A Hero’s Welcome

He spent eight weeks in four hospitals, fighting infections that spread from the gunshots that had ripped his abdomen, wrist and thigh. For days at a time, he drifted in and out of consciousness in a slow and deliberate struggle for life.

And on Saturday, CHP Officer Rafael “Ralph” Casillas finally came home.

With amber-and-blue lights flashing, a California Highway Patrol motorcade escorted Casillas through the San Fernando Valley, from a Northridge hospital to his parents’ home--only a mile or two from the doorsteps where he was shot July 24 by a suicidal ex-convict.

Wearing a black T-shirt and white jeans, the thin but determined young officer walked into his parents’ yard, past hand-painted signs reading “We love you man” and “Welcome Home Ralph” to hug his mom and dad, brothers and sisters. His CHP colleagues and bosses were there, too, waiting in the shade of a huge inflated Pepsi can--Casillas’ favorite drink.

“I’ve had the prayers and support of everybody,” Casillas said, speaking softly and quietly as he sat in an armchair with his young nieces stroking his arm. “You don’t realize how important it is--you see people every day and you don’t think twice about it. I just realized how important it is.”

Even though he is far from fully recovered, Casillas said he longs to be back on the job, working his usual graveyard patrol shifts.

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“Just seeing the motorcycles and the cars made me want to get my arm healed and jump back into that uniform,” said Casillas, 31, who has worked for the CHP eight years. “I miss the uniform. . . . It’s already in my heart to go back.”

First, though, Casillas has to regain the full use of his right hand and arm. Bullets hit his wrist and thigh and pierced his stomach just below his bulletproof vest. He was shot by Terry James Parker, who failed to stop for Casillas and his partner, leading the officers to his home, where he opened fire.

Parker then fled into the neighborhood and shot himself once before being killed by pursuing police. Casillas, clinging to life, was dragged by his partner from the doorstep to safety.

CHP officials said at the time they were unsure whether Casillas would survive.

So the reunion Saturday was an especially joyful--and unexpected--party.

“The hardest thing is to lose someone or have someone seriously injured on duty,” said CHP Deputy Chief Edward Gomez, who commands the highway patrol’s southern division. “The best thing is to see them come home.”

Added Capt. Glen Augusta, Casillas’ boss at the Newhall CHP station: “This is a great day for us. The fact that he’s going home is remarkable.”

It was an especially poignant homecoming for Casillas’ partner, James Portilla.

“The last time I talked to him was that night,” said Portilla, who accompanied him home. “I held him in my arms. . . . I’m not a real emotional person, but I feel a lot of emotion right now.”

Casillas, sitting across the living room from Portilla, looked his partner in the eye and said quietly: “I owe you my life. I haven’t forgotten.”

In a lighter moment, Casillas asked what he could do for Portilla. Root for the Padres, the partner said. No way, came the response from the die-hard Dodger fan.

For now, Casillas longs to return to his own house.

“I’ve got to get home--I have three dogs to worry about,” Casillas said. “I miss my cars, my Harley.”

First he will spend a few weeks with his parents, gaining strength and attending physical therapy.

He turned to a friend, who rode up to the house on a motorcycle, and said: “The most beautiful thing I saw [Saturday] was that bike.”

Nearby, Casillas’ relatives gathered amid blue and yellow balloons--aunts, uncles and cousins, all of whom haven’t seen Casillas since the shooting.

Small children giggled and followed Casillas’ every move. At one point, the officer, listening to the kids, said their laughter was the most beautiful sound he’d heard.

His fiancee, CHP Officer Tanya Kuykendall, brought shopping bags full of Casillas’ belongings into the house. She had held a daily vigil at Casillas’ bedside.

“I couldn’t be anywhere else,” she said.

It was Kuykendall who wheeled Casillas out of Northridge Hospital Medical Center and into the throng of TV cameras and reporters. Casillas chose not to speak, asking his brother, Jay, and two sisters to speak for him.

“Words cannot describe what we’re feeling right now,” said Theresa Gonzalez, Casillas’ sister. “We’re so happy to have him coming home.”

The family--and Casillas himself--said they were overwhelmed by the outpouring of support. Cards, flowers, letters and telegrams continue to arrive daily. One CHP official said he spent Friday signing hundreds of thank-you letters--until his wrist cramped.

Casillas said he found the attention a “shock but a pleasant shock.”

The public support also helped the close-knit family members, who said they never gave up hope.

“His will to live was so strong,” said his brother, Jay. “I had no doubt. He’s very determined.”

Since Monday, Casillas has improved dramatically, his family and CHP officials said. He was removed from a respirator just a week ago and taken off of all sedatives.

“Once he woke up, he knew what he was supposed to do. . . . He wanted to get home,” said Rafael Casillas, the officer’s father, a retired Beverly Hills garbage collector. “For me, it’s the happiest day of my life.”

But whether his son should return to police work, however, is another matter.

“It’s up to him--whatever he wants to do,” the father said. “I wish he wouldn’t.”

Meanwhile, the CHP officer sat in the armchair, sipping a soda, and sighed. “I’m so happy to be out of the hospital.”