Life Without Dad : Son of Slain L.A. Officer Picks Up Pieces, Tries to Resume Normal Childhood

On the surface, it seemed like any other fall Saturday at Columbus Junior High School in Canoga Park.

The Dragons and the Bullets, teams of 6- and 7-year-old boys, were racing up and down an athletic field in mad pursuit of a bouncing soccer ball.

Parents and friends, seated on the sidelines in lounge chairs or crouched by the white boundary lines, rooted for their respective teams in this American Youth Soccer Organization game as if an Olympic gold medal were at stake. Coolers, cameras and practice balls were everywhere.

But this was not like any other Saturday--especially not for Ryan Williams. Nor for his mother Norma, seated on the sidelines, surrounded by well-wishers.

This was Ryan’s first game since Halloween night, when his father, Los Angeles Police Detective Thomas C. Williams, was shot and killed as he picked up his son from the Faith Baptist Church school and child-care center.

The boy had just reached the family pickup truck parked in front of the center when gunfire erupted from a passing car. Williams spotted the car in time to warn Ryan to duck before the 42-year-old detective died in the hail of bullets.

Police have since arrested four men in connection with the ambush slaying, including Daniel Steven Jenkins, 30, in whose robbery trial Williams had testified Oct. 31, just hours before the shooting.

Columbus Junior High faces the Faith Baptist Church, and Ryan’s game Saturday took place just around the corner from the slaying scene.

“We want to get him back to a normal life as soon as possible,” his mother said as she watched her son race around with his teammates.

Nevertheless, several plainclothes officers, their guns hidden beneath their jackets, were on hand to guard the family.

Was Ryan ready Saturday to return to normal activities?

“I left the final decision up to him about whether he would play today,” his mother said. “He wanted to be with his friends.

“He knew that his father was very proud of his soccer playing. Two weeks ago, he scored his first goal right in front of his father and I and his sister. It was like he had just won the Rose Bowl. His dad was very proud.”

Ryan will go back to school for the first time since the shooting. And he will return to Faith Baptist.

“We couldn’t go anywhere else after all they’ve done for us,” his mother said.

The school will provide a tuition-free education for Ryan. And regional soccer officials hope to set up a fund for Ryan’s college education.

Soccer had become a central activity in the Williams household over the last two years.

Mrs. Williams said her husband had not known much about the game when Ryan started playing, but he learned. He studied books on the sport and became a referee in Ryan’s division as well as an assistant coach.

“He wanted to be there for his son,” said Mrs. Williams.

“He was always there to help me,” head coach Jennifer Witcher said. “He would always work his schedule around so that he could be at practice, even if it meant going into work at 6 a.m. We would run drills where the players would attack the goal. I could’ve stood in there, but we needed somebody bigger, so Tom would so the players could take their best shots.”

When Williams picked his son up on the evening he was shot, they were headed for a team Halloween party.

After Saturday’s game, Ryan’s team went to a pizza parlor for a birthday party for Ryan, who turned 7 Friday. A videotape of Saturday’s game was shown amid the pizza and the presents and the cake at the party, which drew more than 100 people.

Party With Detectives

On Thursday, more than 40 detectives from the Los Angeles Police Department went to the Williams home for another party, presenting Ryan with a new bike and other presents.

According to friends, he is enjoying all the attention, but the harsh reality of the last few days creeps through at times.

In a religious class on Saturday morning, students were asked to draw pictures of each other. Ryan drew a picture of a little boy standing by a grave.