorium's capacity crowd, especially pregnant women, had to momentarily step outside for the breeze.

Crooks was the first University of South Florida intern to ``gut it out'' through the intense Highway Patrol training, Col. Charles Hall told a packed civic auditorium.

Outside after the dust settled on an emotional farewell which included a 21-gun salute, Tampa Mayor Dick Greco said of the sea of officers: ``Everyone in uniform was seeing their funeral re-created today.''

``It's not easy,'' said a drawn-looking Maj. Morris Leggett, who was Crooks' commander.

Leggett led more than a dozen troopers in patrol vehicles to Clewiston, where schoolchildren lined the streets.

Patrolman R.L. Sheridan of the Tampa Police Department summed up the feelings of law officers around the state.

``All of Florida's law enforcement would be here today if it weren't for the totality of the situation,'' he said. Funeral services for the two slain Tampa detectives are today.

Throughout the town, flags flew at half-staff. Standing in the front of the 15-man police department, Investigator Mike McVey said, ``All line people are used to the danger of the job. When you get in that car, you better be prepared to say goodbye.''

At Clewiston High School where students were dismissed at 2:15 for the 3 p.m. service, Crooks was remembered as ``fun loving'' and as ``a very nice kid.'' He played clarinet in the band. He was editor of a computer class newsletter. But most of all, the 1993 graduate wanted to be a police officer.

It wasn't easy. Teacher Lonzo Griffith remembered how Crooks fretted over ``his size being acceptable.'' Griffith said after Crooks went to USF and became a security guard, ``more and more Brad got in shape and began believing he could do it.'' He eventually lost 75 pounds.

The teacher's fondest memory of Crooks was when the teen, decked out in a cowboy outfit, rode his horse to school for Spirit Week.

At the funeral home, fiancee LaMonte, flanked by Crooks' parents and grandmothers, bid farewell as the flag-draped casket was lifted into a hearse.

Bagpipes wailed two choruses of ``Amazing Grace'' before 11 police helicopters flew overhead.

Then came the haunting radio transmission that Trooper Crooks, I.D. 1777, was ``10-7'' - the police code for out of service.

The transmission implored, ``We ask for a moment of silence. Unit 1777 is out of service.''

Published on Friday, May 22, 1998
in the Tampa Tribune

Slain trooper was motivated, honest, engaged

TAMPA - Fellow officers and friends remember slain Florida Highway Patrol Trooper James Crooks as generous, quiet and dedicated to his job.

As soon as he heard a fellow patrolman had been killed, Florida Highway Patrol Trooper Jeffrey Johnson knew he'd lost his buddy.

Johnson and James Crooks had sweated through the patrol's grueling academy training together, becoming close friends in the process.

Crooks was shot and killed in his patrol car Tuesday after he stopped Hank Carr, already fleeing down Interstate 75 after killing two Tampa police officers.

``I knew what shift he was on, and I knew what area he worked,'' Johnson said Wednesday. ``I just had this gut feeling that was who it was.''

The 23-year-old Crooks is the 37th trooper killed in the line of duty in Florida since 1941. The last one, Robert G. Smith, was struck from behind by a drunk motorist after a traffic stop on Interstate 95 South Florida last July.

Tuesday's death marked Lt. Michael Guzman's first news conference since he was named the patrol's public information officer.

``I hope I never have to hold another conference like this,'' Guzman told reporters Wednesday.

Guzman offered no details on the circumstances of Crooks' death, saying the Florida Department of Law Enforcement is investigating the shooting.

``Be patient,'' he asked reporters. ``Help us get through this.''

Patrol Maj. Ernie Leggett said Crooks will be remembered as a ``quiet and friendly'' man dedicated to his job.

A graduate of Clewiston High School and the University of South Florida, where he majored in criminology, Crooks' first obstacle during recruit training was the battle of the bulge.

``He lost 75 pounds to meet the patrol's weight policy,'' Leggett said. ``That's just one indication of how motivated this young man was.''

Engaged to be married, Crooks joined Troop C last August and was assigned to Pasco County.

Steve Babon, a classmate at USF, said Crooks was ``obsessed'' about becoming a police officer.

``That is what he wanted to do,'' Babon said.

The future patrolman also had old-fashioned values, he said.

``He was an honest, honest person,'' Babon said. ``He had good-old-boy, respect-your-mother values. You never saw him cussing. He was a good guy.''

Leggett said the patrol is setting up a trust fund for those who want to make donations in Crooks' memory.

