Riverside police Capt. Michael Perea knows the pain will never go away.

A Riverside police officer is comforted by a friend after the burial ceremony for fellow police Officer Ryan Bonaminio last week. (Mark Zaleski / The Press-Enterprise )

"It was a calculated, cold-blooded killing," Perea said of the Nov. 7 death of Officer Ryan Bonaminio. "You can never make sense of that."

Anytime a law enforcement agency loses one of its members, the wound is deep and enduring. Healing takes time and often comes only with the assistance of counselors, both in-house and from outside agencies, officers say. Riverside police are just beginning that process, dealing not only with their grief but the trauma of knowing Bonaminio was intentionally gunned down.

Police Chief Sergio Diaz said that when Bonaminio chased a hit-and-run suspect into Fairmount Park that night, he slipped and fell on a sidewalk wet from sprinklers. The suspect then attacked the officer and grabbed his weapon, Diaz said.

"It was a very violent assault where the advantage was the suspect's," Diaz said. "He could have gone off with the officer's gun, but he chose not to do that. He chose to execute Ryan."

Diaz said the description of the events came from a male witness who was alone in a car in a church parking lot about 10 feet from the officer and suspect during the attack. The witness, whom Diaz declined to identify, heard the officer say, "Don't do this."

Two days later, police arrested Rubidoux resident Earl Ellis Green, who has been charged with Bonaminio's murder.

Psychotherapist Nancy Bohl said the attack on Bonaminio was an attack on the entire department.

'VERY PERSONAL'

"When someone deliberately murders a cop, they're murdering the uniform," Bohl said. "It's attacking everything that law enforcement stands for, so it becomes very personal."

Bohl is director of Counseling Team International, a San Bernardino company that contracts with many local law enforcement agencies and emergency responders and has worked with survivors of major tragedies, including the 9/11 attacks.

She said her company had four counselors at the Riverside Police Department the night of the killing.

"We go out immediately," she said. "We can come in and provide a presence of support."

Lt. Vance Harden, who works in personnel services, said it is standard procedure to bring together all the people who were first on the scene, along with the support personnel involved, such as the dispatchers who handled the calls.

"The night of the event, they were all brought in and the outside counselors were brought in," Harden said. "The peer support people were there. ... They talked that night and they've talked since."

No one is required to participate, he said, but it's rare for someone to refuse. Those first-line personnel are given time off to deal with their grief and return to work when they feel ready.

All personnel are given information and access to such support, Harden said.

"In our job, you get hardened to some things," he said. "But you're never prepared to see someone in uniform die."

Detective Robert Tipre heads the department's peer counseling group. He said despite the dangers police routinely face, death hits hard.

HELP TO UNDERSTAND

"Everybody handles it differently, whether it's fear, anger or anxiety," he said. "We're here to help them understand the things they're going to feel."

Tipre has experienced the loss of other officers in the department. In 2001, Doug Jacobs was killed while responding to a domestic disturbance call. Three years earlier, Officer Claire Connelly was struck and killed by a drunken driver while she was making a traffic stop.

Those deaths impacted him to the point where he felt the need for assistance, he said.

Riverside police officers line up last week before the start of fellow Officer Ryan Bonaminio's memorial service at the Grove Community Church in Riverside. (Mark Zaleski / The Press-Enterprise)

"I didn't know who to reach out to," Tipre said.

After Jacobs' death, he helped establish the department's peer support group, which has about 20 active members, he said. It has become more active in the last three to four years, in part because of the attention given to the aftermath of traumatic experiences of military personnel in Iraq and Afghanistan. Law enforcement officers encounter similar stress in their jobs, Tipre said.

He and other peer counselors looked at the military's response to trauma.

"We brought that back to the police department level," he said.

The support is needed not only after deaths, Tipre said, but for other situations police officers regularly respond to, including homicides, traffic accidents and nonfatal attacks on officers. Cases involving the abuse or death of a child are particularly difficult, he said.

Having been through a situation before doesn't necessarily make it easier the next time, officers said. In fact, subsequent events can reignite old traumas.

Hardin said he was deeply affected by the deaths of two Riverside officers in 1982.

"Watching other people grieve (for Bonaminio) has opened up those wounds," he said.

At the same time, he's had to deal with the anguish of his own family members, two of whom work for the department.

"My wife was (Bonaminio's) sergeant and my daughter was his dispatcher," Hardin said. "You see the emotions they're going through. I was involved in putting the service together, and when my bureau was working the long days, I couldn't be with my family members. It's important to have that quality time with them to make sure their needs are met."

SOME DEPART

For some, the aftermath of such an incident is too much. Riverside County Sheriff Stanley Sniff, whose department has suffered its own losses, including the 1997 ambush slayings of two deputies, said a department can see a certain amount of attrition after the killing of an officer.

"People were questioning why they were in law enforcement," Sniff said of the 1997 killings. "We had several who decided to leave law enforcement to go to another profession."

Traumatic events cause officers to take stock.

"It's one of those things where all the officers will have to confront their own mortality," he said. "It's scary. There are countless incidents where I could have been killed or severely injured. Every law enforcement officer has a whole slew of those. You can't end up treating everybody as if they're an assassin. Ultimately, we're all very vulnerable out there."

'GET OUT THERE'

While some may shy away, Hardin said most of his people just want to get back to work.

"I have not seen a rush of people not wanting to come to work," Hardin said. "You have officers saying, 'I should have been working that night. I need to get out there.' "

Tipre had a similar reaction this past week.

"As a detective, I work at a desk," he said. "I felt the need to get back in a patrol car and a uniform. That was my way of handling it."

That dedication is part of the department's strength. And that strength is helping officers work through Bonaminio's loss, Perea said.

"Morale is down because we lost an officer," Perea said. "But morale is stronger because we feel more like a family."

Perea, Hardin and Tipre all wore black memorial bracelets bearing Bonaminio's name.

They are a tradition with many law enforcement agencies. Tipre said he wore one after Jacobs' death nearly 10 years ago. There is no standard mourning period for keeping the bracelet on, he said.

"I wore Jacobs' for a year," Tipre said, looking at the bracelet on his wrist.

"I'll be wearing this for awhile."