Support The NYS Deputies Association

According to Martha Tarsia, grass never grew under her son Kevin’s feet. He did just about everything, stretching his deputy sheriff’s salary to the limit by doing a lot of work himself. Barns and motorcycles, classic cars and snowmobiles - he had the knack for making things work. Though deputy sheriffs don’t make a lot of money, Kevin was able to purchase a home and a farm, building the barn himself. He owned two horses and spent a lot of his off duty time working on his farm. On his free Sundays he could be found cheering on his favorite team - the Pittsburgh Steelers.

He enjoyed motorcycling and snowmobiling, and was particularly proud of a classic Camaro that he and his brothers had restored. He loved music and was an avid hunter, camper and water skier. He traveled the country when time and finances allowed, and did whatever he needed to make every day count.

But above all he was a police officer. After spending a brief time with the Town of Greene Police Department, Kevin Tarsia was proud to become a Broome County Deputy Sheriff. According to Broome County Sheriff David Harder, Kevin loved his job and believed that the people should be protected and treated fairly. He was a hard working police officer, and had an impressive arrest record. He spent thirteen years serving the people of Broome County.

On July 4, 2002, Deputy Tarsia was on routine patrol in the Town of Kirkwood. He observed suspicious activity in a small park, located less than ½ mile from his home. Unbeknownst to him, three criminals had just burglarized a gun store in Pennsylvania, a few miles south of the park. The suspects were in the process of transferring the stolen weapons to another vehicle when observed by Deputy Tarsia. As he exited his patrol vehicle, the suspects opened fire with several weapons, assassinating Deputy Tarsia before he had an opportunity to respond.

Those in the emergency services recognize that they are at risk every hour of every day. When we think back to September 11, we mourn the victims. Those people who sat in their offices on just another day at work - suddenly caught up in the violence of a group of brutal assassins.

But as we mourn the victims, we are awed by the heroes. The police officers and firefighters who raced into the carnage. The heroes who put themselves in harm’s way in an effort to aid the victims. Sadly, hundreds of the heroes became victims themselves. And if we ask these heroes “Why?” the answer is always the same - “Because that’s what we do.”

Heroes are found everywhere - racing into a burning tower in midtown Manhattan, and checking a suspicious vehicle in a small park in Broome County. Though we mourn the death of Deputy Kevin Tarsia, we join here today to honor his life. We honor his thirteen years of service to the citizens of Broome County, and the thousands of times that he made a difference in someone’s life. Changing a flat tire for a stranded driver, finding a lost child, recovering that special memento that had been stolen, even writing that traffic ticket that ‘just might’ have saved someone from being injured in an accident. And yes, interrupting burglars unloading stolen guns that were undoubtedly destined for acts of violence against other citizens. We honor another of America’s heroes - Deputy Kevin Tarsia.

When duty called on July 4, 2002, he made the ultimate sacrifice in service to his community. There can be no greater epitaph.

