A Deputy ‘Taken Too Soon’

Sgt. Ron Acuna and Deputy Brad Riches left the Orange County sheriff’s substation about the same time early Saturday morning, Acuna to pick up a cup of coffee and Riches to patrol the quiet streets of Lake Forest.

Both men’s paths took them to the 7-Eleven at Muirlands Boulevard and Ridge Route Drive, a popular spot for deputies drawn by the convenient location for coffee and concern over the well-being of the overnight clerks. Acuna got there first, bought his coffee and was back in the station when Riches’ voice crackled over the radio: “Emergency traffic.”

Within minutes, Riches was dead.

“It could have been me,” Acuna said later at the scene. “It could have been anyone who happened to be here.”

It was a familiar refrain among Orange County sheriff’s deputies struggling Monday to find some sign of reason behind the seemingly senseless ambush of Riches, the first deputy killed on patrol in 41 years.

The instinct, deputies said, is to learn from mistakes, to devise a protocol that might keep a similar killing from happening again. But the problem, said Sgt. Wayne Quint, is that there didn’t appear to be any lessons to learn.

“We don’t like to think about how vulnerable we are, so you look for red flags,” said Quint, president of the Assn. of Orange County Sheriff’s Deputies. “But there was nothing here. He was sitting in his patrol car and he’s suddenly taking fire. He could do nothing. That’s what really rips cops. . . . Everyone I’ve talked to, the first thing out of their mouths is, ‘It could have been me.’ ”

The suspect, Maurice Gerald Steskal, 39, of Lake Forest, was charged Monday with murder with the special circumstance of killing an on-duty police officer. That would make Steskal eligible for the death penalty if convicted, said David Brent, an Orange County deputy district attorney.

Steskal was to be arraigned today at the Justice Center in Laguna Niguel. He was being held without bail in the Orange County Jail under a suicide watch, described as standard procedure.

Steskal’s brother, a deputy for the Lee County Sheriff’s Department in southwest Florida, declined to comment. Other relatives could not be reached.

In Sacramento, Assemblyman Bill Campbell (R-Villa Park) delivered a tribute to the slain deputy and then led a moment of silence.

Not all reactions were so noble. The Orange County Sheriff’s Department said it received calls from people phoned by solicitors claiming to be raising money on behalf of the slain deputy.

“We’ve got a couple of calls asking if they’re legit,” Lt. Tom Garner said. “They’re not. If people are solicited, we’d like them to call us so that we can be there when [runners for the solicitors] pick up the money.”

At Steskal’s apartment Monday, his wife, Nenita Steskal, dealt with a steady stream of journalists seeking information about the accused killer’s life.

The couple married six years ago in the Philippines, she said, declining to detail the relationship.

She said she remained unaware of much of his background. He was born in Massachusetts and raised in Orange County, but she didn’t know which high school he attended. His family moved often, she said, and his parents, who have a home in Dana Point, are in Saudi Arabia on business, though she didn’t know what kind.

In Dana Point, neighbors of the parents said Steskal’s father works for Aramco, the giant oil-production consortium. Attempts to reach him through the firm failed.

Nenita Steskal said her husband worked as a mail clerk and in printing and silk screening, all through temporary agencies. She said he sometimes complained about being pressured by bosses and other employees but didn’t seem particularly angry about the incidents.

She said her husband liked to read National Geographic magazine and books about gems--he collected the stones on forays into the mountains--and to watch the Discovery Channel. She described him as a “walking encyclopedia,” a student of the Bible though he didn’t attend church.

Steskal had earlier run-ins with police going back more than a decade, according to Orange County court files.

In July 1988, Steskal led police on a car chase that resulted in charges of driving under the influence of alcohol and drugs, fleeing a police officer and possession of less than an ounce of marijuana. Four months later, he pleaded guilty to the DUI charge, and the other charges were dismissed. He received a three-year suspended sentence, was ordered to serve a weekend in County Jail, was fined $877 and had his driver’s license suspended for six months.

Nearly two years later, Steskal pleaded guilty to violating probation after failing to comply with the initial sentence, paid his fine then and was ordered to spend 13 days in jail, the records said.

He was fined twice for speeding, in 1997 and 1998, and paid the last fine in court March 26, 1999--two days before Orange County Sheriff’s Deputy Andre Spencer noticed he wasn’t wearing a seat belt and stopped him.

Steskal jumped from the car and walked toward the deputy, screaming abuse. Spencer drew his gun and called for backup.

The deputies found about a tablespoon of marijuana in a bag in Steskal’s left pocket, and a teaspoon more of marijuana and three 9-millimeter cartridges in the center console of his car.

“When I began to look in the front of his waistband, between his pants and underwear, he said, ‘That’s ------- it’ and began to attempt to break free of my grip on his hand,” Spencer wrote in his report. “He eventually broke free and was attempting to turn around and face me, when . . . [deputies] took Steskal to the ground and placed him in a left-arm rear wrist lock and placed handcuffs on him.”

Steskal was booked on suspicion of resisting arrest and marijuana possession. On May 18, he pleaded guilty to disturbing the peace, a misdemeanor. He was placed on probation for one year and ordered to do 16 hours of Caltrans work by Aug. 31. He was also ordered to undergo drug counseling.

Spencer said Sunday that it was just chance that placed Riches in the parking lot, rather than him or any other deputy who made a habit of checking on the 7-Eleven during the quiet hours.

“I’ve thought about it, that it could have been me,” he said. “That time of night, there aren’t too many businesses open. You want to make sure that there aren’t any kids coming in causing problems, and I’m sure that that’s what Riches was doing.”

Riches’ ex-wife, Patty Prince, said she met him in a government class at Dana Hills High School.

“I watched him gain a lot of self-confidence from when he was in high school until he became a truly incredible man,” she said.

She said he was drawn to helping people, even as a teen. At 17, he had a job working with mentally retarded adults.

After their divorce, they remained close, she said. They talked on the phone a month ago when he called to see how she was doing.

She said Riches once interviewed for a position with the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department, which she urged him not to pursue:

“I did not want him to work in Los Angeles. I was scared to death he was going to get hurt.”

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Times staff writers Megan Garvey, Phil Willon and Daniel Yi and correspondent Jason Kandel contributed to this report.