Covering the Central Valley

Honoring their father: Landin brothers step into uniform two decades after tragic death

By Kimberly Sherman

The heartbreak a woman feels when her husband is killed in the line of duty is magnified immensely when her two boys grow to become men and reveal that they want to follow in the footsteps of their fallen father.

Bette Landin is a woman with a tough exterior, dedicated to raising three incredible children. Chip away that shell, and Bette reveals a heart so soft she still tears up talking about her husband’s demise in 1985.

Bette recalls being in traffic school when a lady asked her how she dealt with having a police officer for a husband. Bette gave the pat answer of all law enforcement spouses, “It’s always in the back of your mind that something can happen, but you can’t let it drive you crazy.”

Two months later, the “brass” knocked on the Landins’ door.

Bette recalls the worst evening of her life with a crack in her tender voice. “I remember the kids saying, ‘Open the door,’ but I just leaned against it for what seemed like forever. I knew that if I opened the door I would have to accept it. If (the officers) ever ask you to sit down or if they can call anyone, then the news is bad. Once I opened the door, I didn’t even ask them to come in. I just stood there asking, ‘Where’s Joseph? He’s in the hospital, right? Can I go see him?’ When they asked if there was anyone I could call, I knew.”

Tulare County Sheriff’s Detective Joseph Landin and his partner, Detective Monty Conley, died August 5, 1985, as a result of a traffic accident while investigating a narcotics case. A driver ran a stop sign and slammed into the deputies’ patrol unit on the Highway 99 and Avenue 120 off- ramp. Both detectives were members of the Tulare County Sheriff’s Narcotics Task Force.

The driver, convicted of vehicular manslaughter with gross negligence, was sentenced to five years, four months in prison.

Monica was 6, Joseph, 4, and Christopher was 2 years old at the time. “My life started the day of my dad’s accident. My very first memory was seeing my mom’s response when the two uniformed officers came to the door, and her reaction of not wanting to open the door, because she knew,” says Christopher. “I only remember my dad through pictures.”

Bette has kept a photo book out—a sort of shrine to her husband. “I don’t want them to forget him because he was a very special guy, and that was the only way they could remember him,” says Bette. “I know he’s looking over all of us; he’s helped us out in a lot of different ways. We talk to and about him to this day. He deserves that.”

Over the years, Bette has made her children’s father a priority in their lives, including attending the Tulare County Peace Officer’s Memorial event every year. Held the first week of May, the event honors all law enforcement officers who died in the line of duty while in Tulare County. On May 15, 2002, a physical monument was put into place to honor the fallen officers.

Bette is especially grateful to Sheriff Whitman for the compassion he’s shown her family, when others have faltered. “Every time we go to the memorial, he makes it a point to make me and my family feel important,” she says. “He had that memorial built for the officers. You don’t understand until it happens; it’s like we’ve sacrificed all these years without Joseph, and Sheriff Whitman appreciates that.”

Back in 1985, neither Officer Landin nor Officer Conley had any idea of the legacy they would leave their department through their own flesh and blood. Joseph and Christopher Landin, and Conley’s son, Matthew, all have chosen to follow the path of their fathers. All three sons work for the Tulare County Sheriff’s Department.

“We all grew up in Woodlake together,” says Conley. “It’s a small community, so we’ve always grown up around each other. Conley has been a correctional deputy at the Men’s Correctional Facility since June of 2008. “I’ve always had a longing for law enforcement,” he says. “It’s every little boys dream to play cops and robbers.”

Conley is proud of the organization he works for and aspires to advance to sergeant in three to five years, and to lieutenant in twelve to fifteen years. “There are so many different fields that you can get into here. You have to find your niche,” says Conley. “What I’m doing is a stepping stone.”

Joseph Landin is also a correctional deputy; his assignment is at the main jail facility.

“My dad influenced a lot of my decisions, even though I don’t remember him,” says Joseph. “All I have are memories of my mom telling me exactly what kind of guy he was. Everyone who knew him knew what a great man he was. I’ve tried to follow in his footsteps.”

With three small children at home, Joseph considers his own circumstances and is taking steps not to rush through his career. “I have three kids. If I go, none of my kids will remember me. I have a lot to look forward to with my kids, but as much as I love them, they would never remember that.”

Christopher was hired as a correctional deputy as well, and has been employed by the department since May 2006. Recently, the department sponsored him through the police academy. He graduated on January 29, 2009. He is now in training for patrol at the Porterville Substation.
 
The Landin family was stunned when Christopher graduated from the academy—he was assigned his father’s badge number, #185, a special tribute and dedication the department bestowed upon one of their finest officer’s son.

Though Bette is not thrilled with the choices her sons have made by following in their father’s footsteps, the love outweighs the bitterness, and she beams with pride over all of her children—with minor stipulations. “Whenever we talk on the phone, I always say, ‘Be careful; I love you. Don’t be a hero, and don’t put yourself in circumstances that you don’t need to be in.’”

Christopher knows first-hand the ramifications of what can happen to a good officer in the wrong place and time, giving him a mature handle on his place in the department. “I just take it one day at a time, and focus on today. I do my best every day because tomorrow may not come.

“If I’m going through hard times, I listen to my father’s eulogy, given by a man who is now a captain in our department. It’s a motivating speech that gets me excited; it’s emotional and brings me to tears, but it makes me want to do my best and try even harder,” says Christopher.
 
Bette wishes she could erase the negative experiences she’s had since the death of her husband 24 years ago. “People should know that officers, whether women or men, are human beings just like everyone else, except they put their life on the line and they do it with pride, knowing that their life could be taken. Next time you see an officer, say ‘Thank you. We appreciate what you do.’”

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