‘Rollo’ Remembered for Bringing Smiles to Anglers’ Faces

I didn’t really know James “Rollo” Heyn, so I wasn’t too choked up after learning he had died as a result of an explosion last week aboard the Royal Polaris.

It didn’t take long, however, to get to know the young captain through the emotional words of some of his many friends--all of whom are still choked up because Heyn won’t be around to make them smile anymore.

“Well, I’ll just think back of all the times he made me smile then--because there were sure a lot of them,” said Joyce Corrigan, 54, a long-range veteran from Cerritos who has made more than 20 trips aboard the luxury sportfisher.

Rollo, as he was known around the San Diego waterfront, had a zest for life everyone seemed to appreciate. He made people around him feel comfortable and was one of those rare individuals that no one could get mad at.

“Rollo could get away with murder,” said Tim Ekstrom, 30, skipper of the Royal Star and one of Heyn’s closest friends. “He was the emcee of every trip, and he was always having a good time no matter what he was doing.

“Rollo was one of those guys who could pull your pants down to your knees while you’re fighting a big fish--if anyone else did this you’d want to turn around and punch him--and you’d see that it was Rollo and all you could do was laugh.”

Ekstrom, who learned of Rollo’s death 15 minutes after it happened on the afternoon of Feb. 4 off southern Baja California, wept for three hours after hearing the news.

Indeed, crying has replaced laughter for almost everyone who knew Rollo. His funeral was Thursday morning in San Diego, and the turnout of nearly 1,000 was testament to the popularity of a man who lost his life so suddenly.

That Rollo is dead at 39 is difficult enough to cope with, his friends say. But the manner in which he died makes it even worse.

Rollo was the victim of an explosion that took place while he and a few others were passing time playing with homemade bombs during their long ride home, 15 days into an 18-day trip.

“I could deal with this a lot easier if he was killed during an explosion in the engine room, or if he fell overboard and drowned, but this is impossible to figure out,” Ekstrom said, biting his lip.

An investigation is still in progress, but what is known is that after most of the passengers were dropped off at Cabo San Lucas to fly home, someone broke out the bombs or bomb ingredients and a few of the 15 people still aboard started lighting the devices and tossing them overboard, marveling at the amount of water they displaced.

They were binary explosives, the type demolition crews use, according to sources close to the investigation. Binary explosives involve two components--fuel and an oxidizer--that are mixed to create an explosive.

In this case they were mixed in narrow pipe-like objects and detonated with blasting caps and fuses.

The material to make the bombs reportedly was brought to the landing by a passenger from Alaska.

“All I can say is that a joint investigation between us and the FBI is still in progress,” said Colburn McClelland, an Alcohol Tobacco and Firearms special agent based in Los Angeles.

Neither the ATF nor FBI would identify the man or comment further on the case, but he has been identified by more than one person as a part-time firefighter from Nikiski, Alaska.

Heyn, second in command of the vessel, and his companions were playing with their explosives while Steve Loomis, the primary captain, watched from the wheelhouse, Ekstrom said.

Heyn was said to have stuffed at least one of the devices in a coffee can for greater effect and lit the fuse, but for some reason he failed to let go of the can in time.

With “explosive injuries” to his hands, abdomen, chest and face, he bled to death before the vessel was able to reach the small Baja town of San Carlos, said a San Diego medical examiner who performed the autopsy. Heyn’s body was stored in a freezer and the vessel, without stopping at the Mexican city, began a 2 1/2-day journey home that must have seemed an eternity.

“I’ve been crying and crying all week, saying why did this have to happen,” Corrigan said. “But the bottom line is that it did happen and all I can think of now is that Rollo must be on a bigger ship in heaven, because I know he’s going to heaven.”

None of those disembarking at Fisherman’s Landing on Sunday morning would talk about the incident, leaving one to believe that there might be more to the story.

The investigation will provide some answers, and the federal agencies’ report to the U.S. Attorney’s office will suggest whether criminal charges should be filed against Loomis, the man who brought the explosives aboard or any of the other passengers or crew.

Civil penalties are also a possibility, U.S. Coast Guard Lt. Chris Palmer said, adding that if and when charges are brought against Loomis, a Coast Guard administrative law judge will decide whether the 30-year veteran skipper will be allowed to keep his captain’s license.

Loomis, 55, reportedly was uneasy with what he had been watching. But this was Rollo, who was like a son to him, and Rollo could get away with murder, as Ekstrom said. Nobody wanted to order Rollo to do anything.

How Loomis must wish he had been more strict.

But Heyn should have been more responsible. He was a working captain too. “An absolute ace,” said Royal Polaris owner Frank LoPreste, a long-range pioneer who takes pride in the steps his crews usually take to ensure the safety of their passengers.

LoPreste can’t make sense of this situation. Nobody can.

The void created by the loss of Heyn is a gaping one, especially in the heart of his wife of five months, Stephanie.

“Rollo had finally found his soul mate in Stephanie,” said Pete Gray, 41, host of the “Let’s Talk Hook-Up” weekend radio show on XTRA (690). “He was so happy. He was at the peak of happiness and to have that taken away by such a senseless accident is just crushing to all of us.”

It may be of little solace to Stephanie, but one of the passengers, Don Soddard of Woodside, Calif., recalled that Heyn’s last words to Loomis were, “Please tell my wife that I love her.”

Meanwhile, those who knew and loved Rollo are left with only memories.

“Rollo had feelings for others,” Corrigan said. “That’s what I loved about him.

“If he saw that everyone was getting bit but one person, he’d walk up to that person and say, ‘Hey, bud, let me throw a bait for you.’ And when that person would finally get bit he’d say, ‘I knew you could do it, buddy.’ And he did all this without making the person feel [belittled].”

Ekstrom, while waiting for the Royal Polaris to arrive at the landing last Sunday morning, shared one of his favorite memories: The time a giant tuna pulled Rollo overboard during a night bite in 1989 at the Revillagigedo Islands.

More than an hour into the battle, the fish charged the boat and Rollo was winding up the slack when the fish turned around and sounded, catching the fisherman off guard and yanking him off the bow.

Rollo’s rod was attached to a harness strapped around his waist, so letting go was of no help. The drag was so tight that the line didn’t give. Rollo was pulled under and out of sight.

Somehow, though, he managed to turn the clicker on and flip the reel into free spool, enabling him to swim to the surface while the tuna continued to sound.

Ekstrom, fearing a backlash that might have had disastrous results, kicked off his boots and jumped in and cut the line.

“When he gets back on board he’s bragging about having the presence of mind to put the reel in free spool and turn the clicker on,” Ekstrom said with a shaky laugh. “But everything happened so fast there’s no way Rollo could have done that. He wasn’t a beach guy and was not comfortable in the water. I swear that was an act of God.”

Whatever it was, it bought Rollo 10 more years to make people smile.