Glenn Searles’ interest in law enforcement began at an early age. Actually, he was about two years old. Geri, his mother, was driving Glenn and his brother Geoffrey to their home in Horseheads. She now admits that she was, shall we say, driving just a little too fast. And she was stopped by a police officer - who clearly should have been out catching bank robbers! As the officer approached a gaggle of little voices poured forth from the back seat - “Mommy, is he going to take you to jail??” “Mommy, he’s got a gun!” “Mommy, what does the policeman want?” Geri believes to this day that she didn’t get a ticket because the officer couldn’t wait to get away from those two little voices asking a thousand and one questions. I guess we could say that was the very first time Glenn talked his way out of a ticket. But it wasn’t the last time he had an “unsavory” contact with law enforcement.
A few years later, Glenn and Geoffrey were attending a day-camp program in Horseheads. They would ride their bikes off to the camp and spend the day there playing sports, working on arts and crafts and hanging around with their friends. One morning shortly after they left, there was a knock at the door. When Geri answered it there stood a Horseheads police officer who pointed to his car and said, “Are they yours?” There sat Glenn and Geoffrey in the back seat. Seems Geoffrey had ridden his bike in front of a car and had almost been struck. Glenn dutifully followed, as he would have followed his older brother anywhere. The police were called and the boys were taken home. Geoffrey was old enough to realize he had been wrong, and was crestfallen. Glenn on the other hand was beaming. He kept saying, “Mommy, I rode in a police car!, Mommy, I rode in a police car!”
After discovering at a young age that crime doesn’t pay, Glenn prudently chose to jump over to the right side of the law.
As he got older, Glenn developed a passion for sports. He loved football, baseball and basketball and loved to play golf. Though he was never completely successful in his efforts to spark a love of sports in his father, Glenn did occasionally get his dad and brother out on the golf course where they excelled at being poor golfers.
Glenn was very good with his hands and loved to remodel and do “fixit” jobs around the house. He was interested in photography and was the “official” photographer for family events. But when I ask people what Glenn loved, I always got the same answers - His family, his job as a Deputy Sheriff, and the community he served.
After working for several years as an investigator with the Onondaga County Medical Examiner’s Office, Glenn fulfilled his dream of becoming an Onondaga County Deputy Sheriff. He was just a regular guy, going out every day just to do his job. He didn’t strive to be a supercop - he just wanted to help people. On November 29, 2003 he stopped to help yet another citizen of Onondaga County. In one of those early season snowstorms, a vehicle had slid off of the road and he was assisting the motorist. As he went to get flares out of his trunk, another vehicle spun out of control on the icy pavement and struck Glenn. Despite the heroic efforts of rescue workers and hospital staff, Glenn succumbed to his injuries.
Captain Jim Rinella of the Onondaga County Sheriff’s Office aptly described Searles by saying, “He was just a good guy. You know how there’s just some good guys? Glenn was one of them.” Can there be a higher compliment?
He was one of the majority - one of the invisible deputies who makes differences he never knows about. After his death a woman called the Onondaga County Sheriff to report that Glenn had talked her out of committing suicide. He had taken the time to listen to her, to talk to her - to just be a good guy. He had referred her to an agency that could assist her and her life was beginning to turn around. She saw his picture in the paper and realized that she never even knew his name.
Glenn Searles represents everything good about a law enforcement officer. He did the job because he loved his community - not because he wanted recognition but because it was the right thing to do. He spent his all too brief career - right up to the end - helping out the people of his community. The motorist that he stopped to help on that tragic evening told the local media, “He gave his life trying to help me. And he didn’t even know my name.”

In the early morning hours of August 17, 2005, Essex County Deputy Eric Loiselle was issuing a traffic ticket to a speeding driver on the Adirondack Northway. For reasons yet unknown, a tractor-trailer left the roadway and struck his patrol car. The patrol car struck Deputy Loiselle, killing him instantly.
Eric Loiselle was born on August 10, 1974. Shortly after graduation from high school, he enlisted in the United States Air Force. He was a veteran of the Gulf War, serving in Saudi Arabia and Turkey. He also served in Germany.
After completing his enlistment, he enrolled in a criminal justice program and pursued a career with the Essex County Sheriff’s Department. He married his wife, Natalie, on September 29, 2001, and celebrated the birth of his son, Derrick Wyatt, on June 5, 2002.
Eric graduated from the police academy on September 11, 2002. He took his job very seriously, but remained compassionate to all. He could not tolerate injustice at any level.
His sense of humor often left people wondering. Major Richard Cutting said that Eric often came into his office with some off-hand remark that came out of the blue. Fortunately for the Major, Eric couldn’t keep a straight face and it quickly became evident that he was trying to get a rise out of his boss.
He was a devoted father and chose to work the night shift so that he could care for his son while his wife was at work teaching school. He loved to sit on the porch and listen to country music with his wife and son. He liked camping and had a passion for snowmobiling in the winter.
As a police officer, his service was exemplary. He was often thanked by people he had issued a ticket. Supervisors frequently received feedback on his professional demeanor.
After his death it was disclosed that he had scored #1 on the Sergeant’s test. In a fitting tribute, a ceremony was held at which time Sheriff Henry Hommes posthumously promoted Eric Loiselle to Sergeant.
In law enforcement, there is danger in even the “routine” tasks. This tragedy occurred just 12 days after Sergeant Loiselle’s 31st birthday. His four year career with the Essex County Sheriff’s Department was far too short. But his memory will remain. According to Major Cutting, “... we all know Eric will be riding shotgun in each of our cars and walking the tiers of the jail watching over each and every one of us, just as he watched over his ‘family’ both at home and at work for the brief time we knew him.”