Gunman’s Life at Odds With His Actions

They are seemingly unreconcilable, these divergent images of David Joseph Fukuto; son of a respected jurist, he died flouting the law with ultimate contempt.

For most of his 32 years, he did nothing that might sully the name of a father who spent nearly two decades as a prosecutor before being named by then-Gov. Ronald Reagan to the South Bay Municipal Court bench.

As a member of an elite honor society at Torrance’s North High School, a teen-age David carved pumpkins with disadvantaged kids and helped decorate a float for the Tournament of Roses Parade. After spending four years as a top-flight student at El Camino Community College, he was accepted as a communications major at USC. He left in 1989 to work as an independent insurance broker.

Since then, he had been caring for his widowed grandmother at her turn-of-the-century home in the Mid-City area, a short distance from the Episcopal church that honored him for his good works Sunday with a festive dinner at the New Otani Hotel.

“This is such a good family, I can’t believe it,” said Van Nuys Superior Court Judge Marvin D. Rowen, who used to car-pool with state District Court of Appeal Justice Morio Fukuto during their days in the district attorney’s office. “He never said anything but good things about his kids.”

On Monday--the day after the church ceremony--David Fukuto strapped on a fanny pack containing 30 to 40 pairs of flexible plastic handcuffs and burst into a 12th-floor meeting room at the Torrance Holiday Inn, where more than a dozen Palos Verdes Estates police officers were attending an all-day motivational seminar. With a pistol in each hand, officials say, Fukuto fatally shot two veteran supervisors from the tiny South Bay department before succumbing in the ensuing struggle.

Investigators believe Fukuto was intent on robbing the officers who, along with several municipal officials from the upscale beachfront community, were dressed in civilian clothes. But on Tuesday, as his family grieved privately, few people seemed able to explain why he would attempt such a brazen mission or what troubled path could have led him to the edge.

“I would characterize him as somewhat conservative, across the board--politically, morally, theologically,” said Mother Catherine Culliane, rector of St. Mary’s Church, where Fukuto was among the younger members of the board. “It’s just mystifying.”

Police said weapons and ammunition were recovered from Fukuto’s car and from the Oxford Street house where his grandmother lives--among them a 9-millimeter semiautomatic pistol, an Uzi carbine with 120 rounds of ammunition and a Colt .223-caliber assault rifle that is believed to be fully automatic.

Church leaders acknowledged that Fukuto often took target practice with fellow parishioners, some of whom had served in the military or with the police, but said they did not view it as anything suspicious. David was “a very creative soul,” said Father John Yamazaki, pastor emeritus of St. Mary’s, which has long been an anchor for Los Angeles’ Japanese-American community and an integral part of life for the Fukuto family for nearly 40 years.

Yamazaki recalled how David Fukuto struggled each year to devise an innovative way for Santa Claus to make his appearance at their annual Christmas festival. The 80-year-old minister also remembered how Fukuto went searching for his grandmother after she wandered off to watch the looting during the 1992 riots.

“He was very careful of her,” Yamazaki said. “He was very, very considerate that way.”

After returning home Monday night, Yamazaki said, he received a call from Fukuto’s mother, Grace. “She said, ‘Father, remember him in prayers.’ Then she said, ‘Could you pray for the two officers and their families?’ She said, ‘I’m so hurt for them.’ ”

Tuesday, Fukuto’s father released a short statement that read in part: “David committed a terrible and unforgivable crime in taking the lives of two fine officers without reason. We cannot explain his acts. We can only extend our deepest condolences to the officers’ families and to the members of the Palos Verdes Estates Police Dept. Our prayers are with them.”

The 63-year-old jurist, who friends said was sent to a relocation camp during World War II, was one of the first Asian American prosecutors when he joined the district attorney’s office in 1957. Widely considered a tough but fair judge, Justice Fukuto has been mentioned as a potential nominee for the state Supreme Court.

“He’s one of the most down-to-earth, decent people I’ve ever met,” said Michael Yamamoto, a Los Angeles criminal defense lawyer, who has tried many cases in front of Fukuto. “This has really bummed me out, thinking about what this has done to him.”

Neighbors on a tidy, tree-lined street in north Torrance, where the Fukutos lived for nearly 25 years before moving to a larger home a few miles away in 1991, spoke admiringly of the family.

The judge, they said, could often be seen puttering in the garden outside his modest stucco home. One neighbor, who has lived on the street for 17 years, said she was surprised to learn Morio Fukuto was a judge--especially after seeing him head to work in a battered old Porsche.

When young David had parties, neighbors said, they were orderly affairs. Often, the teen-age crowd headed home by 10:30 p.m.

“They just seemed so average,” said one neighbor, who like most on the block declined to give her name out of respect for the Fukuto family’s privacy. “It’s such a shock.”

A short distance away, at North High School, from which David Fukuto graduated in 1979, Principal Timothy P. Scully pointed out that the former student had belonged to the Julians and Valiants Honor Society, an academic and community service group that requires a 3.0 grade-point average.

In a school yearbook, there is a photo of Fukuto next to the kind of adage that is meant to capture the potential of a graduating class. “It’s not the lofty sails,” it reads, “but the unseen winds that move the ship.”

Times staff writers John L. Mitchell, Shawn Hubler and Nancy Hill-Holtzman contributed to this story.