He is survived by his parents, Michael and Vivian Crooks of Clewiston. Visitation will be from 4 to 7 p.m. today at Akin Davis Funeral Home in Clewiston, with services at 3 p.m. Friday at the John Boy Auditorium there. There will be no graveside services.

Johnson said his reaction to Crooks death was ``disbelief,'' but it won't change how he views his job.

``You can't really let it change you,'' he said. ``You can't let those things in your mind [such as] `Do I want to this job or not?

``They teach us to approach every vehicle with caution, not to approach every vehicle being scared.''

Published on Thursday, May 21, 1998
in the Tampa Tribune

Outpouring for slain officers knows no boundaries

TAMPA - Officers from across the country and beyond will join those mourning the deaths of three Florida men in law enforcement.

Canadian Mountie Robert Holland didn't know Tampa Detectives Randy Bell and Ricky Childers, but that isn't keeping him from flying across two countries to a town he's never been to on his day off.

It's kinship that brings him, and likely hundreds of other police officers from across the nation, to Florida to pay their respects to Bell, Childers and Florida Highway Patrol Trooper James B. Crooks.

``I picked up the newspaper yesterday and I saw the pictures of the two slain officers leading the suspect out and was just horrified,'' said Holland, who has been a constable - the equivalent of officer in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police - for three years.

``The night before, my partner and I had been in an altercation with a gentlemen, and it really dawned on me how easy what happened to those two officers can happen to me. If somebody is intent, they can snuff you out in an instant.''

The officers began arriving late Thursday for Crooks' funeral at 3 p.m. today at the John Boy Auditorium in Clewiston. The funeral, like Saturday's for Bell and Childers, is open to the public.

Ceremonies for Bell and Childers begin at 11 a.m. Saturday at the Tampa Convention Center. Local television stations plan live coverage.

The ceremonies will be steeped in police tradition: Honor guards from dozens of Florida police agencies will be present, the bagpipes will play and a 21-gun salute will be fired. Lt. Robert Pennington, who has organized police funerals for the department, said much of what will be seen was borrowed from military tradition.

But the newest tradition, the show of support from across North America, also will be strongly felt.

``We just got a phone call a couple of hours ago from some Illinois state troopers at the state line needing directions,'' said FHP Lt. Tim Hines.

``It reminds you that there are people out there who do care. And that makes a difference.''

At Tampa Police headquarters, the grim preparations were exhausting to co-workers and friends still stunned by the slayings. Colleagues who sobbed at the scene of Tuesday's shooting were being called on to write eulogies and were helping the detectives' families take care of details.

Pennington, who supervised Childers and Bell for three years in the homicide squad, held back tears as he discussed the arrangements and the dark task of adding the two names to the police memorial next week.

The names of fallen officers are engraved on even columns on each side of the black granite monument. But Pennington said the names of Childers and Bell will be listed together as no one wanted to separate them.

``It's just horrible. ... I never thought I'd have to add new names so soon,'' he said. ``They were partners in life; they'll be partners in death.''

Officials say they have no way of estimating how many people will turn out for the funeral: a notice was sent to every police station in the country. Given the outpouring of support from the general public, thousands could attend, officials said.

A two-lane procession will bring the officers' bodies to the convention center, their families and police brass riding up front, and then to the grave site. Pennington expects that people will line the streets to honor the slain officers.

``When you see local citizens lining up on the street with their hats off, their hands over their hearts, it makes you feel good,'' he said.

FHP and Tampa police said the funerals will show the families how well loved the officers are, but also will be overwhelming. They will have their time to say their private goodbyes before the public event.

Debbie Geary, the president of a national support group for the widows and children of slain officers, said the funerals often become a blur to the families. Geary's husband, Metro-Dade Officer Dave Strzalowski, was shot to death with his partner, Richard Boles in 1988.

More than 3,000 people showed up for their funeral in Hollywood. Their assailant, Charlie Street, became a statewide symbol for Florida's inability to keep criminals behind bars.

``You are pretty much just going through the motions,'' said Geary, who heads Concerns of Police Survivors and has since married another Metro-Dade officer.

``You are numb and in disbelief and in denial: all those things that come with grief. You don't want to be there.

``But seeing the support makes you feel good. You feel, `At least there are some good people out there.' ''

Hundreds of officers from other departments are expected at the funerals, but just as many more have volunteered to fill in where they can so that more highway patrol troopers and Tampa police officers can attend their comrades' services.

