O.C. Deputy Eulogized as Dedicated Lawman : Funeral: Controversy is set aside as law enforcement officials, friends and family honor Darryn Leroy Robins.

The controversy surrounding the Christmas Day shooting death of Orange County Sheriff’s Deputy Darryn Leroy Robins was momentarily forgotten Friday during a funeral service that celebrated the life of an outstanding lawman, a fun-loving prankster and a dedicated husband and father.

More than 1,200 law enforcement officials in full dress and friends and family gathered for a wrenching, two-hour eulogy at First Church of God to honor the 30-year-old deputy. Robins’ widow, Rosemary, sat with their 18-month-old daughter, Melissa, who fidgeted with her bonnet and drank from her bottle, too young to understand the sadness at hand.

During one of her husband’s favorite Hawaiian folk songs, Rosemary Robins, who is from Hawaii, rocked in her seat and cried softly.

“Goodby, partner,” said Deputy Duane Turner, whose voice cracked as he recounted Robins’ dedication to steering south Orange County youths away from drugs and gangs.

“Rest in peace. A job well done. We will never forget you,” said Orange County Sheriff Brad Gates, who along with many others praised Robins’ accomplishments during his eight years with the department.

Outside, more than 150 gleaming patrol cars from police agencies from throughout Southern California lined Crenshaw Boulevard. A procession of more than 200 vehicles, led by 70 officers on motorcycles, wended their way to Green Hills Memorial Park in Rancho Palos Verdes as a testament to Robins’ popularity and the pain that every officer feels when one of their own falls in the line of duty.

Robins was laid to rest with full honors, including a 21-gun salute and a “missing man” formation helicopter flyover. As many in the crowd looked on and wept, the deputy’s colleagues handed Rosemary Robins the folded American flag that had covered her husband’s casket.

The popular officer was shot by fellow Deputy Brian P. Scanlan as they were re-enacting an earlier traffic stop in a deserted parking lot behind a Lake Forest movie theater on Christmas Day. Scanlan had a loaded gun during the drill and shot Robins in the face.

The mystery surrounding the shooting has raised some concerns that race may have played a role. Robins is black and Scanlan is white. Those close to Robins say they believe the shooting was unintentional but said they want details about what happened.

“I don’t believe it was a black-white thing at all,” said Harold Griffin, 31, of Los Angeles, who grew up with Robins. “But I would like to see some answers to some questions before we can put this behind us.”

The shooting was referred to only once during the funeral service by a pastor who termed it an “accident.”

After the church ceremony, Gates and other Orange County officials again declined to provide details on the shooting, which is being investigated by the Orange County district attorney’s office.

Orange County Supervisor William G. Steiner, who attended the ceremony, said he could provide no further details.

“I don’t think we help matters at this point by speculation,” Steiner said. “The family has shown such strength and forgiveness, we should learn a lesson from them.” Friends said Rosemary Robins has expressed no animosity toward Scanlan, who was invited to the funeral but did not attend. Scanlan’s family said he is devastated.

While any police killing drives home the difficult job facing law enforcement officers, the circumstances of Robins’ shooting only worsens the grief, said Deputy Gary Byerley.

“It’s harder for us because it was an accident, you really can’t blame anyone,” said Byerley, who worked with Robins for two years in Lake Forest. “I think that’s what Darryn would say. They (Robins and Scanlan) were very good friends.”

Robins, who lived in Torrance, was the kind of man who enjoyed making others smile--usually through a joke or good-natured prank, Byerley said. Friends say Robins lived for his work and his family but especially for his daughter, who he often referred to as his “bag of diamonds.”

“He was just always a joker, always happy,” Byerley said. “He didn’t like crooks, but he was very fair. He’d cut somebody a break if he thought they deserved it.”

Throughout the open-casket ceremony, legions of officers stood at attention in the main fellowship hall and an adjacent overflow room, listening to many eulogies of the man described as “upbeat” and “an inspiration” to his family and colleagues.

Gates described Robbins as “an outstanding deputy who was always striving to improve.”

Just days before his death, Robins had addressed more than 1,400 schoolchildren through the department’s outreach program, telling them that he would always be available if they ever needed his advice, Turner said.

It seemed to be a calling for Robins, who would reinvigorate drug and gang talks by setting them to rap music, earning him the nickname Deputy “Rappin’ ” Robins.

“There will never be another one like him,” Turner said.