Remembering the day thousands showed their respect for Natalie Corona at UC Davis
Over 8,000 people from all over the United States packed The Pavilion to honor Davis' fallen police officer
Saturday marks the grand opening of Natalie's Corner in Central Park, featuring a beautiful splashpad along with landscaping, shade structures and picnic areas. The short opening ceremony will take place at 10 a.m., then gates to the splashpad will be opened wide for an attraction that will always be free of charge. Natalie's Corner has been developed over several years to honor Davis Police Officer Natalie Corona who was killed in the line of duty on the evening of January 10, 2019. Natalie's parents, Merced and Lupe, and her three sisters, Jackie, Kathy and Cindy, will be in attendance on Saturday and organizers hope a large crowd will turn out to let Natalie's family know how much our community loved her and the service she gave to our town.
What follows is the column I wrote for The Davis Enterprise after attending a memorial service for Natalie on the UC Davis campus shortly after her death.
As we were leaving the moving memorial service for Davis police Officer Natalie Corona early Friday afternoon at the UC Davis Pavilion, a longtime resident of our town pulled me aside to tell me he had never seen such an outpouring of support and love in Davis.
That's because there never before has been such an outpouring. It's also because never before has Davis been graced with a Natalie Corona, whose short life and tragic death have pulled at our very souls.
As I walked through a parking lot reserved for law enforcement vehicles, it was like seeing a road map of California and beyond.
There were police and sheriff's vehicles and fire engines from Pasadena and Palo Alto and Portland. Others were from Bakersfield and Berkeley, Williams and Watsonville, Martinez and Marysville, plus Shasta, Modoc and Colusa counties. There was even a police vehicle from the University of Oregon.
Although they didn't drive to the service, there were officers present from Boston, Chicago, Los Angeles and the NYPD.
But the one that brought a lump to my throat was the blue and gold fire engine from Arbuckle, Natalie's hometown, ironically bearing the school colors of Natalie's alma mater, Pierce High School.
I've covered a million basketball games in The Pavilion and never seen a crowd like the one that came to honor a 22-year-old woman who had been on the Davis police force for such a short time.
I think many of us were surprised that Natalie's father, Merced, himself a law-enforcement professional from Colusa County, was listed as one of the speakers.
How could a grieving father stand in front of an overflow crowd of 8,000 people, including the governor of California, and find any sort of voice, especially given the horrific circumstances of his daughter's death?
As it turns out, Merced Corona is a man for the ages, with the gift of speaking from his heart. He made us laugh and he made us cry. He made us think and, most importantly, he told us to love one another.
"There are times in life when we must set all our differences aside and come together as one giant family," he said, showing not a trace of anger or bitterness.
"It's time to show love and not hate," he went on.
With his wife Lupe at his side, Merced added, "We strongly believe in God and his son, Jesus Christ. God makes no mistakes.
"Everything may seem to us as bad luck, as a horrible and senseless death, but I can assure you God himself placed Natalie to be on duty on that day, on that shift, responding to that call for service, standing on that exact spot. And He himself has called her into His presence."
Here is a man with faith that can move mountains.
Merced went on to describe how he tried to recruit his daughter to the Colusa County Sheriff's Department and said a nephew wanted her in the California Highway Patrol. All to no avail.
"Natalie chose to be a police officer," he said.
"She chose the Davis Police Department," he related. Then she told him, "I can't see myself going anywhere else."
As for the now-famous photo of Natalie in a long blue dress holding a "Thin Blue Line" flag, Merced said his daughter came up with that on her own.
And he repeated the words she posted with the photo on her Facebook page: "I would like this photograph to serve as my gratitude for all those law-enforcement men and women who have served, who are currently serving, and those who have died in the line of duty protecting our liberties in this great country."
And then he added with resignation, "Little did she know that she and this picture would touch so many lives around the world."
Merced had us laughing when he said that Natalie would come home to Arbuckle full of excitement about what had transpired during her day in Davis, but she didn't always find a ready audience.
"I now feel guilty," he said with a smile, "because on a few occasions we would hear her get home and I would tell Lupe, 'Here comes Nat. Turn off the lights and act like we're sleeping.' "
That tactic never worked, however, because Natalie would eventually turn the lights back on and have her parents share in her joy for the next 30 or 40 minutes.
Turning serious, Merced added, "One of my proudest moments after pinning her badge was when she asked me 'Pop, can I now call you Brother Cop?' After telling her 'no' for so long, I finally told her, 'yes,' you can now
call me Brother Cop."
And then Merced, speaking directly to the thousands of law-enforcement personnel in The Pavilion, concluded with a moving mix of sadness and respect and love: "So, to all her brother and sister cops, today we lay to rest our beloved Sister Cop."
As the bagpipers began to play "Amazing Grace," to conclude the service, I was struck by how the title of that hopeful hymn so accurately described what we had all powerfully witnessed from the Corona family, from Merced and Lupe and their daughters Natalie, Jackie, Kathy and Cindy.
We were all blessed to have been in the presence of such a loving and giving family that gives true meaning to the words "Amazing Grace."
Reach me at bobdunning@thewaryone.com
Bob, thanks for such a wonderful story for those of us who couldn't be present that day.
I can't go past the Pavilion nor the place where Natalie fell and not drop a tear, or more. Even all these years later, I can't forget, and never will. And I never even met her.