In Tampa, the Hillsborough County Sheriff's Office has volunteered its deputies to handle traffic and parking around the convention center. Pasco sheriff's deputies will patrol the highways in Pasco during today's day shift, freeing up troopers.

Neighboring agencies have also stepped up to help Tampa police deal with the recent deluge of media attention. Hillsborough sheriff's spokeswoman Debbie Carter has staffed the telephones since a few hours after Bell and Childers were murdered.

Carter and Tampa FBI spokesman Brian Kensel have fielded media calls as well as hundreds of other phone calls flooding into the office since Tuesday.

Published on Wednesday, May 20, 1998
in the Tampa Tribune

Rookie trooper died living his dream

James B. Crooks saw his wish come true less than a year ago.

On Aug. 4, 1997, he joined Florida Highway Patrol Troop C in Pasco County. He returned to his alma mater a few weeks later to share his good fortune with friends.

``He was so happy,'' remembers Lisa Landis, faculty administrator for the University of South Florida's Criminology Department. ``He came to see me when he got his uniform. Honestly, that's all he wanted to do.''

Tuesday, Landis learned the young man she knew as ``Brad'' was dead.

Crooks, a 23-year-old rookie, was shot and killed about 2:30 p.m. Tuesday when he pulled over a stolen truck at Interstate 75 and State Road 54.

Authorities said Hank Earl Carr, who was being chased after fatally shooting two police detectives in Tampa, got out of the truck and shot Crooks with an assault-type rifle.

Slain trooper James B. Crooks

Just 10 hours earlier at the same intersection, Crooks had worked the case of a 30-year-old Tampa man killed when he crashed and was ejected from his van.

Lt. Mike Guzman, a patrol spokesman, called Crooks a ``fine trooper.''

``This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do,'' Guzman said in a breaking voice as he confirmed his colleague's death.

Crooks' parents, Michael and Vivian, live in Clewiston. A patrol official said Crooks, who lived in the Brooksville area, was engaged. Landis said her friend was USF's first and only student to attend the FHP Academy in Tallahassee, completing his 16-week internship last summer.

``He was so excited that I had set up this internship,'' Landis said. ``That's all he wanted. That was his lifetime goal, and he achieved it.

``He was a friend of mine. He was happy. It was going good.''

Published on Wednesday, May 20, 1998
in the St. Petersburg Times

Trooper had been on job less than year

James B. Crooks, a 23-year-old trooper who had been with the Florida Highway Patrol less than a year, was gunned down Tuesday afternoon on the Interstate 75 exit ramp at State Road 54 in Pasco County.

With details about the killing still sketchy, however, it was unclear whether his inexperience worked against him when he tried to apprehend 30-year-old Hank Earl Carr, who authorities say also killed two Tampa police detectives in a shooting rampage that spanned three counties.

"Apparently this guy (Carr) was a wild man," said highway patrol Maj. Ken Howes. "He'd already killed two veteran Tampa police detectives. So whether it was a rookie or a seasoned trooper, who knows if anything could have been done differently at this point."

Crooks, who was known as Brad, grew up on his family's cattle farm in rural Clewiston in South Florida. He was active in the 4-H Club and graduated from Clewiston High School.

A family friend said Crooks was happy to be assigned to Pasco County after he became a trooper and feared an assignment in Miami because of its danger.

Trooper Francis Vega, who roomed with Crooks at the academy and is stationed in South Florida, said his friend's death underscores the risk of police work.

"I don't think he made a mistake or did something wrong," Vega said. "It's just one of the things that happens. It's a sad thing that happens to the best of us."

Crooks' time at the academy wasn't easy, Vega said. As an overweight recruit, Crooks endured the scorn of FHP's drill instructors. But his persistence got him through, Vega said.

"People were on him constantly. But he said he was going to do it, and he went ahead and did it," Vega said.

Crooks' life ended just seven months after his crowning achievement -- graduation from the academy. He encountered a pickup truck driven by Carr, who had already shot two Tampa detectives and had fled north on I-75, authorities said.

It's unclear exactly what transpired between Crooks and Carr, but it ended with a young trooper's death.

Sgt. Bill Martinez said Crooks was based in Land O'Lakes and lived in Tampa. He was engaged to be married. Crooks is survived by his parents, Michael and Vivian Crooks of Clewiston.

A woman who answered the parents' phone Tuesday night declined comment.

Crooks is the 37th Florida Highway Patrol trooper slain in the line of duty since 1939, and the 17th to die by gunfire, Howes said.

"Every trooper in the state went through the same academy," Howes said, "so when we lose one of our own troopers, everyone hurts."