L.A. sheriff’s Capt. John MacDonald was just a mile away when he heard what had happened to 75 of his recruits.
They had been running in formation along a street in Whittier, not far from the STARS Center training facility, when a driver fell asleep at the wheel and plowed into them with his SUV, injuring 25. One, Alex Martinez, died eight months later.
Now a commander serving under Sheriff Robert Luna, Pat MacDonald, as his friends call him, was in charge of STARS. A colleague called from the scene to say the whole class had been wiped out.
He told me was praying for all his recruits in the few minutes it took to reach the scene, but one in particular. It was his daughter, Rachel.
As he arrived, it looked like a battlefield, with the injured strewn everywhere. And there was Rachel, with a broken ankle and injured hip, kneeling over someone who’d been hurt worse, doing her best to help.
Pat is friends with my colleague Canon Gail Urquidi, hence today’s meeting. Recently promoted, he asked me to anoint him. Raised Roman Catholic, he said his faith has deepened since the STARS tragedy in November 2022.
We talked about it in the context of Saturday’s events in Pennsylvania. God intended neither the shooting, the protection of Mr. Trump, nor the death of Corey Comperatore. On the streets of Whittier that day, God sought neither to spare Rachel nor sacrifice Alex.
But God always rushes in, including by inspiring God’s people’s healing instincts. Rachel is now in sheriff’s department administration instead of a uniform, which had always been her father’s preference. Those learning of the deep contrition of the driver, Nicholas Guitierrez, who faces up to 20 years in prison, may think twice before driving when drowsy or otherwise impaired. After Butler, maybe enough angry Americans will say enough is enough.
We don’t need to be people of faith to make these changes. But Commander Pat gives God the glory.
He wanted to be a police officer since he was a little boy growing up in Long Beach and officers stationed near his home waved at him. He was sworn in at the minimum age of 23, after biding his time in the Marines for a couple of years. He drove former sheriff Jim McDonald for two years and made friends with the ex-sheriff’s buddy, then the chief in Long Beach and now Pat’s boss, Sheriff Luna.
Pat oversees the captains responsible for psychological wellness, labor relations, personnel, and training. Over 300 work in those bureaus. Along with the weight of responsibility, he feels the presence of God more acutely since the day of Rachel’s deliverance. That’s why he wanted to come today.
I anointed his head, his hands, and his sidearm, that he would not need to draw it again. I said I would be his prayer partner and asked him to call anytime. And I told him about our Episcopal Diocese of Los Angeles jail chaplains at The CFLC / Prism Restorative Justice. He said he believed in that ministry, gave me his cell number, and promised do whatever he could to help.
Look at it this way. Because of what happened in November 2022, our jail chaplains now have a friend in a pretty high place. That’s how we look for the hand of God.